Jackie Evancho: The Phenomenon

To My Readers:

Regarding posting time, I would like to inform you that I will be posting articles for Great Opera Singers on Friday evenings from now on.  For years, I have posted these blogs on Sunday, but I have decided to move the time forward so that the blogs will be available for weekends.  Much of my traffic is from abroad, and often people abroad did not receive the blogs until Monday, their time, and often did not post comments until Tuesday or later.  By publishing on Friday evening, the blogs should be available everywhere for the weekends, which is the time most readers have available for internet reading.  I hope this works out to everyone’s advantage.  Thanks!     Edmund

 

Jackie Evancho:  The Phenomenon

 

 

 

I had to think long and hard to decide how such an article as this, on a 13 year old child, could be framed.  The problem is knottier than I had imagined.  Jackie is a child—a talented one, to be sure, but a girl. She is extremely famous, and almost unbelievably successful.  Does that make her fair game for reviewing?  Some writers and critics have begun to review her work, and I find that to be inappropriate.  I could not and would not do such a thing myself.  I rejoice In her fame and fortune, but I strongly feel she should be left alone to be a little girl  a while longer.  Her day will come.  It’s not even clear what path she will  follow.  Opera?  I doubt it, personally, but I could be wrong.  Theater?  Broadway?  Pop? She just did her first movie, with Robert Redford.  Will she be an actress?  Do you see the problem?  What, exactly, is one reviewing?  I say let’s let her be a little girl while she can!  Later.  Later.

 

I first heard of Jackie in 2009, when her mother wrote to me and sent me a recording of Jackie, then age 9, singing “O Mio Babbino Caro.”  I get a lot of mail of this kind, and I always take it seriously and give it my close attention.  It was immediately apparent that this was an extraordinary voice for a then 9-year old girl.  I remember telling Mrs. Evancho that I was most impressed with the voice, but I doubted the wisdom of letting Jackie sing high Bb’s.  A nine-year-old voice is a VERY delicate thing. Pre-pubertal girls and boys have to be treated with the greatest imaginable care.  I also said that unless my ears deceived me, or unless puberty played a game on us, we were looking at a potential contralto or mezzo here one day.  I recommended the aria be transposed a third down.  I’m happy to say that when Jackie appeared on “America’s Got Talent,” she did sing this aria down a third (minor third, if I recall), and the rest, as they say, is history.  The sound this produced was phenomenal, and it’s that phenomenon, that sound I wish to direct myself to, in a purely analytical way, simply to see if I can touch on something meaningful.  I would only add that I was most impressed with Mrs. Evancho, a careful, caring mother, who explored all the reasonable means at her disposal to get Jackie heard.  She wrote to many people, I was only one of many, and gathered advice.  A careful, sensible procedure.  Jackie was, and remains, in good hands!

 Most of you may have heard it, but the Jackie story really begins with her “America’s Got Talent”  appearance.  Here is a video, viewed by fifteen million people, of that magic moment:

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SKhmFSV-XB0

Piers Morgan’s comment, after the aria, “Are you sure you’re not 30,” pretty much sums it up!  That is, of course, what it’s all about.  There is a certain amount of cognitive dissonance here.  That teeny, beautiful, 10 year old creature opens her mouth and out comes a near contralto sound.  And this to an audience who had no idea what was coming.  This “Jackie” sound is a result of having developed, early on, what in the voice training business is called a “cupola,”  which is to say a large “hood” in the mouth which results from what is basically a big yawn, creating a kind of echo chamber—an imprecise term, but I’m sure you see the effect I am describing.  It is the quintessential operatic sound.  It is the opposite of that which is open and piercing.  It could also be called “cover,” which in an adult voice is the result of a lowered larynx.  In adults, we are used to it.  Not in 10 year old little girls.  That, simple as it is, is a huge part of the Jackie vocal phenomenon at that age.  It was the ultimate attention-getter.  (And, not coincidentally, one of the benefits of singing in Italian!)

 Let’s change a few factors:  a little more age, go to English, raise the tessitura just a bit:

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IyJb1Eb2uxc&list=ALGLx1orRGw4XP4P3cmxZH3s0MHHktwEaU

 

Very winning!  That doesn’t change.  Suddenly not very operatic, however.  The cover has been lifted slightly—English will do that!  The voice is, correspondingly, “whiter.”  No problem at all, but a slightly different category starts to come to mind (and ear):  “cross-over.”  And this is, in fact, a word used often when describing much of Jackie’s singing.

We need to hear Jackie today.  This is the most recent video I could find, made a few months ago, and it shows what may—repeat may—be a sign of things to come.  This video is five minutes long, and you may not wish to hear it all, but a couple of minutes will speak adequately to what we are trying to evaluate here, and that is simply a description of the phenomenon:

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qw7e_qvPgks
 

 

This is pretty straight-forward pop, with a slight cross-over quality on top.  :  whiter voice, much less covered, but remarkably pure.  That is perhaps  the most remarkable thing about Jackie’s voice:  from the beginning, there has not been a single hint of harshness, shrillness, edginess, or faulty intonation.  This makes the matter of the seeming “contralto” sound of age 10 irrelevant.  What we have, consistently, over the period of 3 years, is amazing purity of intonation and quality!  Where the voice will go is not for me to say.  On a guess, I’d say crossover/pop.  If this were the 1930’s, I’d say movie singer.  Whether today’s movie market—I’m thinking of Chloe Moretz in Kickass and Jennifer Lawrence in Winter’s Bone, inter alia-- will support Deanna Durbin-like singing children is anybody’s guess!  There are trailers on Youtube of “The Company You Keep,” in which Jackie has a part.  The movie is pretty grim.  Jackie’s part is small but important, and she does a good job. Redford was impressed with her.

There are of course other factors in the Jackie phenomenon.  One of the most important is that she is extremely beautiful.  NOT an inconsiderable factor!  Also, she is obviously a very nice kid, being very well raised by her parents.  This shines through in everything she does.  All this makes one mightly little package!  Let’s wish her very well.  She has some tough years to navigate, but given how well she’s handled the last three, and how well her parents have done keeping her centered, my instincts tell me she’ll do just fine!

_________________________________
Comments on this particular article can only be accepted if they are written in the spirit of the article itself, which is to say celebratory, not critical.   This is not a review; I will never review the work of children who are currently performing.  Edmund StAustell

 

 

 

Gianni Raimondi: The Star of La Scala in the Golden Age

It is both a pleasure and an honor  for me to welcome the return today of our distinguished guest writer Gioacchino Fiurezi Maragioglio, Italian industrialist from Naples, opera critic and historian. Mr. Fiurezi Maragioglio was an intimate friend of the great Italian tenor Giacomo Lauri Volpi, and is a life-time subscriber to the Teatro San Carlo, one of the world's historically great opera houses. Mr. Fiurezi Maragioglio's knowledge of Italian opera and opera singers —past and present—is simply vast, and I do not believe that there is anyone among my acquaintances whose knowledge exceeds his own, and there are precious few who could match it. I know that I certainly could not. I am very pleased today to be  able to feature his article on the great Italian tenor Gianni Raimondi!

 

Gianni Raimondi: The Star of La Scala in the Golden Age

                                                                       By Gioacchino Fiurezi Maragioglio

Gianni Raimondi represents the best version of the operatic singer. In addition to vocal endowments of exceptional quality, Raimondi also possessed the correct technique, a fine musical sensitivity and was a performer of great integrity; respected and lauded by both  public and  management. He had incredible staying power, serving as a leading tenor at, among others, the Teatro alla Scala, for more than twenty years, and remaining just as potent and relevant a performer in the last years as in the first. Raimondi’s abilities enthralled even a young Luciano Pavarotti, who would watch his idol for hours in the hope of mastering his exemplary technique.

Though not especially large, Raimondi’s instrument had the resonance and pure tone of a fine bell. It was a sharp voice, poking through the orchestra and becoming mellifluous as it carried all through the theater. It was also a very beautiful voice, and, as mentioned,  one harnessed with impeccable technique.

The following recording shows Raimondi at 38, in his vocal prime, having been singing for about thirteen years, and touring in South America with company no less illustrious than Leyla Gencer!  Here is A te, o cara, from the Teatro Colón, 1961:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=09rk6nGrXN8

Such singing of the role of Arturo is rarely equalled. To have such color and authority in the treble register is uncommon enough, let alone to sing a C-sharp of such quality and power! But Raimondi does not content himself simply with a clarion top note: his legato is perfect, the voice so smooth and evenly blended, produced without any hint of strain. His articulation, though not as accurate as modern-day interpreters, is nevertheless good, and elegantly executed. His diction is clean and unaffected except for inflections appropriate to the context. In a few words, this is bel canto singing. Indeed, a measure of his ability and success as a bel canto performer was such that he spanned two generations of the revival: beginning in the early `50s he was a frequent partner of Callas, while by the `70s, he was appearing alongside Caballé.

His is all the more remarkable given that his repertoire was centred not with Bellini or Donizetti, but rather upon the heavier works of High and Late Romanticism—Verdi and Puccini. While remembered fondly for Arturo, it was Mario Cavaradossi which was usually considered his signature role. Thus: Recondita armonia, 1965, at Geneva.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-8DRfMV_Sac

The same qualities are once again demonstrated: beautiful tone with a healthy bloom, clear and unaffected diction, perfectly moderated breath control and extreme technical mastery. Note not only the magnificent high B-flat sustained effortlessly, but also his adroit handling of the music afterwards, particularly the tricky passage “sei tu,” which has a habit of choking many tenors. In the video, we can also note his stage deportment; Raimondi stands upright, with noble posture and without undue extraneous movements, more a knight that a lover, without the same romantic qualities, as, for example, Franco Corelli, a formidable competitor!

In 1961, when the Night of the Seven Stars (Les Huguenots) returned to La Scala, led by Joan Sutherland as the Queen and having in Giulietta Simionato a genuine soprano-falcon, Raimondi was a natural choice for Raul; who better to traverse such a long, long role laden with a high tessitura and numerous florid passages? Elements conspired to suggest Franco Corelli, who got the role and led Gli Ugonotti to tremendous success. This is not at all about slighting Corelli’s talent and masterful performance; simply, it regards the fact that there can be only one Raul, and the casting of Corelli prevented Raimondi from performing it. There is a balance to everything: in hearing Corelli’s stupendous performance, audiences were denied the opportunity to hear Raimondi.

Nevertheless, some suggest that Raimondi got his own back four years later, when he assumed the role of Arnoldo in Guglielmo Tell, which Corelli had planned to perform but found to be too high and uncomfortable. Raimondi, once again partnered with Gencer, performed the role at Teatro di San Carlo in 1965, and then repeated the following year in 1966, at the Teatro Còlon, from which this recording comes.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2OIxmx4rwNs

Ultimately, despite the ease with which he sings the formidable romanza O muto asil del pianto—brilliant, squillo-drenched high notes and perfect stability, and the passionate audience response, Raimondi untimely found Arnoldo too taxing to keep in his active repertoire.

Throughout his career, Raimondi was conservative with regards to the roles he performed. This is not to suggest his repertoire was small and light: in his vocal maturity, begining around 1970, he sang many heavy and demanding roles: Arrigo, Pollione, Riccardo, Rodolfo (Luisa Miller),  and Enzo Grimaldo among them. Nevertheless, he had an acute sense of what was right for his voice, and he consistently refused the persistent offers of many opera houses to sing Manrico and Alvaro. He also displayed an affinity for early Verdi, starring in an acclaimed production of I Masnadieri, with Ilva Ligabue and Boris Christoff, at the Teatro dell’ Opera di Roma in 1972, all the while maintaining his most cherished roles of il Duca, Pinkerton, Cavaradossi and Alfredo.

It is with Pinkerton I would like to leave you: the love duet of the first act, captured live with Renata Tebaldi in 1958. Despite the power and size of Tebaldi’s voice, Raimondi is never less than audible, never abandoning his refined phrasing and immaculate vocalism to strain for volume as others sometimes do. I would like to further point out this performance occurred in August, at the Arena Flegrea. That is, during very hot weather in a very large outdoor venue!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GsvuMPrJCMo

The performance is of course, as the fashion in those times, capped with a clarion high C!

This, then, is Gianni Raimondi: titan of the old lirica italiana. Though he did sing to great acclaim at the Metropolitan Opera in 1965 with Mirella Freni in La Bohème, and of course toured in South America and other European countries such as Germany, he nevertheless spent the majority of his career in Italy, in the Italian way. A few performances of Faust were his only excursions beyond Italian music. A sharp encounter with Hebert von Karajan which led the gracious Raimondi to simply describe him as una brutta persona speaks volumes of his character and person. No endless rants and public disgrace; merely a succinct comment on the abysmal way von Karajan could sometimes treat singers that disagreed with him. Raimondi’s near analogue of a tenor, Alfredo Kraus, had similar experiences with the great German conductor, and indeed many parallels can be drawn between the two: both were considered to have the best technique of tenors of their generation, and both demonstrated an unwavering commitment to performance at consistently high standards, night after night, live in the opera house.

Like Kraus, another aristocrat of the lirica without pretension or falseness, Raimondi simply performed as the best version of himself, a shining model to his adoring public and other singers, and one that I feel is particularly relevant to the circumstances of today.   

 

The Mighty Voice of Nunzio Todisco

[I need first to express my sincere gratitude and acknowledge my indebtedness to my Neapolitan friend Mr. Gaetano De Rosa for the photos and biographical information I have used in the preparation of this article.  Mr. De Rosa’s Youtube channel Caruso1873, which I highly recommend, is a wonderful archive of Neapolitan music. I thank you!]

 

I have only over time come to appreciate just how popular opera really is.  It is almost certainly the most popular and widespread of the classical musical forms, and there is no sign of decline. Quite the contrary, in fact. Such widespread popularity  makes possible the accommodation of a great variety of tastes, styles, traditions, and voice types, all of which have their audience.  This has been the case for centuries, and the particular enthusiasms for bel canto, or for verismo, or—more recently—for neoclassical 18^th century opera—often become armed camps making special claims for the forms their adherents most love.  There are, correspondingly, many different voice types and acting schools that soon provide the stars and the darlings for each of the different kinds of operatic art.  Elegant, even tiny-voiced singers, so beloved of some bel canto enthusiasts, are poles apart from the giant stentorian voices which are so popular with Wagnerian enthusiasts, and so it goes.  Many singers, many styles, many fans.

I point this out because Nunzio Todisco is a very particular kind of singer, with a nearly unique voice, performing in an old, well-known and, for many, a much appreciated tradition.  We all need to respect the enthusiasms of others, because we are all opera lovers.  “Opera” itself is a plural word, the plural of “opus.”  It means many works, and accompanying those many works—singing, acting, dancing, instrumental music, costumes, stagecraft—are many styles of singing and acting.  Add to this the enthusiasms of different cultures and their various traditions, and we have a phenomenon that absolutely prohibits claims of exclusivity.

Nunzio Todisco was born in 1942 in Torre del Greco.  A seaman by profession, he traveled the world with different shipping companies.  A good Neapolitan, he always had a love of music and singing, and would sing whenever he had the opportunity, either in singing contests or for  family members or shipboard passengers. He was a born favorite with audiences because of his extraordinary voice, which has to be one of the most powerful instruments ever!  He also had a natural melodramatic and audience-pleasing way of presenting himself, which is sure-fire in Italy!  He was in all ways a “big” personality, with a very big voice.

Word of his extraordinary voice eventually reached soprano Maria Grazia Marchini, who determined to meet him and encourage him to participate in the 1971 Spoleto Festival.  Justifying her faith, Todisco joined the singing competition, and won the contest!  By so doing, he  joined the ranks of such previous winners as Mario Del Monaco and Franco Corelli.  He attracted critical attention, and early critics compared him to Caruso, another Neapolitan, because of the extreme power of his voice, and the nearly wide-open vocal production, with such great carrying power.

The move was steadily upward from that point on. In 1978 he performed in Norma in San Francisco and in La Gioconda in Barcelona.  This was followed by Pagliacci at La Scala in 1981 and a Carmen on French television in 1982.  He has performed in many outdoor concerts, for which he is a natural, with a voice and style that can reach out to large audiences, even outdoors.  One thinks of Roman amphitheaters!  A passionate Neapolitan, he has performed and recorded many Neapolitan songs, much like his compatriot Francesco Albanese, a tenor of a very different kind.

I think the best way to introduce Todisco to an audience who many not know him, since his career was almost exclusively in Italy, is to show him singing for a very large audience (a prime venue for him) at a Gigli Memorial Concert, performing not an operatic piece but the old Neapolitan classic “O Sole Mio.”  It shows all the most important features of Todisco’s extraordinary voice, his singing, and his highly melodramatic stage manner, so beloved by many.  Also note a very enthusiastic reception by a huge crowd.  This is typical.  He had very many fans:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HzmRPIqhF8g
 

"My own sunshine is right here in front of you!"  Yes, it certainly is!
Does anyone else find themselves smiling, ear to ear?  I sure am.  As are several players in the first violin section, who seem to be getting into the spirit of it allJ  That is my invariable reaction when I hear something this powerful, honest, this uninhibited and overwhelming.  What a voice!  That has to be one of the biggest operatic voices ever, backed by a stage presence that is just as powerful.

One of the things I like so much about Todisco is his absolute honesty.  He is what he is, and he makes no pretenses or apologies.  Powerful, wide-open, even bombastic (not unlike Franco Bonisolli, in some ways), he  can make the rafters ring like few if any others.  Such a personality is infectious.

It is important to point out, however, that Todisco was a serious artist.  One need only reflect upon his many awards and the first class opera theaters he sang in.  It is the use to which he put his big personality and voice that counts.  He always did the big verismo roles, which is what his voice was suited for.  Here is an admirable “Cielo e Mar,” from La Gioconda”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5sVqePH-OMk

That is great singing.  True, it is his own style and vocal sensibility, but he has that right.  As I said, he is honest.  He is what he is; this is how he sings, this is how he feels and sees the role and the music.  Because of that absolute honesty, it works. Not every singer is the same.  It would be a dull damned opera world if they were! It is Todisco’s Enzo Grimaldo.  Period.  Audiences were very fond of him.

Because he is such a “big” performer, often seen in large venues and at a distance, here he is up close, in concert version, singing the always popular “Ch’ella mi Creda,” from Puccini’s Girl of The Golden West.  Not a very well made video, but you see him up close, and the extreme enthusiasm of the audience is not uncommon.  He could really move an audience.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t71c-qc1qBQ

 

Finally, as Don José in Carmen, which he performed on French TV:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NpuLp5XwYrI

Solid and convincing, a first class performance!

 

 

 

Neil Shicoff: A Great Americn Tenor

Neil Shicoff was born in  Brooklyn in 1949, the son of New York cantor Sidney Shicoff.  He was precocious, and took advantage, from a young age, of the opportunity to take lessons from his father, and was also both willing and (certainly) able to take  advantage of such opportunities as presented themselves around New York and elsewhere to sing small parts, even prior to acquiring conservatory training .  He sang, for example, with Tony Amato’s opera company in New York, and also in the Santa Fe Opera.  Later, he formalized his training at the Juilliard School.  His first opportunity to sing in a major opera venue came in 1975, when he appeared at the Cincinnati Summer Opera, singing the title role in Verdi’s Ernani under James Levine.  It was clear from this point on that this was a major talent; an extraordinary, Italianate tenor voice, uncommonly possessed of an intense squillo and passionate Mediterranean inflexion that was perfectly suited to the French/Italian repertoire. 

The following year, in 1976, Shicoff made his debut at the Met as Rinuccio in Gianni Schicci, also conducted by Maestro Levine.  The success was considerable, and this debut performance was followed in rapid succession by Werther, Rosenkavalier, Boheme and Rigoletto.  His singing was praised for its stylistic authenticity and his musicianship for its precision and careful preparation.  The progress of the career was steady until a tricky period in the 1980’s, when problems not uncommon to even the most greatly talented of artists caused a detour for several years.  Shicoff decided to leave America for a while and work abroad, where he sang in all the great opera houses of Europe and built for himself a significant European reputation, which endures to this day.  He returned to the US in 1997, with a return engagement at the Met of Eugene Onegin, which was very successful.

It is from that year, 1997, that our first recording comes, one I just recently posted on Youtube.  Here is Neil Shicoff, with soprano Galina Gorchakova, in “O Dolci Mani,” from Tosca.  I believe you will immediately hear the squillo and Italianate inflexion of which I have spoken.  It is quite rare for an American tenor:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gF8Pl6cgwxI

That certainly speaks tomes about the extraordinary voice and singing of Neil Schicoff!  To say that this is an Italianate voice is gross understatement!  This is a great opera voice, without doubt.  It is of course not the case that he only sings in Italian.   Shicoff’s singing of the French repertoire is every bit as spectacular, and in fact some roles, such as Werther, are among his most famous.  Here is “Pourquoi Me Reveiller”:  (You might need to overlook the plastic fish-tackle box on stage, and the questionable acting of the soprano, who seems from time to time to be slipping into ecstasies of romantic passion while he reads what is in fact a declaration of suicidal despair.)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wEw6zq_sTww

I honestly believe that it is simply impossible to fault this in any way:  the voice, the style, the passion, the inflexions…..simply stunning!  This is great singing!

Finally, one of the most heart-breakingly authentic, well-acted and well-sung renditions of Eleazar’s great aria, “Rachel, quand du seigneur,” that you are likely ever to hear:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nrr0WJnL-GQ

What can I possbly add?  This is a great American tenor, in whom all opera-loving Americans can take pride!

 

 

 

 

Lawrence Brownlee: A Great Bel Canto Tenor

This is another blog in which I am going to have to excuse myself at the beginning for not being able to be objective, such is my admiration for Lawrence Brownlee.  So, be advised!

I cannot tell you how often people have expressed to me their genuine and heartfelt desire that bel canto would come back.  I think many of us feel that we more or less burned out on verismo in the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s.  Giant-voiced dramatic tenors, for example—Corelli, Del Monaco, Giacomini,  are great—we all love them—but, the general feeling is, it would be nice to mix a few Giglis and Schipas in there too!  Never too much of a problem with the female voices, as they seem infinitely adaptable, but tenors are another matter.  Thus the general feelings run.  However, the more one thinks about it, the less clear it all becomes.  I don’t think most people want verismo to go away—that’s not the point—they just want it accompanied by a nice mix of old good fashioned elegant singing characteristic of opera from long ago.  Enter  Sutherland, Pavarotti, Richard Bonynge, Marilyn Horne and Bellini, some years back, and things began to change.  All of a sudden, singers who were not themselves, by any means, delicate little mini-voiced “bel canto” singers per se began to bring back the high romanticism of the early 19^th century and all of sudden the landscape began to change.  This was followed, fairly quickly, by a truly unexpected phenomenon: the return, after 200 years, of the very high voiced male singer. While we were mercifully spared the return of the castrati, we did get male altos and sopranos who sing every bit as well, and, I suspect, far better than most of their 18^th  century progenitors (aesthetically speaking, I don’t think the unfortunate castrati, poor devils,  did much actual progeneratingJ.)  Now we have a landscape that is totally different, and I Pagliacci,, Cavalleria Rusticana, Aida and Andrea Chenier have very little choice except to share the stage with L’italiana in Algeri, La Cenerentola, Il Viaggio a Reims, Armida, and many others of that kind and period.  Not to mention the even older 18^th century works where the male altos and sopranos now get a chance to shine.  So it’s all back, in force!  I, for one, rejoice.  Let us have it all—from Aida to Europa Riconosciuta and everything in between!

Into this new operatic world came Lawrence Brownlee!  His is a genuinely American story. Born in Youngstown, Ohio in 1972, he came up through the American university system, largely Indiana University at Bloomington.  From there it was on to young artists’ programs at Seattle and Wolf Trap, and, in 2002, his professional debut in the Barber of Seville at the Virginia Opera.  His rise, in a heavily bel canto repertoire, was fairly quick, and by 2007 he had made a Metropolitan Opera debut in a then-new production of the Barber. 

Brownlee’s voice is so spectacularly good (and high!) that he soon found himself singing around the world, from Madrid to Tokyo to Milan!  From the famous Barber which launched him at the Met, he soon added L’italiana in Algeri, La fille du régiment, and others.  Brownlee is a currently popular and performing artist, and we need not say much here of his life, other than to say that outside opera he is a prolific concertizer.

Lawrence Brownlee’s is one of those voices that speaks for itself.  He is as good as any leggiero tenor in the world, and better than most.  Here is a superb “A te, o cara”:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cgWTT9SyN0Q

It is hard, verging on impossible, to imagine this classic bel canto tenor aria being sung better!  I have no problem whatsoever comparing this to the greatest renditions ever recorded, including that of Giacomo Lauri Volpi, one of my own personal favorites and easily one of the greatest tenors of all time.  Brownlee is that good!  The smoothness of the voice, purity of the legato, and the easy range—I assume you noticed this was in the original key and that is a genuine C#!—is almost beyond belief.  He is also extremely musical.  This is tenor singing of an extraordinarily high degree.

Here is the tenor tour-de-force “Ah! Mes Amis!” from The Daughter of the Regiment:  Brace yourself for 9 high C's, the last one of which brings down the house!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u2KMRxLLsqY

I find it increasingly difficult to to analyse anything so perfectly done.  Nine high C’s, the final one of which is beyond spectacular!  I suppose the thing that is most remarkable to me is the fact that this is a real tenor.  There is no forcing of the top here at all.  This is his natural range, and the repertoire, impossible for most, is completely appropriate for him.  Few tenors can sing this easily in this range.  Even in the day when this music written, few if any tenors were expected to sing  full voice on such high notes.  It was common to sing them in falsetto.  How the composers’ jaws would have dropped if they could have heard Brownlee or other great bel canto tenors we have today such as Juan Diego Florez, who is equally spectacular in this repertoire.  Opera lovers have been yearning for decades to have singers like this, and now we have them!  And Brownlee is one of the very best….perhaps the very best.  I won’t get into that discussion, because it is hopeless, but the question, at least, is legitimately raised.

Finally, an aria outside the leggiero bel canto repertoire, at least of the kind we have seen, and from what is most commonly considered  the more nearly standard lyric repertoire— the famous aria from the Pearl Fishers, “Je crois entendre encore”:
 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TxZgQyteUuI

What is immediately apparent is the stylistic switch that Brownlee accomplishes.  Even his deportment as he stands and sings is different; more restrained, more elegantly presentational, in the older school of concertizing.  It is immediately elegant; the French is excellent, the tessiture high but restrained, and the style is post high romantic and more modern.  It all works very well, and it is worth noting that even with the above restraints, he still sings the aria in a higher key than most tenors do.  That is a near-sfocato high C at the end, of the Di Stefano kind, which puts the aria in a rarer mode than that in which it is most commonly presented. 

There is no question about it.  This is a great tenor, all the way around, and one in which America can be justifiably proud!

 

 

 

 

 

Amadeo Zambon: The Authenticity of Voice

It is a real pleasure —and distinct honor—for me to welcome the return today of our very distinguished guest writer, Mr. Gioacchino Fiurezi Maragioglio, Italian industrialist from Naples, opera critic and historian. Mr. Fiurezi Maragioglio was an intimate friend of the great Italian tenor Giacomo Lauri Volpi, and is a life-time subscriber to the Teatro San Carlo, one of the world's historically great opera houses. Mr. Fiurezi Maragioglio's knowledge of Italian opera and opera singers —past and present—is simply vast, and I do not believe that there is anyone among my acquaintances whose knowledge exceeds his own, and there are precious few who could match it. I know that I certainly could not. It is a rare pleasure to be able to feature this piece on the Italian tenor Amadeo Zambon.

 

Given the current judgement of many critics, it would be easy to believe we live in an era without the large and powerful voices of the past, and in a time of unsure and unaware artists. While such a comment would be an inaccurate and inappropriate one, it is nevertheless refreshing to visit a world where such a statement would have been unthinkable.

Amadeo Zambon represents just such a singer. The generation that included Gianfranco Cècchele, Nicola Martinucci, Lando Bartolini, Mario di Felici and Mario Malagnini  kept alive the flame that had been nurtured by a previous generation that included such giants as Francesco Merli, Aureliano Pertile and Galliano Masini, not to mention post-war stars such as Mario del Monaco and Franco Corelli.

Lirico-spinto, drammatico spinto, drammatico, robusto, di forza; these are the categories of tenor of which we speak — big voices, sure technique and style. Style? Yes, style in the sense that there is no further proof of innate style than an absolute commitment to the way one sings! This is the case with Amadeo Zambon: he was possessed of a blooming and luminous tenor, with strong high notes.  It was voice that he understood how to use.  Though small at close distance, the voice was laden with such clarion overtones and squillo that it could fill even spaces such as the Arena di Verona  while at the same time  permitting the use of  diminuendo and other dynamic effects. 

His career is a testament to correct vocal production and firm knowledge of one’s vocal abilities; a trademark of the aforementioned generation. Thus, it is no surprise that Zambon maintained his presence on the stage across three decades, always in abundant vocal health.  Notwithstanding a certain resemblance to Mario del Monaco, we can safely say that the glorious sound that he poured forth, especially in regard to tone and timbre, were his and his alone.  

It seems appropriate then to begin our introduction to Zambon at an earlier moment in his career. The following recording of Celeste Aïda comes from 1969, at the Maggio Musicale Fiorentino:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U3YJR-he0fU

The golden voice and secure high B-flats are a joy to listen to, and of course were produced without the benefit of a lengthy recitative to warm the voice. One need not be concerned by the ending: the forte approach was approved by Verdi, should it fit the tenor’s vocal ability better than the written morendo, which the master certainly did NOT wish to be sung in falsetto! In any case, the progression in the orchestra and the mood of the music lend themselves as easily to exultation as they do to trance. What cannot be debated however, is that this is a mighty voice, utilised with complete commitment by the singer. There would be nothing so unpleasant as a tenor who attempted the stentorian ending but could not sustain it!

Proceeding to a more lyric mode, let us look his recording of the Flower Song, from Prato, in 1976:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cRxCE_dYptM

The richness and fluidity of the timbre are amply displayed, and Zambon displays an elegant diminuendo as well as firm legato. The power of his voice is equalled by the restraint with which he uses it, and the legato is never disturbed solely for the sake of a trumpet blast. Of course, we do not delude ourselves: we listen not to Don José, but Don Giuseppe: and taken for what it is, rather than what it is not, we must all agree it is a very pleasing interpretation. Some may listen and simply remark, “this is not how one such as Thill would sing it,” and true though this may be, we must invariably consider that an artist of Thill’s calibre would certainly respect Zambon in a way that would not be accorded to a mere provincial bellower.

Continuing in the chronology of the career, we take ourselves to 1980, Bari. The opera, Turandot, and the aria, Non piangere Liù.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=48E0Ne9xA6E

Once again, the tonal quality immediately commands attention. It is clear and produced without any hint of strain or force, again possessing power and restraint in equal measures. Zambon displays once again his innate sense of style, with the broad shaping of dynamics and a masterful and very lively rendering of the aria that reminds us that once upon a time, singers learned their roles not note by note or word by word, but breath by breath from the great ones, so they that too might become great. Of course, one cannot but take the ringing high A interpolated toward the end of the ensemble following the aria per se, and the masterful technique that permits it!

On this theme, I would feel culpable not to highlight another example of this stupendous acute that recalls Lauri-Volpi and Filippeschi in the firmness of production and levity of tone. The phrase, again from Turandot, non non, principessa altera, ti voglio tutt’ ardente d’amor:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4_XwYHokzC8

Glorious notes, sung with tonal integrity and absolute reliability — the two excerpts represent not merely a very good night for the tenor, but instead what was a common occurrence.

Now, moving later in the career, but without the slightest hint of decline, is this performance of Manon Lescaut, the moving aria Pazzo son, from 1984.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oItAF_rFUMs

In the style of Gigli, with the sobs, interpolated cries and second high B, it would be difficult to argue that Zambon here displays good taste. It would be equally difficult to argue that his interpretation is displeasing — the spontaneity is overwhelming, and just like Gigli, the sobbing does nothing to impede the forward progress of the music. Further, the high note retains its primary importance, while the voice is always capable of the demands made of it. The nuance of phrasing and diction is not lost in search of further decibels, but utilised to further the aria’s impact.

In a word, Zambon is authentic. An authentic tenor, with an authentic sense of style that betrays no artifice, no superficial style foisted upon it. In operatic singing, style for style’s sake alone is surely the quickest path to artistic oblivion, while authenticity in the voice and the kind of commitment so amply displayed by Zambon are the harbingers of a long and successful career. Such a career, of Radamès, des Grieux, Calàf, Giuseppe, Chénier, Pollione and many other taxing roles, sustained over a period of more than thirty years, is the sign of an authentic tenor; both in the physicality of vocal production, and in the mental attitude of the singer — an aspect that must never be underestimated. 

 

 

 

Child Singers On The Rise, I: Elena House

Today, I wish to begin a new short series on Great Opera Singers, dedicated to current child singers whom I see as “on the rise,” which is to say either already established or in the process of becoming known, such as Elena House, the subject of today’s presentation.

One of the truly refreshing things about Elena is that she presents herself for exactly what she is—a 14-year old girl who is multi-talented and making her first tenuous steps into an extraordinarily demanding profession.  She is not yet a fully professional singer, although some of her performances equal what some young professionals do.  She is at a tender stage, both in her growth and her training.  She is being very wisely taught by a teacher who knows what he is doing and does not push her one little bit past what is prudent and appropriate for a young teenager.  Children of this age are all about growth and tender first steps.  I’m sure we have all heard the horror stories—promising children pushed too hard, too fast, in an attempt to sound older than they are.  Near-toddlers trying to sound like Marilyn Horne; exercises in self destruction.  Some astonishing artificial effects can be created in such cases, and they draw an instant curious attention.  However, what they are is vaudeville acts.  A few fast dollars, a few rave notices, and then oblivion.  This applies not only to child singers, but very young musicians of all kinds.  Elena’s voice is very light, with a certain attractive breathy quality—at least at the moment—but one where growth and potential are everywhere to be seen and heard. She is very light in the lower and middle register, which is appropriate, and then, with no strain whatsoever, can soar (as much as is appropriate for a 14 year old girl) and she suddenly lights up in the high register.  We will hear a fine example of that in the first video, where we see a hush grow into a very convincing high B natural at the end of her song. 

Her first presentation is a sultry femme fatale rendition of Giuditta’s aria “Meine Lippen Sie Küssen So Heiss.” Well, as fatale as a femme can be at 14, I suppose:)  Some might see this as a bit on the far side of propriety, but theatrically, I would say that it is justified by her exceptional beauty and marked acting ability.  She also moves with a dancer’s grace.  When I first saw this video I was reminded of words I wrote in this space when discussing the young ballerina Diana Vishneva and spoke of her “spunk and sparkle.”  Here is Elena House:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oofucOLKbmA&list=PLzy2PV7yy36sZdTL46JPtRQD18tSqraZ8&index=1

Talk about attractive!  I call your attention again to the perfectly in-line B natural and the sudden appearance of the potential coloratura sound at the end.  Not yet developed, obviously—she’s 14 for Heaven’s sake—but I hear what is on the path to development in another 4 years! And the acting and looks speak for themselves.  She captures the essence of the young seductress, both visually and vocally.  The breathiness will disappear on its own in a few more years.  Or, she may wish to cultivate it for pop music.  No law says she has to become an opera singer.  At the moment, there are many possibilities.  Here is an attractive rendition of “Think of Me,” from The Phantom of The Opera”, complete with her own little promotional ending, directed to an obviously very young audience.  Not only is it as cute as can be, but listening to her drives home  just exactly how young she is, and can make us appreciate even more the sophistication of some of the presentations for one so young.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0L1VL05opv0

That’s quite charming!  What calls my attention, again, is the ease with which the light, admittedly breathy low and middle registers blossom, with the first rise of the voice, into the legitimate sound characteristic of the transitional and upper register.  To my ear, this is proof positive that her teacher knows what he is doing.  All the vocal musculature is poised, ready to spring into action when called upon.  A little more age, a little more work, and a different voice is going to start to emerge, one that will be solid and well protected from harm, because not a bit of strain will have been introduced during the earliest preparatory years, where Elena currently finds herself.

Finally, a single operatic piece which will stylistically tolerate the light treatment which can be given by a child at this stage of her development.  I hear real potential here!  I can see this kind of repertoire coming on faster than one might think.  I call your attention especially to one passage and one note.  Check out the phrase leading to the A natural, starting somewhere around 2:20, when she stands up and the music swells.  All of a sudden, at that point in particular, I hear an older girl, and the beginnings of vocal drama, and this is where I hear the genuine operatic potential.  Here is “Poveri Fiori.”:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UBpBrZ8XxZ4

This is a talent that bears watching closely over the next several years.  We need to remember that children grow up, and that every great singer was once a child!    Miss Elena House!

 

[Positive, constructive or informational comments may be accepted, at my personal discretion.  Please be understanding if any particular comment, however well intended, is not published.  I have very strict standards where children are concerned, both as a critic and a parent!]