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Thursday, October 4, 2012

Mario Filippeschi--"The King of Tenors"

Dear Readers:  This article was originally written on June 17, and was unfortunately lost during the time I was rebuilding this site.   Fortunately, I had backed it up, and have been able to reconstruct it! 

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 great Italian tenor Mario Filippeschi.]


 Mario Filippeschi, the tenor from Pisa, was called spadavoce* by adoring audiences in Spain. At his beloved Teatro San Carlo, he was known as Mario il mito.** Lauri-Volpi, in private correspondence, once called him the "King of Tenors." It was a title he truly deserved.


The voice was of the highest quality: warm and sonorous throughout the range, extending into a glorious treble register that finished with a gigantic high D natural. Filippeschi, like Escalais, O’Sullivan, Lauri-Volpi, Soler and others, belonged to that rarest of vocal categories— the true heroic tenor. While a dramatic tenor often has a weighty, dark voice and vast sound, (Giacomini, Vinay) the heroic tenor is more what is sometimes called a “super-lyric.” Although large, the voice is brighter and more notable for power of incision than for weight. A dramatic tenor can easily make a career without an extensive upper register, but for a heroic tenor, singing notes like the C and C-sharp must be easy and effortless.


Filippeschi was an exemplar of all these qualities. His high notes, and not just the very highest C-sharp and D, but lower notes as well, were cast into the theatre like a blast of molten gold. This stream could be modulated a piacereto a fine pianissimo. The staging of Faust at San Carlo, with Tebaldi, in 1951, was particularly memorable. Although only a young man, I remember going with my father to speak to Filippeschi before the opera. I recall that during these years, it was Di Stefano’s high C diminuendo that had captured much attention among the opera-going public, so we were most interested when Filippeschi told us that “Di Stefano is not the only one to make that little trick of "suffocation.”*** And sure enough, that night, during the cavatina, the great tenor sang a fortissimo high C, bringing it slowly down to a floating pianissimo.

 Callas attained great prominence as a reviver of Rossini and other bel canto composers. The Maggio Musicale Fiorentino performance of Armida, in 1952, is still well remembered. Less well known, outside Italy, is the role that Filippeschi played in reviving bel canto, especially Rossini. Always a generous performer, giving his best to the audience, he gave his voice with the unselfishness of a blood donor to old Rossini and his final operatic creation, William Tell, in the formidable role of Arnoldo. Singing it is not just a matter of pulling out a C — although this is important. No, Arnoldo must be sung by a voice of the right color, texture and power: it is no role for a tenorino. **** Filippeschi sang this role all over Italy and overseas as well, more than fifty times between his début of the role in 1949 and his last performance of it in 1959—a record that is unlikely ever to be equalled.

Upon hearing the cruel tessitura Verdi had demanded of the heroine of Nabucco, Rossini called him a "composer in a helmet." In the writing of Arnoldo's role, we could say the same of Rossini! Filippeschi, however, with a voice naturally suited to these heights, and harnessed with solid nineteenth-century technique, passed through these Alps of opera without a single mis-step. Here he is, singing the big scene of Act IV, O muto asil del pianto, and the cabaletta, Corriam! Voliam!

 Prior to his vocal training, Filippeschi studied the clarinet, which no doubt helped to form his musicianship and above all refine his legendary breath control. His extraordinary singing was always well-presented in another of his best roles: that of Manrico in Il Trovatore. Here, he sings Di quella pira, the big aria that the audience always waits for.  A real showpiece, requiring an extraordinary voice if it is to be done well, and pity the tenor who does not do it well!  Only first-class singers need apply!

Such incredible high Cs! There is a time for romantic and realistic characterisation in Manrico’s character,but  this comes in other places in the opera: during the cavatina to this cabaletta, earlier in "Mal reggendo," in the first act serenade, and of course in the final act in the "Miserere" and the duet "Ai nostri monti." "Di quella pira," however, is all about excitement and militaristic abandon.

 Arturo, in I Puritani, was another role with which Filippeschi was closely associated. He provided not only the high notes (always singing "A te, o cara" and "Credeasi misera" in the original key), but sustained the high tessitura of the role effortlessly. Additionally, and very importantly, Filippeschi also sang Arturo with a certain feeling for Bellini’s long, long melodic line that he is frequently accused —outside Italy—of lacking. In any case, readers can judge for themselves. Here Filippeschi sings the great warhorse, "A te, o cara."

Finally, let us look at Filippeschi in his signature role--The Duke, in Rigoletto.  Filippeschi's Duke was an edgier, darker figure than that portrayed by many tenors. During his career, his Duca was extremely pleasing to me and audiences at San Carlo, and now, listening to old recordings, I find them refreshing. Today there is a great obsession with forcing the Duke to be sung in a way which creates a sympathetic character that endears him to the audience. Nothing could be further from Verdi’s vision, which, we must remember, in fact depicts no less a personage than King Francis I of France: a sovereign emperor who needs no sympathy. Certainly his second-act aira  "Ella mi fu rapita," performed in  its correct context as an interior lament, reflected this darker character, and one can hear resonances of that more powerful, inforgiving, autocratic nature even in a passionate love song such as "E il sol dell'anima":

What a top voice!  This hardly sounds like a lovesick and impoverished student.  It sounds more like a Roman emperor! 

The versatility and stamina of Filippeschi was incredible, from the very beginning of his career in 1937, when he made his début as Edgardo, and then the very next day was called upon to sing the Duke, a role which served him well for more than twenty-five years and which he presented for his final performances. His retirement when he was only in his mid fifties was certainly not caused by any vocal problems, but by a desire for a more tranquil life with his wife and daughters. Filippeschi was, from the beginning, in high demand, frequently travelling the length of Italy between Palermo and Trieste, crossing the sea to sing in Spain, and above all, always having to hurry across the Atlantic Ocean to sing in Mexico and South America, where he was, like everywhere, a great favorite.

The quality and success of his career is reflected in the artists he performed with: names such as Maria Callas, Renata Tebaldi, Maria Caniglia, Gertrude Grob-Prandl, Lina Pagliughi, Antonietta Stella, Adelina Cambi Fedora Barbieri, Ebe Stignani, Aldo Protti, Carlo Tagliabue, Giuseppe Taddei, Tito Gobbi, Boris Christoff, Giulio Neri, as well as the great conductors Gabriele Santini, Vincenzo Bellezza, Tullio Serafin. One person with whom Filippeschi did not have an easy relationship was Victor de Sabata: when singing at La Scala in 1949 as Alvaro, he and de Sabata clashed severely, with the result than the only later association the tenor had with La Scala was collaborating with the orchestra and chorus after Serafin asked him to be Pollio to Callas’ Norma on the famous recording. To an outsider, such a conflict might seem disastrous, for it is a common assumption that La Scala enjoys status as primus inter pares. But Italy is a land of many towers, and during the `40s and `50s, nothing could be more deceiving. Naples and Rome enjoyed great prestige, and Filippeschi’s reputation as tenor of the capital probably did not help him at La Scala, still recovering from the war.

Fortunately, Filippeschi’s legacy is secure thanks to the many recordings of this work that survive, and thanks also to the two opera films he sang and acted in (Rigoletto, Lucia di Lammermoor), his studio output, and numerous live and RAI broadcast recordings, which capture him in all his best roles, such as Arnoldo, Calàf, Chénier, Duca, Manrico, Don Carlo, and Arturo. Regrettably, no document exists of his interpretation of Fernando in La Favorita, one of his best roles, which served as his farewell to the stage in Spain, where the news that it would be his last caused tears in the audience.

Now I thank this noble facilitator, Professor Edmund St Austell, for this wonderful opportunity to showcase the King of Tenors on his blog. Like Filippeschi, he is a gentleman of great learning and great perception and the Internet is a better place for his vast contribution.


*spadavoce "A voice that cuts like a sword"


** Mario il mito "the mythical Mario," or "the Legendary Mario"


*** "Smorzando," gradually slowing down and softening the note


**** A modest, light-voiced tenor



Edmund St. Austell said...

Dear Readers: The following comments were posted on June 17, 2012.

Thank you very much indeed, Mr. Fiurezi-Maragoglio, both for your kind words and for a superb article. You have provided an invaluable service through your writing and your well-informed opinions; ones for which I, and I'm sure many other people, are very grateful. Thank you!

Anonymous said...

Thank you, Edmund, for having Mr. F.-M. back. What an interesting blog! I have to admit I didn't know much about Filippeschi. I was amazed, epeically by O muto asil! What a high voice for such a powerful voice! Yes, I see what the fuss was all about!


Edmund St. Austell said...

My pleasure, Jeff. Nice to hear from you. Yes, Filippeschi is a discovery worth making, especially for most Americans not familiar with his singing. I appreciate the comment!

Anonymous said...

Thanks to Mr. Maragioglio for a great article. Such a level of performance! High notes and energy are rare even among young tenors.


Edmund St. Austell said...

Thank you, Natalie. I always appreciate your comments!

Anonymous said...

Why didn't I know about this tenor? He's great!

Edmund St. Austell said...

To Anonymous: Well, that's a good question. I suppose largely because he did not perform in America. That is a misconception we have here...we tend to think all the great singers come here and sing. That's not always the case. Italy has many, many opera theaters. One can have a great career in Italy and never leave the country, except for maybe Spain and a few close countries. There is a big would out there outside America:-)

Anonymous said...

DanPloy said...
Almost worse than ignorance of such astonishing singers, is the British snootiness of them.
Unfortunately I never got to hear Filippeschi but I did hear Bonisolli who I feel could have been his successor. The adverse reaction to what I thought was a thrilling and thoughtful, (not a word always asociated with him), Calaf surprised and disappointed me. One review said something like 'we can only hope we never see his ridiculous posturing in London again...'.

Opera in Italy, (my only experience being Verona), means being part of a critical but very appreciative audience whose sole aim is to want to hear great singing, and not as some class statement.

One of my favourite CDs is Filippeschi, Stella, Protti and Barbieri in Il Travatore, recorded in Napoli when I was just one month old.

(To the great musician there are key moments, sometimes just a word, in which the whole character is somehow encapsulated. Filippeschi had the musical intelligence to realise this with the word 'vendetta'. Martinelli realised it in Otello with the word 'fazoletta' which is also venomously spat out and marks the beginning of his end. I wonder if Verdi [or Boito] placed these certain sounds there deliberately for the singer).
June 17, 2012 8:33 PM

Anonymous said...

JD Hobbes said
Thanks for this blog. You are right about the singer and about Mr. Fiurezi-Maragiolio's knowledge. I find the stamina (over the years) of Filippeschi to be outstanding and wonder if it was a natural gift or if it was something special in his training of background.

Edmund St. Austell said...

Thank you for your comment, Mr. Hobbes, as always. I look forward to your comments, as they always go to the point. I just wish I had the answer to this one! I'm sure that Mr. Fiurezi will weigh in at one point or another to answer some of the questions, and I'm sure he will be able to answer yours. For what it's worth, I would venture a guess that it is Filipeschi's bel canto training, which I have always contended is the greatest singing school ever devised, to which he owes his extraordinary stamina. Also, probably, his extraordinary top. The same thing, in a word, that could be said of Lauri-Volpi. Thanks again for a good comment!

Edmund St. Austell said...

For Dan Ploy: Sorry the questions and answers are out of order here. That happens a lot. Yours is a really interesting comment, and brings another whole element into the discussion. Your statement to the effect that attending opera in Italy means "being part of a critical but very appreciative audience whose sole aim is to want to hear great singing, and not as some class statement" strikes me as a penetrating and actually rather brilliant analysis of something I have always felt, but never articulated to myself in such a clear way. This is something I wish to is profound and has all kinds of implications. I will be most interested to see Mr. Fiurezi's reaction. Extraordinary comment, much appreciated.

Anonymous said...

Jing said...
Another outstanding contribution from you, Mr. Fiurezi Maragioglio. And thanks for a stunning selection of recordings. I was especially grateful for your description of the true heroic tenor voice. I found the term "super-lyric" very helpful, and a good distinction from the dramatic tenor. Then I listened and what you said made perfect sense. I also found myself wondering, then, how the Italian heroic tenor voice compares (if it really does at all) with the German helden tenor. While sometimes described as a baritone with a brilliant upper register, I believe the helden tenor voice is also regarded as different from the dramatic tenor. It is understandable that Filippeschi might not have been inclined to explore Wagnerian opera very far, since he seems so quintessentially Italian. However, as I listened, I could not help but imagine what a great Siegfried he would have made. Yes, his uber-high notes are mesmerizing, but those B-flats and B-naturals struck me as so perfect as to be breathtakingly beautiful as well as plain amazing. Would Wagner have thought that, too?Edmund has rightly stressed over the years the importance of not getting bogged down in categories, but I'd appreciate to hear more from you, Mr. Fiurezi Maragioglio (and Edmund and others, too) about the "heroic" (as opposed to dramatic)dimension of Italian and German singers. Wouldn't Domingo provide some kind of link, given his success with German opera, though I don't think he'd qualify as a "super-lyric"? In any event, thank you for a "super-post" on this wonderful blog.
June 17, 2012 10:50 PM

Anonymous said...

Gioacchino Fiurezi-Maragioglio said...

I am overwhelmed by a such a generous response from all you wonderful readers, and I thank you all, and especially Edmund, for this wonderful forum of operatic discussion.

I will approach the comment of kind Sir Hobbes first. I think that Filippeschi's stamina and endurance over such a career was based on both the natural gifts of the voice and his careful management of his vocal reserves. Before his début, he studied voice for seven years in a serious manner, and even before that he had studied vocal technique. So when he stepped onstage, there were no surprises that might injure his voice. One of my favourite pictures of the great tenor was taken in 1956. He sits at the piano, the score of Rigoletto on the music stand. By that time, he knew the role very well, performed it many times, but still, he studied, continuously, to make sure there would be no trouble with the passaggio, no drifting of the voice. It was like maintenance for the voice. I know that among tenors of similar longevity, such as Kraus, Tucker, Gigli, Lauri-Volpi and many others, such an approach of continuous study was always used.

Filippeschi was also judicious in his selection of roles, and in all ways, Edmund is correct about bel canto opera and training as being kind to the voice. Singing Arnoldo and Arturo was very good for his voice, because it ensured that all the registers of the voice were employed and kept equal. It was such motives that lead him to sing frequently roles such as Duca or Turridu, and avoid roles like Canio: the difference being that Canio targets a much lower tessitura. For a voice that is at its most powerful in the middle, this can be a bit dangerous. For all the virtues of de Lucia's Canio, I suspect that the role's tessitura could have been a factor in causing his acute to contract: in any case, it did not help.

Mr DanPloy, how I am pleased you mentioned Bonisolli! I do, consider him in some ways to be a successor to Filippeschi. Britain is the most horrible environment for a tenor. Even a native one, like Dennis O'Neil, must struggle. His voice is a great, great instrument, extremely suitable for all the great roles, and yet he is a like some pinched, second-rate comprimario in the eyes of the critics. But to Bonisolli vis-à-vis Filippeschi, I will return in a moment. (Also, about the Trovatore. I was there! Under Maestro Franco Capuana, it was an electric performance.) What you say about Italian opera is true. When I went to the opera in those times, I would sit with my father and his friends. I have been lucky to be well-heeled in life, and the people I shared a box with were in the same situation. Not far away from our box, in the days of the Kingdom of Italy, you could find the Queen, and sometimes even the King. And yet only a short distance away, there was people of much lesser status, but even a poor street merchant knew as much about opera as me. As one, we knew exactly what we wanted and demanded it every time. If a singer achieved it, the rewards were great, if not, that was too bad. I would like to say, at this moment, it seems appropriate to say that Italian audience behaviour is subjective, and never, an overriding judgement. I knew a man who was devoted to Carlo Bergonzi. He considered him the greatest tenor ever to live. But, towards the end of the tenor's career, he would one of the first to yell into the house "you're singing flat".
June 18, 2012 9:51 AM

Anonymous said...

Gioacchino Fiurezi-Maragioglio said...
Likewise, once, at La Scala, it was the final performance of Il Trovatore. Labò had been singing Manrico, and he was a favourite at the house. However on the last night, he was sick. Another tenor, Gianni Jaia, who also sang regularly at Scala, sang the role. He did not normally sing Manrico, and by the time he was in the big Act III scena he was not doing well. Ah sì, ben mio, was sung badly, he was flat and did not attempt some high notes at all. The whistling and jeers was so strong, the conductor stopped the performance. At length, Jaia declared himself ready to sing again, and he gave a master-lesson of how to sing the pira, with two gigantic high Cs. At the end of the act, the house roared with applause and the line of people who wanted to congratulate him in his dressing room and shake his hand was of extreme length. At the critical moment, Jaia proved his worth and earned the continued respect of the audience, cementing his reputation as a great tenor. Italian opera is (or was) so.

Mr Jing, you have written of a topic which is of such interest to me you will never see the end of my words. What you say is true! The voice of Melchior, or Set Svanholm, shares much with Filippeschi. People like to say otherwise, because both started as baritones, but this does not really mean anything. It is common for young tenors, in their haste to perform, to neglect breath control, and thus they find they can only sustain a baritone's tessitura. Corelli personally of his this affected him as he began to learn to sing. As the contralto said of Melchior, he was a "tenor with the lid on" complete with a glorious treble register of pure gold. Svanholm was in a similar situation. At the other end of the range, are singers like Hans Hopf, who are the example of the dark, baritonal heldentenor sound, often challenged in the high register. How much of that is due to technique, and how much due to natural vocal configuration is another story, but however such voices come about, we can all recognize them. The sound is big, big, big, the voice is weighty and blunt: it does not cut the orchestra like Melchior or Svanholm did, but it sings over the top.

In short, in could be called the bright (heroic) and dark (dramatic). Of course, there are voices that cross over these catagories. Mario del Monaco had at the bottom, a certain baritonal colour. At the top however, all the way to his high D-flat, it was a bright, bright sound. Similar with Bonisolli. At the bottom-half of his voice, I like to say he sounded like bass singing in the tenor range. But at the top, his voice was bright.

Of course all this is subject, because voices are rarely the same colour or texture from top to bottom. Technique is of course a big part of how the voice will be as well. Going back into history, the great tenor Giuseppe Borgatti sang Wagnerian heroes, but he could also sing Una furtiva lagrima or e lucevan le stelle with a restraint and softness that even some light lyric tenors cannot create.

The most prominent example of an Italian dramatic tenor who sang both Wagner and Verdi was Gino Penno. His voice was a bit of a hybrid. His sound was not particularly bright or dark. It was like Björling: a very brown sound. He was equally comfortable to sing Siegmund or Radamès or even Pollio.

Domingo is an interesting case. I would say his voice is more on the dramatic side than the heroic, but it is a case of a sixty-forty per cento split rather than eighty-twenty. On a very good day, he could sing A-sharps and B naturals like any other tenor, and he could even produce a certain squillo not considered typical of him. However, his more general style of singing, in my experience, post 1975, was more dramatic than heroic.
June 18, 2012 9:51 AM

Anonymous said...

Gioacchino Fiurezi-Maragioglio said...
Fundamentally, it comes to a large and complex array of language that must be used correctly to convey meaning. Caruso was a tenore robusto, tenore di forza, and so was Tamagno. But Caruso was a dramatic tenor, while Tamagno was more a heroic. Or consider the case of Rosvaenge: warm and sonorous across the range, he was certainly a tenore di forza, a tenore robusto, and his voice was able to sing both heroic and dramatic roles. So we must ask, how? Did he use weight, or squillo to sing his Otello? I can answer with confidence, it was squillo: brightness, steel.

Of course, the line between lirico-spinto and heroic can become muddy too. Martinelli and Lauri-Volpi: both could sing high D, both did Raul and Arnoldo. Only closer evaluation reveals a clearer image: while both tenors had long voices, their centres of gravity (for lack of a better term) were in different dispositions. It is a similar story for Corelli: he had an amazing acute register, and his Poliuto and Raul attracted a lot of attention and interest. But, fundamentally, his voice was weighted a bit lower: more at comfort for things like Canio, although, it must be said, this comfortable tessitura extended for considerable length in both directions from the very middle of the voice.

Again, this is not an objective, overriding judgement: vocal supermen (to borrow Edmund's term) like Di Stefano could seemingly do everything at once. As the expression says, sometimes the more you know, the less.

A final time, thank you in all for your comments. This discussion gives me great pleasure, and here we have great proof that opera is living and well in 2012!
June 18, 2012 9:52 AM

Anonymous said...

Wow! Another essay! Is there anything this man Gioacchino doesn't know??????????

Martha G.

Anonymous said...

Jing said...
Thank you so much, Mr. Fiurezi-Maragioglio, for your fascinating responses. Reading what you wrote quickly sent me searching the internet for more on both Giuseppe Borgatti and Gino Penno. In the case of Borgatti, I was able to listen to recordings of "Wintersturme" and "E Lucevan le Stelle." Both are definitely worth hearing. Apparently, Mr. Borgatti greatly impressed Cosima Wagner on hearing him sing for the first time. "E Lucevan.." is really quite remarkable. The singer is accompanied by piano alone. The performance is very sincere and moving and "restraint" is exactly the right word to describe it. With respect to Penno, I did not find anything in German, but his "Di Quella Pira" offers a contrast to the Filippeschi recording which we heard that, it seems to me, perfectly illustrates what you wrote about the difference between the dramatic tenor and the "super-lyric." Thanks again!
June 18, 2012 2:19 PM

Anonymous said...

Deutschesfach said...

An interesting singer who relied primarily on voice and more voice to make his points, rather than musicality. His voice seems well used in the sense that he sings with complete glottal closure which makes for a steady placement and good legato. What he does not do at all well is mezza di voce, decrescendos and such. He uses almost no mezza voce in places where intimacy are called for, which leads him to sounding wonderful but stiff and slightly uninteresting.

He is heroic but rarely romantic sounding and that is a pity because this is a magnificent voice and he could have done better.

It is obvious to me that he did not progress to world super stardom because of the timing of his career, the high number of other exceptional tenors at that time, and probably do to his rather cool way of singing. That is not to say he is not thrilling to listen to, understand me correctly.

He and Corelli share this tendency but Franco left more emotional impact if not more vocal. Franco was by comparison the more popular of the two.

Nice to hear him...particularly for the emission of tone...quite an example. But musically, less interesting because of the under use of expression. He is a great vocalist to be sure.
June 19, 2012 9:28 AM

Horatio said...

My gratitude for posting this article. I am a young tenor looking for inspiration among the artists of yore, and Mr. Filippeschi has suddenly jumped to the top of my list. I can't believe he's not more well known. Based on the materials presented here, he's certainly among the legends of singing!

JD Hobbes said...

Ahh! Good. I am glad to see this material reappear in your blogspot.
Mr. F-M is so knowledgeable that it is a pleasure to read his comments.

Edmund St. Austell said...

Thank you both for your new comments. Much appreciated! And yes, it's good to have Mr. Fiurezi-Maragioglio back. I have high hopes that he will be doing more articles for us in the near future. He's an extraordinary critic.

Verdiwagnerite said...

Thank you to both Professors!

I remember the original article. It was excellent and well worth a re read and listen.


Retiree said...

It is a great discovery that I came across your site recently.
Thank you for such a wonderful effort.
I think Filippeschi is similar to another subject in your well written bolg; Cecchele, both deserving much more recognisation. In Cecchele's case, his name do not even make it to the English Wikipedia. Both singers have a clear heroic voice, effortless high notes, and plenty of squillos. Am I correct in my accessment?
Its very interesting that the audience expected the high C at the end of 'di quella pira'. When Bergonzi sang it in the original B as written by Verdi in San Carlo (can't remember the year) he was given the bird.

Edmund St. Austell said...

Thank you and welcome to Great Opera Singers. I hope you'll drop by again!

Mark Giugovaz said...

Ah Filippeschi was a staple of my childhood and teenager years. My family comes from Trieste, and dad always considered him the best Arturo. He would fondly recount how when he sang up high, the C-sharp from the chest, the whole theatre shook. I still love listening to him and Zeani singing Vieni fra queste braccia. That was impressive. Filippesch's high notes seemed to leviate, they did not even seem to be human. What a tenor! Something my dad always mentioned was that the voice was more beautiful and richer in the theatre than on record. What a tenor and what a blog! Thanks Mark.

Edmund St. Austell said...

Thank you again, Mark, for a superb comment! Personal memories of great singers are one of the rarest and most important kinds of history, especially meaningful for those who were not fortunate enough to hear them. Again, my thanks!

Anonymous said...

I am the oldest daughter of Mario Filippeschi and I want to thank you for your wonderful article on our Dad.
I just came from an interview on WMNR with Doug Fox in Connecticut all about my Dad. I would love to talk to you if possible.
Grazie, Daniela Filippeschi Harris

Anonymous said...

I am Daniela the oldest daughter of Mario Filippeschi. I just came back from an interview on WMNR with Doug Fox. The three hours program was all about our Dad. Thank you for the wonderful comments absolutely perfect !!!
I would like to contact you if possible.