Eugene Conley: An Excellent And Greatly Under-Rated Tenor

I remember picking up a copy of Opera News some 50 years or so ago, and being struck by the title of its leading article.  It read, as best I can now recall, "I Hear America Singing Abroad; Why Not At Home?"  Why indeed?  This is a question that plagues not only me, I assure you, but nearly all American opera lovers.  With the relative objectivity provided by (eternally evoked) hindsight, it becomes a curious matter indeed why some singers attain international stardom and others, equally gifted vocally, do not.  Many things come into play, I know; thing such as looks, acting ability, musicality, stylistic intuition, and so on.  Then we get down to those very hard to define things such as timing, luck, talent, drive, competitiveness, and so on.  And then there is just plain prejudice.  I cannot help but feel that the latter, sadly, plays a part.

Opera was founded in America as an exotic plant; an Italian art form that was oh-so-much more sophisticated that what the new and up-coming country could supply on its own.  It became the darling of New York High Society, and almost all the big stars—and certainly the big attractions—were foreign, mainly Italian.  Mercifully, the situation is now much more balanced, and Americans are now reasonably represented world wide.  But a lot of good singers got trapped in the no-man's-land of the early years, when it would have been a decided advantage to have a name that ended in a vowel.

One such case was Eugene Conley.  Born in Massachussets, in 1908, Conley made his debut as the Duke in Rigoletto in 1940, at the Brooklyn Academy of Music.  He joined the New York City Opera in 1945, debuting in the role of Rodolfo in La Bohème, and from there it was off to a European career embracing the Opéra Comique, La Scala, and Covent Garden.  It was in Milan, at La Scala, that he sang opposite María Callas in I Puritani (one of his signature operas) in 1949.  He returned the following year to the States, and made his Metropolitan Opera debut in 1950, as Faust. He was to appear at the Met in many performances for the next six years.

Conley was a handsome man, and an attractive figure on the stage.  Most importantly, he was a real, vibrant vocal presence, with a lirico-spinto voice that soared above high C with seeming ease.  Possibly the best introduction to Conley is his singing of "A te, o Cara," from I Puritani, the role he sang opposite Callas at La Scala:  Notice, please, that he sings this demanding aria in the original key, which many tenors cannot manage, as the high note is a Db above high C:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9mvcJlaXZsI 

This is first rate tenor singing!  The voice is amazingly consistent, all the way to the top.  The essential quality of the voice can be called lyric, although there is certain spinto edge there that, while it does not become harsh, does introduce a certain dramatic touch to the phonation. 

A slightly more lyric and less dramatic Conley reveals itself in the eternally popular Che Gelida Manina":

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L5xu4o6kH0c 

This is the quintessential Conley voice—high, lyrical but virile, with squillo in abundance. To my ear, this is not a voice I would characterize as "French," "Germanic," "Anglo-Saxon" "for Mozart," or any other commonly applied term.  If anything, I would call it Italianate.  It is in every way an excellent tenor voice, absolutely suited to the popular Verdi and Puccini favorites.

Finally, because he was an American tenor, and native English speaker, we owe it to ourselves to hear him sing in English.  Here is the very popular "Because," composed by Guy d'Hardelot in1902, and recorded by very many tenors in the early to mid-20^th century:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hy4gD596eaQ&feature=plcp&context=C419d855VDvjVQa1PpcFPqn0isf7X1xJnKUgNSVa7Z_m9BNcFePWM%3D

What a top voice!  Why this wonderful tenor is not a household name among opera lovers is not entirely clear to me.  I know there was at that time an unspoken and seldom-articulated prejudice against American tenors because they just somehow weren't "the real thing,"  weren't exotic enough and so forth, yet there were some who escaped that classification, such as Richard Tucker.  Jan Peerce did well also, albeit not so much on stage.  But that's about it.  The case of Richard Crooks is just as striking as that of Conley.  Perhaps James Melton also, although to a lesser degree.  Maybe it's just a simple matter of luck, but it seemed to happen with a little too much consistency to be purely coincidence.

ANNOUNCING A GREAT NEW SERGEI LEMESHEV WEBSITE!

Natalia A.Bukanova




Great news for Lemeshev fans!  It is a real pleasure for me to announce the recent launching of a truly exhaustive and authoritative website dedicated to the great Russian tenor Sergei Lemeshev.  Many of you will be acquainted, at least through Youtube, with Ms. Natalia A. Bukanova, who goes by the name "younglemeshevist" and who has graced these pages twice in recent memory with two superlative articles, one on the great Russian tenor, and most recently an intellectual tour-de-force on modern operatic stage direction.  I refer you to:

1. An Opposing Guest Commentary On Modern Operatic Stage Direction—Are Directors The New Prima Donnas?   And

2. The Great Sergei Lemeshev:  The View From Russia

Natalie has launched a new Lemeshev website, as of a few weeks ago, called:

SERGEI LEMESHEV:  HIS LIFE AND VOICE.

It may be found at:

http://sergeilemeshev.blogspot.com/

I strongly urge every reader with an interest in Russian opera, Sergei Lemeshev, or the history of the Bolshoi Theater to check it out right away.  The amount of historical and artistic information to be found there is simply stunning.  There is no better source available in English (and precious few in Russian) on Lemeshev's biography and vocal talent.  The  reader is led, step by step, through the amazing story of the great tenor's life, which took place against the backdrop of one of Russia's most difficult periods,  encompassing World War I, The Revolution, the Civil War, and the Great Patriotic War, known to us as World War II.  His years in the Army, at the Moscow Conservatory, and in Stanislavski's Workshop, make absolutely fascinating reading.  For those interested in the history of theater and acting, the account of his years in Stanislavski's Workshop is required reading.  You will hardly find a more intimate account of the realities of Stanislavski's ideas and methods.  And of course the anecdotes related to great singers and their stories (and foibles!) is just plain fun reading!

Ms. Bukanova drew a great deal of attention to herself and to Lemeshev in the early days of Youtube, when she posted many Lemeshev videos that had never been seen in the West.  I know, personally, that they were for me among my earliest serious introductions to this wonderful tenor, and all at a time when few were posting his music, and even fewer knew much about his life and work.  In so doing, Natalie established herself as an authority in the area, and I feel completely justified—by now having read what I believe is the totality of her written work on the subject—that there is no greater authority on the life and work of Sergei Lemeshev currently accessible.

Do yourself a favor, and check out this great website now.  You will find it an absolute treasure-chest of historical information, anecdotes, and artistic ruminations.  An absolute must-read for the Lemeshev enthusiast!  Mark this website down:

http://sergeilemeshev.blogspot.com/

IMPORTANT!

In the right hand column of Natalie's blog, opposite Stanislavski's photograph, you will see the Russian words Архив блога.  That simply means "blog archive" and is the place where you can go to different sections of the website, which is entirely in English. The blog currently begins with an essay on Constantin Stanislavski, into which Lemeshev is woven.  You can go to the purely biographical sections relating to Lemeshev through the Архив блога, where the sub-headings are in English. It will not be hard to familiarize yourself with the blog layout, which covers a wide territory. It is a typical Blogspot layout. If you wish to leave a comment on the site, look for the comment block at the end of the last page, and when you are ready to enter your comment, look for the word   "Публикация," which means "publish."  It will be the big word to the left. There will be two test words that you will need to copy, and then hit "Публикация" again.

Congratulations Natalie, and happy reading to all!

Edmund StAustell

Nicolai Gedda: An Epicure's Taste And A Great Favorite

Nicolai Gedda was born in Stockholm in 1925.  He was from early youth bilingual in Swedish and Russian, and went on to learn important world languages on his own.  He was, as a result, possessed of a great linguistic versatility during his career and sang convincingly in many languages.  Gedda is an extremely famous tenor and his biography is so easily consulted, that I need say only a few words by way of introduction.

After some introductory vocal study with Carl Martin Öhman, a  Wagnerian tenor from the 1920s, Gedda—as characteristically happens—drew almost immediate attention to himself.  His voice was large for a lyric tenor, and he always had an amazing and utterly reliable top, capable of singing above high C.  After understudying Giuseppe di Stefano at the Edinburgh Festival around 1951, he debuted with the royal Swedish Opera in Adam's Le Postillon de Lonjumeau, where he had ample opportunity to display his very high voice.  He attracted the attention of von Karajan in 1953, and his La Scala debut took place in 1953.   The role was Don Ottavio, and Gedda quickly became identified as an absolutely superb Mozart tenor.  After la Scala came the Paris Opera in 1954 and the Met in 1957.  By then, the career was international, and was to become one of the great careers in opera.  He was at the Met for 26 years, and performed 28 roles there, including all the famous "bread and butter roles."  People often mistakenly think of him primarily in terms of the French repertoire, but in fact his repertoire was very broad, including the big Italian roles and Russian roles as well.

I think the first thing that merits listening to is his "Il Mio Tesoro" from Mozart's Don Giovanni.  A well known New York opera coach once told me something that I have never forgotten:  "Everybody likes the big Mozart tenor arias, like "Il mio tesoro," but they don't want to hear them sung by a church tenor."  So very true!  This is where Gedda shone.  He sings this Mozart aria with the same verbal gusto he would use to sing arias from the standard Italian or French repertoire.  The result is one of the most viril renderings of the aria ever recorded, while remaining true to Mozart and to the essential stylistics and musicality of the piece:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AgRe9AnkHqU

That is an "Il mio tesoro" to be proud of!  The audience response at the end of this tape, which is a live Met performance, tells the story.  It is one of the most enthusiastic applaudings of the piece that I have ever heard.  I heard him in concert, in 1961, sing this aria, and I was stunned by the amount of voice he put into it.  His was a big voice, and he made it work beautifully in Mozart.  It was stunning.  I have never forgotten it!

This does not mean that Gedda always sang lyric arias with great vocal  energy—not at all.  Here is an exemplary "Je crois entendre encore:"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qCImfJUFSf0&feature=related

Isn't that just beautiful!  This is Gedda in a characteristic French mode that became something of a calling card for him.  It is perhaps because of singing like this, in French, that he developed the reputation of being something like a French tenor.  He was not, of course, but he did handle the language beautifully, and his elegance and sense of style—coupled with an innate musicality—contributed considerably to that notion.

Finally, an aria not commonly asociated with Gedda, but one which he sings very well indeed.  The great perennial favorite "A te, o cara," here recorded at La Scala, where he was quite popular.  He sings it beautifully, and it provides a good vehicle for his high voice, which—considering its size—was somewhat miraculous. (I can testify to the size of the voice!)  Notice that he sings it in the original key, so the high note is  a C#. Gedda was at home, however, in this stratospheric range:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Bh7snchrq0&feature=watch_response

And there you have it!  A great tenor, a great stylist, a very reliable, very high tenor voice, always under control.  For many people, and all things considered, this was a tenor for the ages!

Robert Merrill: The Rolls-Royce of Baritones!

The popular American baritone Robert Merrill (Moishe Miller) was born in 1919, or thereabouts, in Brooklyn, the son of Polish immigrants. Merrill was part of that wonderful Jewish artistic immigration to the United States, around the turn of the century, which gave us the likes of Beverly Sills, Richard Tucker, Jan Peerce, Roberta Peters, and Leonard Warren, among others. Along with the great vaudevillians from the same period—Eddie Cantor, Jack Benny, George Burns, Sophie Tucker and many others, it constituted one of the greatest artist windfalls ever enjoyed by a relatively young country in the process of developing its own cultural traditions. In the classical arts of the 20th century, this means Jewish-American, and it was spectacular!

Like Beverly Sills, Jan Peerce, Helen Traubel, Lawrence Tibbett and so many others of the period, Merrill always had one foot in popular entertainment, especially Broadway, radio and TV. Today we think of opera singers as almost exclusively opera singers, but that was not really so at that time. Actually, I think the case could be made that opera and opera singing are at their healthiest and probably most popular—at least in this country—when they exist in the company of the popular arts. That cozy relationship was shattered for good, it seems, not by opera singers and opera enthusiasts, but by the extraordinary developments, post-Elvis, of a rock-driven American popular culture that simply has nothing at all in common with traditional arts like opera. It wasn't opera's fault. But that is another story, and another blog!

There is no good reason I can think of to waste your time or mine with a mini-biography of Robert Merrill. If you're reading a blog like this, it's safe to assume you already know a lot about opera singers. Merrill was so well-known that a simple glance at Wiki will tell you anything you may not already know about this popular American baritone. A trivia point—you may not know that he was a very accomplished semi-pro baseball player, and paid for his musical education at the beginning with money he made pitching in a semi-pro league! There is always something more to people: like the fact that Roberto Murolo, the grand master of Neapolitan song and song history, actually paid his way through college as a championship swimmer:-) You just never know.

It's all about Merrill's voice. His was one of the smoothest, most elegantly and easily produced of baritone voices. Here is an absolutely classic rendition of "Some Enchanted Evening" that shows very well the perfection of his singing technique:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3FauzdeUGeM


Now how is that for smooth! Absolutely perfect singing, as best I can judge. I am reminded of a conversation I had many years ago with Daniel Ferro, at Juilliard, one of the world's outstanding voice teachers. He compared Merrill's technique to the automatic gear-shifting of an expensive luxury automobile. He said you never notice the shift between registers; it is so smooth that it is like a perfect, steady progression. I don't think it can be said better.

Such smoothness and exemplary legato immediately suggest Valentin as a near ideal French role for Merrill, and indeed he was superb in such repertoire. Here is the much-loved aria "Avant de Quitter ceux lieux" in a live 1955 performance:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dHajZ1U-3_c&feature=related


Again, the words that first come to mind are "smoothness," "legato," and "tonal consistency," all accompanied by a remarkably in-line transition to the upper register. It often comes as a surprise to realize that Merrill is sometimes singing Gs and even Abs as though they were part of the middle of his voice!

Finally, the one baritone aria that even those who know nothing of opera will know, Figaro's ultra-famous "Largo al factotum," staple fare of concerts, anthologies, singing textbooks and even cartoons!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iNPS6AV1U14


Absolutely excellent! This cannot be faulted. I would call it a classic rendition—completely free of the extraordinary idiosyncrasies so frequently visited upon it by lesser talents. The Italian diction, which frequently gets muddled in the mouths of Americans, is pretty clean and clear here; as always, the register transitions are perfect, and the tonal consistency is absolute. That's the kind of singing that guarantees a very long career! And that indeed is what Merrill had—long, distinguished, profitable, and—not merely coincidentally—a lot of fun!

Geraldine Farrar: Hollywood Glamour Comes To Opera

Geraldine Farrar was born in Melrose, Massachusetts in 1882. She began studying music when she was a small child and was on the concert stage by the time she was a teenager. Her operatic debut was in Berlin in 1901, at the relatively tender age of 19. The opera was Faust, and she is reported to have created a sensation. From youth, she was beautiful, with strong acting as well as musical instincts. In the Victorian age of somewhat regal prima donnas, with only the slightest concern for acting and often with a seeming lack of concern about their appearance, Farrar was a potent force, both on stage and in the movies.

Her earliest roles seem to have been chosen to accentuate these characteristics. She appeared in Thomas' Mignon and Massenet's Manon, as well as Juliette in Gounod's Romeo et Juliette. Hints of scandalous affairs began to surface almost immediately, and were to become a staple of her career, as she quickly either cultivated or naturally fell into what might be called show business glitz, with all that it implies. By the 20's she would be one of the "modern women"  of that period. She even had young female admirers known as "Gerry-flappers." Her most notorious affair was probably her long-standing affair with Arturo Toscanini, something that finally, if the stories are true—drove Toscanini from the Met when she demanded marriage. She was a mighty strong-minded woman.

All this is not to say that she was without more traditional artistic talents –not at all. In fact, she became an absolute staple at the Metropolitan for almost her entire career, until her retirement in 1922. She sang nearly 500 performances during that period, creating title roles in Mascagni's Amica, Puccini's Suor Angelica, and Giordano's Madame Sans-Gêne. Also, she was the Met's first Cho-Cho-San, in 1907.

Farrar also appeared in many silent movies, including Joan the Woman (1917), in which she portrayed Joan of Arc, and, in 1915, Cecil B. DeMille's adaptation of the opera Carmen. During her career, she made many recordings with RCA Victor.

Before listening to Farrar sing "Un bel dì," it is necessary to point out that she was among the first singing actors at the Met. She did not hesitate to use her voice to support characterization. Therefore, if she needed to portray something ugly and frightening, she did not hesitate to let those qualities be shown in her voice. She was not at all wed to pure lyricism at all costs. Here, in Cho-Cho-San's famous aria, in which she dreams of her husband's return, she deliberately creates the sound of the voice of a 15-year old girl. This will be immediately apparent at the beginning of the recording. It is important to remember what she was doing:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CEnsJxV717s


Very few well-known sopranos, then or now, would have the courage or the conviction to attempt this. The result is that we often must contend with hefty 40 year old sopranos singing Cho-Cho-San a tutta forza. Personally, I find Farrar's version very moving. It drives home, in the most direct way, the absolute tragedy that is unfolding before our eyes, as a child, with her own child, is about to have a child's first love betrayed. It's all just too terrible. This is the triumph of acting and characterization over all other considerations!

Here is a recording made in Farrar's youth, when she was only 27 years old. It is easy to see what kind of voice she had—very much in the ingénue category, very lovely and light, perfect for the kinds of heroines she was portraying at that stage of her life. This is the Barcarolle from Tales of Hoffmann, with baritone Antonio Scotti, in 1909:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p-XGY8SBT1E


Mignon, Manon, Marguerite, Juliette—a perfect voice and repertoire choice joined to her youthful beauty.

Finally, Here is the "Jewel Song" from Faust, the opera in which Farrar first attracted international attention to herself as a 19-year old girl. This recording is from 1913, when she was 31, probably at her vocal peak, and shows a voice in full maturity—a rich and ringing operatic sound but with a somewhat forced B natural at the end. She never had a particularly high voice, and she was known to take on a huge schedule, which began to take its toll. She retired in 1922, when she was only 40, and it would seem to be the case that she had abused her voice with too much singing. Also, she always used the voice she had, as mentioned, in support of her acting, and that may have had some effect.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5V2AqPNdTQs


And now, an extra treat:  thanks to one of our faithful readers, my dear Russian friend Natalie, here is a Youtube video of Farrar's Carmen in Cecil B. DeMille's film!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nvQjh4uvPyc




Farrar in a nutshell: Self knowledge, a mighty will of her own, an adroit use of natural gifts, and a first-class career!

Beverly Sills: A Great American Soprano

Beverly Sills, (Belle Miriam Silverman) was born in 1929 in Brooklyn, New York. Her parents were Ukrainian immigrants, and as a child Sills was exposed to many languages at home, including French, Yiddish, and Russian, along with her native English. This exposure gave her a very natural facility with foreign languages, which was helpful in her later career.

Sills was precocious in the extreme as a child. Starting by winning a child beauty contest at the age of 3, she began performing on the radio at the age of 4 as "Bubbles" Silverman. She started taking lessons with Estelle Liebling, and by 1937, when she was 8 years old, she had appeared in a film, released the following year, which fortunately is preserved and viewable on Youtube. Because it tells us so very much about her, I think that here is a good place to see it. The film is called "Uncle Sol Solves It," and it is far more than a vaudeville shtick because of the difficulty of the piece, and the serious way Sills sings. Notice the extraordinary presence and charm of this little girl!  Also, watch the video to the very end and notice Uncle Sol's final advice to her:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YAz2HgSZaDs

Now how adorable is that!? The amazing thing is that she handles the fioratura quite well! Also, she has been taught, or naturally understands, what the great bel canto tenor Fernando de Lucía once told his student Georges Thill: "...per cantare bene, bisogna aprire la bocca!!" Which little Bubbles did! It's not hard to see why they called her "Bubbles," is it:-) Also, one other thing needs to be noticed. Did you notice Uncle Sol's advice at the end? Stay right here and study in this country., no matter how hanxious your hancestors are to do otherwise:-) .....we have great teachers here. That was one of the first things I noticed. It is important, because this was the grateful and patriotic attitude of so many at that time. The culture these Jewish immigrants, largely from Russia and Eastern Europe, brought to this country was enormous, beyond measure. You can see it in Sill's life-long attitude and work, and also in the attitudes of Jan Peerce, Roberta Peters, and many others. What they went on to contribute—and still do—is a story in itself, one of which every American can be proud, and for which all should be grateful.

Liebling encouraged little Beverly to appear on radio talent shows, which she did, and won a series of them, bringing increasing attention to herself. By age 16, she had joined a Gilbert and Sullivan touring company and began accumulating practical stage experience. Two years later, at 18, she made her operatic stage debut as the Spanish gypsy Frasquita in Bizet's Carmen with the Philadelphia Civic Grand Opera Company. By 1953, when she was 24, she appeared with the San Francisco opera as Helen of Troy in Boito's Mefistofele, and also sang Elivra in Don Giovanni with them the same year. From this moment on, her career virtually exploded. She went on, over the course of her career, to sing very many roles, in virtually all the major houses. Although she sang a repertoire from Handel, Mozart and Puccini, to Massenet and Verdi, she was known for her performances in coloratura soprano roles. Favorite operas were Lucia, La Fille du Régiment, Manon, Les Contes d'Hoffmann, The Barber of Seville, Roberto Devereux, La Traviata, and I Puritani.

Sills' life was music, from beginning to end: it never stops. The honors and accolades were extraordinary, as was her public relations work on behalf of music and charity, her administrative work at New York City Opera, and The Metropolitan. It is a vast biography, much too long to discuss here, but very easily consulted. Also, she has written an autobiography She was, without question, one of the most famous and respected figures in mid-twentieth century American cultural life.

Let us turn to Sills the artist. Here she is in her preferred repertoire, singing "Come per me sereno" from Bellini's La Sonnambula. It is a real coloratura tour-de-force. The trills, fioratura, and (very) high notes are simply stunning. It is a video of a certain length (nine minutes). If you have not the time to listen to it all now, skip the recitative. You don't want to miss any fireworks:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wuaGuKrq9fY

There simply can be no doubt about that technique. It is extraordinary, by any standard. The principles of bel canto singing have been thoroughly internalized, to the point where they simply come to define the singing. Few other sopranos of the twentieth century could match those trills. Sutherland could, but after that one starts to run down the list. Just amazing. And the speed of the coloratura is dazzling. This is a woman who was almost born singing, and was well taught from childhood. I would be so bold as to say that her technique was second to none.

Finally, from an American opera, the "Willow Song" from The Ballad of Baby Doe, by Douglas Moore. Sills distinguished herself in this opera, and was Moore's personal favorite in the title role (watch her, around 2:50, pick a D natural above high C out of the air!)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hNg8VGrIqls&feature=related


To a very great soprano, from a grateful American public—Thank you, Bubbles!

Gianfranco Cecchele: A Great and Under-Publicized Tenor

Gianfranco Cecchele ws born in 1938 in Padua, Italy. Even as a child he showed a precocious interest in opera and operatic singing. His interest was steadfast, and by 1963, when he was 25 years old, he decided to give it a try, and took some voice lessons. His teachers were impressed with his vocal potential, and in the same year he won a singing contest organized by the Teatro Nuovo in Milan. His debut followed quickly, and in the following year he debuted at the Teatro Bellini in Catania, in a relatively obscure work, a one-act pastoral poem by Giuseppe Mulè entitled La Zolfara. However, possessed of a heroic voice, he quickly (within the same year, actually) moved on to La Scala to sing no less than the leading role in Wagner's Rienzi! Next—and this is all in 1964—on to Rome and Aida. Clearly, this young tenor with a stentorian voice was making a quick and powerful impression on audiences and critics alike. In rapid succession he accumulated a repertoire that included, in addition to Rienzi and Rhadames, Don Carlo, Turridu, Don Alvaro and Calaf. In the following year he appeared at the Paris Opera, with Maria Callas, in Norma. It is hard to imagine a more rapid rise in a very demanding repertoire, and that of course was a double-edged sword. He was, after all, only in his 20's! He reputation spread throughout Europe and he gave 241 performances between 1964 and 1969. Of course, the inevitable happened, and toward the end of the period, around '67 and '68, he seriously strained his voice, causing vocal inflammation. Too many big roles too quickly. He had to quit singing entirely at that point, at least for a while, to undergo a long and painful recuperation from swollen and seriously strained vocal musculature. He temporarily dropped off the map, so to speak, and not much was heard of him. After a few years, however, he was re-establishing himself, and adding some less demanding roles to his repertoire and singing less often, having learned the lesson that many tenors do. Had he displayed that wisdom earlier on, there would likely not have been an interruption in his career. Also, the fact that he sang very largely in Italy made him an opera singer who, while enormously popular there, was not much known in America. This is also the case with two other fine Italian tenors, Mario Filippeschi and Salvatore Fisichella. (Giuseppe Giacomini, also less well known here than he should have been, was nevertheless very active outside Italy.)

Listening to a bit of Cecchele erases all doubts about the greatness of the voice and his abilities as a singer and actor. One of his signature roles, from the beginning, had been Calaf, and here is a superb rendition of "Non Piangere, Liu"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rRgDJvj9-go


Isn't that wonderful! The clarity of the voice, along with the richness and fullness, is positively thrilling. This is a great voice, no doubt about it. And, not coincidentally, Cecchele was a handsome man, and restrained in his acting. This is a 1968 TV video, when he would have been 30. I do not have sufficient information to know if this was during the period of recuperation from his vocal troubles or not; judging from the relative ease of the production, I would assume he was learning how to take it a little easier...there does not appear to be any stress in evidence here.

Here is an aria recorded in 1981, when he would have been 43, stable and in complete control of his voice: "La mia letizia infondere," from Verdi's I Lombardi:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c7mkHrozXCI&feature=related


Absolutely superb! The quality of the voice is beautiful and well controlled; the top is entirely intact and completely in line with all the registers; that was a B natural near the end, and it was perfect and, most importantly, not overstressed or unduly elongated. In a word, it was exemplary, both vocally and stylistically.

Finally the big tenor aria from Turandot, "Nessun Dorma," from a 1981 filmed production:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8jW-pdPhWPQ&feature=related


I find it impossible to fault this singing; this rendition of "Nessun Dorma" will stand with that of any other tenor, and seriously exceeds the efforts of many, some of them much more famous. Cecchele was, simply put,  a superb tenor.

There are reasons, as I pointed out earlier, why Cecchele was not well known in the United States. Certainly the most important is that he was, it seems, perfectly happy to sing in Italy. Not everyone, after all, wants to spend half their career lives on airplanes. There is also the fact that there was something of a lock-out on some Italian tenors in the United States during the 70's and 80's. That is one of the reasons another great dramatic tenor, Giuseppe Giacomini, was seen so seldom here. But that, as they say, is a discussion for another time.