Arda Mandikian and Jeannine Collard sing Les Troyens, conducted by Hermann Scherchen (1952)

seen from United States

seen from Israel
seen from United Kingdom

seen from New Zealand

seen from United States
seen from Kuwait
seen from Germany

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from Australia
seen from India
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Germany

seen from United States

seen from Singapore
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
Arda Mandikian and Jeannine Collard sing Les Troyens, conducted by Hermann Scherchen (1952)
Kirsten Flagstad, Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, and Thomas Hemsley sing Purcell's Dido and Aeneas, conducted by Geraint Evans (1951)
This recording was made shortly after Flagstad sang Dido at the Mermaid Theatre in London. Born in 1895, the veteran soprano approaches the part with an innate flair for Purcell's elaborate vocal lines (she is in much better voice than in her disappointing Alceste, recorded the following year). The contained emotion and immense dignity of her final aria are unique, and her heartbreaking plea to Belinda ("Remember me") is a landmark in the history of opera on record.
Born in 1915, Elisabeth Schwarzkopf had just embarked on her international career, having somehow extricated herself from the rubble of postwar Germany (no mean feat for a card-carrying member of the Nazi party). In the recording, she stands in for Maggie Teyte, who sang Belinda in the stage production.
Of the three principals, Thomas Hemsley was by far the youngest, as he was born in 1927— this production of Purcell's opera marked his professional debut; he also appears as Sixtus Beckmesser in Kubelik's recording of Die Meistersinger.
Interestingly, this recording features two famous Didos — Flagstad and Greek soprano Arda Mandikian, who recorded the role of the Carthaginian queen in Berlioz's epic opera The Trojans under the baton of Hermann Scherchen. Here, she appears as the Sorceress.
This classic of the gramophone is a fine example of what I wrote two days ago about period instruments and performance styles. To a twenty-first century listener, solecisms abound, beginning with an Overture that irresistibly calls to mind Violetta dying of consumption in a furnished room. Yet no modern recording approaches the dramatic and emotional intensity of this searing but dignified and, in its own way, magnificently stylish performance, which treats Purcell's score with a respect and love that have not been replicated since.