The record changer (Jan-Dec 1949)

13 Here is the label which a multitude of record collectors has been awaiting these many years since the existence of the item it documents first became known. You will observe that the catalog number is 87499. 87001 likewise is the original number of a Caruso record, "Di quella pira" from // Trovatore. It is fitting that the artist who began the 87000 series should close it. (The 87500 numbers are concerted selections.) The story of how the world's first tenor came to sing a basso aria is generally wellknown, as is the fact that he recorded the song involved — and that having presented copies to a small group of associates and intimates, he ordered the master destroyed. But now there is a new master reposing in the RCA-Victor vaults at Camden, and a few details concerning how this came about are in order. Mr. Wally Butterworth is an exceedingly tenacious idealist whose enterprise is altogether dauntless. While others are lackadaisically voicing their wishes and aspirations, Mr. B is determinedly acting to track down whatever it is he wants, and his failures are few. In the case of the Caruso "Vecchia zimarra" he interviewed surviving members of the Boheme cast who were the great tenor's associates on that blizzardfraught night in Philadelphia when he rescued the performance by his basso tour-deforce. Mme. Alda's copy had been broken, de Segurola's unaccountably misplaced. No trace of the copy once owned by the late Antonio Scotti. In California there lives Dr. Mario Marafioti, one-time physician at the Metropolitan Opera House. A Butterworth operative had learned that the doctor was among those to whom copies had been given. Would he allow it to be re-recorded and made available to as many of Caruso's admirers as might wish to adore it? He would, and he did. And so, Caruso's "Vecchia zunarra" came back home to Camden for re-processing. A few comparatively minor marks of Time's unforgiving tooth were removed with absolute success and what you ma_v hear today is perhaps even more revealing than the longlost original. Pressed on vinyl, this disc's interest is further enhanced by Frances Alda's narration on the reverse side. The item is not obtainable from RCA-Victor nor through retail channels, the exclusive distribution rights having been assigned to Wally Butterworth. This is th^ first of a projected series of historically important and interesting records to be issued from time to time in connection with Mr. Butterworth's "Voices That Live" radio program. Among other things played privately for your correspondent, there are three Gigli-Ruffo duets (unpublished, of course) from Boheme, Gioconda and Forza del Destino. If the matter of re-processing can be accomplished satisfactorily, you will one day hear the "Parle-moi de ma mere" duet from Carmen as projected by Caruso and Alda. Rummaging through the vaults in quest of other treasures, Mr. Butterworth found a file-card containing the information that the American tenor, Riccardo Martin, was represented by an unpublished rendition of My Old Kentucky Home. How nice ! But the copy struck from that master proved to be a choral group tackling the ancient English madrigal, To Shorten Winter's Sadness. Shorten, indeed ! In December Victor will release an album called "Memories of Caruso." The set will consist of six operatic excerpts which are nominally active catalog items and all are "re-vitalized" with electrically superimposed orchestral accompaniments. All the arias included in the album are worth having, but it might be mentioned that the most entrancing of the items chosen for re-vamping is not included. That is "Prete-toi mon aide" from Gounod's opera, Queen of Sheba (88552/ 6035 and presently 15732) which reveals lyric splendors that were not always Caruso's to command as late as February 10, 1916, on which date the Queen of Sheba air was recorded. And to think that on that same day he sent forth Colline's Coat Song! Mrs. John McCormack's memoir of her life with Count John, entitled / Hear You Calling M.e will be issued by the Bruce Publishing Co. on the date that this issue of The Record Changer goes on sale. It is a volume which no admirer of the renowned Irish tenor will wish to be without. The Countess writes as well as she converses, and that is sufficient recommendation for all human purposes. The complete and (I wish I had compiled it) exasperating McCormack discography which Philip F. Roden published originally in The Gramophone a few seasons ago is included as an appendix to the book. Hence, in addition to its narrative merit, / Hear You Calling Me becomes a record-collector's item of the very first importance. Let no one who rejoices in the reinstatement to circulation of records long unobtainable pounce unquestioningly upon any item recently restored. Listen carefully before you buy is the advice of this badly burned correspondent. Quality control seems to have gone by the board in the past year and pressings are being taken from stampers that have long since outlived their usefulness. In some cases it would appear more seemly to re-record from perfect early pressings and thus recapture the superior essence which obtains in the originals. It goes without saying that high sales-volume means short stamper life — and here I am referring in particular to J'ictor set No. 54, the elderly (and superior) complete Aida which, purchased as a replacement for a play-worn album is, in the new edition, inferior to the oldish pressing. As of this present year, the free catalog supplement is a thing of the past. Gone are the days when we were able to examine a tastefully presented broadside of new releases while awaiting our turn at the counter, and to entice ourselves into well-considered purchases. Such news is now buried in a slick monthly magazine for which the dealer must shell out a nickel and cannot leave lying about for deadheads to grab up and make off with. The dealer is not going for that sort of thing, let alone stocking the illadvertised merchandise. Result : quick deletions. This is by way of being a pro tern valedictory after three happy years with The Record Changer. To report on record activities has provided a much needed sense of sharing their joys. But, looking over several recent back issues, it occurs that interest in • this department is rather limited — or else that almost every reader has everything and wants nothing. And so, rather than add to the publisher's burden at a time when advertising revenue as it pertains to classical records is not noticeably stupendous, I'm gonna pick up my immies and go home. When something comes along in my field that calls for immediate and pressing notice either in praise or umbrage, you may hear from me. Otherwise, good day to yez.