No 8 — November 1977 Edited by Michael Walters
THE MIKADO on Record 1926–1936
The recent LP reissue of the 1926 MIKADO provided the idea of the following comparison of that recording with that of 1936, the main points of interest being the development of Oldham & Fancourt over ten years, and the early conducting of Isidore Godfrey. It is very much to be wished that the earlier version could have been made with the improved recording techniques of the later. In general, despite the bad recorded quality, the orchestral playing, and the interpretation above all, is much better in '26. The strings have a good creamy tone, and the anonymous conductor (? Harry Norris [Yes, Ed.]) is not afraid to include the sort of Elgarian portamenti that Sullivan no doubt intended but which shocks modern 'purists', and which Godfrey omits. There is a splendid bounce and spirit about the playing, even if some changes of tempo are bad and the ensemble is frequently ragged. The orchestra is probably at its worst in "A wandering minstrel I". By contrast, Godfrey's version is excessively dull and expressionless. Tuning and tempi are more slick, but the brass and wind, particularly the oboe in the overture, are coarse. There is no feeling or contrast, and the whole opera feels slower as a result, though in fact none of the differences in tempi is particularly striking except for the entrance of the ladies. The Chorus is standard on both recordings, with some particularly nasty and reedy tenors in '36.
THE MIKADO – Darrell Fancourt in both.
In the earlier recording Fancourt is magnificent. His voice is still young and fresh, but with a great cutting edge to it. His entrance and song are sung with a savage relish that makes the slower '36 recording colourless by comparison. By 36 too his voice had lost much of its edge, though it improved again on some of his later discs. He had played the part continuously from 1920, and so presumably the two versions do represent fairly accurately his development in the part on stage. By 36 he is too comfortable! It is interesting that his 26 version is clearly the origin of Donald Adams' strange pronunciation of "chemical" as "cebulcal".
NANKI–POO. Derek Oldham in both recordings.
I have to admit at the outset that I am not particularly an Oldham fan. His non–G&S discs are superb, but it has always seemed to me that perhaps D'OC–directed recordings cramped his style. How much better he was live I of course cannot say, but I accept the verdicts of those who actually saw him. Nevertheless in the 26 recording he was undoubtedly at his best, and must surely be preferable to any Nanki–Poo on disc. It is far easier to complain of the faults in 36, as there are so few in 26. In the latter version all the strange inflections of his later recordings are present. "Passion" becomes "pwersion" and "waist" "weest". Portamento has turned into very unpleasant scooping ("to lay aloft"), and he has developed an annoying vibrato. The top G at the end of ''A Wandering minstrel'' is quite clearly falsetto. He often forces, and spreads on top notes (e.g. top A in the kissing duet), he is, in short, beginning to show his age, particularly in "Here's a how–d'ye–do". At the time of 26, he had not played the part for 4 years, whereas he was probably well into it in 36 as he had been guesting on and off since 1934. 26 shows how splendid he was in his youth, and this is borne out, at least in vocal quality, by his earlier acoustic recordings. By 36, we can probably tell what he was like on stage – rather unpleasant.
KO–KO 26 Henry Lytton, 36 Martyn Green.
Lytton had been playing the part continually since 1909 and intermittently for many years before that. His comic delivery is well–known and loved by all, to such an extent that all he really has to do is open his mouth to win you over. Obviously, so many years experience helps in the production of such a polished comic performance. Of course he acts rather than sings, but compare Rex Harrison in "My Fair Lady"; the technique and results are the same. He simply is Ko–Ko. Who else could have captured the comedy and the pathos? It is noticeable too how well he comes over in concerted pieces –– a much stronger and more carrying voice than at first hearing. Notice too his breath control in "I am so proud" – though unfortunately neither of the recordings of this trio is entirely satisfactory. Martyn Green had understudied Lytton since 1928, and took over the part in 1934. Naturally anyone would have had a difficult task after living in the shadow of so great a man for so long, but Green seems to have given up completely. Not once does he ever betray any sense of humour. His delivery is accurate (note the terribly pedantic "None of M be missed") but dull. It is a noticeable feature of the 36 recording that several artists were obviously copying, in places, what their predecessors had done, but were trying not to make it too obvious. Compare then Green & Lytton in "Here's a how de do" and "The flowers that bloom". The 26 version of the latter must be the best ever, and even Green seems to have woken up.
POOH–BAH 26 Leo Sheffield, 36 Sydney Granville
Sheffield took over the part in 1917 after the death or Fred Billington and perhaps took over some of his style with it. He oozes Pooh–Bah from every pore, even if what he sings is deliberately not always what Sir Arthur wrote. This is surely what 1885 audiences must have seen and heard. He lapses strangely in "So please you sir", which is dull, but soon recovers. His cadenza is notorious, but listen to "The criminal cried" as well. Granville played Pooh–Bah since 1928, after appearing as the Mikado and Pish–Tush with the new company. He too, seems to have had difficulty in following such a well–loved interpretation as Sheffield's though again there are places where he was influenced heavily; for example parts of his first song and the Act 1 finale. For the rest however, he is unenterprising despite that extraordinary nasal delivery which fits Pooh–Bah better than any of his other parts and ought to have been better exploited.
PISH–TUSH 26 George Baker, 36 Leslie Rands
George Baker of course never played the part on stage but was under contract to be included somehow [sic. Ed.]. It is interesting that that one of the three or four artists who might otherwise have recorded in 26 was Leslie Rands, who then made occasional appearances as Pish–Tush after playing the Mikado of all things with the New Co. Rands was normally a very fine performer, but listening to the song after Baker he sounds quite ridiculous. In "I am so proud" however, he is more successful, so the honours are about even. It is not a rewarding part! In the Madrigal Baker is too loud and pushy; Radley Flynn as Go–To in 36 is preferable. Indeed the Madrigal is the only number to be better performed in the later recording. In 26 it is all too harsh, too loud, too rough and ready. Doris Hemingway is noticeably flat, and there is no sense of togetherness; the voices do not blend at all. In 36 the blend, ensemble and interpretation are all excellent, and the slightly slower tempo more reasonable.
YUM–YUM 26 Elsie Griffin, 36 Brenda Bennett
Elate Griffin had been playing Yum–Yum for 5 years, Brenda Bennett for a few months only. Again, there were in '36 three artists who might have recorded the part, and surely of those Sylvia Cecil would have been ideal? Bennett is dreadful, wild and uncontrolled, and hammers her notes out like a machine–gun even in "The sun whose rays". By contrast Elsie Griffin sings very intelligently if slightly flat on top. But she In too old (or sounds so) and too full–voiced; a Yum–Yum fast approaching her years of discretion. Neither is ideal, though Griffin is more acceptable.
PITTI–SING 26 Aileen Davies, Doris Hemingway, Beatrice Elburn, 36 Marjorie Eyre
PEEP–BO 26 Beatrice Elburn, 36 Elizabeth Nickell–Lean
Aileen Davies played Peep–Bo 1923–26 and Pitti–Sing 1924–27. Elburn played Peep–Bo 1925–27. Marjorie Eyre spent some time as Yum–Yum with the new Co. and then as Pitti–Sing from 1929. Elizabeth Nickel–Lean had been Peep–Bo from 1931. Doris Hemingway never played either. The only convincing Pitti–Sing on record is Beryl Dixon in 1958, but Marjorie Eyre's interpretation is rather charming, if impossibly affected in "Braid the raven hair". Neither Davies nor Elburn can match her, but in the circumstances this is hardly surprising. It is a small enough part anyway without being split! Both made far better and more impressive recordings in other roles, and this set is unrepresentative. Miss Hemingway sings flat. Miss Nickel–Lean does not.
KATISHA 26 Bertha Lewis, 36 Josephine Curtis
Bertha Lewis had played the part since 1914, and is superb despite some wild orchestral playing in Act 1. "The hour of gladness" is pure magic. She was obviously uncomfortable in the fast tempo of "Alone and yet alive", but it is still magnificent singing. There never has been, and never will be, a Katisha to equal Ann Drummond–Grant, but Lewis comes far closer than others. Josephine Curtis, to give her her due, regularly played no more than Inez, and had understudied Katisha for a while in 1933. Why then she was chosen to record the part in preference to Dorothy Gill is a complete mystery. She is so bad it isn't even funny, with an unfortunate tendency to stick out in choral passages (e.g. "See how the Fates") and her magnificent bum note in the penultimate chord of Act 1. She shows no feeling at all, and has no lower register. It is noticeable that in "There is Beauty in the Bellow of the Blast" Bertha Lewis could comfortably sing faster than Henry Lytton (no mean feat); with Curtis and Green the song is watery.
The 1926 recording is vastly superior to that of 1936, with the exception of the Madrigal and the recording quality, and contains three outstanding performances, those of Lytton, Sheffield and Miss Lewis. The recording of 1936 has nothing to commend it. SELWYN TILLETT
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