Several other baritones of the Thirties are present in complete performances or substantial excerpts. Hans Hermann Nissen (an impressively powerful and secure voice that gets one’s immediate attention, but a tiringly loud way with the music) is on a complete Stuttgart radio performance from 1936; Wilhelm Rode (another dark, forceful voice, inclined to too much straight tone, but admitting of some nuance) crops up on studio excerpts and Staatsoper Live fragments; and Theodor Scheidl (a long-ranged baritone with excellent technique but, on most of his records, a placid approach to emotional expression), pairs with Elisabeth Ohms for the Act 2 duet. Reservations notwithstanding, these were all voices equipped for the demands of the part. Standing a notch higher, in my judgment, is Herbert Janssen, who can be heard on substantial highlights from a 1937 Covent Garden performance under Fritz Reiner. We usually associate Janssen with the more lyrical Wagnerian roles (his Wolfram, as heard on the 1930 Bayreuth Tannhäuser, is in my opinion rivaled only by Heinrich Schlusnus’), and he is certainly the most inclined in that direction of the Dutchmen I’ve mentioned. But his baritone was a plangent one, and while he would be expected to sing beautifully in “Wie aus der Ferne” and the rest of Act 2 (and does), in turning back to my old Eddie Smith LP, I was struck by his command and nobility of expression in the final trio, as well.^(I)

Among the Sentas on these same recordings, we encounter plenty of competence and stylistic comfort, but with the possible exception of Kurt (recording limitations make a definitive evaluation hard), nothing that quite matches the best of our Dutchmen. All the voices are of the blond, uncomplicated sort. The most prominent among them is Kirsten Flagstad, who is the Senta of the Reiner/Covent Garden disc. As with a number (by no means all) of her recordings, the universally reported greatness of her singing hangs out of reach. A lovely, at times opulent quality, easy emission, some well-molded phrases, but, at several climactic junctures, just as one is anticipating the payoff such a voice can deliver, a pale, scared-sounding, and, a couple of times, simply unsuccessful approach to the top. Perhaps just a bad day, perhaps a bad recording, but a fairly strong impression that this wasn’t a role for her, and that she knew it. Second to Flagstad by way of dramatic-soprano réclame is Maria Nemeth. She was a star in Vienna for many years, singing big roles of both the German and Italian repertories, and made plenty of fine records. She is opposite Berglund on the ’42 Vienna Staatsoper Live excerpts (probably on the late side for her), and more briefly in the same series in extracts from 1933. In these performances, she sounds like an excitable and at moments exciting soprano, though the vocalism is intermittently messy. Of Maria Müller, remembered from the Met from the early ’30s and a favorite at Bayreuth up through the war years, I re-heard only the latter part of Act 2 on Bayreuth ’42, and of Margarethe Teschemacher, about the same on the ’36 Stuttgart set. The former is still in decent form, but as the long scene proceeds doesn’t heed R.W.’s cautionary concerning sentimentality.The latter I would describe as being at an acceptable provincial level. Missing from this collection, of course, are such talents as Lehmann, Rethberg, and Marjorie Lawrence, who would have been top of the line for the role.