The Great Sergei Lemeshev: The View From Russia

It is a great pleasure for me to present the third in our series of guest writers. Natalie, known to many of you by her Youtube Channel name "younglemeshevist," is especially qualified to write on Sergei Lemeshev. Natalie was among the very first to begin to spread his recordings on Youtube, along with those of Antonina Nezhdanova. All lovers of great singing owe her a debt of gratitude for this effort, as these two superb Soviet artists were unknown to many opera lovers in the United States. She is also to be praised for composing this piece in English—I can only wish that my Russian were as good! Edmund St. Austell

First, I would like to thank Edmund St. Austell for inviting me to write this piece on my favorite tenor.

In Russia, Sergei Yakovlevich Lemeshev (1902-1977) is—along with Feodor Chaliapin— perhaps the most beloved opera singer in recent history. He was born into a very poor peasant family, in a small village, and sang from his early childhood. He was always surrounded by good singers, including his parents and other villagers, as peasant Russia was a “singing country” in those days. His father died when Sergei was 10, and after four years in a parish school he started to learn shoemaking, since there was no other chance for the family to escape from poverty. In 1918 he became acquainted with architect and opera lover Nikolai Kvashnin, who, along with the rest of his family, persuaded Sergei to study voice seriously. Those were the years of the Bolshevik revolution and the Civil war, and Lemeshev was required to become a cadet in the Red Army Cavalry School. However, it was actually the Revolution that helped him make his dream of an operatic career come true, since the Bolsheviks gave the poorest peasants and proletarians a preferential right to free education. Sergei was assigned to study at the Moscow Conservatory where, after surviving a rigorous competition, he was accepted. (This determined his political views, for as he said many times, “the Soviets gave me everything".)

His teachers were tenor N. Raisky (a pupil of G. Nuvelli), N. Kardyan, and L. Zvyagina (a leading contralto of the Bolshoi.) In 1926, Lemeshev made his debut as Lensky in K. Stanislavsky’s Opera Studio, and beginning in 1927, he performed at theaters in Sverdlovsk, Harbin (Manchuria) and Tbilisi. In 1931, he became a leading tenor of the Bolshoi, where he sang for the next 34 years, winning great acclaim. His audience grew, along with his fame, and he soon gained a veritable army of fans, called "lemeshevists. His repertoire included the Duke of Mantua, Lensky, Alfredo, Tsar Berendei (from The Snowmaiden), the Indian Guest (Sadko), Faust, Ziebel, Almaviva, The Simpleton (Boris Godunov ), Rodolfo (La Bohème) The Astrologer (The Golden Cockerel), Nadir, Des Greiux (Manon), Gerald (Lakme), Romeo (Gounod’s (Romeo and Juliette), Fra Diavolo, and Werther.

His vocal and artistic qualities, evident to every listener, are beauty of timbre, musicality, effortlessness of vocal production, expressiveness, and very clear diction, qualities perhaps most commonly found in bel canto singers. These qualities can be seen is his 1940 recording of “Parmi veder le Lagrime" (in Russian). I would call attention to the extraordinarily high note at the end, a Db above high C:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ZCzH6EqLHc

An interesting comment on Lemeshev’s singing was made by the Bolshoi tenor A. Orfenov: "He developed a mixed voice of incomparable beauty, which made it possible for him to take the highest notes with such beautiful richness that even specialists could not explain how it was done technically….His high C’s … sounded virile and full…His manner of lowering his larynx a bit on high notes allowed him to perform the parts which we ordinary lyric tenors did not sing, [roles such as] Rodolfo in La Bohème, Levko in May Night, Dubrovsky, Fra Diavolo…”

Lemeshev’s emotionality, acting skills and handsomeness very quickly made him a public idol. Aside from the Duke of Mantua, which was his signature role before the war, he brilliantly performed romantic, melancholy and tragic roles such as Werther, Romeo, and Lensky. Here is his 1938 recording of " Pourquoi me reveiller":

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8GadMqw5M9A

Unfortunately, like every Soviet star in the 1930’s, he had problems securing permission to make recordings of complete operas. Several parts in which he was very successful were not recorded at all. His best early recordings of songs and arias, made on shellac, are now available on Youtube. You may consult my channel—"younglemeshevist," or that of petrof4056.

Lensky finally became his most famous role, which he refined throughout his life. His 1955 recording of Eugene Onegin, with the renowned Galina Vishnevskaya , became quite well known in the West. Here is a very good 1937 recording of Lensky’s aria:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q0q69JvLqag


The best years of his operatic career were 1931-1942. He was also an outstanding concert singer and a brilliant performer of folk songs. In 1938, he became the first artist to sing all 100 romances by Tchaikovsky in 5 concerts. Folk songs broadcast on the radio made him a truly “national’ singer. Additionally, the film “A Musical Story,” 1941, in which he played the main role, brought him the Stalin prize and caused Lemeshev-mania all over the USSR. It must be said that his personality was a significant part of his success. He is remembered as a very friendly and cheerful person who was also a congenial colleague. He was also quite a lady's man! Six marriages and numerous affairs focused the attention of his fans on his personal life. Their day-and-night stalking and scuffles with fans of other tenors are legendary.

The beginning of the Great Patriotic War (WWII) was crucial for Lemeshev; during one evacuation he caught a very bad cold which resulted in two attacks of pneumonia, complicated by pleurisy and tuberculosis of the right lung. He was treated with artificial pneumothorax, which is to say an induced therapeutic collapse of one lung. Although singing was forbidden, he in fact continued to sing with one lung from 1942 to 1948, when the other lung was also artificially collapsed and re-inflated. During that period he recorded Lakme, The Snowmaiden, “Pearlfishers," and Mozart and Salieri. In addition to health problems, he started to drink heavily after a divorce from his fifth wife, the soprano Irina Maslennikova. By 1953, however, he had overcome his drinking problem and was given the prestigious title "People’s Artist of the USSR." He was also appointed Assistant Manager of the Bolshoi from 1957 to 1959. Toward the end of his career, he mainly gave concerts of Russian classic romances and folk songs, taught in the Moscow conservatory, and performed on the radio. Old fans of his, who stalked him in the 1940's and 50's, are still faithful to him even now, 33 years after his death. They collect his recordings and place flowers on his grave every week.

Mattia Battistini: King of The Bel Canto Baritones

Mattia Battistini (1856-1928) was born in Rome and brought up in Contigliano, a village near Rome. His father was a professor of anatomy at Rome University. Mattia showed great talent for music even as a very young man, and was soon sent to study with Venceslao Persichini, who was also the teacher of Francesco Marconi, Titta Ruffo and Giuseppe de Luca. While still a student, he sang in public, and debuted in Donizetti's La Favorita in 1878, where he enjoyed an immediate success. In the next three years he toured Italy and appeared in La Forza del Destino, Il Trovatore, Rigoletto, Il Guarany, Gli Ugonotti, Dinorah, L'Africaine, I Puritani, Lucia di Lammermoor, Aida, and Ernani. To say that he got off to a quick and brilliant start is classic understatement! He enjoyed success wherever he toured, and in 1883 he made his Covent Garden debut. To the best of my knowledge, he never sang in America, which was still, in the European view, a bit on the provincial side of things, as was Australia. He oriented his career in the direction of Eastern Europe; most particularly Imperial Russia, where he was a great favorite, and a friend of the Tsar's family. He returned to Russia regularly for 23 seasons, and made his first recordings there in 1902. The Russian aristocracy acclaimed him above all other singers. His career spanned 50 years, and he was commonly called "The King of Baritones." His reputation was enormous, and his career extraordinarily successful. *

Battistini did not sound like the baritones of today, who are, virtually without exception, verismo singers, with dark, powerful voices that are often not very flexible and tend to a rather monochromatic intensity of volume, well suited to the Verdi and Puccini roles, but perhaps less so to the kinds of romantic operas that were popular in the 19th century. Battistini can sound like a tenor on occasion, but it is simply the open sound and the lightened volume. Because he was a bel canto trained singer, his voice evidences great flexibility and range, and his pronunciation, like that of the bel canto tenors, is extremely clear. Battistini was an intelligent singer, extremely musical by nature, and he took the dramatic end of opera very seriously. He was by all accounts a superb actor, with innumerable costumes that were historically accurate. His Italian is very refined, and the open and closed e's and o's are everywhere observed, and are capable of creating the effect of cultured gentility (if the role is heroic) or explosive vulgarity, if demanded by the role. So great was the esteem in which he was held that Massenet actually re-wrote Werther so that the title role could be sung by Battistini. Here is Werther's famous aria "Pourquoi me reveiller:" Prepare yourselves: first, for a different sounding baritone voice, and secondarily for a re-written aria that only occasionally sounds like the one we all know:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cZmmRTPPTcE&feature=PlayList&p=52895B2BF7544626&index=24


I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto:) This is another world. All the signs of bel canto training are there, right down to the rapid-fire vibrato. One can, however, very quickly get used to it, and that is when the advantages of this kind of singing become apparent—the elegance, the drama, the pronunciation, the style, the musicality. Here is a famous baritone aria that makes for good comparison with today's singing style: Valentine's "Avant de quitter ses lieux:" (Please notice his costumes, for which he was renowned)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EBdhbi77DRg&p=52895B2BF7544626&index=17


I find this rendition to be particularly engaging. The singing, from a musical and stylistic point of view, is absolutely perfect, and his voice is most communicative. This is singing of great authenticity and elegance.

Good as his rendition of music from this period is, it becomes even better when we move back to Mozart's time. Here is Don Giovanni's serenade, which is a perfect showcase for Battistini's particular talents.  This recording is from 1902, and is one of his very first:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GK4gKgK8HJQ&feature=PlayList&p=52895B2BF7544626&index=5


Simply delightful! And I always feel obliged to point out that Mozart died in 1791, only 65 years before Battistini was born. This means that at least some of the teachers he would have had at the conservatory would have been born very close to Mozart's day, and would themselves have been trained by people absolutely from that period. It makes sense to think that the styles of Mozart's time were still well known. After all, we are very much aware of the musical comedy styles and practices of Richard Rogers' work from the 1940's.

Traditionally, styles and vogues come, and displace former ones, which can easily be forgotten. Happily, however, photos and phonograph recordings, now representing a considerable history themselves, are here to remind us that today's styles are not eternal, and in the case of opera, historical material shows that musical and vocal styles near or at the time of the opera's composition—which were certainly in the minds of the composers as they wrote—tell us another story.
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• I would like to acknowledge the diligent work of Tim, at dantitustimshu, who provided the material that made this essay possible. Tim is one of the most serious musical historians and collectors on Youtube, and I am greatly indebted to him for the biographical references and pictures, and the playlist from which the musical selections were taken. I refer readers to his channel, which is a brilliant collection of historical material. I also alert the interested reader to a classic reference site for biographical material: "Cantabile-Subito: A Site for Collectors of Great Singers of the Past" (www.cantabile-subito.de)

"Antonina Nezhdanova [Антонина Васильевна Нежданова] People's Artist of the Soviet Union

"Antonina Nezhdanova(1873-1950),was born near Odessa,to parents who were school teachers. Both were themselves amateur singers, and her father had formed a local choir in which young Antonina sang, even as a small child. She was a good and diligent student, and after studying at Odessa, attended and graduated from Umberto Masetti's famous class at the Moscow conservatory in 1902. (She was to continue studying with Masetti until his death in 1919.) She was immediately engaged at the Bolshoi, where she remained for nearly 40 years, singing leading roles in Russian and West European operas, most frequently opposite the great tenor Leonid Sobinov. In 1912 she was Gilda at the Monte Carlo Opéra, with Tita Ruffo as Rigoletto and Enrico Caruso as the Duke. Some outstanding roles of her huge repertoire were: Ludmilla in Glinka's Ruslan and Ludmilla, Tatyana, Lakmé, the Snow Maiden, Volkhova, Elsa, and Rosina.

She embraced the Communist era with enthusiasm, having been taught by her parents that it was the duty of middle and upper class Russians to help the less fortunate, and support their legitimate claims to a decent life. So strong was this belief in her that she would often sing in provincial theaters for food, or even for nothing at all. This earned her the great and ever-lasting affection of the Russian people. Beginning in 1922, she became a cultural ambassador for the Soviet government, and appeared in Berlin, Prague, Warsaw, Baltic capitals, and cities in Germany and Poland. In the USSR she was among the most honored singers and teachers. The government bestowed upon her the prestigious titles "People's Artist of the Soviet Union," for her great artistry, and "Hero of Labor" for her life-long efforts on behalf of socialist reform. From 1936 on, she taught at the Stanislavsky Opera Studio, later at the Bolshoi Opera Studio, and finally at the Moscow Conservatory, from 1943 until 1950." *

Nezhdanova is particularly noteworthy for the absolute perfection of her singing technique. It could be called Russian, or it could be called bel canto; I suppose it could be both: there is a premium on ease of attack and fexibility. The “color” of Russian voices, especially high voices, is “whiter” than the dark and ponderous Italian voices that have come to dominate most opera singing today. Some of this owes to the language, and some owes to the bel canto school of singing. As a general rule, as we have discussed in some detail before, bel canto singing tends to produce whiter, open phonation that reveals the more characteristic tones of the speaking voice of the singer. Chaliapin is a particularly striking example of this kind of singing, so much so that some refer to him as a singing actor because of the extremely clear enunciation that is part of bel canto training. Nezhdanova, however, does not go to that extreme. Her singing style was pure bel canto, with an emphasis on lyricism and beauty, reflecting her lifelong study with Masetti. Here is a superb example of the great soprano singing a classic Italian aria, "Una Voce Poco Fa." I call your attention to the extraordinary flexibility of the voice, and the immaculate, almost understated style, which is actually more respectful of the tradition of great singing—and Rossini’s intentions—than the often self-indulgent bombast that can accompany this particular showpiece aria. Her coloratura is perfection itself:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aM7Y5mYFQPU

An absolutely astonishing piece of vocalism! It is hard to imagine it done better; both the musicianship and style are admirable.

Also of great musical interest is a recording that Nezhdanova made of Elsa’s aria from Lohengrin, and it demonstrates very well that it did not,nearer Wagner’s time, require a monster soprano voice to sing Wagner, who was in fact very impressed with some Italian composers, especially Rossini and Bellini. He is reported to have spoken very highly of Rossini after a personal meeting with him that completely dispelled for Wagner some of the silly stereotypes of Italian music and composers that were current at the time. He is also said to have expressed a wish that his tenors be trained in Italy. It is also worth noting that the pit at Bayreuth is covered, both to avoid any sight-line interruptions between stage and viewer, and also to help keep the volume of the sound down:

http://www.youtube.com/user/EdmundStAustell#p/u/172/vXDk1PE3bIw

I strongly feel that this is exactly what would have pleased Wagner. It is clear, musically and stylistically excellent, and simply beautiful. The lyricism and plaintive nature of the piece come through in the voice in a way that is often not captured by huge and heroic voices.

Finally, another soprano showpiece, "Sempre Libera", from La Traviata, featuring a high D natural at the end. Extremely high notes were not so common in Nezhdanova's day, especially if the voice carried much weight into the extreme top register:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vq1S34TBYEo

A wonderful soprano indeed, and a great personality! She deserves her accolades and reputation, and it is both just and gratifying that she is finally becoming known to opera lovers in the United States.
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*I wish to express my gratitude both to Natalia at younglemeshevist, a good friend and connoisseur of fine arts with a prodigious knowledge of great Russian art and singing, and to Tim at dantitustimshu, a superb collector and scholar, for information which has informed my biographical sketch of Nezhdanova, and to Tim for the photos of Nezhdanova.

Giuseppe Di Stefano: A Tenor For All Seasons

Giuseppe di Stefano was born in Motta Sant'Anastasia, a village near Catania, Sicily,in 1921. He came from a family of very modest means and was educated at a Jesuit seminary. His operatic debut was in 1946 in Reggio Emilia as Des Grieux in Massenet's Manon. His La Scala debut was the next year, in 1947, in the same role. From his early youth, Di Stefano's voice was remarkable for its great beauty. After the La Scala debut, his rise was unusually rapid. His Met debut followed, in 1948, in Rigoletto. He was to be a Met mainstay for many years. From this moment on, he sprang to international fame, and sang in all the major opera houses and in many festivals. His biography is very easily consulted, owing to his great popularity.

I will say at the outset that I am, and have always been, an ardent Di Stefano fan. I can't promise too much objectivity on this one. We are accustomed to speaking of tenors in many categories: leggiero, lyric, spinto, dramatic, and heroic. Di Stefano, however, was molded in the old-fashioned way. He was essentially a tenor—period—and he sang an extremely wide range of roles, each requiring different vocal abilities, or "kinds" of voices, at least according to current mythologies. This did not concern Di Stefano. His essential training was bel canto, and he adhered absolutely to the advice of Fernando De Lucia: "Per cantare bene, bisogna aprire la bocca!" (This was reported by his most famous student, Georges Thill, in a filmed interview that can be seen on Youtube.) Di Stefano did "aprire la bocca," very wide indeed, and very consistently, and that is how he sang. His pronunciation, as a result, is impeccable. You can understand every single word, in Standard Italian, Neapolitan, or Sicilian. It was very open phonation, and while some criticized him for this, I think it served him beautifully, because it gave him an enormous range, superb control in the extreme upper register (he could diminuendo on a high C natural!) and it made it possible for him to sing roles from Nemorino to Calaf. Here is the very young Di Stefano, little more than a boy, is the popular "Una furtiva lagrima.":

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z8EqJjDM-nA

A beautiful rendition for a 23 year old! Already the main qualities are in place—the open phonation, the beautiful voice, the superb enunciation, and a remarkable ability to diminuendo down to a lovely mezza-voce that is almost choir-boy-like. It was clear he was headed for the big time!

Let's progress by repertoire and age, and the "tenor for all seasons" ability will become apparent. Here he is in a very demanding role, the Duke of Mantua, which is a serious step up from Nemorino in terms of vocal demands, singing the extremely well known "La Donna è Mobile." Notice the open phonation, and the easy access right up the scale to the final B natural:

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

Wonderful! Did you notice that in addition to the immaculate pronunciation, that there is a distinctive, recognizable personality to his voice? It often happens that when opera singers in a given vocal fach cover their sounds heavily, it is almost impossible to tell one from another. When the phonation is open, however, the individual personality of the speaking voice is revealed. Among basses, the most striking example is Chaliapin, who was a wide-open singer if ever there was one, as tenor Giovanni Martinelli was also.

Like Giacomo Lauri Volpi, Di Stefano (whose vocal production was similar) could sing very high. Here is an extraordinary piece of singing featuring Di Stefano and Callas, his frequent collaborator (theirs was a bit of a mutual admiration society). This short finale to a longer duet features a high Db from both of them, and a B natural at the end. This, as I indicated in the description accompanying the video, is virtuoso singing of a very high order indeed:

http://www.youtube.com/user/EdmundStAustell#p/u/3/q6PPPLXvAnM

That is simply spectacular! There is no other word for it. That is the kind of singing that makes people happy to lay down their hard earned money for expensive opera tickets, and then stand up and shout to demonstrate their satisfaction at having heard great singing.

Finally, in our progression, a very heavy role, Calaf in Turandot, in the by-now famous "Nessun Dorma:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yvyWpLZalE8&feature=related

Magnificent. Same vocal production as for Nemorino. Nothing has changed. This is the repertoire critics say he should not have sung, yet I challenge anyone to fault this rendition of "Nessun Dorma" in any way. Perhaps it did shorten his career a bit, but that turns out—considering how long his career was—to be a matter of small concern. He had a spectacular career, was greatly respected, sang all over the world in all the important opera houses and made a very large number of recordings and no small amount of money. There's a problem here? I don't think so. Also, he was certainly not the only tenor to sing with an open phonation on top. One thinks of Giacomo Lauri Volpi, Fernando de Lucia, and Georges Thill, for starters, three of the most famous tenors of all time. No, this is great tenor singing, plain and simple.

Sadly, he died a tragic but heroic death. Attacked by unknown assailants in his summer home in Kenya, he fought bravely—at age 84!—to defend his wife from the thieves. He saved her, but he paid for his heroic actions by being so badly beaten that he slipped into a coma and basically lay, in pain and semi-consciousness, for the last three years of his life, dying at 87 in Milan. This was as great a man as he was an artist!

Franco Bonisolli: Opera's Wild Man

I should start by saying that I respect the voice, the talent, and the raw energy that was Franco Bonisolli. He was a great tenor, whose eccentric behavior ultimately undercut his career and his reputation. There are elements of tragedy here, because the talent was very great, and it is that man that I wish to celebrate, not the one cruelly called "il pazzo," a nickname that unfortunately stuck.

Franco Bonisolli was born in Rovereto in 1937, and began his career at the Spoleto Festival in 1961, in Puccini's La Rondine. He sang in unusual and seldom performed operas for several years, but by so doing began his inevitable climb through the web of Italian houses until, 8 years later, in 1969, he was ready for a La Scala debut, performing in Rigoletto, L'Elisir d'Amore, and La Bohème. After La Scala, the rise was rapid. He was a handsome young man, with a spectacular voice, brilliant at the top, all the way to a high D natural. He had everything he needed for a wonderful career. He went on to sing in San Francisco, New York, Vienna, and the career quickly went world-wide.

He developed early-on the maturity required to sing the big roles, and parts such as Andrea Chenier, Calaf, and—especially—Manrico became audience favorites. Here he is in the famous "Nessun Dorma," from Turandot, a live performance from 1987, in Covent Garden:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xGOf2d5yieo&feature=related

This is beautiful and powerful singing, and the strength of the upper register is in ample evidence. This is the kind of singing and performing that won Bonisolli his international reputation. The quality of the voice is ringing and virile and absolutely consistent up and down the scale. He is an attractive man and looks very good on stage. At the beginning, he sometimes tended to under-act, rather in the tradition of the older "stand there and sing" stars, such as Zinka Milanov, who once famously asked "what good is acting if you can't sing?"

Here is another clip from 1984, a live performance on TV. This is possibly the best Bonisolli video on Youtube, and shows the tenor in full command of his great abilities, confident and in spectacular voice:

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

This is impossible to fault in any way! I have seldom heard this famous aria sung better. And the high notes! The high C is spectacular. Notes that high just don't get any better than this. It was this spectacular higher register that was responsible for much of Bonisolli's reputation. This is no squeezed-out high C, there is plenty of heft in that sound, and it rings like a bell. One thinks of the great Franco Corelli, one of the few spinto tenors with whom Bonisolli can be compared. He voice extended even higher. Here is a short cabaletta from Rigoletto, recorded in 1969 (early in the international career) with a high D natural at the end. The lip-synch is not very good, but he is in good voice at least, and you can see that he was a very handsome man at that time.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0pRAY07k_GE&feature=related

This is rarified singing; there is not a great deal of competition at this level.

And now, I feel that I must post the following video, if I am going to make an honest evaluation. It shows the sad degeneration toward the latter part of the career. Bonisolli's behavior had become so erratic that he was unreliable in performance and very hard to work with. This video, made at an annual Gigli memorial festival, shows him singing his signature piece, "Di Quella Pira," with a very large orchestra in front of a huge audience. He sings the piece, and basically refuses to leave the stage, infuriating the conductor. The audience gets into the game (opera can still be blood sport in Italy!) until the conductor has no choice but to play it over again. After the second rendition, watch the end of the video carefully, and you will see Bonisolli hopping, skipping and leaping off stage. A sorry spectacle, to be sure. But, to be honest, this was the problem. Great talent and intolerable antics. I suppose some think it funny. I can't, because we are witnessing a great talent deconstructing itself in front of our eyes. Sorry....maybe I should laugh, but I can't:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xzg86rNphrI

And there you have it. I have heard, but cannot prove, that toward the end of his life (he only lived to be 66) there were very serious health problems that were possibly neurological in nature. It may well be that that was the problem. If so, then his having had a major career was more of a triumph over illness than a failure of personality. That is certainly what I would like to think.

Salomea Krusceniski [Соломія Крушельницька]

Salomea Krusceniski was born in what was then Lvov, Poland, (today it is Ukraine) in 1872. . She studied at the Lviv Conservatory and made her debut in 1892, as Leonora in Donizetti's La Favorita, at the opera house of Lemberg. Further engagements followed quickly in Odessa, Warsaw, and St Petersburg. In 1898 she sang in Italy for the first time, as Leonora in La Forza del Destino. She enjoyed great success and was invited to sing in Rome, Naples, and at La Scala in Milan. In 1903 she settled in Milan because of political disturbances involving Poland and Ukraine. At La Scala, her Aida was a triumph, and a triumph in Madama Butterfly followed quickly. Her career soon took her abroad; to Spain, Portugal, and South America. Her repertoire eventually came to include 60 roles. She went on to have a very successful concert career, and from 1944 until 1952 she taught singing at the Lviv Conservatory. She died in 1952.* There are good biographies on the web, easily consulted.

Krusceniski's name is known to many opera lovers, especially in Italy and Eastern Europe, but she remains, for many Americans, a discovery yet to be made. I know that my acquaintance with her, via a recording of "Ritorna Vincitor," was a revelation, to say the least. More of a shock. I have seldom heard a more effective encapsulation of dramatic emotion in a piece of music. I can think of no better introduction. This is a 1907 recording, and you will need to adjust the volume for best listening. Be patient with the loading of the recording. It take over 20 seconds for it to engage:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TxI7YgexvpU


I find that absolutely thrilling! It is not easy to explain. We enter here into the mystery of style, conviction, emotion, and musical art, in exactly the same way we do with Maria Callas. The style is perfect, and the musicality exemplary; she always sings, she never shouts. Her approach is always lyrical and musical, but the effect is more striking by far than if someone declaimed without consideration for the music. In that regard she is, like Callas, a great tragedian. That so much emotion can survive, intact, for 103 years, after having been recorded on laughably primitive equipment, is proof positive of her perfection of technique, musicality and style. I still struggle today to describe the effect this ancient recording had on me the first time I heard it.

A good way to judge the quality of Krusceniski's voice comes, curiously, from an even older recording. This recording of "Solveig's Song," from Grieg's Peer Gynt, was, amazingly, made in 1902! Yet, because of the piano accompaniment, and, apparently, the horn placement, her voice comes through as clearly as if it had been recorded electrically. This recording contains two versions of the song. Just listen to the first, the 1902 version, as it makes the point convincingly. Again, be patient with the loading of the video...it takes 30 seconds to engage:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3WSTkKXSxyM&feature=email


Amazing recording, isn't it? The quality of the voice, in 1902, when she was 30 years of age, is truly superb—a solid column of sound, from top to bottom, well modulated and flawlessly produced.

Finally, a very popular aria—"Un bel di, from Madama Butterfly. Krusceniski was one of the first interpreters of this role, and she was much admired by Puccini for her portrayal. Notice the extremely smooth musicality of her presentation, the intense emotion (of the non-screaming kind!) and a shorter high Bb at the end than current tradition would have it. Like famous high notes of all kinds—"Celeste Aida," "Di Quella Pira," "Salut, demure...," "Che Gelida Manina," and any coloratura soprano aria ending on or above C natural—one singer's triumph quickly becomes another singer's challenge. Before the days of "tradition," however, we tend to hear music as it was written and, often, as coached by the conductor himself. Puccini actually went to these performances, after all, and it is bound to be the case that he spoke to the singers about their roles. "Un bel di" is written in 3/4 time, and the final Bb is written for only one measure. Now audiences feel cheated if it does not extend for another 8 measures into the 2/4 time of the next scene!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2aSl4IijV08&feature=related


A musically immaculate and thrilling piece of singing! Some things have been gained since 1912, but much has been lost.

*If you find yourself fascinated by this extraordinary singer—as I was—please permit me to refer you to the Youtube Channel of Tim at"dantitustimshu" (Better write it down, it's not easy to remember). Tim—a brilliant musical scholar and record collector—has the best collection of Krusceniski records to be found, and has thoughtfully collected them into a playlist, where they may be consulted. I am further indebted to him for the historical and biographical notes that appear at the beginning of the article. Also, for general reference, I refer the reader to: "subito - cantabile: A site for collectors of Great Singers of the Past" (http://www.cantabile-subito.de)

Alfredo Kraus: The Personification of Elegance

Alfredo Kraus was born in 1927 in Spain's Canary Islands, and began his musical studies as a child, beginning piano at 4 years of age. He was a good and highly intelligent student of music, and developed disciplined habits at a young age which stayed with him throughout his life. He would, during his long career, be consistently praised for his extremely refined musicianship. A handsome man, in the debonair 1930's matinee-idol mold, he had an aristocratic bearing that bespoke the refinements of earlier centuries. All these qualities made it possible for him to have a superb career, and he did.

Kraus' debut was in 1956, at 29 years of age, in Cairo, portraying the Duke in Rigoletto, which was to become one of his signature roles, along with Werther, Nemorino, Arturo, and Faust. (His French was good, and he was very popular in the French repertoire.] In 1958 he debuted in Lisbon, and then, in quick succession, London, Milan, Chicago and New York, and then to world wide fame. There were no scandals in his life, no self-indulgent behavior, and no health crises. He was a model of stability, professionalism and artistic consistency, an extraordinary model for serious artists.

Kraus' voice was highly pitched. The territory around high C and even beyond, held no fears for him. Here he is (at age 59!) singing "Mes Amis," from La Fille du Regiment, a notorious aria whic contains—if you listen to it from the beginning—one B natural, two Bb's and an unbelievable five high C#'s! This aria is long. I recommend you move the radio button forward to 5:10 as soon as you can, and listen from there to the end, which is where the high C# fireworks take place.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UrD6JJuUJ0E&feature=related

Isn't that something! And at 59 years of age, almost unbelievable. He never lost that brilliant top. And the wildly enthusiastic reaction of the audience is a clear indication of the esteem in which he was held. The clarity, consistency and seeming ease of production of those extremely high notes are sure signs of a brilliant singer, very disciplined and in complete control of his voice.

The Duke in Rigoletto was a natural for a distinguished looking man with a high-pitched voice. It was his debut opera and remained a favorite with audiences:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VJJHZ2_onlw

Absolutely perfect bel canto technique, smooth as silk. This vocal production cannot be faulted in any way. It is very traditional, and perfectly adapted to singing tenor in opera. Curiously, given the eternal insistence from most voice teachers about low larynx and extreme diaphragmatic support, watching Kraus makes it clear that his larynx is often high, and much of his breathing is clavicular. It requires a very straight posture, which Kraus had. This may seem like heresy, in the era of belting, but in fact it is for some voices and styles of singing a time honored technique which Gigli also employed. Essentially, it is the way boy sopranos or coloratura sopranos sing. This is not to say he does not support, only that it is selective and integrated into a narrower, higher sound, less dependent on deep resonances.

Finally, the role which most consider Kraus to have owned: Werther. Here is one of the earlier arias in the opera, "O nature, pleine de grâce!"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CQoH723vYpg&feature=related

It is very, very nice to reflect upon the fact that bel canto singing, with its elegance, beauty, and stylistic refinements, did not in fact die. It lived in Kraus,and lives in others and—given the very large number of aficionados who considered his art to be perfection itself—it is not going to leave us. It will come back, because the thirst is there.