The Great Kirsten Flagstad

Kirsten Flagstad (1895-1962) Today it is my great pleasure to present another in our series of guest commentators, Dr.Marie-Louise Rodén, whose photo appears to the left. Professor Rodén is Swedish but grew up in the United States and received a Ph.D. in History from Princeton University. She is currently Professor of History at Kristianstad University in Sweden, and her research specialty has been the political development of the Roman Papacy in the Early Modern Period. She also has a background in classical music and is currently, together with Daniele D. Godor, preparing a biography of Set Svanholm, which will be published in 2014.  I am indeed honored to have so distinguished a scholar make a presentation today on Kirsten Flagstad.     December 7 marks the fiftieth anniversary of Kirsten Flagstad's death. There is little risk that this memorable Wagnerian soprano of the past century will ever be forgotten. She is considered to be Norway's foremost practicing musician of all time and her countrymen have dubbed her "The Voice of the Century (Århundredets Stemme)". Early Years Kirsten Målfrid Flagstad was born on July 12, 1895 in Hamar as the eldest of four children to Mikael Flagstad and Marie Nielsen. Both parents were professional musicians—her father a violinist and her mother a pianist. Flagstad was surrounded by music during her youth and her parents soon recognized that she possessed an extraordinary talent. She was given a score of Wagner's Lohengrin to mark her tenth birthday, and she managed to learn and sing Elsa's part in a short time. Flagstad also recalled that her deep speaking voice led her father to presume that she was an alto, so when he presented her with a score of Schubert's Lieder, he chose the setting for lower voice. Flagstad's vocal education began with Ellen Schytte-Jacobsen and continued with Albert Westwang in Oslo. She also studied with the controversial Dr. Gillis Bratt in Stockholm, who was active both as a physician and voice teacher, specializing in the development of extended breath. In 1913, Flagstad made her operatic debut as Nuri in Eugene d'Albert's Tiefland, and during the early part of her career sang roles in both opera and operetta. In 1919 she married Sigurd Hall and her only child Else was born the following year. The marriage failed after a few years and in the 1920's Flagstad resumed her singing career. She did so with a voice that had grown considerably in size and now took on more dramatic roles in the Italian repertoire, such as Desdemona, Tosca and Aïda. Norway did not yet have a permanent National Opera, so many singers from that country had to find other opportunities, and therefore Flagstad sang at the opera in Gothenburg, Sweden from 1928. Her years at Stora Teatern have unfortunately not been documented in any known "in-house" recordings, for this was the last period in her career in which she sang a great variety of roles in French and Italian repertoire. In 1930 she married the wealthy Norwegian industrialist Henry Johansen (1883-1946) and, together with him and her daughter Else heard her first performance of Tristan und Isolde at the Staatsoper in Vienna—or at least part of it. Her American accompanist and friend Edwin McArthur recounts that "[s]he confessed many times later that she was so bored that she could hardly stay awake. Actually, she would not have stayed through the performance except for Johansen's insistence: he wanted her to know the work." She could not have guessed that she would sing the role of Isolde as soon as 1932, when the National Theater in Oslo decided to stage the music drama, giving Flagstad only six weeks to learn the part. The performance was a great success and now word of this talented Wagnerian began to spread outside her native country. Alexander Kipnis had sung the role of König Marke in the Oslo performance and was convinced that Flagstad should perform at the Metropolitan Opera. In the meantime, she did participate in two seasons at Bayreuth—1933 and 1934 -- but mainly in smaller roles. The Metropolitan Opera was in need of another Wagnerian soprano at that time, and Flagstad finally agreed to travel to St. Moritz in Switzerland to audition. Historic Debut Present at Flagstad's audition in 1934 were Giulio Gatti-Casazza, the General Director of the Metropolitan, and the conductor Artur Bodanzky. The audition took place in a hotel room with heavy draperies and curtains: for that reason the representatives of the Metropolitan did not receive a correct idea of Flagstad's vocal resources. According to Robert Tuggle,  archivist of the Metropolitan Opera, the telegram that went back to New York simply stated "We've heard Flagstad and we think she'll be fine." It was therefore only a few days before her debut that Bodanzky really understood what kind of singer he had recruited. During a dress rehearsal of Götterdämmerung he simply dropped his baton and ran to get Gatti-Casazza so that he too could come and hear for himself. Flagstad's first Saturday afternoon broadcast on February 2, 1935 was thus almost unheralded. The renowned soprano Geraldine Farrar had been engaged to speak during broadcast intermissions, and she too dropped her prepared manuscript to announce: "a new star has been born". Let us share what thousands of American listeners heard on that Saturday afternoon. Here is Kirsten Flagstad in "Du bist der Lenz" from the first act of Wagner's Die Walküre. (Be patient.  There is a 30-second pause before the singing begins on this video):   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZIo8IokM1ZE   The young American pianist and conductor Edwin McArthur (1907-87) was among those who heard that historic broadcast. He immediately obtained Flagstad's address in New York and wrote a letter requesting an interview for the position of accompanist, and sent it off by special delivery. Flagstad asked him to meet her at the Astor Hotel and after a pleasant chat requested that he play two songs by the Norwegian composer Eyvind Alnæs (1872-1932). The interview ended with a cocktail and the soprano later revealed that she hired McArthur not only because he was an excellent pianist with a good knowledge of Scandinavian music, but also because he was so very tall. They would therefore look good together onstage and Flagstad, who was quite tall herself, would not appear as a giant at his side. Let us listen to a recording where McArthur accompanies Flagstad in Edvard Grieg's "En Drøm": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QhsjbucYOos   Flagstad's debut in Tristan und Isolde followed on February 6 and before the month was over the Metropolitan audience had heard her as Brünnhilde in Die Walküre and in Götterdämmerung. The same season she added the role of Kundry in Parsifal to her repertoire but wisely refused to take on the role of Norma in Bellini's opera of the same title. She neither felt comfortable with the Italian language or the stylistic demands of the work. The leading Wagnerian tenor of that generation at the Metropolitan was the Danish-born Lauritz Melchior (1890-1973). Flagstad and Melchior were soon hailed as the greatest soprano-tenor couple since Caruso and Ponselle, but their partnership off the stage was not equally cordial. The diplomatic McArthur successfully mitigated some of the feuds in which the two Scandinavians were engaged, and conducted them on several occasions. Recordings of excerpts from Wagner's works made in November 1939 under McArthur's direction are among the finest that document these two singers. The very same month Flagstad appeared in a production of Tristan at the Chicago Opera with Giovanni Martinelli -- she was convinced that the Italian tenor would make a very fine Tristan and McArthur conducted even on this occasion. In February of 1941 he became the first native-born American to conduct Wagner at the Metropolitan, and also did so in Flagstad's final pre-war performance of Tristan und Isolde on April 12 of that year. Acceding to her husband's wishes, she had decided to return to Norway, occupied by Nazi Germany almost exactly a year before. Here is Kirsten Flagstad in an exceptional recording of the "Liebstod" from Tristan, recorded in London in 1948. She performed Isolde's role 182 times in the course of her career. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mgpesiHWTbQ   Years of Silence Kirsten Flagstad's decision to return to Norway in 1941 was catastrophic in terms of her career, but she had always considered private life to be her first priority. Flagstad never sang in Germany during the war and never sang officially in occupied Norway. During these years of silence she gave a couple of performances in Sweden and Switzerland, which were both neutral countries. Her husband Henry Johansen was a conservative businessman and member of the party founded by Vidkun Quisling (1887-1945), Nasjonal Samling (NS). He was eventually persuaded by Flagstad and his daughter to leave the party, but was arrested at the end of the war and accused of war profiteering. He died in prison before a trial could ever take place. The Norwegian government now accused Flagstad of complicity in her husband's affairs. They would not renew her passport, fearing that she would leave the country with some of the wealth that Johansen had accumulated. She was only exonerated from all charges against her— which included not only economic matters but also performing German Lieder in concerts in the United States -- once Edwin McArthur traveled to Norway to witness at the Torridal County Court in Kristiansand in October of 1946. But the rumors of her Nazi sympathies were persistent, especially in America, and after the war she initially had great difficulties in obtaining any engagements. Organized protesters marched outside concert halls where she was to perform and hired claques disrupted concerts with shouting and stink bombs. An invitation to return to the Metropolitan would have helped her greatly during this dismal period, but the General Manager Edward Johnson, soon to retire, was hesitant. The situation was eventually resolved when Sir Rudolf Bing succeeded Johnson in 1950 and established that Flagstad was completely innocent of any involvement in her husband's economic affairs and of any sympathies for the Nazi regime: she would thus return in his first season as General Manager. Lauritz Melchior had questions about this decision, and made it fairly clear that he did not wish to share the stage with Flagstad again. Bing in turn stated that he did expect a certain  level of professionalism from his artists  and felt that he had been forced into a position where he had to take a stand, whatever his personal feelings may have been. He therefore dismissed Melchior.  In 1951, Flagstad sang a number of performances of Tristan, an entire Ring cycle and the following year Gluck's Alcestis marked her farewell to the Met. Some of Flagstad's most significant activity in the post-war period took place in the recording studio. Stereophonic recording technique was in a process of development in the 1950's and therefore we have a fine record not only of her Wagnerian roles, but also of Lieder repertoire and sacred music. Her most frequent partner on stage and in the recording studio during this period was the Swedish tenor Set Svanholm (1904-64). Among the memorable recordings from this last period in Flagstad's career are a complete Tristan conducted by Wilhelm Furtwängler with Ludwig Suthaus from 1952; the first act of Die Walküre with Svanholm, conducted by Hans Knappertsbusch, the third act of the same music drama and the "Todesverkündigung" from the second act with Svanholm, both conducted by Sir Georg Solti and recorded in 1957; and finally a complete Norwegian Radio broadcast recording of Götterdämmerung, also with Svanholm and conducted by Øyvin Fjeldstad from 1956. Flagstad's voice had grown deeper in the late 1940's and '50's, and thus she made some rare recordings of alto repertoire as well as taking on the mezzo-soprano role of Fricka in Das Rheingold in the first part of the "Solti Ring", recorded in 1958. Though we today associate Flagstad mainly with the works of Wagner, it should not be forgotten that she even in later years made other valuable contributions to both German and Scandinavian repertoire. She was the soloist in the first performance ("Uraufführung") of Richard Strauss's Vier letzte Lieder in London 1950 with the conductor Wilhelm Furtwängler, and has left us as an outstanding interpretation of selected songs of Jean Sibelius from 1958. The same year Flagstad was appointed first General Manager of the Norwegian National Opera, whose initial activity she generously supported with private funds. She could only retain that position until 1960, when she retired due to a cancer that she had been fighting for several years. During the last years of her life she confined her performances to benefit concerts in the local churches of Norway. In remembrance of Kirsten Flagstad's commitment both to her native country and to sacred music, I would like to close with her rendition of Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy's beautiful motet "Oh for the Wings of a Dove."   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cY0c6JZxxWI

11

 

The Great Neapolitan Tenor Francesco Albanese

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Francesco Albanese was born in Torre del Greco, Naples, and was a popular lyric tenor, known not only for his work in opera, but as one of the greatest singers of Neapolitan song.  His life and career were almost entirely in Italy, although he did sing in London, Portugal and South America.  As a result, his work was largely within the Italian repertoire,  but that of course is a very large part of opera!   He did not, to the best of my knowledge, ever sing in the United States.  We have an unfortunate tendency in the US to think that Italian singers who never sang here were  unsuccessful or unimpressive.  That is a silly kind of chauvinism, of course; nothing could be further from the truth.  He in fact had a very good career, and is greatly respected today.
 

His first studies were in Rome, with Francesco Salfi, and it was there that he made his debut, at the Teatro dell'Opera, in Gluck's Alceste  His early repertoire was to become his characteristic repertoire, which is leggiero, or light lyric roles, such as Almaviva, Fenton, Rinuccio, Ottavio, Ramiro, Ernesto (Don Pasquale), Armida, Alfredo and Nemorino.

He recorded both Ifigenia in Tauride, (1957) and La Traviata (early 50's )  opposite Maria Callas.

It was not only in opera that Albanese had a good career.  For lovers of Neapolitan music, Albanese is commonly considered one of the greatest of all singers of Neapolitan songs, which have a remarkable history all their own.  As I always hasten to point out, whenever I speak of Neapolitan songs, there is a great misconception about what they are.  It seems, for example, that nearly every operatic tenor and baritone on earth feels obliged to sing these songs, whether or not they know anything about Naples, its language, literature, or musical history.  As a result of this, many of the songs are done poorly.  In fact, the Neapolitan song has a style all its own,  because these songs have a long history and in their earliest iterations, they were art songs, much more restrained and dignified in tone than they now often appear in the hands of many singers. Further, they were, in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, a principle means of instructing a large and unlettered populace in Neapolitan cultural and literary history--they served as a kind of instruction in napolitanità ; which is to say in what it meant to be Neapolitan.  Therefore, a great familiarity with Naples, its music, its political history,  its language and its literature is required to do them well.  Several names come immediately to mind, including Fernando de Lucia—still the all-time favorite tenor of many Neapolitans—modern singers Roberto Murolo and Aurelio Fierro, and of course Francesco Albanese.

I think it's possible to get a good idea of just what a fine singer Albanese was by listening to him sing one of the most popular of all Neapolitan songs, Dicitencello Vuje.  When I posted this on Youtube, I included the lyrics, and translated them from Neapolitan into English.  It makes it possible to follow the song carefully.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oQweD8rFJKE&feature=plcp

Isn't that just absolutely wonderful!  That is what a Neapolitan song is supposed to sound like.  The first thing you will notice is that it is completely devoid of shouting, moaning, groaning, glycerin tears or schlock.  It is in fact as well constructed, singable and  dignified as many a Schubert Lied, making allowance for the theme of romance expressed in a Latin way and in a Latin language.  Of course, these tonal differences will be expressed in ways particular to both cultures, but that says nothing about the quality of the artistry, just the intrinsic nature of the different cultures, languages, and peoples.  You can hear the same differences in political or scientific discussions or speeches.  On the same Youtube page where this song appears, you can find, in the right hand sidebar, the same song "sung" by the Three Tenors.  I don't recommend it:-)

As for opera, here is "Parigi, o Cara....," from La Traviata, with Maria Callas:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KhU7THYSryE

Notice the restraint and the elegance of his singing.  This is classy singing, there is no doubt about it, and very much against stereotype.  I would contend that this is exactly the quality I find in the Neapolitan songs he sings, and one of the major reasons he sings them so authentically and beautifully.  A first class tenor, and a credit to Italian music!

 

Pol Plançon, French Basse Chantante

Pol Plançon was born in Fumay, France, in 1851.  Because so large a part of his life and career was in the 19^th century, during the 80's and 90's, he is properly seen as an exemplar of 19^th century singing, and most especially of 19^th century French singing, with its many refinements.

Plançon's teachers were the famous tenor Gilbert Duprez and Giovanni Sbriglia, who also numbered among his students the de Reszke brothers, Jean and Édouward.  His debut was in 1877, in Lyon, in Meyerbeer's Les Huguenots.  His rise was quite rapid, and in short order he was singing in Paris, both at the Théâtre de la Gaîté Lyrique (1880) and the Paris Opera, where his debut (1883) was Faust, an opera that was to become one of his most frequently performed, as Mephistopheles quicklybecame a signature role for him.  He would spend 10 years at the Paris Opera,  where he participated in several premieres,  including Le Cid, and Saint-Saëns's Ascanio.  He also sang at Covent Garden, to general acclaim, during the early 1890's.  He continued to add new roles to his repertoire, including Massenet's La Navarraise, Lalo's Le roi d'Ys, and Massenet's Hérodiade.  Plançon did not neglect the standard repertoire, and during the peak of his career he could be seen in  Aida, Fidelio, Die Meistersinger, Mefistofele, The Damnation of Faust, and Martha.  He only avoided those roles that required anything approaching  roughness or—especially—buffoonery, as he was, above all else, debonair and elegant—the ultimate bel canto singer, with extraordinary vocal and aesthetic refinements at his command, including a perfect trill, and a remarkable ability to sing fioratura and rapid cadenzas.  These abilities and refinements are almost never seen in basses.  Plançon's Metropolitan Opera debut was 1893, in Gounod's Philémon and Baucis.  He sang at the Met until 1908, in over 600 performances.  He retired from the stage in 1908 and returned to Paris, where he gave lessons.  He died at age 63, in 1914.

The first recording I have chosen is a truly extraordinary record of bel canto bass singing.  It shows the essential Plançon gifts:  Absolutely immaculate French, with every syllable perfectly clearly pronounced; smooth and elegant vocalism, supporting a musically perfect style, and, from the middle of the recording to the end, what I believe are unique examples of rapid cadenzas and fioratura executed by a bass.  If you do not know Plançon, and this is the first example  of his singing you have heard, keep an open mind!  Those among us who have been raised in the verismo era of giant-voiced, roof-shaking Russian basses are in for a surprise at this example of an elegant French bel canto artist singing 108 years ago! :

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ujldIxY1tCs

Now isn't that something!  You can see, right away, why he is the darling of bel canto lovers.  This is one of the important examples of 19^th century bel canto singing, recorded in 1904, when Plançon would have been 53 years old. His was not a huge or even large voice, yet he could be heard perfectly well (as most bel canto artists could be) even in large theaters such as the Met, which even back then was a large house.  It isn't size that accounts for carrying power, it is, and always has been, focus.  And of that he had enough.

This next recording is a gem, and my own personal favorite of Plançon's recorded arias.  It is not easy to think of this voice as a Verdi bass, and yet his performance of this aria from Verdi's Don Carlos is so good, and so sensitively done, that it is absolutely heart-rending.  Don Carlos, known in Italian as Don Carlo, was originally written in French, and Verdi intended it to be a big 5-act French opera.  This aria, which we know today from the later Italian version as "Ella giammai m'amò,"  ("She never loved me") has to be one of the saddest things ever written, and when it is sung by a consummate artist like Plançon, as opposed to being sung in the many window-shattering renditions by huge basses, one actually feels the excruciating painfulness of the lyrics:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pb9N1JPpFxc&feature=relmfu

Not much I can add to that!  Sigh..................

Finally, a non-operatic selection.  The season now being fairly close to hand, here is his delicate and beautiful rendition of O Holy Night:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wExJg_MIj5c&feature=relmfu

Pol Plançon, clearly one of a kind!

 

 

Giovanna Casolla: Traditional Dramatic Soprano

It is a great pleasure to welcome again today our outstanding guest commentator Mr. Gioacchino Fiurezi Maragioglio, Italian industrialist, opera critic and historian. Mr. Fiurezi Maragioglio, an  intimate friend of the great Italian tenor Giacomo Lauri Volpi, is possessed of a truly extraordinary knowledge of Italian opera and opera singers, many of whom he has known personally. I do not believe that there is anyone among my acquaintance whose knowledge exceeds his own, and there are precious few who could match it.  Mr. Fiurezi Maragioglio speaks to us today of the remarkable dramatic soprano Giovanna Casolla.

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During the twentieth century, the Italian dramatic soprano was a voice enjoyed all across the world. In fact, during one brilliant decade, Milanov, Ponselle, Raïsa, Cigna, Arangi-Lombardi, Scacciati and Jeritza could all be found singing the greatest roles of the dramatic repertoire: Amelia, Aïda, both Leonoras, and— excepting Ponselle—the most demanding of all: Turandot.

From her début in 1977, Giovanna Casolla has stood as an exceptional example of this great and very necessary kind of soprano. It was only after such disappointments as Katia Ricciarelli’s Turandot that people realized exactly what was missing. So, let us see Signora Casolla in this most demanding of roles, Turandot. Here is the Riddle Scene, with tenor Nicola Martinucci, cut in Torino in 2006, when the soprano was no less than sixty-one years of age, and her Calàf sixty-five!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z8Po3HzyAVU&feature=related

 

She is in complete command in this role, and the size and power of the voice are immediately discernable. It is not difficult to compare these qualities to singers of the past, especially to Cigna! She puts forth a great effort creating Turandot, and in this rendition she is convincing as a proud and sneering princess. Her phrasing and control of dynamics, when she taunts Calàf on the final riddle, are particularly effective, owing in large part to the softness of her tone as she comments on Calàf's paleness; something ironically reinforced by the contrasting forte at the end of the phrase.

Casolla is well-known as the interpreter of difficult roles, and here she is interpreting another one: Minnie in La Fanciulla del West, singing her aria Laggiù nel soledad. As is immediately apparent, it is very hard to sing. Puccini demands the soprano move rapidly between a very lyric, reflective parlando expression and then a very dramatic, forceful expression, trumpeting out high notes. Once again, Casolla has her voice ready and waiting to assail the very difficult aria.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=68kLV4WmXAg
 

Her vocal coloring is particularly well-displayed in the big aria Suicidio from La Gioconda. This is a real chiaroscuro voice, with bright and clear overtones shimmering on top of what is a very dark and threatening core. This, combined with her firm legato and excellent breath control, allows her to show both the strength and resolve of Gioconda while at the same time reminding us that she is, after all, just a young and vulnerable woman.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wUWFd0Y0Zaw

 

In this next selection, Casolla interprets Verdi in a performance of Un Ballo in Maschera, in the big aria Morrò, ma prima in grazia. Besides a powerful high C, her legato and attention to text are most noteworthy. Once again, her vocal colouring is both beautiful and emotive, communicating the innocence and purity of Amelia. After such impassioned singing, it seems completely reasonable for Renato’s anger to change into mercy.
 

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8PpZLn-aZD4&playnext=1&list=PLC2A6E35E8D7C427D&feature=results_video

The richness and ease of production in the lower parts of Casolla’s voice also permit her to undertake congenial mezzo-soprano roles, so that in Don Carlo, for example,  Eboli is her role of choice. rather than Elisabetta. She has also performed Carmen to great acclaim, and is one of the very few singers who can boast of having sung both Aïda and Amneris equally well.

I am sure you have all noted the word ‘traditional’ in the title of this article. I chose it purposefully, and in then next very short video, which is a recording of Casolla speaking, the concepts of traditional and modern Italian singing collide distressingly.
 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yDIVY8GH9p8&feature=related

For some, this may seem a gratuitous observation; one which seems to favor what might be considered the cruder aspects of traditional Italian singing.  I assure you, that is not the case.  What it really represents is the frustration of the old order with certain aspects of the modern operatic scene. Casolla speaks of her own dream to sing Norma, a dream which remained only that: in her own words, it was not in her throat — not in her throat to perform with all of her roles, not in her throat to perform in the Arena di Verona, or in her native San Carlo, or in Scala. Thus, it is easy to understand why Bartoli’s recording and interpretation of Norma raises some questions for Casolla.  Essentially, it is the collision of two very different worlds. Casolla’s traditional art takes place principally in the theater. Bartoli’s art is different to the extent it takes place largely in the recording studio, notwithstanding her many excellent concert and staged performances. The demands of recording a role such as Norma are less than what is required to sing it live. This is a point that I think is being lost today, and it is essentially a result of modern technology.  It is not simply my observation—it is quite general, and has been made by no less a tenor than Giuseppe Giacomini, who has said he believes that live performance, in a theater, is de naturitate different than the art of recording; that it in fact has a certain relationship to the religious theater of Greco-Roman antiquity. With all these perfect studio recordings, it is easy to find fault with live singers like Casolla, but, in fact it is Casolla who has performed these demanding roles in large theaters for more than thirty years. Thus, when someone comes along and enacts your dream in what, from Casolla’s view, is a very diminished and artificial way, it would be natural to express your reservations.

I also feel that Casolla’s comment is directed essentially at some modern bel canto and baroque artists, who are frequently regarded and promoted as ‘superior’ or ‘better’ than artists who perform Verdi, Puccini or verismo works. This is a common frustration often felt both by spectators and singers of her generation.

All good operatic singing is worthy of acknowledgment, and thus I thank our dear Professor Edmund St Austell for allowing me to present this article on Casolla, whose singing masterfully continues the tradition — and temperament — of the great dramatic sopranos of the past. If that is not recognised as great singing, what can be?

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.]

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 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!

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3TgPNa5dyio

 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!

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

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."

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GhRuMMph-Sw

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": 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CRnNB4HXOK4&feature=plcp

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

 

Giuseppe Anselmi: The Triumph of Elegance

Sicilian tenor Giuseppe Anselmi was born in 1876, and achieved a great reputation throughout Europe in the early years of the twentieth century.  He was also quite popular in St. Petersburg, at the Mariinski, and he also  sang in Warsaw.  Unlike some other singers of his era, he never came to the United States, possibly because Caruso had debuted here in 1903, and was, virtually from the beginning, a very popular tenor, actually one of the first superstars of opera.  That was a matter of small consequence, however, because Anselmi was an entirely different kind of tenor, one more characteristic of the 19^th than the twentieth century.  He was at least something of  a bel canto tenor, in the same approximate school as Alessandro Bonci. 

He had a very good career in Europe, and the basis of his fame was the elegance of his singing.  His predilection for bel canto—while not reflected so much in his repertoire choice –made possible some very refined singing, and opened the door for older works.  He sang the bigger Italian roles quite consistently (Canio, Turridu,Cavaradossi,Il Duca, for example),  so while some might loosely call him a "bel canto" tenor, that did not rule out for him the heavier Italian roles.  The divisions between voice types and roles barely existed at that time, and singers often sang a very wide repertoire.  Anselmi sang Ottavio and Almaviva as well as Canio and Turridu, and would also sing Handel and Richard Strauss. He even recorded one song in Russian. 

Anselmi's reputation for elegance came not only from his bel canto training and his linguistic abilities; he was an excellent musician, having studied both piano and violin at the Naples Conservatory as a young man.  His debut was in Genoa, in 1900, when he was very young indeed, and he quickly became popular.  His next move, the following year, was to Covent Garden, and subsequent debuts at San Carlo, La Scala, Monte Carlo came quickly.  From there, it was Brussels, Germany, Vienna, St. Petersburg, Poland and Spain; everywhere a success. While he did not travel to North America, he did travel to South America, and  sang at the Colón in Buenos Aires.  He was not in very robust health, it seems, and by 1910, he was waning, and, sadly, died of tuberculosis in 1929, only 53 years of age.

While Anselmi sang a lot of the "bread and butter" Italian roles, he was no stranger to more modern and more refined music, witness this recording of R. Strauss' "Morgen":

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-YnI4yUXK78

I think you will agree that this is beautiful and musically elegant.  This is not a "trendy" or "occasional" thing that he was doing.  His singing reveals both an understanding of  and control over the style of the song.

Here is an example of bel canto training as reflected  in his handling of Loris' famous aria from Fedora.  We are used to hearing this done by some very robust tenors, but this is another approach to the song that works very well:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=loCS7lVehlQ&feature=related

How about that!?  Talk about elegance and bel canto technique!  That is absolutely beautiful singing, and the stylistics and musicality are inspiring.  It is not hard to see why he was revered throughout Europe.  That kind of singing is close to being a lost art among tenors.

Here is an Anselmi rarity.  He recorded a soprano aria from Handel's Xerxes, "Va godendo," only recently posted.  This is a real treat:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MoiLX4Xxkvs&feature=related

 Just lovely!  We can say exactly the same thing about this aria that we can say about the first two selections:  purity, elegance, musicality, control of style, tone and phrasing.  All the arts of beautiful singing.  And as for recording a soprano aria from Handel, that just wasn't done by tenors in his day.  There are clearly resonances of a very much earlier time here.

Finally, and I present this because it is linguistically very  rare,  a recording of an Italian tenor singing in Russian.  I suspect, as I point out in the description I put on this video when I posted it,  that this is something he learned in St.Petersburg, where he was exceptionally popular:  (I wrote the first half of the description on this video in Russian, for my Russian audience, but scroll down a bit, I also posted it in English.):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zS3Y0otgRNU

An unusual tenor, a golden age, and arts now largely lost, but there is always the possibility of recovering the essence of the lost arts, if not the actual techniques.

 

 

Juan Diego Florez: Revival Of The Tenore Contraltino

[Today I am pleased to offer to readers another in our series of guest commentaries, this one by Mr. Darren Seacliffe, from Singapore. Darren is by far the youngest guest writer we have had in what I consider to be an excellent series generally.  He is an undergraduate student in his early 20's pursuing a degree in a private university in Singapore.  His interest in opera spans a wide variety of genres, from Rossini to 20^th century opera prior to 1945. His areas of greatest interest are Rossini, bel canto, Verdi, and German operetta.  I will only add that Mr. Seacliffe's knowledge of opera history—especially for one so young, is truly extraordinary!  Here is a blossoming music critic if ever I saw one, and that is a happy sign indeed, for all kinds of reasons! Edmund StAustell .]

 

There are two opera composers without whom Italian opera would be much different: Mozart and Rossini.  It was Rossini who elaborated upon and further developed the innovations which the great Mozart had previously made in Italian opera with respect to its musical structure and theatricality. Unlike Mozart, whose artistry has been given due recognition and whose works have been periodically revived following his death,  Rossini was originally dismissed as a composer of farcical comedies, and—even worse—his works eventually faded out of the repertoire into neglect and oblivion. It has only been in recent years that Rossini has been recognized as a great composer who built on Mozart's work by facilitating Italian opera's transition from baroque opera to the genre we see and recognize today, largely through the opera serie he composed for the virtuosi at the Teatro San Carlo in Naples; works which had earlier been dismissed as contributing little to the development of opera.

Much credit has to be given to the pioneering generation of Rossini tenors Rockwell Blake, Chris Merritt, Bruce Ford, William Matteuzzi and Ernesto Palacio (Juan Diego Florez' teacher,manager and mentor) for re-introducing these serious operas to the public after years of neglect and oblivion. Despite the retirement of most if not all of the tenors mentioned above, Rossini has not faded away. Many major opera houses continue to revive his comic and tragic masterpieces and there has been at least one major Rossini Opera Festival at Pesaro. One tenor deserves more credit for this than any other, and that is superstar Juan Diego Florez.

Juan Diego Florez was born in 1973 in Lima, Peru. He entered the Conservatorio Nacional de Música in Lima at the age of 17.  He studied under Andrés Santa María, with the original intention of singing popular and folk music.  However, a classical voice soon emerged. Even so, he had not found where his strength lay until a chance meeting with his great predecessor Ernesto Palacio, who mentored him in becoming a Rossini tenor. His professional debut took place in the Rossini Opera Festival of 1988 when he stood in for an ailing Bruce Ford in a historical revival of one of Rossini's latter operas, Matilde di Shabran. From there on, there was no turning back and he began to attain to greater and greater heights as the years went by. Many performances were especially noteworthy, including the Barber of Seville, La Cenerentola, La Donna del Lago, Zelmira, and La Fille de Regiment.  

Just as Pavarotti was the first to excel at roles Bellini had originally composed for the great Rubini, Florez excelled, through his amazing technique, in singing the stratospheric coloratura Rossini had composed for the virtuosi of the Teatro San Carlo— Andrea Nozzari, Giovanni David and Adolphe Nourritt. However, this alone does not place him at the head of the many bel canto tenors we are blessed with today like Lawrence Brownlee, Antonio Siragusa, Colin Lee and Barry Banks. What makes Florez the undisputed best of these tenors is the additional factor of the light and fresh beauty of his voice. Here is a video of Florez singing an aria from Rossini's La Donna del Lago; one which clearly shows these qualities which he possesses in abundance. The aria has a long orchestral introduction.  I recommend you advance the radio button to 2:20 to start:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fh9hAzU5qRE

To my knowledge, Florez is one of the few Rossini tenors who not only has the technical skill to perform this aria without problems but is also able to perform the aria with the grace and lightness that the first Uberto—Giacomo David—might have brought to his performance. This is one achievement that cannot be underestimated, considering how previous Ubertos—Rockwell Blake and Dalmacio Gonzalez—were unable to bring the role to its fullest potential: Blake due to the raw nature of his voice and Gonzalez due to technical issues.

As mentioned, Florez's big break came in 1996, when he was asked to substitute for the ailing tenor Bruce Ford in a revival of Rossini's Matilde di Shabran at the Rossini Opera Festival, on 2 to 3 weeks' notice. Can you believe that he was able to give a performance of this quality, having had so little time to prepare a role that had not been performed in more than 100 years? He is truly extraordinary. Turn your volume up full for this performance, recorded at a certain distance from the stage:

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

Florez' star began to shine in the opera world from that moment on! Blessed with great talent and technical skill, all joined to a beautiful voice overflowing with freshness, he has consolidated his place as one of today's greatest bel canto tenors. Additionally, he maintains a high performance standard in his acting and conducts himself with exemplary professionalism.  Here you will see what I mean:  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LTpkqExMd5g

This performance took place just hours after Florez's wife gave birth in a New York hospital—a shining example of his professionalism!

Not only does Florez sing beautifully, but he has become an accomplished actor. Toward the beginning of his career, he had been criticized by some for his acting, but he showed his true professionalism by taking the negative press seriously and working hard on all aspects of his acting, to the point that he is now praised.  Given the hard work and professionalism he continues to show, Florez' future prospects seem bright indeed.  Some predecessors, such as Kunde and Lopardo, moved on into heavier roles as they got older, and one wonders what roles Florez might next attempt in the bel canto repertoire. Perhaps Roberto Devereux, Percy, Gennaro or even Edgardo? Before Pavarotti passed away, he acknowledged Florez as his successor. Not yet, certainly, but given the amount of progress he is making, I for one believe it is a distinct possibility.

-Darren Seacliffe