Georges Bizet’s Les pêcheurs de perles
A survey of the major recordings by Ralph Moore

The plot of Les pêcheurs de perles, premiered in 1863, revolves around the operatic trope of the priestess who betrays her vows for love (cf. Norma, La vestale et al). The opera is not as inventive or inspired as Carmen, written ten years later, and you can read some very condescending verdicts on it from snotty critics, but I find that its exotic atmosphere has great charm and it is replete with lovely melodies. Given the popularity of several numbers – especially its famous duet for tenor and baritone , “Au fond du temple saint” – following a trio of studio recordings in the 50s in mono sound, surprisingly few were subsequently made, and staged performances are still a comparative rarity, despite the opera having been more or less accepted into the modern repertoire. I must therefore dispute the claim in the Wikipedia entry that “Since 1950 the work has been recorded on numerous occasions, in both the revised and original versions.” In addition, several recordings have never made the transition from LP to CD and too many are only of abridged versions, which further limits the scope of this survey; I am thinking particularly of what would have been a major contender, had it been a) a full recording b) ever transferred to CD: a recording of highlights from 1961 conducted by Jésus Etcheverry, starring Renée Doria, Alain Vanzo and Robert Massard – definitely a missed opportunity. In addition to ignoring recordings of excerpts, nor can I contemplate recommending a recording sung in the wrong language; I thus consider here only (mostly) complete versions in French, not those in Italian, Russian, German, Bulgarian or English – which account for quite a few recordings.  “Au fond du temple saint” really does not translate felicitously into German as “Und in des Tempels Grund”, even when sung by Fritz Wunderlich and Hermann Prey, whereas “Del tempio al limitar” at least falls more gratefully upon the ear.

The last studio recording by Plasson was as long as thirty-five years ago. Previous to EMI’s 1977 recording conducted by Prêtre, which returned to Bizet’s 1863 vocal score, all recordings used the later, posthumously prepared “corrupt” edition. Its main features are: 1) cuts to the scene between Leila and Zurga, 2) the more familiar version of the tenor-baritone duet which has a da capo repeat of the main theme rather than using the ensemble “Amitié sainte”, the contrasting section as written by Bizet and has more than a touch of the martial Don Carlos-Posa “fidelity duet” about it – in truth, however, most people still prefer to hear a repeat of the glorious tune in the duet rather Bizet’s original – and 3) a completely rearranged finale, into which is inserted the trio “O lumière sainte” – its music actually written by Benjamin Godard, not Bizet and set to words the composer had used for an earlier, shorter duet for the two lovers – a repeat of an earlier chorus and a differently scored ending. In that posthumous version, as the two lovers flee, freed by Zurga, the High Priest Nourabad or a fisherman stabs the chieftain to death and his body is consigned to the funeral pyre; in the 1863 original, Zurga is just left standing on stage desolate and alone, mourning the loss of love and friendship and awaiting his fate.

I have ended up considering eleven accounts, spanning over sixty years. Omitted is the most recent live recording on the Pentatone label conducted by Alexandre Bloch, and for all that Gramophone designated it as its “Record of the Month” on its release in 2018, the participation of the now ubiquitous Cyrille Dubois as Nadir is such a red flag for me that having sampled his aria on YouTube, I could not face reviewing it; effeminate, constricted, mixed-falsetto crooning is not proper singing as I understand it. You may of course listen and decide for yourself. I have otherwise included two other relatively recent live recordings – and they proved to be trial enough. As is so often the case, I have had to go back in time to find recordings which do the work justice in terms of performance but as we have been able to enjoy recordings in digital sound for over forty years, now, and good stereo has been around for an extraordinary seventy years, the choice among recordings which offer both good engineering and high aesthetic standards is not as restricted as one might suppose, despite their being few in number.

The Recordings:

René Leibowitz – 1951; studio, mono; Preiser
Orchestre et Chœur Philharmonique de Paris
Leila – Mattiwilda Dobbs
Nadir – Enzo Seri
Zurga – Jean Borthayre
Nourabad – Lucien Mans

This was the first complete recording in French. The sound here is very acceptable for its age, if a tad distant and cavernous, and Leibowitz’ conducting is leisurely, sympathetic and idiomatic – really lovely. The chorus is unmistakably French and sounds entirely and charmingly at ease; sometimes a recording such as this exudes the content of its participants. The orchestra is quite up to the many brief orchestral interludes such as the dramatic Entr`acte before Act III. The first solo voice we hear is the clean, clear, strong baritone of the Jean Borthayre, one of many French singers of his generation whose type seems to have vanished. He makes a beautiful sound. Enzo Seri has a rather light, thin, slightly tremulous tenor and seems to find top notes a bit of a stretch, when his tone turns grainy, hence – naughty, naughty – his aria is transposed down a semitone. He is pleasant and sings with real feeling for the text but is hardly convincing as the warrior hunting “with [his] knife between [his] teeth”. Lyric coloratura soprano Mattiwilda Dobbs – the first Black singer to perform at La Scala – is delightful, floating top notes and embodying virginal innocence effortlessly. She sings impeccable French. Bass Lucien Mans is an elegant, if rather lightweight, Nourabad, and his diction, too, is excellent.

Despite the limited sound, there is much about this recording which is very satisfying; for example,  the Act II duet for Leila and Nadir is feelingly delivered even if Seri’s husky tenor lacks body. This would be a prime “historic” recommendation if his Nadir were more impressive.

Jean Fournet – 1953; studio, mono; Philips, Opera d’Oro, Malibran
Orchestre des Concerts Lamoureux
Chorale Elisabeth Brasseur
Leila – Pierrette Alarie
Nadir – Léopold Simoneau
Zurga – René Bianco
Nourabad – Xavier Depraz

This recording scores precisely where its predecessor fails with a superlative Nadir in Léopold Simoneau, whose light but penetrating timbre is ideally suited to Bizet’s music, even if for my taste he relies rather too much on slipping too easily into falsetto. The mono sound is crisper and more immediate, if inevitably a bit peaky. Lord Harewood in Opera on Record 2 calls Fournet’s conducting “stodgy” but I can’t say I find it so – indeed, the opening chorus sets a very lively tone and both the orchestral playing and the choral singing are energetic and precise. René Bianco was one of a slew of excellent French post-war baritones; he is not especially characterful – and he  barely makes the climactic top A-flat on “et ce chant” in his greeting to Leila – but in general the sheer quality of his voice matches Simoneau’s, who in turn sounds very similar to another celebrated Nadir, Alain Vanzo, who features in no fewer than three recordings in this survey. Their duet flows beautifully, Simoneau caressing the high notes beguilingly, Bianco maintaining a smooth legato and the harp and flute accompaniment coming across as sufficiently prominent without being obtrusive. Pierette Alarie has a pure, piping soprano, and like Mattiwilda Dobbs is well suited to portraying Leila, singing her coloratura very prettily. Xavier Depraz’ beautiful bass is darker than many and he brings more interest than most to the secondary role of the High Priest. Here, at the close, according to the later editions, he stabs Zurga to death and Zurga expires as the lovers flee, hymning their love.

All in all, the classic status of this recording is merited – but perhaps the next recording offers even more…

André Cluytens – 1954; studio, mono; EMI
Orchestra & Choir:  L’Opéra-Comique de Paris
Leila – Martha Angelici
Nadir – Henri Legay
Zurga – Michel Dens
Nourabad – Louis Noguera

This recording by an all-French company is representative of a vanished style; none of the singers has what you might call a major voice but all epitomise the elegance and professionalism of the Opéra-Comique of the 50s and the Belgian-born Cluytens was certainly a major conductor, who brings more life and nuance to this score than any other conductor in this survey. You hear that right away in the impassioned Introduction, and the storm music concluding Act II is the most energised I have heard. The mono sound is better than either of the two preceding recordings and the whole production sounds grander, delivered on a larger scale.

I am also surprised to find Henri Legay more assertive, full-voiced and, as a result, better suited to the role of the huntsman Nadir than even Simoneau; he also resorts less to mixed falsetto, which is to my taste and I actually find his essential sound more attractive. There is an open, straightforward, direct emotiveness to his delivery which I find most appealing and depends upon a secure technique which allows him to sail full-voiced up to those top Bs without fudging them. (Collectors will primarily know him from his classic recording of Massenet’s Manon with Victoria de los Ángeles, conducted by Pierre Monteux.) Michel Dens has a similarly attractive voice; his baritone is a touch smoky and unfailingly elegant (he is also Lescaut in the aforementioned Manon and Escamillo in a Carmen also conducted by Cluytens, which I recommend in my survey). My pleasure in this recording is compounded by the presence of lyric soprano Martha Angelici, whose fuller, very natural tone I again prefer to the “tweety-bird” sound – which can be charming but sometimes also rather twee. She makes a lovely job of her cavatina “Comme autre fois”, exhibiting both emotional engagement and impressive technique. The subsequent duet sees her lover suitably distanced in the aural landscape while serenading her; it is all very neatly done. Louis Noguera’s Nourabad is a tad nasal but sonorous. In addition to the excellence of their singing, particularly striking is the clarity of the singers’ diction.

As ever, my surveys turn up a surprise; I was unacquainted with this recording and I think Lord Harewood undersells it. I now place it firmly at the head of the earlier, mono recordings.

Manuel Rosenthal – 1959; live radio broadcast, mono; Le Chant du Monde, Gala
Orchestre Radio-Lyrique
Chœurs de la Radio Television Française
Leila – Janine Micheau
Nadir – Alain Vanzo
Zurga – Gabriel Bacquier
Nourabad – Lucien Lovano

This is the first of Alain Vanzo’s three recordings of Nadir featured in this survey. The choir is rather recessed and not as homogeneous as some but they sing con gusto; sung and played like this, many of the choral pieces seem to anticipate the folksy passages in L’Arlésienne. Rosenthal seems to be in somewhat of a hurry throughout, hence the swift running time of only an hour and a half – fifteen minutes faster than Cluytens and half an hour shorter than Dervaux . Some of that is due to cuts but he does tend to rush and push the pace. Regarding the singing, I have never been a huge fan of Gabriel Bacquier, finding his vocal production somewhat rough and effortful compared with the suave grace of baritone contemporaries Robert Massard, Ernest Blanc and Michel Dens; he clearly struggles with top notes, substituting an F for the top A-flat in his aria describing “the unknown woman” arriving on the island, but he makes a suitably virile, authoritative Zurga. Vanzo is in sweet, sappy, youthful voice, his vibrato quick and his tone penetrating and a little nasal in Gallic fashion. His “Je crois entendre encore” is beautifully vocalised, his excursions into his falsetto artfully prolonged, the top notes caressed and floated. He is certainly the main draw here, even if just occasionally, however, he gets a bit snappy and shouty in his desire to dramatise the text. Likewise, Janine Micheau sounds a little shrill, edgy and effortful; and I have read elsewhere that she rarely comes across well in recordings and she does not here have the creamy ease of Angelici, Alarie or Dobbs. Indeed, I find her disappointing. Lucien Lovano is an excellent Nourabad, however (incidentally, sounding very much like Belgian bass Jules Bastin). The final scene goes rather well, too; Rosenthal’s urgent manner and the singers’ dramatic flair come together to generate considerable excitement and paper over what is generally accepted to be musically Bizet’s least inspired portion of the score.

Rosenthal’s haste and the comparative deficiencies in the singing of the principals relegate this to my least favourite of the four mono versions, although it still has its virtues – chiefly Vanzo’s Nadir.

Pierre Dervaux – 1961; studio, stereo; EMI
Orchestra & Chorus: – L’Opéra-Comique de Paris
Leila – Janine Micheau
Nadir – Nicolai Gedda
Zurga – Ernest Blanc
Nourabad – Jacques Mars

It is a relief to move into the stereo era and hear Bizet’s sumptuous orchestration properly but my reservations expressed above regarding Janine Micheau’s Leila equally apply to this studio recording – although I concede that she sounds in decidedly better voice here than she was for Rosenthal two years earlier, even if she is still a bit acidic and monotone in expression, with an oddly windy timbre and piercing top notes. Regular readers of my surveys will know, too, that I do not much enjoy what is to my ears Gedda’s rather pinched tenor, but one might expect him to be suited to the role of Nadir. His French is good, of course, and he begins promisingly; the duet goes well but he increasingly sounds somewhat ill at ease at the top of his voice and frequently croons. His falsetto “Je crois entendre encore”, even sounds a bit strained and flat; I do not find listening to it to be especially pleasant.

On the credit side, Ernest Blanc’s baritone is distinctive: neat, dark, grainy and typically French – highly attractive with easy top notes, including the A-flat. Vocally and expressively, he makes a master class of his Act III aria. Jacques Mars has a beautiful, solid bass and makes the most of the limited opportunities offered him by the rather two-dimensional role of Nourabad. In contrast to Rosenthal, Dervaux’s conducting is affectionate and flexible – I like it very much but does his prevailingly relaxed manner perhaps result in his missing some of the tension and excitement Cluytens finds in the score? His orchestra is fine; the chorus, however, could be more homogeneous; individual voices obtrude and they are a bit rustic – but I suppose they are meant to be humble folk.

Those who respond more positively than I to Micheau and Gedda will rate this more highly but it is not one of my favourites despite the excellence of the supporting cast and of the quality of the recording in general.

Jean Fournet – 1963; live radio broadcast, mono; Verona, Belcanto
Orchestra – Radio Filharmonisch Orkest
Chorus – Groot Omroepkoor
Leila – Erna Spoorenberg
Nadir – Alain Vanzo
Zurga – Jan Joris
Nourabad – Guus Hoekman

Unfortunately, we revert to fairly primitive, fluttery mono sound here recorded in an over-reverberant acoustic before an audience occasionally coughing, contributing ambient noise and applauding; the opening chorus sounds as if it is in the car park and is too remote throughout. There is in fact rather too much distance between the performers and us listeners; it as if we are in the gods without the advantage of actually being present. It is tolerable  – in fact the sound seems to improve as it goes on unless that is just my ear adjusting – but it is aurally not as satisfying as the mono recordings from Fournet and Cluytens.

The first solo voice we hear is baritone Jan Joris, with whom I was not previously acquainted, but he had a long and distinguished career at the Royal Flemish Opera in Antwerp and his French is excellent. He is a fine singer and I admire his voice, even if his beefy sound and gung-ho style are decidedly un-Gallic. He avoids the top A-flat; he was, after all, more of a dramatic baritone – which is another reason why he might not be ideal as Zurga. He nonetheless makes a credible job of his big aria opening Act III, expressing his remorse movingly, even if it still sounds like Verdi. Alain Vanzo is clearly in excellent voice  – he was a very consistent and dependable artist and vocally this is the best of his three recordings considered here. His “Je crois entendre encore” is surely the most beguiling on record. Erna Spoorenberg is probably best remembered by collectors as a shimmering, silvery-voiced Mélisande in the 1964 Decca recording of Pelléas et Mélisande conducted by Ernst Ansermet and she is similarly aptly cast here. Her French is excellent and she sounds sweet and vulnerable. Her extended Act II love duet with Vanzo is unalloyed delight. Bass Guus Hoekman is very satisfactory as Nourabad – he is a fine Arkel in that same Pelléas recording.

I would say that Lord Harewood’s accusation that Fournet’s conducting is “stodgy” applies more here than it does to his studio recording but the solo singing is so good that it is not materially damaging and the climax to the opera is lively enough; this has the more dramatic ending where Nourabad rushes in, denounces Zurga as a traitor and presumably stabs him to death while the chorus holler in outrage.

It is a pity that the sound isn’t better here, as so much is artistically superb; fans of Vanzo is particular will want to hear him at his finest and Spoorenberg’s Leila is equally admirable.

Carlo Felice Cillario – 1970; studio, stereo; Bongiovanni
Orchestra & Chorus:- Gran Teatro del Liceo (Barcelona)
Leila – Adriana Maliponte
Nadir – Alfredo Kraus
Zurga – Sesto Bruscantini
Nourabad – Antonio Campó

Although this is well cast and stylishly conducted, the main problem here is the muddy sound quality – inexplicably so, given that this is a studio recording. However, I would also say that despite the quality of the singing, this performance, is very un-French; its participants are all Spanish and Italian, rolling their r’s and singing out in a forthright manner that eschews typical Gallic refinement. I am always ambivalent about Kraus’ rather plaintive, reedy tenor, but concede that he sings with his usual elan, interpolating the top C at the end of his aria. His French, however, does not sound idiomatic, even though it improved later in his career; he distorts its vowels while squeezing out those top notes.  Bruscantini was an extraordinarily versatile baritone  with a handsome, if not large, voice – but he slides gingerly up to his top A-flat and there is something very Italianate about his hearty delivery; his French, too, is variable  – “me” emerges as “meh”, for example.  Campó’s bass is cloudy and tremulous. Habituated as we are to light coloratura French sopranos singing Leila, Maliponte’s full, creamy sound is almost disconcerting. It is beautiful – but is it right for the role? To me, she again sounds very Italianate and even somewhat matronly rather than virginal.

If you can tolerate the indifferent sound and follow these singers, this might be of interest but it is in no sense representative of the requisite style. This opera needs to sound indisputably French.

Georges Prêtre – 1977; studio, stereo; EMI
Orchestra & Chorus: L’Opéra de Paris
Leila – Ileana Cotrubas
Nadir – Alain Vanzo
Zurga – Guillermo Sarabia
Nourabad – Roger Soyer

As detailed in my introduction, this was the first recording to be based on the 1863 original as represented in Bizet’s vocal score, in which the shorter form of the tenor-baritone duet is sung, there are no cuts, and the “correct” finale is used.

Prêtre is typically urgent, so the overall timing is only 95 minutes, whereas Plasson, next below, takes nearly two hours (plus a ten-minute appendix) but mostly it does not seem rushed, just bracing. He can always be counted on to energise the more dramatic passages in a score – and indeed several passages here remind me of his gift for that, as displayed in his conducting of another French masterpiece, Saint-Saëns’ Samson et Dalila, which is similarly exotically scored.

The studio, stereo sound is welcome after the cramped and/or muffled acoustics of so many of the preceding recordings but it is by no means flawless and there are several “issues” compromising its quality: first, the balances are poor; the opening chorus immediately sounds too distant and over-powered by the tambourine and their words are totally indistinct, which is irritating, especially as they are clearly singing well; that engineering fault continues throughout. Secondly, baritone Guillermo Sarabia sounds like a fish out of water; his voice is oddly constricted and throaty – at best, a generalised, “international” sound. He cops out of his top A-flat by using falsetto and his indifferent French is monochromatically inexpressive – characteristics highlighted by the contrast with the next solo voice we hear: Alain Vanzo, in his third recording. He still sounds wholly idiomatic, but it has to be said that his tenor is now more pinched and less honied than it was in his near-ideal Nadir for Fournet, live, fourteen years earlier and he tends to explosiveness in the recitatives. Nonetheless, he sings very sweetly both in his aria and in the duet, where Sarabia is at his best, avoiding gruffness – although Prêtre is rather too keen to push its tempo along. Its coda, “Amitié sainte”, will come as a bit of a shock to the unprepared but it is what Bizet intended and is by no means disappointing – just different and more dramatic. The original ending to the opera is much more abrupt than the later version, with a reprise of the duet theme and Zurga left alone on stage.

I always enjoy Roger Soyer’s smooth, cultivated bass, but the best feature by far of this recording, is Ileana Cotrubas’ touching and vulnerable Leila, comparable to Spoorenberg’s. Her voice is intrinsically beautiful and she uses it so expressively, deploying portamento and diminuendo very winningly, floating free, limpid top notes and embodying what might be the most attractive Leila on record.

With the notable exception of Cotrubas, however, there is nothing to set this recording above several others. Nonetheless, she is a major reason to own this. The original edition employed would also have been a major attraction were it not for the existence of the next recording below….

Michel Plasson – 1989; studio, digital; EMI
Orchestra & Chorus: Capitole de Toulouse
Leila – Barbara Hendricks
Nadir – John Aler
Zurga – Gino Quilico
Nourabad – Jean-Philippe Courtis

This recording uses the 1863 score, but provides two versions of the duet: the later, post-1886, more familiar, extended version which repeats the big tune and, as an appendix, the curtailed form of Bizet’s original vocal score, whereby the duet is concluded with “Amitié sainte”.  

This is the only studio recording in digital sound and it is immediately apparent that the chorus is in much clearer focus than previous recordings, where it is placed too far out on the periphery of the aural field. Here, they are suitably audible throughout and are a very animated and committed bunch. We are surely in safe hands, too, with Plasson, a French opera specialist, at the helm. His tempi are broader than Cluytens’ or Prêtre’s, less opéra-comique in style and more Grand Opera, lending the music a little more gravitas and stressing its status as a precursor to Carmen. The trio of North American soloists are superb; we first hear two neatly paired young singers, both in their thirties: American-Canadian baritone Gino Quilico, light but virile of voice, singing perfect French and delivering a fine, sensitive account of his aria “O Nadir” – and American lyric tenor John Aler, who has specialised in many French roles for high tenor. Both have flawless technique. American lyric soprano Barbara Hendricks, too, has long been a specialist French stylist, so we are in French operatic heaven, despite none of them being “native” as it were – although bass-baritone Jean-Philippe Courtis, singing Nourabad, is French, as are the conductor, chorus and orchestra, so “authenticity” is assured. In truth, Courtis could be a bit more menacing but he has a pleasing voice.

Hendricks is the soprano who most nearly rivals Cotrubas for plangent, pellucid timbre but her tone is smokier and I enjoy her plunges into her lower register; she has a better trill, too, but both are the best of interpreters. Aler floats a dreamy, heady “Je crois entendre encore”; yes, there is a lot of falsetto in the “mix” of his voice but there is some lower register underpinning in it – which is almost invariably missing in modern French counterparts. He does not take the final top C as some tenors do, but stays on the concluding E natural, letting the cor anglais sound it – not because he could not hit it but because it is harmonically, and thus musically, much more tasteful and satisfying. One thing I must concede, however, is that like Simoneau, Aler hardly sounds like a hunter with hair on his chest – but his singing is so accomplished I have to let that go. The lovers’ duet, “Ton cœur n’a pas compris le mien” is exquisite and we get good storm sound effects for good measure.

The appendix and a full libretto with English and German translations are bonuses. For me, in terms of sound, singing and style combined, this is cumulatively streets ahead of all the options here, even though I prize the recordings by Cluytens and Fournet.

Marcello Viotti – 2004; live, digital; Dynamic
Orchestra & Chorus: Teatro La Fenice di Venezia
Leila – Annick Massis
Nadir – Yasuharu Nakajima
Zurga – Luca Grassi
Nourabad – Luigi De Donato

This proclaims itself to be the unabridged original edition of the 1863, ed. Choudens. It is derived from live, staged performances at La Fenice. The live sound, a little ambient rustling notwithstanding, is OK without being crisp, but the orchestral playing, choral singing and conducting are all excellent – clearly very well rehearsed and idiomatic; Viotti – who succumbed to a stroke all too early in his life – was an opera specialist and utterly reliable. An Italian/English libretto is provided. So far so good, but the first voice we hear, Luca Grassi’s solid Zurga, is merely satisfactory; his French is good but the voice is plummy at centre and loses body on high notes, having nothing of the allure of leaner, more refined baritones such as Borthayre, Dens, Blanc or Quilico. Nor, unfortunately is there much resonance or juice in Yasuharu Nakajima’s tenor. His dry tone can encompass the notes of “Je crois entendre encore” but spins no magic and his French is – perhaps understandably – sometimes indistinct; neither lead male singer has recourse to the floating head notes which should decorate this score and both can turn shouty; they sing in a generally competent “international” style which hardly resembles the requisite Gallic elegance. A very young – too young for the part – Luigi De Donato as Nourabad does not sound to me like a true bass at all.

The best singing here comes from Annick Massis, even if I am not keen on the constant, incipient edge in her tone; she is agile, possesses a fine trill, and uses text intelligently but the voice noticeably thins out as she descends – the inevitable consequence of having too much “squeak” in her high register. Other reviewers are more impressed by her than am I, it must be said.

In truth, nothing about this recording apart from the high standard of orchestral playing and choral singing encourages me to recommend it. You may sample it on YouTube and judge for yourself.

Daniel Oren – 2012; live, digital; Brilliant
Orchestra Filarmonica Salernitana “Giuseppe Verdi”
Coro del Teatro dell’Opera di Salerno
Leila – Desirée Rancatore
Nadir- Celso Albelo
Zurga – Luca Grassi
Nourabad – Alastair Miles

Brilliant is the name of the label and that applies to the digital sound here, which has depth, clarity and excellent balances – superior to the preceding live recording. However, Daniel Oren sets off at a rather disconcerting lick in the opening chorus, as if he is in a hurry to get on with proceedings – indeed, the microphone picks up his panting; he tends to be rather of the “stop-go” school of conducting, although overall the timing is conventional, as the over-hasty and over-draggy passages even each other out overall. The first solo voice we hear is Luca Grassi and my observations regarding his Zurga are identical to those for that same preceding recording immediately above, except his vibrato has loosened somewhat eight years later. Oddly, I could also say the same about the Spanish tenor here as I said about his Japanese predecessor at La Fenice: his is another competent, dry-toned voice of no distinction and his French is worse than Nakajima’s; he renders every vowel too flat and nasal, so “main” and “saint” rhyme with the French “teint”. At the risk of sound blasé and dismissive, after ten minutes of first listening to this recording I had already decided that this could in no way rival the best. However, duty dictated that I soldier on and hear the Leila…then wish I hadn’t. Desirée Rancatore has a heavy, pulsing soprano with a persistently nagging vibrato which is wholly inapt for the ethereal, delicate Leila. Vocal relief comes from Alastair Miles’ grand, sonorous Nourabad, singing excellent French – but it sounds as if Ramfis has dropped by to sort everybody out; he is set fair to totally dominate proceedings and is by far the best thing here – but nobody prioritises that role when buying this opera.

This is a complete non-starter.

Recommendations:

Four of the five mono recordings above have something special to offer, but the 1954 one on EMI has the best conductor in Cluytens, enjoys the best sound and offers something wholly immersed in the French idiom and tradition, with the voices I find the most attractive.

There is no live stereo recording I can recommend but the choice of a studio, stereo recording is an easy one. The back-ups to my two main choices are Prêtre and Fournet in 1953 – or if you can tolerate indifferent mono sound, Fournet in 1963.

Studio mono: Cluytens 1954
Live mono: Fournet 1963
Studio digital: Plasson 1989*

*First choice

Ralph Moore