Together with the autobiographical talk on that third IP CD are two other Kipnis items. One is a portion of a New York Philharmonic concert of July 23, 1943, which marked the world premiere of Shostakovich’s orchestration of three solo scenes from Boris—the Monologue, the Clock Scene, and the first section of the Farewell, with Fritz Reiner conducting. It has circulated before, but the sound quality here is superior to that of the two versions I’ve previously heard. The Shostakovich scoring was taken up by the Met in the ’60s, and I have positive recollections of it as a good injection of life after a dozen seasons or so of the Karol Rathaus edition (“closer to the original!”), which I always experienced as worthily conceived but dullish. In these three scenes, not much jumps out in the instrumental reworking, but there are a few re-directions of the vocal line, taking it back toward a setting for true bass, as distinct from the high bass tessitura of the Rimsky. Kipnis is in very much the same form as he’d been five months earlier, the soft singing still alluring and the Monologue still deeply considered, and the concert venue perhaps imposing a touch of restraint on the histrionics. Regrettably, no chorus was on hand for the occasion, so the ultimate scene stops just short of the tolling of the bell and the intoning of “Zvon!“, jumping thence to the opera’s postlude.

The final item in the IP package, also dating from 1943 (June 5) is about forty-five minutes’ worth of Gounod’s Faust in a performance emanating from New York’s WJZ. The often awkward redaction is clearly determined by radio studio expediencies and the wish to keep the spotlight on Kipnis’ Méphistophélès. We get sequences from the opening, Garden, and Church scenes (the latter chorusless, though an uncredited organist is present), then the Serenade and final trio. Kipnis again deploys more than enough sheer voice for the music, with some fabulous low notes of a sort we never hear now, but I once more find his notions of vocal characterization (and of French nasal diphthongs) ponderous and, in search of deviltry, Halloweenish. The soprano Marita Farell, very nice in light lyric parts (see below), just gets to the finish line in the trio, and Martha Lipton’s good contralto rather swoops through Marthe’s Garden Scene lines. Some curiosity attaches to the presence of the tenor Ernest McChesney, who sang several seasons with the NYCO in the early days. He displays a welterweight sound of pleasing but not distinctive quality, with a touch of ongoing quiver, and covers the assignment competently. I know of no other recording of his voice. There’s a studio orchestra, led by Joseph Stopak.

For all of us who find value in tracking a work’s progress over a period of years in the workings of an international-level opera house, it’s at least good fun to note what (aside from the title-role comparison) changes, and what stays the same. Besides, there is the matter of the record, the monkish chronicle. So I’ll give that a rundown, and while singing and singers are what most collectors will be giving central attention, I’ll take note first of two overall conditioning factors: the broadcast sonics and the conducting.