Again in both sexes, words don’t coast or float on the vocal line, but are incised into it. All the female voices, Farrar’s included, enter on descent into a clear, cultivated chest voice on or about E natural (try Farrar or Campredon on Marguerite’s very first lines). This not only gave strength to the lower notes, but provided the set-up for the kind of quickness and snap we found lacking in Jepson’s singing. We shouldn’t forget that back in the day, Marguerite was frequently sung by verified dramatic sopranos (Destinn, Félia Litvinne) or prima donnas of marked dramatic temperament (Calvé), as well as by virtuosos with lighter but strong, balanced voices (Melba, Eames, Sembrich, et al.).

In the bass voices, the vibrational activity is less noticeable, but a kind of core, again indicative of vigorous laryngeal engagement, always present. (Notable examples: Jean-François Delmas, probably the greatest voice of any type heard here, on Mephisto’s two big solos; Gresse himself on the complete recording; Juste Nivette, in the final trio. Exception: Paul Payan, decidedly an outlier among French bassos of his time, with his fat, rich tone that sat so easily, but then went into a heady, pharyngeal adjustment around middle C-sharp or D. He’s heard here in a wonderful-sounding Scene 1 [from his entrance], with Maurice Dutreix.)

I suspect we can see why this masterwork has gone AWOL, directorial depredations aside. There’s plenty more to be said about the opera itself and how it needs to be sung, but time’s expired for now. Thanks for reading.

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NEXT TIME: I’ll have a report on the Met’s new Adriana Lecouvreur, plus a quick note on Otello with Dudamel, and on another instance of singing while white. In two weeks, Friday, Jan. 18.

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