Lawrence Brownlee: A Great Bel Canto Tenor

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

 

 

Amadeo Zambon: The Authenticity of Voice

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

Child Singers On The Rise, I: Elena House

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

 

 

The Great Dorothy Kirsten

Dorothy Kirsten was born into a musical family in Montclair, N.J., in 1910. Her mother was an organist and music teacher and  her grandfather was a conductor, so it is not surprising that young Dorothy was drawn to music and acting early in life.  It was not opera, but popular music that attracted her at the beginning.  Her life was one almost exclusively dedicated to music from the beginning, as she left high school at 16. (Not as drastic a thing then, however, as it would be now.)  She took ordinary jobs for a while, trying to save enough money to take voice lessons, and eventually did work for her vocal teacher in exchange for free lessons.  She was showing the spunk and determination at a young age which are such important motivating factors in the successful artist. However, she did not set her sights on an operatic career until she had achieved some modest success as a popular singer.

By the late ‘thirties, she was singing professionally on radio, both as a member of the Kate Smith Chorus and in her own solo spots.  Grace Moore heard her on the radio in 1938 and became her mentor and benefactor, sending her to Rome for a year of study with Astolfo Pescia, who was Beniamino Gigli's vocal coach. She had to return to New York, however, at the beginning of WWII.

 She did a concert at the 1939 World’s Fair in New York, and soon reunited with Grace Moore, who helped arrange a debut for her at the Chicago Grand Opera, where Dorothy made her operatic debut as Pousette in Massenet's Manon in 1940. She went on to sing 15 small roles during her first season and the following year shared the stage with Grace Moore in a Chicago performance of La Bohème, singing Musetta to Moore's Mimi.

By 1942, Kirsten was singing leading roles in opera, including the San Francisco Opera, and had launched her own radio program, "Keepsakes," which ran for a year.

She was not an instant operatic success story.  She paid her dues the old fashioned way, with a lot of hard work, concerts, smaller (but serious) opera companies, and radio work.  Little by little, she made the acquaintance of famous singers and many conductors and directors, until, in 1945,  she made her Metropolitan Opera debut as Mimi in La Bohème.  Four years later, she recorded Manon Lescaut with Jussi Björling, and she had by then pretty well made it.

Kirsten was to sing primarily in America, making the Metropolitan Opera her artistic home, for almost 30 years!  She sang abroad on occasion, but she was solidly planted here, as she was an American artist through and through,  maintaining a long-lasting relationship with her popular work, such as singing on the radio with popular entertainers such as Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, Nelson Eddy and Perry Como. She appeared in two films, Mr. Music (1950) and The Great Caruso (1951). Her last performance at the Met was in 1979 as Tosca, at the somewhat astonishing age of 69!  An American success story if ever there was one.

I have heard many compare Dorothy Kirsten’s voice to that of Renata Tebaldi, and it is not a bad comparison.  She could sing dramatic roles, such as Tosca, but the voice never lost a natural freshness and youthful sound, which is almost certainly one of the reasons she was able to sing for so many years.  She was very well trained, and had learned to take care of her voice singing in so many popular venues.  Here is “Vissi d’Arte,” from Tosca, one of her better known roles:

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

I do not know her age at the time of this telecast, but she was clearly a middle-aged woman, yet her voice is light, and has the sound of youth about it.  Yet, as I say, there is drama in the voice and that is a result of musicality, style, and—not a small thing—excellent stage Italian.  Also, she was a remarkably pretty woman, something very much in evidence in her youth.  Here is “Summertime,” from Porgy and Bess:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fv42aolI3oE

You can see what I mean!  A very beautiful woman, and her switch-over to Broadway style is perfect.  What enunciation!  Not many opera singers are willing to sing “and your ma is good lookiNN,” laying on—and actually singing—that nasalized N. She does it though, and the extreme longevity of her voice is good evidence  that it didn’t hurt her a bit.  What it does do is make the sentence perfectly understandable.  English is a tough language to sing in the theater, largely because of those harsh nasal sounds.  But it can be done.  And she did it!

And finally, an aria done beautifully, and in a repertoire that is perfect for Kirsten.  Here is “In quelle trine morbide,” form Manon Lescaut:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kNIi8DDdEB4

As I pointed out in the description part of that video, that is the kind of repertoire in which she excelled, and in which extreme longevity is possible.  She displayed great intelligence, all her life, in how she took care of herself and her voice:  Popular music, lighter (near ingénue) operatic repertoire, and the intelligent mix of French and English into the always more common Italian.  I will again, however, in that regard, reiterate that her Italian is excellent, and very cultured.  All in all, a superb American singer, and a fine model for English-speaking American sopranos to study very, very carefully!

 

 

 

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!