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Enrico Caruso: A Man for Modern Times

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<i> Walter Price writes about music for The Times. </i>

The Complete Caruso: Enrico Caruso, various singers, pianists, orchestras; BMG 60495-2-RG (12 compact discs).

The Caruso legend grows unabated with this release on CD of all the commercial recordings made by the great tenor during his 18-year career in the studio.

The singer has been called the first “modern” tenor in that his singing encompassed not only Verdi and Donizetti but also embraced the emerging verismo school of Leoncavallo, Mascagni, Giordano and Puccini. Much of the music he sang was contemporary. Essentially, his style from that period remains the one used (or imitated) by the generations of tenors that followed him.

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The bulk of these recordings was made for the Victor Talking Machine Co. Despite antiquated recording techniques, the sound comes through remarkably to show a voice that was above all beautiful, equal throughout a range that spanned almost baritonal low notes and a solid, never strident top. From the beginning he took to the recording horn, as it obviously took to him. He always sounded theatrical in the music, something that could not be said for some of his colleagues. In his 1902 “Celeste Aida” (he recorded the aria six times), he takes the climactic B-flat falsetto. Thereafter he belted it out from the chest. Although he was generally afraid of a Top C (“Che gelida manina” is transposed down a half-tone), there is one beauty here, at the climax of “Salut, demeure.”

He recorded the “Rigoletto” quartet and “Lucia” sextet four times each, and in all one discerns subtle inflections not heard before. He could throw in unwritten high notes, as in the “Miserere,” but at no time did he ever falsify the musical line.

Among his colleagues, the men generally contribute most, especially Ruffo and Amato, in duets from “Otello” and “Forza” respectively. The timbre of the women, particularly sopranos, is captured less well (Melba and Sembrich sound pretty much alike, as do Galli-Curci and Tetrazzini), although Farrar and, surprisingly Gadski (in “O terra, addio”), make strong impressions. Louise Homer couldn’t have been this bland (“Aida” and “Trovatore” excerpts) in the theater.

The common denominator throughout Caruso’s work is commitment. There is not one number that is sloughed off or touched by routine. He was dedicated to the seriousness of his art as no tenor seems to be today. Perhaps that is why we continue to listen with such pleasure.

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