The old black Columbia albums were not a pretty sight, and those for 10-inch 78s had a particularly dispiriting look about them. The records themselves were heard as through a fry-up dimly, and often deteriorated towards the centre. One could therefore be ‘put off’ Cavalleria Rusticana in English, even though it offered the excellent Heddle Nash as Turiddu. As for Pagliacci (also in English),that had the added disincentive of Frank Mullings, a tenor whose reputation among he critics in his times was as awesome as his recorded voice was (some would say) awful. Now out of these unpromising materials come some rather startlingly good transfers.

As Andrew Rose, the man responsible, points out, there was a period when Columbia records were known for their “silent surfaces”, and happily he has had access to early copies of the originals from this period. The clarity and immediacy of sound reveal performances which at best give pleasure by any standards and, at less than that, are fascinating as period documents.

In Cav the violin-playing does credit to nobody, yet this loose, slithery style must then have been acceptable, even “authentic”. In Pag the male chorus sings with unabashed gusto in tones that (inaccurately no doubt) we tend to call ‘beery’. Then the pronunciation is very much of its period, every “r” rolled (as in “charrm”, and the “l” sounds (Nash was a great one for this) shaded to “Ae”. The translations represent the kind of thing the current “Opera in English” series on Chandos is keen to avoid: my favourite is Nedda’s beautifully enunciated “For such a passion / The whip is the fashion”.  But there’s fine singing, and not only from Nash. Harold Williams, a little shy of the high notes, is splendidly firm and resonant in both operas. Miriam Licette is a very un-Italian Nedda but her “take” of the high notes is distinctly that of a Marchesi pupil. Similarly, May Blyth is a lightweight Santuzza but still provides much to admire. Of Mullings’s Canio, the throatiness and discomfort in the upper range are to some extent offset by a warmly personal timbre and intense dramatic commitment.

It is not a reproduction but the thing itself. Perfect in every detail… the singing… touches and maintains the high level associated with (the singer’s) art at its best. Yet I would fain reserve my warmest tribute for a quarter where I am as a rule least able to bestow it – I mean the orchestra. Mr. Goossens must have taken enormous pains to secure such a clear, vivid and crisp yet refined rendering of Leoncavallo’s clever instrumentation. Exquisitely balanced and always sufficiently audible, it imparts the requisite solidity of tonal foundation to the whole performance.