Search - Verdi, Giannini, Pertile :: Aidi (1928 La Scala Recordings)

A performance still very much alive after seventy years.

02/18/1999

(5 out of 5 stars)

"AIDA was only 57 years old when this recording was made in 1928. In other words, it was still a "modern" opera, just as the operas of Prokofiev, Britten, and Hindemith are still "modern" operas for us. One implication is that the original performance tradition was still very much alive, certainly at La Scala, where this recording was made, and where AIDA had its Italian premiere in 1872. Part of that tradition was a sense of total commitment on the part of the artists. Giannini, Minghini-Cattaneo, Pertile, and Inghilleri certainly believe in the characters and the complex conflicts of the various situations. That conviction sounds through not only in their projection of the drama, but also in the quality of the vocalism. That quality is amazingly high, particularly in the case of Giannini, Minghini- Cattaneo, and Pertile. This is not merely good generalized singing; it is vocal art fully at the service of the drama. For a sample, listen to the sensitivity of Pertile's singing in the Nile Scene duet, Giannini's "O patria mia," and Minghini-Cattaneo's judgment scene. If you're not yet convinced, sample Inghilleri's beautiful legato in the magnificent "Pensa che un patria." I understand from those who know more about these matters than I that the Romophone CD version is the best available transfer of this historic recording. I recommend it highly as one of the two or three very best versions of AIDA."

Exceptionally idiomatic and authentic Aida

Philip S. Griffey | Bainbridge I. WA USA | 02/19/2010

(5 out of 5 stars)

"Frequently, while perusing reviews of recordings, I am struck by how often some callow youth will comment on how the crude audio from a recording made in the 1950's or 60's makes it difficult to judge or appreciate a performance. Having first listened to music on 78rpm records and progressing through "High Fidelity" LP's (for Long Playing), reel to reel tapes (remember Ampex?), 8 track tapes, cassette tapes, compact discs, and now digital downloads, I find myself silently grumping about how spoiled the youth of today has become, and how much more appreciative we were in the olden days.



I was reminded of this while reading Herman Klein's review of this recording from the May, 1929 issue of The Gramophone. (He was 72 years old at that time and had heard Thérèse Tietjens, Adelina Patti and Lilli Lehmann in their prime.) He wrote the following about this, one of the very first of the electrical recordings of a complete opera: [It is] "...so far superior to anything gramophone recording could have furnished even a year ago that I find myself less inclined to criticize than to express my gratitude that such things can be. The listener, indeed, has less and less difficulty in imagining himself sitting at the back of a box at the Opera with eyes closed and enjoying every instant of a faultless musical representation." The original recording was issued on 19 double sided 78 rpm records, and it is interesting to note that in 1929 (some 81 years ago) Aida was only 53 years old.



That sort of puts things in perspective; especially since not only can we now listen to music in vastly superior audio, but can also compare Pertile to Martinelli, to Tucker, to Björling, to Del Monaco, to Corelli, to Vickers, to Domingo, to Pavarotti, and trace the changes in their voices, their techniques, and their portrayals from their early recordings to their last.



To move from the general to the specific: the sound on this particular recording is better than most live/off air recordings up through the 1950's, and not much inferior to the studio recordings of the 1930's and 40's. To note that it was produced and engineered by Ward Marston is sufficient to indicate that it is the best sounding version we are likely to hear in the near future. The recording's slight opacity and the gradual roll-off at each end of the frequency spectrum are noticed very little as one becomes involved in the performance.



Although none of the singers on this recording is in the "super star" category, they are very fine singers near the beginning (or, in the case of Pertile) at the peak of their careers, and provide what is (to my ears) the most natural and idiomatic performance available. If you had attended an Opening Night performance of Aida at La Scala or Covent Garden in the late 1920's, this is the performance you would have heard.



Dusolina Giannini (1902-1986) was born and raised in Philadelphia in a musical Italian family. John Steane, in The Grand Tradition, wrote "In the long, lyrical phrases of the role she keeps her finely pointed voice perfectly steady ... she is extremely fine in the final duet, `O patria mia', and the quieter passages of `Ritorna vincitor'. In the more turbulent declamation an unsteadiness obtrudes... This is true of her other records also, and so is the quality of voice that provokes `steely' as a description." Steane goes on to discuss at some length how this steeliness was not observed in live performances and acoustic recordings, but seemed to be an instance where her particular timbre interacted with the early electrical recording equipment in an unpleasant manner. If you don't object to Birgit Nilsson's Aida, you are not likely to find Giannini's voice unpleasant.



Aureliano Pertile (1885-1952) was born 18 days after Giovanni Martinelli in the same small town in northern Italy (something in the water perhaps?). Steane (this time in the accompanying notes to the recording) states: "He was one of the most vivid, interesting and controversial of singers, his methods open to criticism from many quarters, and yet of enduring merit." "His voice had a powerful resonance, with a timbre all its own. He sang with passionate sincerity and was often imaginative in his admixture of light and shade." In both these notes and The Grand Tradition, Steane discusses the "verismo" style of singing - increasingly adopted by Pertile, where the natural line is broken by with emotionally laden sforzandi, crescendi, aspiration and a rapid vibrato to enhance the "excitement" factor of the music. If you like Franco Corelli's Radames, you will enjoy Pertile.



Giovanni Inghilleri (1894-1959) had (at this stage of his career) a rich and generous voice, "dark" in timbre and texture, accurate in pitch, with well integrated registers. He did not subscribe to the verismo style, but maintained a smooth legato and attractive cantilena. While not in the same league as Ruffo or Stracciari, he is more rewarding and involved than Mario Sereni or Cornell MacNeil.



Irene Minghini-Cattaneo (1892-1944) was a fine mezzo who is today little remembered. Herman Klein (in a 1928 issue of The Gramophone) wrote of her Azucena: "a dramatic singer" "possessor of a powerful mezzo-soprano voice, well under control and relatively free of tremolo". In a later review he wrote that he thought her "naturally rich, velvety timbre" was marred by an "incessant vibrato". I like her singing very much.



As I mentioned above, what I especially like about this recording is its idiomatic quality. Here we have native singers, immersed in the culture from birth, trained by an unbroken line of tradition going back to the composers, and deeply involved in the emotional aspect of their roles. If it is sometimes true that `tradition" is nothing more than the accumulated bad habits of past ages, it is also true that it can give us a window to way things were done in the past - for better and worse.



I have deducted a star for the audio, but I have restored it for extraordinary authenticity.

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