With the exception of Feodor Chaliapin, Marcel Journet was undoubtedly the most prolifically recorded bass of the 78 rpm era. His career spanned more than three decades and was truly international in scope. His is a household name among record collectors, and yet, he has had little representation on LP and CD re-issues, excepting the recordings of Gounod’s Faust and Romeo in which he appears. It is also quite curious that a complete discography of Journet has never been published. This two-disc set of Journet’s Gramophone Company recordings marks the commencement of a projected four volume series chronicling the entire recorded output of this most magnificent bass. Due to the time constraints of two CDs, five minutes of music had to be eliminated from this volume. I have chosen to remove the 1930 recording of “Doute de la lumière” from Hamlet with Fanny Heldy. My decision was made easy by the fact that this exhibits the most excruciating singing from Heldy that I have ever heard, and I am amazed that it was ever issued at all. I will include it, however, in the final volume of the series.

I decided to begin this project with Marcel Journet’s Gramophone Company recordings, for they provide a marvelous glimpse at his long and varied career. His first sessions for French HMV date from 1909 and 1910, during his first years at the Paris Opéra. His position there was not one of preeminence and therefore these recordings received little circulation or acclaim outside of France. Today, though not considered to be great rarities, these discs are rather difficult to find in suitable condition for re-mastering. Journet’s voice is quite forward on these records and for that reason, some distortion is inevitable. These discs all play at about 74 rpm with a gradual decrease of 1 rpm by the conclusion. I have taken care to keep the pitch constant throughout each selection.

By the 1920s, Journet had become the principal bass at the Opéra and was often to be seen at Monte Carlo and La Scala. His recordings from this period, recorded in Paris and then Milan, were given premium red-label status reflecting the respect that Journet was receiving within the operatic world. These discs show him in fine voice but unfortunately, the Meistersinger monologue from 1924, sung in Italian, is not particularly well-recorded. Try though I might, I was unable to bring Journet’s voice into focus. We are fortunate, then, that the Gramophone Company chose to electrically record this monologue again in 1930, this time, sung in Journet’s native French.

As in the case of Feodor Chaliapin, Marcel Journet’s electrical recordings are perhaps his very best, for his voice only got better with age, and he acquired baritonal high notes which he never possessed as a younger singer. His incredible power and subtlety in the recordings from Die Walküre and Thaîs are, for a man of sixty, almost beyond belief. These electrical recordings of Journet are some of my absolute favorites, and I am thrilled to present them here.