The process is better at recording midrange sounds and has trouble with high frequencies. (Ms. Phillips was warned that it tends to favor tenors over sopranos.) Wide dynamic variables also test the machine’s capacity: Not knowing this, Ms. Phillips had prepared “Per pietà,” an aria from Mozart’s “Così Fan Tutte” that moves through extremes of high and low, loud and soft.

But Mr. Beczala was first up, singing “Quando le sere al placido” from “Luisa Miller,” accompanied by Gerald Moore, who played on a small upright piano so as not to compete with the voices. Putting the cylinder in place, Mr. Fabris was careful not to touch the surface: Even a slight thumbprint can create an impression. While Mr. Beczala sang, Mr. Fabris held a small brush in one hand and a little squeezable air bag in the other to disperse the dustlike shards of wax that are created when the stylus cuts into the cylinders.

Since the machine has no meter to check levels, Mr. Beczala tried out the opening of the aria twice, the second time moving closer to the machine. Both times, the ringing, virile quality of his sound came through fairly well, though dynamic variations essentially disappeared. Mr. Beczala was most rattled that his intonation sounded off — though this was a flaw of the equipment, not of his solid technique.

Finally, it was time to record the aria — or at least the first half or so, since each cylinder can hold only a little more than two minutes of music. “It’s like a black hole,” Mr. Beczala said, staring at the bell horn. “It takes you in.”