This article first appeared in the Classical Singer magazine, October 2000

I mentioned in a previous article that the number of pre-1950 recordings available to students was unimaginable.  There is another, extremely important branch of recordings, however,  that we should take a look at - live operatic performances.  Actually, there are direct links between live recordings and commercial recordings made before 1950.  Both are relics of the moment, and both show a brutal honesty when it comes to a singer's abilities.  Because of the emergence of the piraters in the 1960s this is an extremely complicated subject and the amount of live material available to the listener today is enough to make one's head spin - as I think you will be able to gather from what follows.

"Preservation of the Unrepeatable" is what the introductory notes state in the booklets for the Orfeo Salzburg Festspiel documents.  That is exactly what live recordings accomplish.  I am a strong advocate of live recordings.  Many people object, however, to the sonics, extraneous stage noises, audible prompters or obvious presence of an audience.  It remains a fact that there is a sense of occasion - an electricity on these recordings that one misses in studio efforts.  Compare the Melodram recording of the 1951 Florence performance of I Vespri Siciliani (Callas, Christoff, Kokolios, Mascherini - Kleiber) with the commercial recording (Arroyo, Domingo, Milnes-Levine).  The Levine recording may have better sonics, and the pairing of Milnes and Domingo is definitely a more refined partnership than Mascherini and Kokolios, but nowhere does that recording possess the spark of creativity, the palpable humanity present in the 1951 performance.

What helped spark my fascination with live (and pirate) recordings was a Lucia with Beverly Sills at Wolftrap in the summer of 1971.  Since it was my first "live" Lucia and was in an outside theater, I taped the performance.  It was only for me and was done on a tacky, little mono thing that somehow managed to provide a clean, clear aural memory of what I heard that night.  I must have played that tape until all the magnetic particles fell off.  Why?  Partly because I had been there.  But mainly because there was an enticing electricity captured in that tape that I found irresistible no matter how often I listened to it - truly a moment in time captured and available to me whenever I wanted.  After that I still enjoyed the sonic cleanliness of studio recordings and their artistic intention but found that more often than not I craved more of the true essence of a singer; the art that can only be found when an artist is in front of an audience.  What did it matter if they flubbed a high note or momentarily forgot the text.  That is part of the human condition.  Studio recordings offer examples of the heights a singer aspires to.  Live recordings provide the reality - and I found that more appealing despite the fact that occasionally one had to cope with less than ideal sonics.

The making of live recordings is older than you might think.  The most famous early example being the Mapleson Cylinders recorded up in the flies of the Metropolitan Opera during the first years of the 20th century.  Unfortunately, one must have tremendous patience to listen to most of these recordings because they are so overloaded with extraneous hiss and noise.  Nonetheless there is a lot of fascinating information one can retrieve from these ancient cylinders and the singers caught mid-performance make one's mouth water - Nellie Melba, Antonio Scotti, Lillian Nordica, Pol Placon, Marcella Sembrich, Jean De Reszke, Emma Calve and others.

With the advent of electrical recording live documentation became a more intriguing reality.  One of the first to take advantage of this situation was the Covent Garden opera company.  During the spring and summer of 1926, HMV recorded excerpts from a number of performances directly from that famous stage.  These included an Otello with the remarkable tenor Giovanni Zenatello and the justly revered Boris with Feodor Chaliapin (which every singer should experience at least once in their lifetime).  (EMI)  There also was an oddity: excerpts from the Farewell Concert of Dame Nellie Melba (June 8, 1926).  Next to Chaliapin's Boris this is the most important.  I say that because Melba's studio recordings do little to explain why she was so renowned.  From them one gets the impression of a remarkable technician but an often inelegant artist of vulgar vocal attack and little phrase tapering or creative subtlety.  Personally, Melba may not have been an endearing person.  Artistically, however, along with her contemporary, Enrico Caruso, she was one of the most important figures in "modern" operatic history.  It was the immense popularity of their discs which helped solidify recording as a serious art form.  For that reason it is all the more frustrating to listen to her commercial legacy.  An entirely different slant, however, is suggested during the Covent Garden Farewell (which included excerpts from Otello and La Boheme).  These discs provide the simple answer for her immense popularity - it was merely the intrinsic quality of the Melba instrument.  No one else had the Melba "sound."  Despite her being sixty-five years old (and occasionally short breathed) one finally gets an idea of the distinctive quality of her voice, pure and yet brilliant, with an exquisite, silver, fiery shimmer - especially in the upper middle register.  When I want to understand Melba's appeal I turn to the "Donde lieta" (Boheme) from the 1926 Farewell.

But this type of live recording differs from typical pirate recordings in that they were done in complete agreeance with the musicians involved.  Ironically, by opening this door as it were, commercial record companies spawned the work of piraters and throughout the decades the two branches of live documentation have existed side by side.

By 1936 the Metropolitan Opera in New York had begun to record their Saturday matinee broadcast performances.  Since then almost every one has been preserved in one form or another.  Up until the advent of magnetic tape, broadcasts were generally taped on acetate discs often at the request of participating artists who wished to use them for study.  Because there were no applicable copyright laws in effect at that time (as long as a work was in public domain) and since they were for "private use" this posed no problems.  It is the selling of these private-made recordings that one enters into the problems of legality.  With the introduction of tape, however, it became possible to record from the audience and the traditional opera pirate was born.  Piraters became quite ingenious in secreting portable reel-to-reel recorders into the opera house and after the cassette was invented (Philips produced the first consumer cassette in 1963), it became even easier.

Pirated recordings have always exerted an irresistible allure.  Not only because of the artistic realism they presented but also simply because they were forbidden and were difficult to find.

When I came to New York, the hey day of Pirate Recordings was in full swing.  This was way before the CD takeover.  At that time there were only two shops in Manhattan where you could find these recordings.  One was Music Masters (ridiculously overpriced) and the other was the Discophile, a tiny store hidden down some dark steps on crowded 8th Street in the West Village.  Although the shop was originally opened in 1954 by Joseph Greenspan, when I went there in the 1970s, it was run by Franz Jolowicz.  Franz had worked in the shop for many years and when Greenspan died in 1975, he bought the shop from the estate.  Going to the Discophile was an adventure.  In addition to traditionally-released LP recordings you could also find the entire catalogue of pirates.  Franz was an affable, erudite guide who was able to lead not only the seasoned collector but also the novice (which I was) to the most interesting recordings.  If you had the money you could buy mouth-watering revivals with Callas, Sutherland, Christoff, Corelli, Gedda, Kraus, and many others.

Although some pirate LP recordings came in plain sleeves with only frugal presentation, some sets - especially those made by MRF (which produced around 150 sets and even had their own Cherubini series) and BJR - were beautifully constructed.  Covers were superbly executed with imaginative art and inside were booklets with full, translated libretto, performance photos and scholarly notes that put to shame the more expensively produced commercial sets of EMI, Decca and DGG.

Also the repertoire available on pirate recordings completely surpassed that of commercial releases.  Back in 1976 you could buy Alfanos' fascinating verismo epic, Risurrezione (with cult-diva, Magda Olivero), a work yet to see a studio recording, or Opera Rara's London revivals of Mercadante's Virginia, Gli Orazi e Curiazi and Meyerbeer's L'Etoile du Nord (all with the extraordinary Janet Price), or Pacini's MariaTudor, Mascagni's Parisina, Isabeau, Piccolo Marat and Iris, Giordano's Siberia, or even Handel's Semele - a 1968 performance with Beverly Sills and Seth McCoy that seriously rivals more recent commercial efforts.  And, if you can imagine, the above selections were not even a tiny fraction of the immense number of performances available on reel-to-reel tape from mail-order catalogues of Mr Tape, Ed Rosen or Charles Handelman (the three main New York opera piraters during the 70s-80s).

Due to the emergence of Tower Records, Virgin and other mega corporations during the 1980s, small neighborhood shops like the Discophile were slowly forced out of business.  The sacred spot that was once the Discophile and considered by many to be a musical landmark finally closed in July of 1985.  It is now a dress shop.  I confess that I still get a sharp stab of nostalgia whenever I pass by it today.

By 1981 I was working part-time as an audio technician for Ralph Ferrandina, Mr. Tape, whose office was at Broadway and 68th Street.  His catalogue was vast - some 9,000 reel-to reels - and included not only complete opera performances but also recitals, concerts and collections featuring single artists.  But to be honest, Ralph was not the only one with a huge library of performances.  There were many private collectors who had almost as much.  Some of the most obscure performances I have in my own collection originate from a Connecticut collector, John Borrego, who has since died, who had a prodigious collection.  The difference between him and Ralph was that John did not sell any of his collection.  He only traded tapes with other collectors.  And that was how Ralph acquired the tapes for his business.  He had contacts in most of the main cities throughout the world and traders would send lists of the items they had to offer and request things they wanted in return.  Tapes came daily to the office and during the five or so years that I worked at Mr. Tape my job was to choose performances from the various traders' lists, write liner notes for his LP and CD releases, pitch  new tapes that came in and make customer copies.  There were about 26 reel-to-reel tape recorders and six double-cassette decks that I was in charge of and that often were all working at the same time.  Copies were made at double speed and I quickly became accustomed to listening to Aida double time in one ear and Marina in the other.  As I grew adept with that schizophrenic way of listening I learned how to stop each opera independently of the other for clean side breaks for cassette copies.  I also learned that one can recognize some voices even double time due to peculiar mannerisms singers pick up during the course of their career.  It was a frenetic job but I loved it.

I was also fascinated by the customer listing (kept in a file cabinet of index cards) which included not only well-known New York critics, musicologists and vocal coaches but also such artists as Leonie Rysanek, Gwenyth Jones and Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau.

Ralph knew many artists personally and the bringing of tapes by singers to the office was not unusual.  I remember Grace Bumbry and Virginia Zeani bringing tapes they wanted to ensure were available to fans.  Often Sam Ramey, Catherine Malfitano, Teresa Stratas and other singers stopped by, sometimes just to chat.

It is important to understand that this was a different era.  At that time, despite the gray legality of Mr. Tape's business, most singers were just grateful their work was being documented and circulating.  These recordings were viewed by most singers not only as a form of publicity but also as a way to further one's career and even perhaps to incite the interest of other, more "legal" recording companies.  By the mid 1980s it had become common practice for agents to send tapes of their clients in performance to opera companies in order to help secure a contract.  More often than not it did the trick.

One of the most memorable days in Mr Tape's office was when Gwenyth Jones' husband personally brought cassette tapes of a performance of Die Frau Ohne Schatten (November 24, 1985) that his wife had sung a few weeks before in Zurich and which he had personally taped.  Jones had been contracted to sing the Frau.  Agnes Haberreder, scheduled to sing the Empress, had suddenly come down with laryngitis on the day of the performance and the management could not locate another Empress able to step in on such short notice.  In a Guinness Book of World Records accomplishment Jones agreed, on  six hours notice, to sing not only the Frau but also to sight-read the part of the Empress.  Although an unorthodox solution, encouraged by the opera house's management, she agreed to the proposition.  The tapes proved that it was not just a successful evening it was a remarkable one.

Although never a big business like EMI or Decca, technically what Ralph Ferrandina was doing was illegal (at least when it came to American performances) and the ramifications of all this are complex.  For, although American copyright acts passed in 1971 allowed for home taping of broadcasts for private use (taping within the opera house has always been forbidden) by selling those performances he was breaking that copyright law.  And, of course, any selling of internal house-recordings was also illegal.  This becomes even more complicated because American copyright laws differ in structure and content from those in Europe.  Interestingly, if you take a look at the "pirate" performances available in American stores today you will notice that most originate from Europe.  The reverse is true over there.

Did I mind the fact that I was involved in something so legally "gray"?  Especially since bu that time I was a professional singer and a member of AGMA myself?  Not really.  But there were a number of reasons for this.  One was that I believed then - as I do now - that live (and pirate) recordings are invaluable documents that represent an artist's truth.  I had also always lamented and strongly objected to the fact that there were so many excellent singers the general public knew little about only because they seemed to have been ignored by commercial recording companies.  Singers like Giangiacomo Guelfi, Leyla Gencer, Virginia Zeani, Magda Olivero, Willard White, Diana Soviero, Gianni Raimondi, Ruth Falcon, Teresa Stratas and Oralia Dominguez.  Also, because I was young I found it exciting to be working in such an unusual (if naughty) environment.  But mainly it had to do with Ralph's attitude toward what he was doing.  There was a genuine, deep love and respect for the art of singing in the man.  And although the legalities were questionable I truly believe he felt that he was not only preserving something important but also that he was helping promote the art of operatic tradition and its interpreters.  Because of Ralph's sincere (if ingenuous) attitude I never felt furtive when I went to the office nor was there anything sleazy about either the work or the surroundings.  I was always proud of what we did in that office because everyone involved cared deeply about the quality of what was being produced and believed in the importance of making such invaluable performances available to anyone who wanted to hear them.  Perhaps, also ingenuously, I felt as though I was part-custodian of great treasures of vocal art.  A priceless library that, whether right or wrong, I felt all had a right to hear.

I do not regret a moment of that time.  But then, being a lover of operatic repertoire the perks of working there were great.  I had a finger on the pulse of every major operatic performance happening around the world and was able to build my own extensive, invaluable library which I use in my work to this day.  I was given a rare opportunity to learn about obscure works and experience their revivals and often knew of singers long before they became internationally known.  I remember the day a tape was brought to the office of the New York recital debut of an English soprano who was being sponsored by the Wagner Society of New York.  She sang arias from Clemenza, Semiramide and Gioconda as well as songs by Quilter, Barber and Bridge.  Her name was Jane Eaglen and the date of that recital was June 18, 1984.

Eventually, in November of 1986, Mr. Tape was closed-down by the FBI.  Although, interestingly enough, not due to opera pirating but rather because of American Ballet videos.  Because of the changing climate in the recording industry and the shifting of copyright laws, however, I have no doubt that Mr. Tape would have closed by the early 1990s.

Coinciding with the time I worked at Mr. Tape, however, were some interesting changes that began to occur in American operatic recording practices.  It was around that time (1980) that commercial recording companies discovered that releasing live recordings could be a serious viable alternative to making them in a studio.  The reasons are less artistically motivated than you might think.  Recording an opera during a run of performances is considerably cheaper and easier to manage than locating and renting a space, scheduling rehearsal and recording time and then patch-up sessions.  Live recordings released today by such labels as Sony, BMG, EMI, Philips or Decca, however, differ from typical pirate recordings in that full releases have been secured from all participants which permit the recording to be released.

Many of the prized pirate recordings of 30 years ago are now easily available at Tower, Virgin and HMV and at a fraction of their previous cost.  I remember spending over $60 in the early 1980s for the Hunt CDs of the renowned 1952 Bayreuth Tristan with Modl and Vinay.  Now you can buy it on Opera D'Oro for $15.00.  While I for one welcome this shift in availability, it has created a paradox.  In the 1960s there were a handful of recordings of Aida from which to choose.  Because of the combining of live and commercial releases, today's novice listener is often confronted with too many renditions- between twenty and thirty.  On the one hand such riches are welcome for the opportunity to make valuable artistic comparisons (sometimes even between a singer's studio work and that done on stage).  On the other hand such a wealth can be intimidating and ultimately defeating.  Another shift during that time was more subtle - the deluge of live performances released by commercial companies subsequently removed much of the exciting, forbidden luster connected with live performances.

The central "house" of operatic America, The Metropolitan, has always been an active prohibitor of pirating performances - especially their own.  (I remember Mr. Tape having to sign documents agreeing not to sell any - even though he did to especially trusted customers.)  The Met has their own line of live recordings (about 16) which they offer to anyone who makes a contribution of $150 to the Met Guild.  They can do this because they have secured all the legal releases from surviving artists.

Because recordings of Metropolitan Opera performances continue to be actively prohibited, the "forbidden" allure attached to collecting them endures.  They remain some of the most prized items in private collections.  Whether they know it or not during any given night at the Met at least 5 (probably more) people are making pirate tapes.  I know this for a fact.  And now that video has entered the picture I do not need to tell you what the odds are that that is being done.  Despite their efforts almost 2,000 Met performances have been preserved on tape with over 200 now available on CD (more are released in Europe every year).  Admittedly much of this contraband is interesting only from a historical standpoint but some are "unrepeatable" classics.

These would include the infamous Ponselle Carmen (1936 and 1937), the debut of mezzo soprano, Jennie Tourel, in Mignon (1937), an unsurpassed 1949 Salome with Welitsch and Reiner, a 1939 Simon Boccanegra with Tibbett and Rethberg, a mercurial Gioconda with Milanov and Martinelli from that same year, the frothy, 1940 Fille du Regiment and sweetly sung Lakme with Lily Pons, a fiery 1940 Ballo with Bjoerling and Milanov, Martinelli's Otello (1938 or 1941), a dynamic 1943 Tristan with Traubel, Melchior and Kipnis, a remarkable Tosca from 1956 with Tebaldi, Tucker and Warren intensely conducted by Dimitri Mitropolous, what many consider to be THE Turandot (1961) with Nilsson, Corelli and Moffo with Stokowski conducting, a stunning broadcast debut of Joan Sutherland in Lucia and the debuts of both Leontyne Price and Franco Corelli in Trovatore both from 1961.  All these pirated documents prove exactly why these singers were so popular and why these recordings are so prized.  But even more importantly they serve to illustrate the vast changes in artistic taste, vocal tradition and voices themselves that have occurred during the past seventy years.

Today there is a plethora of small labels that specialize in live performances.  A number of them are attached to various festivals.  Most are available at Tower, HMV and Virgin Records and if you live in the New York area and can't find what you are looking for there it is very possible you will find it second-hand at Academy Records.  There are the excellent budget labels of Gala and Opera D'Oro both offering generally superb sound.  Then there are the more expensive labels of Myto - probably the premiere label of pirate recordings today, Dynamic (Martina Franca Festival), Bella Voce, Marco Polo (Wexford Festival), Arcadia (formerly Hunt), Melodram, Voce della Luna, Arlecchino, Grand Tier, On Stage, Nuova Era, The Fourties, Mondo Musica (Teatro La Fenice), Legato Classics, Music and Arts, G.O.P and VAI (New Orleans series), not to mention live releases now offered on such major labels such as BMG (the Munich and Vienna series) EMI (Salzburg, La Scala, and the Callas library) and Sony (Opera Orchestra of New York).  The only drawback to the smaller labels is that some do not include a libretto - though most include at least a synopses of the action.  Because of this, in most cases live recordings should be considered as supplementary to studio efforts unless you are dealing with rare works.

In many instances live recordings are the only account of a work that can be found.  Dynamic has released Giordano's final opera, Il Re, and his Mese Mariano.  Recorded at the Martina Franca Festival they are invaluable opportunities to hear and study works seldom mounted.  In the case of Il Re, the reasons are not hard to understand, the lead female role - Rosalina- is the most bizarre verismo role written, her music being a cross between Tosca and Zerbinetta.  Patrizia Ciofi finally proves that the role is not only singable but also one of great beauty  She manages not only the verismatic outbursts but also was able to cap the difficult, central scene with a most respectable top E.  Dynamic has also released the French version of Il Trovatore, the early version of Verdi's Macbeth, and a true rarity, Massenet's Roma.  But there are many other rarities.  There is Nielsen's Saul and David, a 1972 Copenhagen broadcast in English with Christoff, Soderstrom, Borg and Fisher (Opera D'Oro), Catalani's Loreley from a 1968 Milan performance with Suliotis, Cecchele and Cappuccilli (Living Stage), and Meyerbeer's L'Etoile du Nord - given a bravura performance by Elisabeth Futral and the forces of the Wexford Opera (Marco Polo).  Everyone is familiar with Humperdinck's Hansel & Gretel, but how about his Konigskinder, from a 1952 Cologne performance with Fischer-Dieskau, Anders, and Moller-Sieperman.  There is also Rubenstein's The Demon from the Wexford Festival (Marco Polo), and a 1974 Munich revival of Marschner's Der Vampyr with Auger, Tomowa-Sintow, Hillebrand and Hermann (Opera D'Oro).

Then there are the bel canto revivals including: Rossini's Ciro in Babilonia, a 1988 Chiabrera performance with Dessi and Palacio (Agora), Donizetti's Maria Stuarda (1967), Belisario (1969, 1970), Caterina Cornaro (1972) and Les Martyres (1975) all with Leyla Gencer, or his Castello di Kennilworth (Fonit Cetra) and Adelia  (BMG) both with Mariella Devia, Renata Scotto's 1968 Palermo revival of Bellini's La Straniera (Melodram), Christina Deutekom's 1970 revival of Rossini's Armida - probably the finest singing she did on stage (Mondo Musica).  Many New Yorkers remember the exceptional Carnegie Hall 1970 performance of Donizetti's Fille du Regiment (two years before the more famous Sutherland-Pavarotti Met revival) with Sills, Hirst, Corena, Greenspon and conducted by Roland Gagnon.  Released by Legato it is not only a tribute to Beverly Sills but also to a great un-sung hero, Roland Gagnon, who composed virtually all of Sills' cadenzas and ornaments during her NYCO prime.  Sills (in phenomenal voice) dominates the performance, demonstrating an expressive style of florid singing that harkens back to earlier eras of virtuosi.  There is an exciting pairing of Scotto and Christoff in a 1968 Italian revival of Meyerbeer's Robert le Diable (Myto) - the first performance of the work in the 20th century.  There are also the important revivals of his Les Huguenots - one in Italian (Milan 1962) with Corelli, Sutherland, Simionato, Cossotto, Tozzi, Ghiaurov (Gala) and a 1971 Vienna concert with Gedda, Shane, Tarres, Scovotti and Diaz (Myto).

There are also many performances of the basic repertoire that are outstanding.  A few would include a 1978 Munich Cavalleria with an ardent Rysanek, Domingo and Di Bella, an eloquently-sung Lucia from Florence (1996) with Devia, Bros and Frontali conducted by Mehta (Fone) and a unique Don Giovanni from Vienna in 1963 with Price, Waechter and Gueden (Gala).

Many performances are surprises.  One is an intensely sung (if idiosyncratically rearranged by Karajan) 1964 performance of Frau Ohne Schatten from Vienna (DGG) with Rysanek, Ludwig, Thomas, Berry and Grace Hoffmann with Lucia Popp and Fritz Wunderlich in supporting roles - vocally one of the finest performances of the 1960s.  There is a frantic but surprisingly satisfying 1949 performance of Ballo in Maschera from Edinburgh with Welitsch, Picchi, Silveri and Noni, conducted by Gui (On Stage).  Or an outstanding 1955 Bayreuth performance of Gotterdammerung with a young Birgit Nilsson surrounded by Rysanek, Aldenhoff, Uhde, Frick, Topper and Schech and conducted by Knappertsbusch (Orfeo) as well as Christa Ludwig's singular 1971 Lady Macbeth with Sherrill Milnes effective as Macbeth (Opera D'Oro).  This last can now be compared with a 1950 Berlin Macbeth with Modl and Metternich (Myto) - a revival that took place two years before Maria Callas' more celebrated performances at La Scala.  Out of her own fertile imagination, Mödl creates a riveting, sometimes frightening and constantly shifting portrait of the power-lusting queen.

As you can see, in many instances live recordings offer the only chance of hearing artists in roles for which they were famous but never recorded, or performing with other artists in casts renowned at the time on stage but that were not possible to duplicate in a recording studio due to conflicting alliances with recording companies.  During the 1960s Elektra was performed all over the world with three women who became closely identified with their roles - Birgit Nilsson, Leonie Rysanek and Regina Resnik.  Although Nilsson and Resnik recorded the work together on Decca, it is only on pirate recordings that you can hear the trio intact.  Legato released a 1965 Vienna performance that clearly explains what all the furor was about.  In a star-studded cast that also included Windgassen, Waechter, Unger, Janowitz and Mastilovic (soon a formidable Elektra in her own right) and conducted by Karl Bohm this document is a piece of operatic legend.  Two performances of Lakme also demonstrate famous pairings on stage but not in the studio, Welting and Kraus (1980, Ornamenti) and Devia and Gedda (1981, Legato).  Or how about a 1960 New York concert of Les Troyens with Resnik, Steber, Cassilly and Singher (VAI), or Grace Bumbry paired with an explosive Magda Olivero in an Italian, curiously verismatic revival of Janacek's Jenufa (Myto).

Then there are those performances that are one of a kind - a hilarious, not to be missed 1965 NY revival of Dittersdorf's Arcifanfano with Steber, Brooks, Rehfuss and the musical satirist, Anna Russell (VAI).  There is also the famous 1954 Florence revival of Fanciulla del West with a white-hot Eleanor Steber and Mario Del Monaco (Myto), a fascinating, surprisingly reflective Italian-sung 1962 performance of Die Meistersinger with Taddei, Christoff, Rizzoli and Tatone (Datum), an unorthodox yet outrageously exciting Don Giovanni from the 1950 Salzburg Festival with Gobbi, Welitsch, Schwarzkopf, Kunz and Dermota (EMI Salzburg Festspiel Documents), the famous 1969 Vienna revival of Smetana's Dalibor with the Rysanek sisters singing together on the same stage along with Spiess and Waechter, or the legendary La Scala debuts of Sills and Horne in Rossini's Siege of Corinth (Opera D'Oro).  Or how about Caballe, Moll, Nimsgern, Kollo and Scovotti in a 1973 RAI performance of Strauss' Arabella (Bella Voce), or a 1976 German-sung performance of Dvorak's Rusalka from Switzerland with a poignant Teresa Stratas with Killebrew, White and Zidek (Bella Voce), or the landmark 1956 Munich revival of Aegyptische Helena with Rysanek, Kupper, Uhde and Malaniuk conducted by Keilberth (Orfeo), an outstanding document and one of the few recordings (live or studio) that gives an accurate aural picture of the Rysanek instrument.  Or a real sleeper - Tosca from 1974 with Nilsson, Carreras, Fredricks and Ramey (Legato).

Long a favorite with collectors and singers is a Forza del Destino  from San Carlo in 1958, with Tebaldi, Corelli, Bastianini, Christoff, Dominguez and Capecchi (GOP).  (There is also a video of this performance.)  There is a dangerously intense revival of Verdi's Nabucco from Milan in 1967 with Guelfi and Suliotis (Opera D'Oro) and a dark, haunting Elektra from 1958 Salzburg with Inge Borkh, Lisa Della Casa and Jean Madeira with Marilyn Horne as one of the five Serving Maids (Opera D'Oro).  Perversely fascinating is a 1969 Manon from Milan with Freni and Pavarotti in which the leads perform Massenet as though Puccini (Opera D'Oro).  Contrasting that is a delicious 1965 Salzburg performance of Mozart's Entfuhrung with Rothenberger, Grist, Wunderlich, Unger and Corena conducted by Mehta (Orfeo).  There is a moving, Italian-sung performance (1958) of Massenet's Don Quichote with Christoff and Teresa Berganza (Opera D'Oro), and a famous Naples revival of Pacini's Saffo with Gencer and Louis Quilico (Arkadia).  Another of those once in a lifetime performances is a 1962 Salzburg Trovatore (Gala) with Price, Corelli, Bastianini and Simionato conducted by Karajan - spectacular singing, excellent recording and an unforgettable evening of listening all for $10.00.

Then there are the 60-plus performances of Maria Callas - all of which are certainly worth investigating for many reasons.  Among them the legendary Mexico City Aida with her massive high E flat at the end of the Triumphal Scene (Melodram) or the celebrated 1952 revival of Rossini's Armida from Florence which, despite its murky sound, displays with startling clarity Callas' genius in florid music - as well as her penchant for interpolating extreme high notes during her prime (Melodram).  Callas' first assumption of the Trovatore Leonora (which she prepared herself, without the help of her usual mentor, Tulio Serafin) also shows this trait (Opera D'Oro).  Then there is the Dallas Medea....

As if all of this was not too much already it does not even take into account the many live recitals and concerts released which spotlight one or more artist.  They could easily take up an article of their own.

There is also a new form of documenting live performances that has recently become available - CD Rom.  The father of this new movement is Mike Richter who has released some astonishing volumes, including performances of all the Wagner operas on a single disc and all the Strauss operas on another.  Not playable on a regular CD player but rather on the CD Rom drive of your computer these discs are treasure troves.  Most of them include libretti, artist and production photos, biographies and notes - a veritable multi-media extravaganza.

Any readers not familiar with Mike Richter's work should visit his web site and examine his Audio Encyclopedia which is now up to about 8 volumes.  The discs average about $8.00 and are absolutely indispensable for anyone interested in vocal tradition.  One of the most impressive is a Tribute to San Francisco Opera (the Adler years) which includes some twenty operas as well as a 1970 Leontyne Price Concert and Mahler's Das Lied von der Erde with Janet Baker and Jess Thomas, conducted by Josef Krips.  Most of the performances are one of a kind.  Where else can you find Jess Thomas' Peter Grimes, or Vickers and Rysanek  together in Aida, Giacomo Aragall's Werther, a 1982 Dialogues of the Carmelites with Carol Vaness, Leontyne Price, Regine Crespin and Virginia Zeani (who sang in the 1957 world premier), or Gioconda with Gencer and Bumbry, Amy Shuard's Gotterdammerung, Nancy Tatum's Forza del Destino (with Carlo Bergonzi no less), or an Ariadne cast with Colette Boky as Zerbinetta surrounded by Ludmila Dvoraka and Jess Thomas with Janis Martin as the Composer?

Believe it or not, even with all the recordings I have mentioned this is only the tip of the mountain.  There are thousands out there for you to enjoy and learn from.  Before, such performances were the stuff of dreams and secretly coveted by most people.  Today anyone can own them.  Never before in the history of recording has such a wealth of live material been so easily accessible to the general consumer.  Indeed, the labels Gala and Opera D'Oro (both about $4.99 a disc) now make it possible for one to build a varied and exciting library of live recordings for practically no money at all.  For people interested in such cost-inhibiting operas as the Wagner Ring Cycle both labels offer revered performances for about $50.00 - about a third of the cost of a "normal" commercial recording of the 4 opera cycle.

As with the acoustic recordings I urge you to take a chance on enriching your collection with live performances.  I should warn you, however, once you get a taste for them, they will become an obsession.  They are truly the modern singer's legacy and they reveal, without apology, singers' humanity and spirit.  Without them we would be deprived of some of the greatest performances ever to have taken place.  These too are our legacy.