There are some similarities between Tauber’s singing and that of the best of the British tenors we’ve just considered. He’s a “B-flat tenor,” who almost never ventures above that limit, either transposing or finding some shrewd workaround where necessary (as in Rodolfo’s Narrative from La Bohème, in key and very beautiful, but without the C). Within that range, he employs all the stratagems of legato, portamento, mezza-voce, messa di voce, chiaroscuro, etc. we habitually (and correctly, I believe, if only through ancestral transmission) attribute to Italian technique. His lower and middle range is solidly grounded and sonorous, and the voice can at times sound almost heroic. (This struck me so forcibly this time through that I initially suspected some “enhancement.” But after more extended listening and some spot checking with other high-quality transfers, I think these are honest.) There are two big vocal differences, however: Tauber sounds gorgeous, and when he reaches his top there’s no loss of vibrato or limberness, no constraint on his freedom of emission. There are many shades of tenorial beauty, but for sheer warmth and richness of texture, Tauber has very few rivals—he revels in the sensuality of tone, as do we. And he had the irrepressible personality of a born entertainer. In liner notes written for a Decca (U.S.A) Gold Label re-release of Tauber aria recordings (Parlophone electricals) in the early 1950s, Irving Kolodin observed that Tauber was sometimes “the most appreciative part” of his own audience, basking in the “complete bonhommie on the two sides of the stage,” and that this could lead to a “more than trivial amount” of exhibitionism and “mere vocal high jinks.” Still, I. K. notes, “it was, in all circumstances, a lovable sound.”

Because of the late arrival of the Truesound package, I haven’t yet been able to listen to all fourscore and four of these tracks. So with a couple of exceptions, I bypassed most of the folk-related and period light music items (though I did listen through the contribution of Percy B. Kahn, who for reasons known only to himself figured a promising way forward would be to compete with Schubert and Bach/Gounod for Ave Maria market share) and elected to concentrate on the opera, operetta, and Lieder recordings, of which I’ve heard the majority. The opera selections represent several roles that would have been right for him (Lenski, Wilhelm Meister, Alfredo, Don Ottavio), a couple that wouldn’t (Don José, Radamès), and another couple of borderline cases (Manrico, Cavaradossi, Pinkerton). The German translations used by Tauber, with their sometimes clumsy re-distributions of note values and consonant/vowel combinations that tend to discourage the smooth connection of upward intervals, do not help, and there’s a sprinkling of vaultings to the top with Tauber’s characteristic yanking motion, which you may take for a cherishable, much-to-be anticipated quirk or a “high jink.” But the full voice is consistently rich and the iconic half-voice (there’s no other like it) always tapered out, then brought back for re-entry with perfect smoothness—even when clearly contrived for effect, it sounds utterly natural.