Paul Robeson remains as well known as an actor and athlete as for his musical activities, and in general is a "big name" whose music most listeners have sampled only in bits and pieces. For that reason alone, this seven-disc compilation of Robeson's EMI recordings, made in Britain, would be worth a place in libraries and collections; it presents music by the great African-American bass not in bits and pieces but in collections that show the full range of his activities and capture a whole arc of his career. Missing among the types of music Robeson recorded are only his explicitly leftist workers' anthems, which generally date from years later than the 1939 cutoff point of this set. Beyond that, the first thing to strike the listener may be the vast range of music with which Robeson was comfortable. He is best known for African-American spirituals and for the artful quasi-spiritual language of Jerome Kern's "Ol' Man River" and similar items. But even a quick Internet sampling of this set will reveal much more. A partial list would include early African-American musical theater (Robeson's several versions of Will Marion Cook's "Down de Lovers Lane" convey perhaps the best idea yet of what these shows sounded like in their time); minstrel and "plantation" songs like Dixie, from both white and black composers (some of them irredeemably racist by today's standards); pop songs including a glorious set by Hoagy Carmichael; operetta; folk songs from Russia and elsewhere; parlor-room classics by Ethelbert Nevin and Carrie Jacobs Bond; country and western music (which were separate genres at the time); and American and British art songs. Robeson sounds as natural singing of "England's green and pleasant land" in Hubert Parry's Jerusalem (CD 7, track 6) as in a spiritual like Steal Away. The British origin of the recordings results in a few ridiculous moments, but Robeson spent years in Britain (especially in Wales, whose industrial struggles played a key role in the development of his activist consciousness), and in general the box represents the mainstream of Robeson's career in the late '20s and 1930s, not one of its tributaries. The remastering is superb, and the original recordings, with the later ones supervised by legendary producer Walter Legge, were impressive enough in their own time. The booklet notes, in English, French, and German, basically present a brief Robeson biography with a slight emphasis on the European phases of his career, but the track list is detailed and informative in itself. A major historical release that is highly listenable in itself.

-- James Manheim, All Music Guide

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An obvious first port of call for pre-War Robeson material.

This is now an obvious first port of call for pre-War Robeson material given that it includes his complete EMI recordings made over a dozen years. This is apparently the first time they have been collated in a single box in this way and the Abbey Road team has effected the re-masterings. It includes the first published EMI recordings from 1928, which are decidedly less common than the more familiar later sides of the same material. The bands are high class if not always attuned to the genre – but by the time we get to the later material things work well.

It would be rather exhausting – and not recommended – to do what your critic did and listen to every track one after the other. For one thing Robeson re-recorded a lot and left behind numerous examples of his medleys. So there’s invariably quite a bit of duplication one way or another.

Highlights of the first disc include the Kensingtonian tones of the so-called Mississippi chorus in Ol’ Man River – with the orchestra of the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane. Better of course are Robeson’s first recordings with pianist Lawrence Brown. I also enjoyed the non-Spiritual things such as Nevin’s Mighty lak’a rose where Ray Noble directs the anonymous band with distinction. By the time of the second disc things have settled down. One can only admire what I’d call the recitativo theatricality of the Will Marion Cook song Exhortation, the cavernous Go down, Moses and the elegant arrangement of High Water – though Crosby always sang this to the manner born. There are some bluesy contributions from a good trumpeter and some string players on Rockin’ Chair – it’s a frustrating feature of such recordings that it’s next to impossible now to work out who they were; but maybe the fiddlers were Eric Siday or Jean Pougnet. The highlight of this disc was the glorious coupling of Bear de Burden and All God’s chillun got wings with another splendid pianist and colleague, Ruthland Clapham. There’s no getting away from the fact that songs such as That’s why darkies were born are also here.

For a religiose pairing leading organist Herbert Dawson accompanied Robeson – heard on the third disc. In Carey’s Nearer, my God, to Thee one can detect an intrinsic bleat in Robeson’s voice. But he’s on inspirational form in the traditional Pilgrim’s Song and on one of the best Harry Burleigh arrangements – Were you there? In disc 4 we have some unusual repertoire, as if EMI were trying him out in lighter fare. It doesn’t work; the voice is too immobile to do anything with such admitted trifles as Wagon Wheels and So shy. This disc also contains some music from the film Sanders of the River. Gloomy Sunday, on CD 5, is a histrionic tone poem – pre- Billie Holiday – and there’s yet another version of Ol’ Man River. There are extracts from the film of Song of Freedom whose composer was Eric Ansell, who is on hand, a year apart, to conduct four extracts as he does Spoliansky’s music from King Solomon’s Mines. Interesting there is a poem by Langston Hughes read with dignity by Robeson. Disc six dates from 1937-38 and most things here are on the highest level of accomplishment. The first four tracks are indispensable for anyone who admires great artistry. Arthur Somervell’s bardic arrangement of All through the night is perhaps less so but that’s not the singer’s fault. Robeson also sings Ellington and Gershwin in this volume though he is altogether shakier on the pianist-composer Edward Kilenyi’s Encantadora Maria.

Robeson was great Russophile; he sings Grechaninov’s Lullaby half in English and half in Russian, recites Blake’s The little black boy and then embarks on some unlikely material with a chamber orchestra directed by Walter Goehr – Jerusalem, The Blind Ploughboy and the like. The band sounds as if it composed of café fiddlers earning a few bob. A few other incongruous items stud this volume – Plaisir d’amour (I think not), John Ireland’s Sea Fever and Quilter’s Now sleeps the crimson petal.

As I noted at the beginning then a first port of call for Robeson enthusiasts looking to acquire the complete EMI sides. There are reasonably succinct notes, good pictures, no texts and no matrix or issue numbers. As for the transfers they are smooth but treble-starved; too much so for my taste, though many will enjoy the aural ride free of shellac hiss.

-- Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International