Monserrat Caballe: One Of The Greatest Voices Of The 20th Century

I have to say, up front, that any attempt at objectivity on my part, when writing of Monserrat Caballé, would be futile. We are dealing with a realm of greatness here that is rare, and—as in the case of Zinka Milanov, it is hard to know where to begin.   Probably with at least a little background.

Monserrat Caballé was born in Barcelona, in 1933, and studied at the Liceu Conservatory, graduating with honors in 1954. Her professional debut was in Basel, Switzerland, as Mimi in 1956.  She spent the next two years at the Basel Opera—with some outside appearances in Germany—doing mainly lyric roles, appropriate for her age.  She was only 23 at the time of her debut.  Returning to Barcelona in 1962, she began to expand her repertoire a bit, taking on the somewhat bigger role of Arabella, having done a Salomé earlier in Germany.  A tour a Mexico followed, but  Caballé was to wait until 1965 before her first international breakthrough in New York’s Carnegie Hall, where she substituted for Marilyn Horne in a concertized version of Lucrezia Borgia.  She was a great success, and the rise from that point on was near-meteoric.  After a Glyndebourne Rosenkavalier, it was only a short while before her Met debut in 1965, in Faust, and then to the Philadelphia Lyric in Andrea Chenier, then to the Maggio Musicale Fiorentino in Trovatore and Bellini’s Il Pirata.

From then on, her fame was considerable, and it was on to the big roles.  Her repertoire came to include Otello, Norma, Un Ballo, Don Carlo, and a good number of older operas form the period of High Romanticism, in which she was particularly successful. The career from that point on was huge, and can be consulted in any of a series of on line biographies.  Suffice it say that it has been a career so illustrious that few can match it!  She has received many awards and honors, from many countries.

That Caballé possessed one of the greatest of voices is simply beyond question.  What can be discussed, however, are the quality and development of that voice. I have had the good fortune to make the acquaintance of a gentleman whose knowledge of opera in general, and of great singers in particular (many of whom he has known personally) is truly extraordinary.  I mentioned to him recently that I was going to write about Caballé, and he offered to research for me the critical comments that greeted her in America, first at her Met debut, and then in later performances.  What he found was most interesting and pertinent.  Caballe’s voice was not immediately seen, nor was it particularly ever seen, as simply a huge voice. It is not really a huge voice.  It is certainly big enough, but it is more a question of quality, production, and exemplary technique, all joined to give that impression.

 Her first roles were lyric roles, as I mentioned at the beginning.  At her Met debut, she received a good enough review for her work in Faust, but the critics said it was not her best role. However, they praised her “gleaming” high notes which could easily be heard in the house.  In 1967 she did an Otello, but the critic felt that her voice was too small for the role.  It could of course simply be the case that she was developing slowly and carefully, an opinion to which I personally hold.  She certainly is a very intelligent and well trained singer, who, in a word, has always known exactly what she was doing.  Later, in 1972, at a Met Gala, she got a really fine review for her Manon Lescaut duet with Plácido Domingo.  Later, she finally found the extraordinary reviews which have become fairly commonplace, starting with a terrific review for Norma.  This critical glance back at reviews is united by a common thread, and that is development!  I would say this is very important, even crucial to the understanding of the Caballé voice. Many thanks to my friend for this research!  Let us take a look at a role that goes back to the very beginning of her career; Mimí:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oGY7QsippGk&list=PL10A05476AAFA23AB

This is, of course, simply beautiful, and even though this particular performance comes at a later moment in her career, the lovely young and lyric voice is very much in evidence.  It is not in any way “huge.”  That is an illusion, primarily, based on perfect placement, ringing clarity, and a remarkable ease of production.  No stress, no strain, as easy as speaking, and it can be heard everywhere.

The voice did of course develop somewhat in color and intensity over time, and she soon was being heard in big, big roles, and the impression of size and power was always there, but again, there is more of perfect placement and superb technique to thank than any Nilsson-type size.  Caballé began to take on some old and unusual operas which contained showpiece arias that proved perfect vehicles for her particular voice.  Here is a spectacular “Non fu sogno,” from Verdi’s I Lombardi:

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

Now, isn’t that something! Again, the impression is huge, but it’s not that the voice per se has changed so much from what it was at the beginning of the career. This is the Caballé of the huge impression, the extraordinary voice, the very operatic sound of the High Romanticism of the mid-19^th century.  What is truly amazing, at least to me, however, is that this wonderful soprano, at the very peak of her fame and full vocal maturity (to say the least, at age 63, when the following concert took place) can hold a huge audience spell-bound with some of the most beautiful, lyrical, sustained, elegant, dream-like music ever written, the astonishing “Willow, Willow,” from Otello:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-EzzkN1uPXs

The Great Monserrat Caballé!  I can hardly add more.

 

 

Marilyn Horne: One Of The Greatest Mezzos Of All Time

One of the pleasures of writing about singers such as Marilyn Horne is that one enjoys the freedom to make great claims.  I am not as a rule given to hyperbole, because in the fine arts, and entertainment generally, the proofs are lacking.  Having said that, I don’t think there can be much question about saying that Marilyn Horne is one of the greatest mezzo sopranos of all time.

Horne was born in Pennsylvania and grew up in California. She was musically gifted, and was involved in music, in one way or another, from her pre-teen years onward. She studied voice with William Vennard at the University of Southern California’s School of Music and attended master classes given by Lotte Lehmann. Horne is very American, as is her background. As a young woman she did all sorts of musical things, including film dubbing and background singing for TV sitcoms. She covered pop songs, and did minor character acting on TV.  Her big break came when she was discovered by Igor Stravinsky.  European appearances soon followed, starting in the mid-1950’s.  The 1960’s saw her return to the U.S., in San Francisco in Wozzeck. She soon teamed up with Joan Sutherland, and together they did an extensive series of bel canto opera seria concerts that attracted much attention.  It was back to Europe in 1964, with her Covent Garden debut as Marie in Wozzeck.  Then came La Scala, in Stavinsky’s Oedipus Rex, in 1969.  The Met debut was in 1970, in Norma, followed several years later by Le Prophète and Carmen.

From that time on, Horne became very famous, and sang extensively in all major venues, and to universal acclaim.  There was always a heavy emphasis in her repertoire on bel canto and opera seria works, which formed such a major part of her early concert work with Sutherland.  There is, additionally, an entire repertoire of modern and modern American music which we have not the time or space to mention here. There is no need to belabor a biography so easily consulted.  Let us move, therefore,  to the singer and her artistry.

One of the truly outstanding features of Horne’s singing is her absolute mastery of technique, manifested primarily in  the great flexibility of her voice  All those years dedicated to the bel canto repertoire would not have been possible without the perfect control and support required to sing this music.  Her technique can be seen at work in this aria, the coloratura classic “Bel Raggio Lusinghier,” from Rossini’s Semiramide:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8s7k2ydKVhw&list=PLC5BA30C006848F4B

And this from a mezzo-soprano!  The extreme flexibility of the voice is evident, as are the registers and the range.  One cannot say that this is simply a soprano with some low notes.  Not the case!  This is a legitimate mezzo, with a firm control over vocal quality, flexibility and extension.  This is why she sings so well, on the very thinnest edges of the cords, never leaning on the thicker vocal cords, thereby avoiding the “huskiness” so apparent in the lower registers of many singers. She can control volume, crescendo/decrescendo, and fioratura.

All this does not mean that she could not or would not sing the bigger dramatic roles characteristic of Verdi or Puccini.  Listen to her “Stride La Vampa:”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SDT4rct_n1A&list=PLC5BA30C006848F4B

How about that!  It’s a perfect example of what I am talking about.  Did you notice all the trills at the beginning of the aria? Flexibility.  The first leap into the upper register?  Darkness, volume, and crescendo.  The same could be said for the end of the aria.  Verdi all the way, but absolutely no vocal strain, pushing, or “woof” in the voice.  Pure, clean, immaculate singing.  This is the great Horne secret.  She is an absolute exemplar of perfect singing technique.  Any young woman who wants to sing mezzo could do no better than start by listening to Marilyn Horne—not to imitate, but to watch perfect technique in action.

Finally, the dramatic and lower voice, which is very exciting.  Here is “Ô Prêtres de Baal,” from Meyerbeer’s Le Prophete:” [The aria is long, but even listening to a few minutes of the beginning will make the point!]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yYymLC_HwMc&list=PLC5BA30C006848F4B

What more can one say!  I will end as I began:  “One of the greatest mezzo-sopranos of all time.”

 

 

Ballet Break II: Diana Vishneva

Diana Vishneva  (Vishnëva, pronounced Vishnyova) was born in  St. Petersburg  in1976  and was trained at the famous  Vaganova Ballet Academy.  Many consider her to be the greatest ballet dancer currently performing, and indeed one of the greatest of all time. One of the most commonly cited facts about Vishneva is that while she was a student  she accumulated the highest marks ever given in the history of the academy.  She was as near a perfect student as it is possible to imagine. She won the 1994 Prix de Lausanne—an astonishing feat as the gold medal had gone for a considerable time almost exclusively to male dancers.  Her talent, however, was so extraordinary that it simply could not be  ignored or passed over.  Never.  She graduated from the academy the following year and was immediately hired by the Mariinsky, where she became a principle dancer the following year.  The speed of this rise strains credulity, especially in Russia, where much is demanded of  dancers and such rapid ascension is almost unheard of.

 She quickly became known in all the major theaters and festivals, and was a world sensation in very short order.  She currently is a principle dancer both at the Mariinsky and also—and this is historically unknown—at the American Ballet Theater.  She was named several years ago by President Putin as People’s Artist of  Russia.  She is famous, so  her biography is well known and easily consulted.

First, I think it’s important to look at the young Vishneva, because the talent was so great even then that it was clear she was headed for the big time.  Here she is at 17, in a presentation built around music from Bizet’s Carmen:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YbFOMqXiPn0

It is hard not to find oneself  smiling from ear to ear when she takes her bow!  The technical command is astonishing for a girl of 17, but even more amazing is the mental and emotional grip she has on the characterization.  In writing on another occasion about this scene, I used the terms “spunk” and “sparkle.”  She captures the qualities of seductiveness and self-confidence in a way that is quite advanced for her relatively tender age.  She is at this point still a student, but all the signs of mastery are present.

It is illustrative to watch her, later, in a reheaersal and class, where we get a clear sense of her energy and her positive attitude about learning. She is having a lot of fun here, as she manages to inadvertently kick off a warm-up pad from her leg, and then begin, more seriously,  to listen very carefully to instruction, catching on almost immediately to what the instructor is asking for.  Then, briefly, we have a chance to see her rehearsing with Manuel Legris, at that time principal dancer with the Paris Opera:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vx0Sk3w4ZDw:

Isn’t that charming!  Additionally, and more importantly, of course, it is illustrative of how quickly she catches on, how exactly she understands, and how seriously she rehearses.  A very quick study, and an exemplary attitude!

Here is a fascinating clip of Diana early in her career, at the age of 20, in a pas de deux written by Tchaikovsky as a late addition to Swan Lake, one that is almost never performed.  Here is a chance to see Vishneva , still very young, demonstrating her absolute understanding and control of classical technique.  It is an immaculate execution:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n-u98pKXgB4

That is so lovely!  The way she carries herself is exemplary, from the port-de-bras to the ram-rod straight posture, she is elegance in motion.

Even though her classical technique is perfect, Diana’s ambitions have led her of late into much more modern  dance, including very new and experimental choreography. She has become something of a spokesperson for aggressive development and experimentation, something she feels is necessary  if ballet is to remain a vital and thriving art form.  No one is talking about giving up Swan Lake, The Nutcracker or Bayadere, but all repertoire begins to pale after a while.  The trick is to keep the development  within the parameters of  ballet basics.  One does not want to go the direction of operatic stage direction quirkiness which has become common of late, often, sadly, to the detriment of the form.  (Even Sir Kenneth MacMillan gave up on that idea for ballet after a while!)  Here is a fine example of what Vishneva spends a serious amount of time doing these days, along with the classical repertoire:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2h2fdZ6XpR8

I note, with great interest, that this video has close to half a million hit on it!  One suspects very strongly that the brilliant little girl who stunned everyone, and the fully adult woman who continues to do the same, actually has a very good idea of what she is doing, and why!

Gender Specific Voice Differences

 It is my pleasure today to introduce another in our series of distinguished guest commentators.

In his youth, Dr. Stephen Westmoreland’s favorite hobby was music.  He studied piano and voice, performing in a number of contests.  He gained  recognition and won various awards and scholarships to summer music programs.  He studied with concert pianist Lilli Kelleti and had the honor of playing for the eminent Hungarian pianist and composer Ernst von Dohnányi.  His university studies were both in the U.K. and the U.S.  After several years teaching, he opened  a private behavioral health clinic and was Program Director.  During this time, he maintained his interest in classical music and conducted research on Baroque vocal music and the male high voice, giving lectures on the subject.  His information has been utilized by various music professors and an opera company.  Now retired, he is able to devote more time to his musical interest.   He has continued his research, discussed the human singing voice with various singers such as male sopranos, sopranists, and countertenors, and shared many examples of exceptionally fine voices on his YouTube channel. It is a great pleasure to have such a distinguished authority.

 

 

In this short presentation, I suggest to the reader to reconsider any potential decision to lump together high-tessitura female and male voices as being about the same.  I hear and read this comment from time to time. 

Although I enjoy and have studied a wide spectrum of music, my preferred specialty for several years has been Baroque vocal music.  Over the last generation or two, singers, directors, and audiences gradually have shown an increased interest in the vocal works written for castrati.  Because the era of castrati is long gone, a frequent solution has been to cast such roles with women.  These efforts continue to be met with relative success or failure depending upon the quality of the voices and the training of the singers.Not surprisingly, the casual listener conveniently equates high voices with female and low voices with male.  If, for example, a male sings with a high tessitura, whether naturally or with falsetto, some listeners fail to analyze what they hear beyond their simple conclusion.  I recall during one of my lectures, a music professor and Julliard graduate exclaimed, “Why, he sounds just like a woman!”  One irritated response was, “No, he does not!”  I suggest that there are two major factors in one’s ability to discern male voices from female voices other than tessitura: musical experience and innate musical sensitivity. 

 

Other than through musical education and experience, the degree to which a listener is able to discern the difference between male and female singers also is determined by a genetic secondary-intelligence keyed toward musical perception.  Each of us possesses a variety of secondary intelligences, but to varying degrees.  This factor contributes to our uniqueness.  I have friends who are classical-music lovers and who have listened to the Met for many years but who admit to not being able to perceive the differences between voices of the same tessitura, or for that matter, any musical nuance.  One states that, to her, music is an unfathomable foreign language.  There are others of us, however, who have a very acute hearing and the ability to perceive fine nuances in sound.  I, for example, have surprised myself by hearing radio broadcasts of piano recitals and identifying the brand of the piano, such as Steinway, Baldwin, Bechstein, or Bösendorfer (the one I chose for myself because of its sound and touch.)   

 Yes, it is true that we also are aware that vocal timbre varies somewhat from individual to individual singer because of variations in physical structure as well as vocal training.  As a consequence, a few female voices, such a Maria Cristina Kiehr, may sound somewhat more “masculine,” and a male singer, such as natural male soprano Radu Marian, may sound somewhat more “feminine,” not exclusively because of his high tessitura, but also because of his timbre.  Regardless, the acute listener will detect general differences between male and female voices.  Recent studies, such as those by Christine Mecke and Johann Sundberg, have revealed that such differences exist even among young boys and girls, despite the fact that most people do not stop to consider the question because all children have undeveloped voices.  The history of boys choirs stems not exclusively from mere tradition or religious doctrine.  A generally unified sound results from boys’ choirs or girls’ choirs, but less so from mixed.   The sounds produced are discernibly different, even at an early age.  Such differences increase significantly as boys and girls approach puberty.  As a boy soprano grows, the sound of his voice changes, and not only from the beginning of the effect upon the physical voice-structure itself.  A larger body, larger chest and breath capacity, larger head, larger jaw and mouth, and larger resonating chambers, result in a fuller, richer, stronger sound.  Also as the voice begins to change, the deeper notes begin to take on a somewhat heavier sound, whereas the top notes have more force.  The boy may be singing soprano; however, the voice does not resemble that of a girl.

When it comes to the question of how best to cast male roles in Baroque operas or for other similar works such as oratorios, motets, and cantate, a male sound is preferable if possible to acquire.  With the relatively recent rediscovery and renewal of interest in Baroque vocal music, such considerations are important, especially considering that 80% of operas were written before the year 1800, and 70% of the roles were for alto or soprano castrati.  Of course, we no longer are producing artificially more than 4,000 potential singers per year, as was the custom during the Baroque golden age.  We have only a handful of natural male sopranos and altos whose voices result from a variety of causes, such as Kallmann’s Syndrome.  The music world has developed, however, improved methods of training the growing number of singers who choose to be countertenors. 

 As a  fortunate consequence, adult men who sing high tessitura (be they natural male altos or sopranos, countertenors, or sopranists), who have been trained in the Baroque style, will sing with a noticeably male timbre, power, and breath capacity.  Then there is the additional advantage with on-stage performances where the physical appearance of men playing men’s roles may be preferable.  With the growing number of countertenors, I have heard some superb singers, many average ones, and a few unfortunate ones.  Despite the fact that producing and financing Baroque operas is difficult and often avoided, the best countertenors can not fill all the roles available.  If carefully chosen, a female singer can do well.  One director told me that he had attempted to hire a rare male soprano for a lead role, but he was already booked-up.  The director then offered the role to a countertenor who had sung the role before; however, he found the tessitura too high for comfort.  The director then was fortunate enough to find a female singer whose voice and acting, as well as her understanding of Baroque opera, were so successful that the director hired her two years later for the role of Rinaldo.  Despite her not having a truly male timbre, she was good enough for my suspension of disbelief to be relatively easy.  I do wonder, however, how much more fascinating the performances would have been with the male soprano.  I have heard him live before.   His soprano tessitura does have a male timbre, and his masculine form on stage works well. 

 

 

Farinelli: The Great Castrato

 

The great castrato Farinelli, one of the most famous opera singers of all time, was born Carlo Broschi, in 1705, in present day Apulia.  His family was aristocratic and well to do.  Further, they were largely a family of musicians.  Farinelli's social class and "connectedness," therefore, were an important factor in a great career.  The social and economic realities of the day did not at all favor those of the lower strata of society as far as any kind of musical career was concerned, or for that matter any kind of career at all. Society at that time was still largely medieval in its structure, which is to say a tri-part division into clergy, aristocracy, and laborers.  While exceptional talent did make it possible for some promising artists to rise above their birth, it was rare.  This is important to bear in mind in Farinelli's case, because the whole vexed issue of castration has cast something like a pall of titillation, awe, and, to be blunt, just plain silliness over the biography of this great artist, whose success owed essentially to fortuitous birth, remarkable talent, early inspiration from a musically gifted family, and social and political connections.  There were  many castrati; most had only slight talent.  In discussing such singers, one needs always to be guided by a sense of dignity and decorum, and to hold rigorously to the sensible and the obvious.

Little Carlo, who was precocious, demonstrated real talent for singing at a young age, and was introduced in 1715, when he was a mere 10 years of age, to the famous teacher Nicola Porpora, who had important connections in Naples. The major turning point in young Carlo's life came unexpectedly in 1717 when his father Salvatore Broschi died unexpectedly.  Largely because of potential economic problems for the family— and probably great talent on the part of Carlo— his family (likely his older brother Riccardo) made the essential decision that was to determine 12-year old Carlo's future life.  While it might be tempting to want to blame his family for so drastic a decision, one needs also to remember that it made possible his extraordinary achievement, which is recognized even today, over 200 years later. 

Progress was rapid, as the talent was great, and the young singer made his debut three years later, at age 15.  Success was near instantaneous,  and the boy undertook the portrayal of many roles, often female.  To come to a quick biographical close, Carlo Broschi rose to became the most famous singer in Europe, and was written about, painted, adulated and generally admired by a huge audience.  He became wealthy.  It was a stunning success story that is still celebrated today. His biography is very easily found, and there is a fairly recent movie that  dramatizes (and sensationalizes) his life and career. 

So, the question becomes, what did he sound like?  And that is tricky indeed.  He was often painted, and very well, so we know what he looked like.  He was quite tall; that was demonstrated by a fairly recent disinterment.  Male growth in the absence of testosterone tends to exaggerated skeletal development.  In his case, this meant height and lung over-development, and, likely, the effecting of some laryngeal structures.  People of his day often mentioned  his ability to sing very long phrases at considerable volume.  Music that was written for him indicates that he had the ability to sing very florid and complex musical lines.  Let me try to give some idea, according to my own modest understanding, of what the voice might have sounded like, and why.  This is simple and short, and merely suggestive, as I have not the expertise to go on at any length on this highly specialized subject.

We can hear what one castrato sounded like by listening for a moment to the only castrato who was ever (knowingly) recorded, Alessandro Moreschi.  He was not a talented singer; in fact, he was a poor singer.  But we can at least hear what one known castrato sounded like:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M07Qga3LbcM

This makes the point fairly clearly that once we dispense with all other matters, it all comes down to artistry, talent and musicianship; exactly the same factors that determine what constitutes a fine singer today.  The fact that he was a castrato is essentially irrelevant.  This is not the sound or the singing that would inspire one to lay down his or her hard-earned  money for a concert ticket.   So why was it ever recorded?  Well, because he was a castrato.  I stress this for one reason only:  de-mystification.

There are some modern singers who probably come close to being a natural castrato—although the word "castrato" would be not be appropriate.  I speak of those males who because of one endocrinologic disorder or another never produced testosterone.  Such a singer, it is said, is the male soprano Radu Marian.  In his case, we move to a man who is a gifted soprano; very musical, well educated, and with what I feel safe in calling a lovely voice.  This may move us significantly closer to the goal of discovering the "authentic" castrato voice:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TOoy17PPHRI

Now that, to my way of thinking, is a legitimate  voice, and a very beautiful one at that.  This is the kind of voice that one would pay to listen to, and people in fact do. It is not based on falsetto.  This is Radu Marian's real voice.  He normally speaks in the high "female" register.  Marian is enjoying a respectable career, and has earned the respect of serious musicians.  The beauty of his voice is also spoken of and appreciated.  I will go to bat, as it were, for this voice.  Of the increasingly larger number of male sopranos and altos singing today, Marian is my own personal favorite.  This is a fine voice, very beautiful, and authentically soprano.  The last note in "Lascia ch'io pianga" is a soprano B natural, and it is well within his range.

But there is another way to approach trying to imagine an 18^th-century castrato voice, and that is through a female singer.  It is, after all, largely a "female" sound that we are dealing with here, even if hypothetically.  What about an intense, powerful, flexible female voice, essentially soprano, but with a kind of heft that at least suggests, albeit slightly, another kind of almost-male voice?  How about Ann Hallenberg?  I freely admit that this is not my idea, although I agree with it.  It was suggested to me by a gentleman I have come to respect as probably the ultimate authority on this subject.  Here she is, in suggestive garb, singing a song that was actually written for Farinelli by his own brother.  (It is the first song she sings, "Son qual Nave..." ) Clearly, she is trying to give a "Farinelli impression," evidence that the potential for comparison  has occurred both to her and to others.  If you close your eyes as you listen, I think you may hear it—I believe I do:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DGcQ3IyaJy4

Isn't that something!   The fact that she is singing a song written for the great castrato by his own brother, who certainly knew his abilities,  gives us an excellent idea of what he was capable of.  I can do no more than suggest that there is a significant likelihood  of  this being reasonably close to the Farinelli sound!

I WOULD URGE ALL READERS INTERESTED IN THE SUBJECT OF FARINELLI TO SUBSCRIBE TO THE FOLLOWING  YOUTUBE CHANNEL:

http://www.youtube.com/user/sfkcbf?feature=mhum


THE GENTLEMAN WHO OPERATES THIS SITE IS ONE OF THE FOREMOST AUTHORITIES ON THE SUBJECT OF FARINELLI AND CASTRATI IN GENERAL.  THANK YOU,  Edmund St.Austell

 

 

 

Marszalek’s Tenors: The Standard-Bearers of Operetta (II)

Today we feature Part Two  of Mr. Darren Seacliffe's article on the tenors of Franz Marszalek!

During the 60s, Franz Marszalek would turn to another group of tenors to play the leading roles in his broadcasts and recordings. The first and least-known of the three was the German lyric tenor Reinhold Bartel. Like Franz Fehringer, he would start out singing lyric tenor roles in the provincial German opera houses; roles such as Tamino, Don Ottavio, Idamante and Jacquino. A typical lyric tenor of his time, Bartel had a bigger and more beautiful voice than Fehringer’s. Most importantly, where Fehringer’s voice was dry, Bartel’s was warm, like Groh’s, but not as large. Technically, he was more proficient than Fehringer. When he sang the high notes,

 

they were very pleasing to the ear. Just as Fehringer’s case has shown, a tenor didn’t need to have a beautiful voice or a good technique to have a successful singing career in operetta so long as he could touch the audience with his singing. However, for an operatic career, audiences then were more interested in witnessing a singer’s technical prowess or hearing the beauty of their singing than in leaving the opera house with a memory of a complete and intact aesthetic experience. Unsurprisingly, Bartel was able to maintain a successful career in the opera house in conjunction with his prolific broadcasting and recording career in the radio station and the studio, as opposed to Fehringer.  To showcase Bartel’s artistry, here we have two numbers from my collection; first, "Ein Spiel mit der Liebe, from Dostal's Die Vielgeliebte, and then a two-aria video featuring "Ich Will Sie Lieben, Treu Und Heiss," and  "Wie  Gerne Sagt' Ich Ihr, " from Leo Fall's Die Dollarprinzessin" 

http://youtu.be/snW2BEV5EjI

http://youtu.be/qpw8Q87l4Mo

 From my experience, Bartel, though admittedly good, pales in comparison to predecessors like Groh, Anders and Fehringer. As mentioned earlier, his voice isn’t as warm as Groh’s, his singing isn’t as elegant and polished as Anders, and even if he does sing with feeling, you can’t call that emotion when you compare it to Fehringer. Nevertheless, he does give a good performance. To me, what defines his singing is its dreaminess, if not "folksiness." His singing feels quite light and is relatively easier on the ear. When he goes for the ‘’high notes.’’ the ease and smoothness with which he does it is most attractive, even if they do not "ring" like those the great opera singers deliver. There is some feeling in the performance but he gives you the impression of someone who loves rather than someone madly in love.

 Of the three tenors whom Marszalek cast in his operetta broadcasts and recordings from the 60s, one of them was the provincial lyric tenor Reinhold Bartel, whom we discussed earlier. The other two were the Hungarian spinto tenor Sandor Konya and the German lyric tenor Fritz Wunderlich.  Konya sang a wide range of German and Italian lyric and dramatic tenor roles as well, including Parsifal, Rodolfo, Dick Johnson and many more. Today, Konya is perhaps best remembered for being a near-perfect Lohengrin, a superb Walter, and a much-appreciated Edgardo. These achievements have overshadowed his work as a consummate operetta singer in Marszalek’s performances. Konya had been cast by Marszalek in his operetta broadcasts and his performances of the great operas in German on the radio even as he maintained his flourishing international singing career.

For Konya’s operetta work, here is an aria from Johann Strauss' Wiener Blut:

 http://youtu.be/ySRPoDIUtG0

 

Sandor Konya’s singing can best be characterized by the ‘teardrop in his voice.’ For me, this ‘teardrop’ alone is enough to touch me and make emotions well up in my heart. He gives a melancholy performance which is at times strikingly contrasted against the backdrop of cheerful frothy Viennese dance music. Superficially, it may seem that his singing spoils the mood of the party but on deeper thought, it feels as though his character has a bitter-sweet recognition that the good times are not to last so he makes the most of every moment he has. In doing so, he sheds another light on the operetta numbers he sings, lending them meaning and giving them impact in a way no other tenor does.

Last but not least of these three tenors is one who needs little or no introduction, Fritz Wunderlich, a singer whom many feel was the greatest German tenor the world ever had. Looking through the list of recordings Franz Marszalek has made, Wunderlich’s name pops up quite often from the late 50s to the early 60s. It may be the case that Franz Marszalek saw Fritz Wunderlich as the successor to Peter Anders, something that Marszalek had been looking for. Of Wunderlich’s work for Marszalek, I have selected two highlights from Leo Fall’s most well-known work, Der Rose von Stambul, which I have uploaded in an extended video. The soprano Gretel Hartung accompanies him in the later duet.

 http://youtu.be/6zqdSzEyYrk

 

In almost all German operettas, there are at least 2 tenors in the cast. The lead tenor will usually be a lyric tenor. The numbers which he sings are the ‘’more operatic’’ ones, show-stealing numbers similar to the arias which we hear in the opera house. Operetta excerpts which we usually hear tenors sing mostly fall under this category. Examples will be ‘’Zwei Marchenaugen,’’ ’Dein ist mein ganzes Herz’’ and ‘Komm Zigany.’’ The other type of tenor which we see is the buffo tenor. In most cases, he is either a comprimario or a singing actor. The numbers which he sings are usually lighter fare. Their purpose is often comic relief, or they might fill in the empty spaces between the show-stealing moments and the ensembles which are key to the development of the plot.

Two of Marszalek's best buffo tenors were the German Willy Hoffmann and the Austrian entertainer Peter Alexander. Historically an operatic comprimario,  Willy Hoffmann eventually moved into operetta as a buffo tenor who took part in many radio and TV operetta broadcasts. His superb performances as a buffo tenor would earn him the nickname ‘’the national buffo.’’ For an idea of how a buffo tenor would appear on stage, you can watch the following video. This aria from Kalman’s Csardasfurstin is actually a duet. This, I think, was taken from a live TV performance, with Hoffmann in the flesh:

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oj1H8MR3J34

According to the definition of buffo tenor, one wouldn’t expect him to have any good musical numbers. But Hoffmann in fact did, and he even joined with the "buffa" for a good comic duet.  Here is a good example, featuring Hoffmann and Rita Bartos in Jara Benes' Auf der Grunen Wiese:

http://youtu.be/Y5_yEsXI_pQ

 Buffo Peter Alexander, on the other hand, did not come from an operatic background, but was something like the German-speaking world’s Frank Sinatra. Just as Frank Sinatra occasionally performed on Broadway, operetta was very much part of Peter Alexander’s repertoire. In the operetta broadcasts and recordings, he was good fun to listen to, bringing as much charm and sentiment to the musical numbers he sang as his operatic colleagues did.  Here he is with Herta Talmar in the Piccolo-Duet from Oscar Straus’ Ein Walzertraum

 http://youtu.be/NIak2p9QNWw

 

Peter Alexander’s rendition of these operetta numbers harkens back to the day when they were once performed by singing actors instead of opera singers. Though his singing may not be authentic, he does what they did; delivering these numbers in the musical style of the day with a honeyed baritone that charms and touches the hearts of the audience. If that isn’t good entertainment, I honestly don’t know what is!

It may seem that I over-stress the virtues of operetta—especially as compared to opera— but actually, what I truly feel is that operetta should simply be treated the same way as opera is. Opera is unquestionably an art form which stands above all the rest and will almost certainly be preserved for posterity. However, I feel that operetta also deserves great respect and attention.  It serves as a reminder of the things we have lost in a world where things are changing at a breakneck rate and competition is becoming increasingly cutthroat. Some, of course, may disagree. Being a dissenter in the past, I’ve this to say to these people. If you give Marszalek’s operetta recordings a chance to work the same kind of magic on you as it did on me, I believe that you’ll be able to see why operetta is a musical genre well worth preserving!  

Operetta! Marszalck's Tenors: The Standard-Bearers of Operetta!

[Today I am pleased to offer to readers another guest commentary by Mr. Darren Seacliffe, from Singapore. Darren is an undergraduate student in his early 20's pursuing a degree in a private university in Singapore. His interest in both opera and operetta spans a wide variety of genres, from Rossini to German operetta. I will only add that Mr. Seacliffe's knowledge of opera and operetta 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 currently two forms of musical theater which we commonly encounter. One is the musical that is either produced as a movie—in Hollywood—or presented in theaters  on Broadway and in New York's West End. The other is the opera. Both are celebrated as a combination of the arts, with singing, acting,  dance, drama, orchestral music, and often, lavish sets and costumes. In fact, the word "opera" itself is a plural word—the plural of "opus," and translates as "works."  These two forms of musical theater  may sound different but the similarities they share suggest a strong relationship.  Musicals, as we recognize them today, are essentially—but not exclusively—a 20^th century form, while opera has been performed for centuries.

There is, however, a third form that bridges these two forms of musical theater, and that is operetta, the relatively more obscure and less regarded ‘half-brother’ of opera. Where opera's audience, historically speaking, was aristocratic, the audience for operetta was not, at least as a rule.  Even when its plots involved a fanciful notion of high society manners, they were just that—a middle-class fantasy. Just like opera, operetta requires orchestral accompaniment, but unlike opera, the musical numbers in operettas were not always performed by trained singers. Each country had its own forms of operetta. Spain had the zarzuela, France had the operettas of Offenbach, Messager, Lecocq, Audran, and others, while England had the Savoy operas by Gilbert and Sullivan, and America enjoyed operettas by Friml, Herbert and Kern.  Germany, which will be the focus of this article, had Viennese and Berlin operetta.

At the moment, Berlin operetta is rarely performed and even Viennese operetta performances are limited to the traditional New Year’s Eve performances of Die Fledermaus in opera houses worldwide, the occasional Merry Widow and rare performances of The Land of Smiles, The Gypsy Princess and Countess Mariza. Besides these, every now and then, we hear singers like Anna Netrebko singing some of the musical numbers in their recitals as though they were opera arias,  or Andre Rieu performing extracts of the dance music in his concerts and recitals. As recently as seven years ago, if anyone wanted any operetta performances on CD, the best one could find were the competent operetta performances on EMI helmed by opera singers who were past their prime; singers such as Anneliese Rothenberger or Nicolai Gedda. Unlike today’s singers, such as Netrebko, these singers either had a history of giving complete operetta performances (Anneliese Rothenberger) or could identify with the operetta tradition (Nicolai Gedda) because they had grown up at a time when it was the popular music of the day. Things have changed recently, with new German and/or Austrian labels like Membran, Cantus Classics and HAFG releasing recordings of radio broadcasts of operetta performances from the 50s and 60s by conductors like Wilhelm Stephan, Werner Schmidt-Boelcke, Max Schonherr and the most important of them all, Franz Marszalek.

Franz Marszalek was an operetta conductor whom several German and Austrian connoisseurs felt was the best of them all. Having worked with several operetta composers like Eduard Kunneke before the War, he was considered to be a ‘walking encyclopedia of operetta’, with no rivals in terms of understanding and mastery, and whose performances of the works of Kunneke and Leo Fall were felt to be the most authoritative. (Kunneke was a good personal friend of Marszalek)   After the War, having taken over as the conductor of the West German Radio Orchestra based in Cologne, he got together a group of opera and operetta singers from the neighboring provincial opera houses and musical theaters.  He also engaged several pop and folk music singers, both past and present, and both broadcast and recorded several operetta performances that set standards  which remain unsurpassed.

For the lead tenor roles in each of these operetta broadcasts, Marszalek cast reputed tenors who would go on to have successful domestic and international careers; tenors such as Fritz Wunderlich and Sandor Konya.  In addition, he added lyric tenors based in smaller German opera houses in the provinces, tenors like Franz Fehringer and Reinhold Bartel and, additionally, tenors who once had or continued to have flourishing radio careers like Herbert Ernst Groh and Peter Anders. For the comic tenor roles, most were performed by the buffo tenor Willy Hofmann, lauded by some as the greatest buffo tenor Germany ever had. In the next paragraphs.  

Of all these tenors, Marszalek considered Peter Anders to be the best of them all, the ‘ideal’ operetta tenor.  Here is  Anders singing ‘’Ich bin dein Untertan,’’ in a duet with Liselotte Losch, from Leo Fall’s Madame Pompadour:

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=miycsi9WtAQ

 

As you can see, a fine singer with a beautiful voice and a secure singing technique. He sang a great number of roles in his operatic repertory,  from the lyric Tamino in Mozart’s Die Zauberflote to the dramatic Otello in Verdi’s opera of the same name; all with equal success. At the same time, Anders was considerably successful in oratorio and lieder.  Building on this background, he always took his operetta performances very seriously, displaying the same amount of artistry and musicality as he did in his operatic, oratorio and lieder performances. In simpler terms, he dedicated some thought to his operetta performances, to be sure he provided them with the same elegance and emotional nuance which his operatic performances enjoyed. 

Though I may find the young Anders’ voice lighter and sweeter, his singing was always beautiful and elegant even when he started taking on heavier and more dramatic roles later on in life. In his operetta performances, I found him an expressive singer who displays a tasteful amount of emotion. Listening to Peter Anders’ performances, (and I know this will seem an adventurous thing for me to say) I actually feel that he may have a  stronger claim on the title "Germany’s greatest tenor than his successor Fritz Wunderlich did, based on the larger number of roles he sang throughout his career and his considerably richer artistic legacy.  Here he is singing "Sei nicht bos," an aria from Zeller's Der Obersteiger:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZ80MVH3J_k

Unfortunately, just as Peter Anders was about to move into Heldentenor roles, he would die in an untimely car accident in 1954. Of the few recordings he managed to make for Marszalek before his sudden passing, there are complete performances of Strauss’ Der Zigeunerbaron and Karneval im Rom, Lehar’s Paganini and The Land of Smiles, Goetze’s Liebe im Drieklang and considerable extracts of several other operettas.

In his quest to find Peter Anders’ successor in operetta, Franz Marszalek would cast several tenors in subsequent broadcasts and recordings. In the 50s, the first of the singers he would turn to was Herbert Ernst Groh, a tenor with a  successful radio career behind him. Groh was a fellow student of Richard Tauber, whom he would eventually replace as the leading operetta tenor of the radio stations when Tauber fled from Nazi Germany. I found Groh’s voice warmer and larger than Tauber, probably because Groh’s voice was captured better on record. He had an all-encompassing voice which would literally envelop you with warmth and emotion that was just as beautiful and sweet as Tauber’s. Of Groh’s performances, these are two that I’ve selected for sampling.  Here is Herbert Ernst Groh singing "Ich hab mit freuden Angehort,"  Lieutenant Niki’s entrance aria in Oscar Straus’ Ein Walzertraum or as it is known in English,  A Waltz Dream.  Then, we hear him sing a spectacular version of "Am Rio Negro," from Maske in Blau:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Y1rUd0r7Bg

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nb0o9yEh_fo

 

Another tenor Marszalek also turned to was the German lyric tenor Franz Fehringer.  Fehringer was a lyric tenor who sang roles such as Rodolfo, Don Ottavio, Fernando (Così), and Almaviva in  provincial opera houses early in his career during the 40's. During the late 40's, he moved to radio, where he performed several operas in German and many operettas under several reputable conductors, including  Hans-Muller Kray, Wolfgang Sawallisch, Kurt Schroeder, Werner Schmidt-Boelcke and the most important of them all, Franz Marszalek. In my honest opinion, Fehringer was a typical lyric tenor. His voice was small and pleasant but dry. The dryness in his voice made it seem neither sweet nor beautiful. Technically, he was good, but not great. Nevertheless, in spite of these attributes, Fehringer was a great operetta singer. Personally, I consider him my favorite. Here he sings a waltz song form Leo Fall's Der Liebe Augustin:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uMvog0oJCLo

 

On first hearing, Fehringer may sound just like any other second-string lyric tenor, but there’s an attribute to his singing which vaults him into greatness. It’s the same attribute which makes Giuseppe di Stefano special: the fact that he literally gave his all when he sang, infusing a great deal of emotion and passion in the breath of life which he gave to his stage and record characters. In Fehringer’s case, it was that heartfelt earnestness. From his performances, you can feel that he literally means what he sings. This earnestness makes his small, pleasant voice a charming and poignant one which can reach deep into the soul. It is something that imparts an inner warmth to the listener. Every one of the characters he plays, in each of the operettas he recorded, is a thoughtful, sensitive and melancholy character that is often head over heels in love head over heels with the heroine. The plots of many of these operettas, with all the bizarre twists, silly turns and incredulous coincidences, may seem paper-thin,  but  such portrayals as Fehringer's make them credible.