This Otello and Lucia di Lammermoor are the first two releases in the series, and at once the priority is clear: historical significance.

The Otello preserves Rafael Kubelik's first production at Covent Garden as Music Direcor in 1955, whilst the Lucia represents Joan Sutherland's first run of performances in the role with which she is most associated.

As historical documents, these are important releases, even if Ramón Vinay sounds more at ease on his earlier recording with Toscanini (on RCA) and Sutherland's portrayal is more mature in her Decca recording with her husband, Richard Bonynge. The sound quality is reasonable, capturing the excitement of the live occasions. Occasionally, the odd word or detail is lost, for example it's impossible to make out Otello's crucial line, 'Cielo! O gioia!', at the end of the Act 3 monologue. But the two recordings have so much to recommend them that these are very minor details.

For me, the more enticing of the two is the Sutherland Lucia, which allows those of us born well after the event to understand why her debut in this role catapulted her to stardom. In 1959, there was none of the vocal swooping that characterised her later performances. Instead, her coloratura is remarkable, with the taxing mad scene sung with impeccable precision and dramatic pathos. She is equally convincing in the earlier scenes, whether duetting with João Gibin's lyrical Edgardo or crowning the famous sextet, 'Chi mi frena in tal momento', with a glistening D flat.

Perhaps John Shaw isn't the most subtle Enrico on record, but the other characters are generally well sung and to hear Tullio Serafin in this repertoire is a luxury. Then a vastly neglected composer, this production revived the fortunes of Donizetti and made Lucia a seminal part of the company's repertoire, so it's good to be able to make the journey back in time and experience a key moment in the Royal Opera's history. It's also enhanced by a short clip of an archive interview with Sutherland, who discusses the role, the director Franco Zeffirelli and the conductor.

Less successful for me is the Otello, which comes from 1955 and represents the first season of Rafael Kubelik as Music Director of the Royal Opera. Kubelik is the only wholly commendable contributor to the recording, though that's no small thing: he draws warm colours and searing drama from the orchestra and chorus, who are excellent. Kubelik is a most sensitive accompanist, breathing with his singers in every mood, whether romantic or tragic.

For some, Ramón Vinay is still the supreme Otello, but not for me, I'm afraid. Are his pathetic sobs in the Act 3 monologue those of a warrior? And who would trade in Plácido Domingo's lyrical singing of the preceding duet with Desdemona for Vinay's squally sounds? Here Verdi is employing a gallant style of vocal writing, so that when Otello suddenly calls his wife a whore, it comes as a surprise after a passage of 'wooing' music. Vinay simply doesn't deliver the goods, though he does the final scene with subtlety and is full-blooded in Act 2.

The Dutch soprano Gré Brouwenstijn also gives a mixed performance as Desdemona. The first two acts are riddled with flat and underpowered singing. Then in Act 3, she rises from the dirt after Otello's slap with the nobility of a great heroine, bringing resignation and purity to the Willow Song and Ave Maria. Otakar Kraus is perhaps too much the stock villain, a product of his time, but vocally all is secure and his duet with Otello is strongly sung. Most of the minor characters make decent contributions; it is nice to hear Michael Langdon in an early role as Montano.

Available at mid-price, these recordings offer a welcome chance to sample some of the riches of the Royal Opera's past. I do hope that the future releases offer performances from a greater range of dates, however.

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