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Feodor Chaliapin ( 1873-1938) was perhaps the greatest singing actor of the 20th century. His voice was on a par with Caruso’s (also born in February 1873) while his acting ability was at least equal to that of Maria Callas. He was born to a peasant family in Kazan Russia. After vocal studies with a private teacher, he debuted at the Tbilisi Georgia, and sang at the Imperial Opera House in Saint Peterburg. When he sang at Mamontov’s Private Russian Opera in Moscow, he met Sergei Rachmaninoff, an assistant conductor with the company who became a lifelong friend. Rachmaninoff, another 1873 baby, taught Chaliapin how to analyze a score and insisted that he learn not only his part in an opera but all the others as well. With Rachmaninoff, he learned the role of Boris Gudonov. It became his signature part. Soon he was singing at the Bolshoi. He regularly appeared there between 1899 and 1914. In 1901 he appeared as Mefistofele in Boito’s opera at La Scala. Toscanini conducted. The Maestro proclaimed him the greatest operatic talent he had ever worked with. He appeared at the Met during the 1907-08 season. The realism and intensity of his acting overwhelmed some of the then prim New York audience. He entranced others. For whatever reason he did not return to the company until 1921. His success in the 20s in New York was sensational. During his first season at the Met, he appeared several times with Caruso. Wouldn’t you like to have heard these performances? Chaliapin’s singing is unique. He was able to realize every nuance of the emotional contact of whatever he sang. In addition to the standard Russian repertory, Chaliapin was equally effective in French and Italian operas. His presence was so overpowering that it was hard for audiences to focus on anyone but him. He was equally compelling as a recitalist. His interpretive insights reveal the inner meaning of what he sang with unmatched power. He was to opera what Babe Ruth was to baseball. Chaliapin made many recordings in both the acoustical and then electrical formats. His dark voice came across almost as well on the former as it did on the more advanced technology. His rendition of Count Rodolfo’s aria from Bellini’s La Sonambula shows his ability to master any style. Oroveso’s aria from Norma is equally well done. Leporello in Mozart’s Don Giovanni was a regular part of his repertory. He sang the role during his first season at the Met. His reading of the Catalog aria is incisive. I can’t tell if the fast tempo is the result of the limitations of the recording process or his choice. It was his depiction of Don Basilio in Rossini’s Barber as a dirty and sweaty priest that upset some New Yorkers in Chaliapin’s first season at the Met. La Calumnia is Basilio’s great depiction of the effects of slander. Chaliapin was a great interpreter of Verdi’s basso roles. Infelice!… e tu redev is Don Ruy Gomez de Silva’s Act 1 aria from Ernani. He’s an old man who wants a young bride who of course loves the tenor. When he sang King Philip in Don Carlo he became the center of the work. Dormiro sol starts a bit into the Phlip’s aria that begins the famous scene in the King’s apartment. Chaliapin made his Met debut as the title character in Boito’s Mefistofele. In the Prologue Mefistofele declares that he can win the soul of Faust. Ave signor. Gounod’s devil (in Faust) was also a favorite part of Chaliapin. Le veau d’or (The golden calf). He also recorded the Coat Song from Puccini’s Bohème, though I don’t know if he sang the relatively small role onstage. He often sang the Song of the Volga Boatmen during his frequent recitals. His is the definitive version of the song. Finally his greatest role – Boris Gudonov. Deems Taylor’s review of his first Met appearance (Dec 9, 1921) as the tortured Tsar is below. Taylor was an esteemed composer and critic. His review reflects the gigantic presence of the legendary Russian basso. Boris’s three solos are presented with their English titles though, obviously, Chaliapin sang them in Russian as he did at the Met, the rest of the cast performed the opera in an Italian translation. I have attained the highest power./ The Clock Scene./ The Death of Boris. Chaliapin was a unique artist. Many great singers have succeeded him and the future will see more, but his like will never again appear. Review of Deems Taylor in The New York World: Feodor Chaliapin brings something to the opera that is greater than singing, greater than acting. He brings drama, that perfect realization, and illusion of life for which singing and acting exist, the thing that only a few of the great possess. Jeritza has it; Whitehill sometimes has it; but neither possesses it to the overpowering degree that Chaliapin does. He sang Boris at the Metropolitan last night for the first time here. One says “sang” because it is the conventional word and the most easily comprehended. It is not adequate. He lived Boris; he was Boris. When he strode upon the stage in the first act towering above his lords and nobles, his gold crown flashing in the sun, his kaftan heavy with embroidery, and swept his arm over his people in a great gesture of benediction, all sense of artifice, of the theatre, vanished. As long as he was there the other singers, the scenery, the audience, even Moussorgsky’s great music-all were blotted out. One saw only the Czar Boris Godunoff, living, triumphant, agonizing and dying. Chaliapin must be the most stupendous stage personality in the world. There is no question of his creating an illusion. The thing he inspires is belief, instant, absolute, unquestioning. Even as he gazed, terrified, across the palace chamber at the ghost of the murdered Dmitri, the audience turned started eyes toward the spot at which he has gazing. And when they saw nothing there they turned again to the Czar, groveling on his knees by his chair, a tortured Rodin figure some to life, so huge, so pitiful-and wrung their hands and suffered his torment with him. When he lay dying in the hall of the Duma, his great frame stretched prone as a fallen oak, his glazed and blinded eyes turned for the last time upon his little son, men and women watched him with unashamed tears trickling down their cheeks. His voice is marvelous. Such thrilling timbre, such almost incredible control of coloring and dynamics, are something one might not ever find again in a generation of opera going. He sang in Russian; and it seemed as if Moussorgsky’s music had never quite been heard before. For Moussorgsky did more than set Russian words to music; he wrote music that is as much a part of the Russian language as the words themselves… The house was sold out completely, of course, and the audience was hysterical in its reception of the great Russian. The roar that greeted him after the Kremlin scene was deafening. And well they might cheer. They were seeing operatic history in the making.

Sunday was the 100th anniversary of the death of the last great master of Italian opera – Giacomo Puccini. So great is the composer’s hold on opera’s audience that of the seven most performed operas at the Met three are by Verdi, three by Puccini – the remaining one is Carmen. There is nothing I can add to the accolades heaped on the composer. He had almost everything: a unique melodic gift, a sense of the dramatic, and a mastery of stagecraft. The only attribute that separated him from opera’s supreme master, Giuseppe Verdi, was a narrower focus. But what he touched turned to musical gold. He could grasp the emotional core of his listeners with an intensity granted to very few composers The three top Puccini operas mentioned above are La Bohème, Tosca, and Madama Butterfly. A century is a long time to await the arrival of another lyric genius. It may well be that opera’s time as a living art form has permanently passed. All it will take to prove this prophecy of artistic doom wrong is the appearance of a genius. One can always hope for an operatic messiah, but such an appearance is beyond rare. The best way to commemorate Puccini’s death is with some of his music. Butterfly Love Duet Natalya Romaniw and Freddie De TommasoButterfly Humming Chorus

Puccini’s political melodrama was presented at the Met for the 1017th time. This performance was the fourth presentation of the opera on the Met’s HD series. All three leads sang their roles for the first time at the Met in this season’s run. David McVicar’s traditional staging works very well. Presenting a Puccini opera as he intended may be out of vogue, but he knew more about drama and staging than any stage director since David Belasco. The opera works or not depending on the three leads and the conductor. Norwegian soprano Lise Davidsen is a vocal phenomenon. She has a voice reminiscent of Birgit Nilsson at the top of its range. But she has the wrong personality and style for Tosca who is definitely not a Nordic type. Nevertheless, the sheer power of her singing compensated for the coolness of her acting. Oddly when she sang pianissimo her voice tended to evaporate She is due to sing Fidelio at the Met later in the season. The role of Leonora is ideal for her talent. The Puccini opera she should be singing is Turandot. The British tenor Freddie De Tommaso made his Met debut as Cavaradoss this season. He started as a baritone and his sturdy tenor still has baritonal overtones. In Act 1 his tone was a little dry, but it loosened as the show progressed. His high notes have ping and he phrases very well. ‘E lucevan le stelle’ was sung with style and pathos – a strong delivery of the uber-famous aria. He sounds ready for the big spinto Verdi roles – which apparently are already in his repertoire. A welcome addition to the Met’s roster. At age 31 the opera world should be his for the next 20 years assuming Fortune stays on his side. His only problem during this show was that standing next to Davidsen, who’s over six feet tall, he looked like Tiny Archibald alongside Wilt Chamberlain. This height disparity required even more suspension of disbelief than is typical of opera which always requires a lot. Quinn Kelsey has been at the Met since 2008. At first, he sang comprimario roles, but rapidly moved to the big baritone parts. He has a large beefy baritone which had just the right combination of menace and smooth vocal line to depict the villainy of one of opera’s most evil characters. He foreswore mustache-twirling for real acting. A superb performance by a baritone who is now at the top of his class. The Met’s orchestra under Yannick Nézet-Séguin’s direction played beautifully except for a tiny mishap in the horns during Te Deum that ends Act 1. The orchestra is so good that an occasional blip is necessary to remind us its players are human. Nézet-Séguin’s tempi were sometimes a bit on the slow side, but in general, he created excitement at the appropriate times. The supporting players were all outstanding. Kevin Short has been playing small parts at the Met since 1991. As Angelotti, he displayed a booming voice that made me wonder why he hasn’t been given larger roles. Tony Stevenson has sung over 1,000 performances at the Met since 1993. He was smoothly deferential as Scarpia’s chief henchman Spoletta. Patrick Carfizzi, another Met comprimario regular, was both jolly and frightened during his Act 1 appearance as the Sacristan. In summary a fine performance mostly due to the brilliance of Puccini’s score and stage direction. It had exceptional voices marred only by the casting of a great soprano in a role not well suited for her temperament and vocal type. Worth catching the encore presentation next week if you missed today’s telecast. Tosca Giacomo Puccini | Luigi Illica/Giuseppe Giacosa Tosca……….Lise DavidsenCavaradossi……….Freddie De TommasoScarpia……….Quinn KelseySacristan……….Patrick CarfizziSpoletta……….Tony StevensonAngelotti……….Kevin ShortSciarrone……….Christopher JobShepherd……….Luka ZylikJailerWilliam……….Guanbo Su Conductor……….Yannick Nézet-SéguinProduction……….David McVicarDesigner……….John MacfarlaneLighting Designer……….David FinnMovement Director……….Leah HausmanVideo Director………..Gary Halvorson

Giuseppe Giacomini (1940-2021) was one of the greatest tenors active during the last 30 years of the 20th century. Despite the excellence of his singing, he never achieved the widespread fame accorded his exact contemporaries – Luciano Pavarotti and Placido Domingo. Nevertheless, his career was quite successful; he appeared at all the major opera houses, always to great acclaim. He achieved a full slate of honors and seemed to get better as he aged. Giacomini’s prizes and honors include the title Kammersänger of the Staatsoper in Wien, the Gold Viotti, the Giovanni Zenatello Prize, the CA Capelli Prize, the Gold Mascagni, and the Giovanni Martinelli Prize. He was also Commendatore of the Ordine di San Gregorio Magno, a Vatican order of knighthood. I last heard him in Sicily about 25 years ago in an outdoor performance of Turandot at the Giardini Bellini outside of Catania. The two soprano leads were inferior, but he was terrific. Nessun Dorma drove the Sicilians to a frenzied demand for an encore which the conductor refused. He gave 85 performances at the Met between 1976 and 1988. He continued to sing well into his 60s without losing effectiveness. Known to his friends and admirers as ‘Bepi’, he had a winning personality and was free of the flamboyance commonly associated with a star tenor. His gentle personality may have lessened his fame. I have heard that he left the Met when he was at the peak of his powers because the company wouldn’t let him sing Otello mostly limiting the role to Placido Domingo whose voice did not have the full dramatic weight as did Giacomini’s. I can’t vouch for the accuracy of this rumor. Giacomini’s voice was a full-fledged dramatic tenor with a free top. He could shade his sound to the appropriate level of the music he sang. He sang all the standard Italian roles to great effect. The following excerpts, in addition to the one linked above, show why his services were always in high demand. Otello’s entrance lasts only about half a minute, but in this brief span Verdi depicts the gullible general’s character in a flourish of direct and heroic tones. Esultate. Giacomini’s baritonal sound and command of the passagio make for fine reading of this great entrance. It doesn’t take long for Otello to lose his grasp on reality and bemoan his future as a cuckold. Ora e per sempre addio. The thunderous duet that closes Act 2 depicts Iago’s manipulation of Otello to the point of uxoricide. Sherill Milnes is the baritone. Si pel ciel. Sticking to Verdi, Giacomini belts out Manrico’s ‘Di quella pira’ though the high C sounds more like a B natural to me. Listeners with perfect pitch can confirm or deny my suspicion. (Added Nov 28, 2024: I checked with a pitch pipe – it’s a B) Di quella pira. The tenor aria from La Forza del Destino is one of the finest anybody has ever written. Its recitative is better than most other composer’s arias. La vita e inferno. Giacomini’s performance of the aria is heroic. Amilcare Pochielli’s only lasting opera is La Gioconda. The work’s most well-known aria is for the tenor. Cielo e mar starts Act 2. This recording, from a recital, shows Giacomini’s stentorian tones to great advantage. Giacomini recorded Pietro Mascagni’s Cavalleria Rusticana with Jessye Norman as Santuzza. The role was one not typical of those usually sung by the soprano, but she acquits herself well on the recording. Ah! lo vedi is the duet during which Turridu forcible rejects Santuzza whose virtue he has compromised. Giacomini was the only Italian in the cast of this complete recording which nevertheless holds up quite well against its numerous competitors. The Brindisi (Drinking Song) comes just before Turridu is challenged to his fatal duel with the husband of the woman with whom he has been carrying on an illicit affair. Another verismo composer known for only one opera (Andrea Chenier) was Umberto Giordano. Tenors love to sing the title role as he has four arias. The best known of these is the first act Improvviso which tests a spinto tenor to his limit. It’s hard to understand how a composer could write as good an opera as Chenier and not reach that level again. Giacomini’s rendition of the aria is one of the finest available. Finally, Puccini. E lucevan le stelle require grace more than force. Giacomini gives a fine and sensitive performance of the ubiquitous aria. Or son sei mesi is in Act 2 of The Girl of the Golden West. It is noteworthy for the blaze of B-flats that come near its end. Ch’ella mi creda occurs in the opera’s last act. It’s the hero’s wish that his lover Minnie not be told that he was hanged. Of course, she arrives to free him using a pistol as a debating point. The two then ride off together into the sunrise (they’re in California). Giacomini’s singing here is splendid. He was a great tenor who deserves more recognition than he has received though his standing among opera aficionados is already assured.

Puccini’s Tosca has been an audience favorite since its premiere in 1900. It has everything one could ask for in an opera: beautiful and dramatically apt music, a gripping story that wastes not a line or note, and one of opera’s most spectacular endings. Tosca, an operatic diva, jumps from the parapet of the Castel Sant’Angelo. At the end of the previous act, she stabbed Scarpia the sadistic chief of police to death as he was about to rape her after which he promised free her lover Mario from execution. He told her that Mario would have to undergo a mock execution before the couple would be allowed to flee Rome. The excerpts below all start just before Mario faces the firing squad which he knows is real, but which the gullible Tosca continues to believe is a sham – she’s an opera singer, not a logician. She tells Mario how to feign his death and is horrified to find him dead after the executioners have left. She then hears Scarpia’s henchmen rushing to the scene. They have found Scarpia’s body and are after Tosca. She rushes to the parapet crying ‘O Scarpia, avanti a Dio!’ (‘O Scarpia, we meet before God!’) and flings herself over the edge. The opera ends with a phrase from the tenor’s aria ‘E lucevan le stelle’ sung shortly after the start of the final act. Some critics have thought this ending inappropriate thinking the music applies to him rather than the leaping soprano. I find it entirely apt as it really depicts the couple’s love. The first example is taken from the definitive recording of the opera. Even though more than 70 years have passed since it was made, none of the many complete recordings of Tosca can touch it. The only opera recording made by the great conductor Victor de Sabata, its trio of star performers set a standard yet to be equaled. Tenor Giuseppe Di Stefano and baritone Tito Gobbi are not heard in this excerpt. Maria Callas was likely the greatest interpreter of Puccini’s doomed diva. She has everything needed for the role. Her singing and dramatic instincts realized every nuance of Puccini’s masterpiece. De Sabata’s conducting is sharp and propulsive. Even the gunshots from the firing squad sound better on this recording than on any of the many that have followed it over the decades. Callas Tosca finale Renata Tebaldi was almost as famous as Callas during their contemporaneous careers. A fault with this and most of the recordings of the final scene is that Toaca’s admonitions to Mario just prior to his execution are recorded at a slightly low volume. The conductor is Alberto Erede. Tebaldi Tosca finale Birgit Nilsson was best known for her Wagner and Strauss roles. But she often sang Italian opera, in addition to Turandot which she sang more frequently than any other role. Her end to Tosca still reverberates. Lorin Maazel is the conductor on this excerpt. Nilsson Tosca finale Mirella Freni was born in Modena the same year (1935) as Luciano Pavarotti. They shared the same wet nurse and were childhood friends. She never sang Tosca onstage – her recording of the complete opera was her only connection to this work. Nicola Rescigno conducts. Freni Tosca finale Katia Riccarelli was one of the leading Italian sopranos of the last quarter of the 20th century. Her recording of Tosca was made under the direction of Herbert von Karajan. Riccarelli Tosca finale Karajan was also the conductor when Leontyne Price recorded the opera. Tosca was a regular part of her repertoire at the Met where she starred for more than 20 years. Leontyne Price Tosca finale Angela Gheorghiu, a Romanian soprano, has had Tosca at the center of her roles. In February 2022, Gheorghiu celebrated her 30th anniversary with the Royal Opera House, reprising Tosca under the direction of Anthony Pappano who is the conductor on this excerpt. Gheorghiu Tosca finale So well constructed and popular is Tosca that Puccini’s leaping lover will continue to dive off the ancient Roman castle for as long as opera endures.

America had a profusion of baritones in the 20th century. One of the most prominent then is much less so today. He’s the subject of this article. John Charles Thomas (1891-1960) was born in Meyersdale, PA. He was interested in singing from an early age. From 1910 to 1912 he studied voice at Baltimore’s Peabody Institute. After touring briefly with a musical troupe he settled in New York. After appearing with a Gilbert and Sullivan company, he was hired by the Shubert Brothers to appear in the Broadway show The Peasant Girl. For the next decade, he appeared in a succession of hit musicals. His attention then turned to opera. First, he sang arias in recitals, and then in complete performances. He honed his operatic skills in Europe. By 1928 he was singing at the Royal Opera House, London in Faust alongside Feodor Chaliapin. Though he could make more money away from opera he persisted in this side of his career. He was active as a recitalist, in movies, on the radio, and in operetta. His repertoire ranged from popular songs to musical comedy, art songs, Italian songs, lieder, and the standard operatic repertoire. In 1934 he made his Met debut as the elder Germont in Verdi’s La Traviata. He sang 55 performances with the company over the next nine years. This number would have been larger had he not been in great demand in so many different kinds of venues. During the 30s and 40s, he was one of the most popular entertainers in the US. Thomas’s voice was bright. resonant, and had a very easy top. His years on Broadway had given him great skill in selling what he was singing. The following selections should convince the listener unfamiliar with his work that he belongs among the top group of American baritones active during the last century – a very distinguished cadre. Home on the Range was a song often performed by Thomas. This recording is from a radio broadcast. He adjusts his very big voice to a size ideal for the song. He turns the familiar tune into a moving experience. Three popular American show tunes show his facility with this genre. Ol’ man river by Jerome Kerns, The last time I saw Paris also by Kerns (both with lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein), and Oh, what a beautiful mornin’, by Richard Rogers again with words by Hammerstein are sung to great effect in a style appropriate for the music. Notice Thomas’s impeccable diction. In questa tomba oscura is a song by Beethoven. He wrote it for a competition in 1807. Not surprisingly, it’s the only one from that competition that has endured. Next selections from operettas. Thomas started his career, mentioned above, doing Gilbert and Sullivan. When I was lad is from HMS Pinafore. His rendition is perfect and shows the extraordinary versatility this exceptional artist possessed. The Gypsy Baron is one of Johan Strauss’s most successful efforts for the operetta stage. The open road is sung with zest and elan. The voice is as good as a baritone can produce. Now on to opera. First Thomas sings Thomas – Ambroise Thomas. The Drinking Song from Hamlet is the opera’s best known piece. Thomas Met debut was greeted with rave reviews. Di provenza il mar is from Traviata’s second act. Rossini’s Barber was a regular part of Thomas’s repertoire. His version of Largo al factotum is full of verve. Iago’s Credo from Verdi’s Otello is cloaked in menace. Nemico della patria from Giordano’s Andrea Chénier is completely realized. Leoncavallo’s Zazà was done at the Met as a vehicle for Geraldine Ferrar. When she left the company so did the opera which hasn’t been done since. Ironically the work’s best known aria is the baritone’s Zazà, piccola zingara. Thomas clearly belongs in the pantheon of great American baritones. His versatility is unmatched by any American singer I can think of. Why we turn out so many first-rate baritones compared to tenors is as mysterious as it is true.

Jonas Kaufmann and Ludovic Tézier recorded nine tenor-baritone duets, released on a Sony Classics disc in June 2022. Insieme translates from Italian as together. The two singers are friends who have often performed together hence the title. The master of the tenor-baritone duet was Verdi. Accordingly, seven of the selections are by him. The CD starts with the Act 4 duet from La bohème between Rodolfo and Marcello; it’s the only such duet Puccini ever wrote. He was much more interested in the interactions of his sopranos and tenors. The two men bemoan the sad state of their love life. The second duet is from the first act of Ponchielli’s La Gioconda. The villainous Barnaba, a precursor to Iago, ostensibly offers to help the tenor, Enzo Grimaldo, elope with the wife of one of Venice’s inquisitors. When Enzo leaves Barnaba denounces him to the Inquisition. The remaining seven duets are from Les vêpres siciliennes (2), Don Carlos, La forza del destino (3), and Otello. The Otello excerpt starts from ‘Ora per sempre addio’ and moves to ‘Era la notte’, concluding with the blood oath duet. The level of performance is very high though some of the sheen has worn off from Kaufmann’s voice – he’s now on the downside of 50. When he sings in full voice the sound is not as rich as it was before the vocal crisis he had from a bleeding vein on one of his vocal chords in 2016. He also tends to shade his dynamic range more than is necessary. He’s very good at modulating his dynamics but does it more often than the music requires or than he did earlier in his career. Sometimes he gets close to crooning. See the example below. Tézier has a beefy baritone which he uses to great effect. Though not as big a star as Kaufmann he’s good enough to add distinction to any performance in which he appears. Antonio Pappano conducted the Orchestra of the Accademia di Santa Cecilia, Rome. His conducting was idiomatic and sensitive. He’s a maestro who is always aware and responsive to the singers’ needs. Who is this disc for? If you’re a fan of Kaufmann’s singing you’ll likely want this recital. Also, it’s nice to have the great Verdi tenor-baritone duets available in one place. If you subscribe to a music streaming site like Spotify listening to this program is a no-brainer. I wrote above that I thought Kaufmann was overusing his admitted skill at piano singing. This is mostly a matter of taste, but here’s Kaufmann singing ‘Che gelida manina’ from a 2021 performance. It’s followed by Giuseppe Di Stefano’s 1951 recording of the same aria. Di Stefano was a master of piano singing. I think Di Stefano’s soft singing is seamless and better integrated into the flow of the music. Listen to both and see if you find a meaningful difference between the two interpretations and if you agree or not with my criticism. Kaufmann Che gelida maninaDi Stefano Che gelida manina

Verdi’s Macbeth was his 10th opera. It was his favorite of these 10 and the first of his three operas based on Shakespeare’s plays. It is clearly the masterpiece of his pre-Rigoletto works. The tenor role of Macduff is a minor part; he has little to do except sing the great aria that is the subject of this piece. Verdi knew that the opera could never attract a star tenor, because of the brevity of the role, who could fully realize the beautiful aria he had created and said it would not make the great effect it should without a leading tenor. That problem still plagues the aria when it is part of a staged performance. On recordings, however, it is frequently sung by a leading tenor. An exception to this practice was the first run of the opera at the Met in 1959. The young Carlo Bergonzi sang Macduff. The aria is Macduff’s lament over the murder by the Macbeths of his wife and children while he was in hiding. He vows revenge. Below are 12 recordings of the aria. The Italian text followed by an English translation is at the end of the article. Enrico Caruso recorded the aria in 1916. His version is particularly good. His rich voice and dynamic shading realize the emotion contained in the number. It’s music that calls for finesse rather than tenorial athleticism. Caruso Ah, la paterna mano As I mentioned above Carlo Bergonzi was the first Macduff at the Met. This recording is taken from a 1959 Met performance. The tenor was a Verdi specialist. His rendition is very good though it would get even better over the ensuing years. Bergonzi Ah, la paterna mano Jose Carreras had one of the most beautiful lyric tenor voices of the last century until overuse and acute leukemia (from which he recovered after a bone marrow transplant) lessened his vocal power. His singing of the aria is very good. Carreras Ah, la paterna mano Franco Corelli needs no introduction. He was one of the last century’s greatest tenors. His singing here is sensitive especially coming from a very big voice. Corelli Ah, la paterna mano Dimitri Pittas is a lyric tenor who started out as if there was no limit to how high he could go. But while he sang at many of the world’s leading houses including the Met, his career was not what I thought he might achieve. I heard him as Nemorino in Santa Fe about 15 years ago. He was first-rate. He was Macduff in the Met’s 2008 telecast of Macbeth. Between 2005 and 2016 he sang 64 times with the company in both leading and secondary roles. He currently teaches in New York and is the Artistic Director of a company in Charleston SC. Pittas Ah, la paterna mano Placido Domingo has recorded everything including the 1982 Mexico City telephone directory. His singing of the aria is at the highest level as expected. Domingo Ah, la paterna mano Giuseppe Filianoti started his career as if the opera world were in his breast pocket. But after a few years, he was singing secondary roles. His website lists no performances after 2018. He did appear at the Met in 2019 in Macbeth but as Malcolm. In 2022 he was Don Basilio In Le Nozze di Figaro. His singing of the aria is from the start of his career and is very well done. Filianoti Ah, la paterna mano The great Australian tenor Donald Smith was the subject of a previous article here. He was an outstanding singer who is not better known outside of his native country because he preferred to stay home rather than travel the world. All the major companies, including the Met, sought unsuccessfully to hire him. Smith Ah, la paterna mano Jonas Kaufmann has been the world’s leading tenor for the past dozen years. He sings a wide variety of Italian, French, and German roles. His full throated yet nuanced reading is very effective. Kaufmann Ah, la paterna mano Mario Del Monaco was a full fledged dramatic tenor. He was the definitive Otello of his era. This performance taken from a 1969 concert in Tokyo was relatively late in his career. Nevertheless, the huge voice is still intact. Del Monaco Ah, la paterna mano Luciano Pavarotti would never have sung Macduff in a full performance. But as a recital piece, the aria fits his voice perfectly. Pavarotti Ah, la paterna mano Salvatore Fisichella is a Sicilian tenor who now devotes his time to teaching. He had a superb voice that was especially noted for its acuti. Fisichella was a wonderful singer who for some opaque reason sang only five performances at the Met. Originally known as a bel canto tenor he added larger roles as his career progressed. His voice remained intact well into his 60s. This excerpt includes the duet with Malcolm and the chorus that follows the aria. Fisichella Ah, la paterna mano MACDUFF:O figli, o figli miei! da quel tirannoTutti uccisi voi foste, e insieme con voiLa madre sventurata! Ah, fra gli artigliDi quel tigre io lasciai la madre e i figli?Ah, la paterna manoNon vi fu scudo, o cari,Dai perfidi sicariChe a morte vi ferir!E me fuggiasco, occulto,Voi chiamavate invano,Coll’ultimo singulto,Coll’ultimo respir.Trammi al tiranno in faccia,Signore! e s’ei mi sfugge,Possa a colui le bracciaDel tuo perdono aprir. MACDUFF:Oh, my children! You have all been killedby that tyrant, together withyour poor mother! Ah, did Ileave a mother and her children in the clutches of that beast?Alas, a father’s hand was not thereto shield you, my dear ones,from the treacherous assassinswho put you to death.And in vain you called on me,a fugitive, in hiding,with your last gasp,with your last breath.Lord, bring me face to facewith this tyrant, and if he escapes melet your merciful armsopen to him.

The Dallas Opera is currently streaming a performance of Richard Strauss’s one-act opera Elektra from its last February run. The telecast will be available until the end of October. The full cast and video are below. This opera is the composer’s deepest dive into modernism. It is commonly asserted that he backed off from the edge of the tonal abyss in his subsequent operas. I don’t think he did so out of any sense of apprehension but rather because he had gotten all he could from dissonance and fluid tonality. He had other musical fish to fry which he did quite successfully for about another decade. After that, he dried up only to find inspiration again in his late 70s and 80s when he wrote his Horn Concerto No. 2, Metamorphosen, his Oboe Concerto, the Duet concertino for clarinet and bassoon, and his Four Last Songs. I’ve seen many productions of Elektra, this one as far as I can tell from a telecast is generally pedestrian. Most of the female participants seemed in dire need of semaglutide. A few could barely move. The singing was serviceable but without the heroic force needed to fully realize Strauss’s overwhelming score. Marjorie Owens’s voice is placed too much in her throat to make the sound required for the title role. Jill Grove was vocally effective as the sister who wanted out of the lethal family drama, though she was unable to do much acting because of her physique. Angela Meade played Chrysothemis as a grotesque who was madder than purple blood. The entire production displayed a “palace” that was in fire need of a posse of Merry Maids so dusty, dirty, and rundown that an immediate cleanup was demanded. The best performance was from Alfred Walker as Orest, though he was afflicted by a second pair of eyebrows that gave him an aura of disfigurement. The recognition scene accordingly was the best in the show. Elektra’s final dance to death was no more than a brief bit of swaying followed by collapse. Emmanuel Villaume’s conducting was from the anti-Pierre Monteux school – the conductor’s head was in the score rather than the score in his head. If you’re not familiar with Strauss’s masterpiece you might want to give the show a free look before it vanishes. If you’ve seen and heard it many times you likely won’t get much from it. A provincial staging of a great work. Conductor – Emmanuel VillaumeOriginal Director – Sir David McVicarRevival Director – Nick SandysOriginal Set and Costume Designer – John MacfarleneOriginal Lighting Designer – Jennifer TiptonWig and Make-Up Designer – David Zimmerman Scenery constructed by Bay Productions Limited, Cardiff, Wales, U.K.Costumes constructed by the San Francisco Opera Association.Photo: Kyle Flubacker Cast:Elektra – Marjorie OwensKlytämnestra – Jill GroveChrysothemis – Angela MeadeOrest – Alfred WalkerAegisth – Clifton ForbisThe Overseer – Alexandra LoutsionTutor of Orest – Kyle AlbertsonFirst Maidservant – Gretchen KruppSecond Maidservant – Kristen ChoiThird Maidservant – Lindsay Kate BrownFourth Maidservant- Laura WildeFifth Maidservant – Meghan KasandersThe Confidant – Jocelyn HansenThe Trainbearer – Carelle FloresA Young Servant – Jordan HammonsAn Old Servant – Travis Wiley McGuireMaidservant – Kristin Tallett BittickMaidservant – Dana Francis GoodnuffMaidservant – Kristen MataMaidservant – Denise StomMaidservant – Avanti DeiMaidservant – Stephanie Jennings Conductor – Emmanuel VillaumeOriginal Director – Sir David McVicarRevival Director – Nick SandysOriginal Set and Costume Designer – John MacfarleneOriginal Lighting Designer – Jennifer TiptonWig and Make-Up Designer – David Zimmerman

Puccini’s second opera Edgar (accent on the second syllable) was first performed at La Scala in 1889. It was adapted from a verse play by Alfred de Musset. Set in 14th century Flanders it describes the contrast between the saintly and virginal Fidelia and the wildly sensual Tigrana. Not surprisingly Tigrana lights the passion fires of both the tenor (Edgar) and the baritone Frank. By the opera’s end, Fidelia is dead by Tigrana’s hand. Edgar and Frank who have reformed are devastated as are the people of the village in which they live. The story is not the tight well constructed plot that characterizes Puccini’s mature work. It’s a pulp fiction version of Wagner’s Tannhäuser. The opera, originally in four acts, was unsuccessful and was revised several times. The last go at it was in 1905 in a three act version. Puccini then gave up on it. He wrote: It (Edgar) was an organism defective from the dramatic point of view. Its success was ephemeral. Although I knew that I wrote some pages which do me credit, that is not enough—as an opera it does not exist. The basis of an opera is the subject and its treatment. In setting the libretto of Edgar I have, with all respect to the memory of my friend Fontana (the librettist), made a blunder. It was more my fault than his. The only place you’re likely to hear a complete performance of the work is at the annual summer Puccini Festival at Torre del Lago. The weakness of the work notwithstanding anything by Puccini is of interest. Though the opera lacks dramatic cohesion it has several lovely tunes. Puccini’s melodic gift was so great that he was incapable of writing anything devoid of melodic interest as the two excerpts below will demonstrate. In Frank’s first act aria ‘Questo amor, vergogna mia‘ he expresses his shame over the passion he has for Tigrana. He rids himself of this guilty love before Edgar manages to purge himself of the same lust. Sensitively sung by Juan Pons it is the only lyrical set piece Puccini ever wrote for a baritone. There are dramatic and comical solos for this vocal type, but none like this one. The prelude to Act 3 contains an amalgam of some of the best tunes in the opera. Edgar is an opera by a genius who has yet to fit all the pieces together in a work for the lyric stage. He got it right with his next Opera Manon Lescaut which marked the start of an operatic career surpassed only by that of Verdi. Nevertheless, If I happened to be near a performance of Edgar that featured first-rate singers, I would go as imperfect as it is, it’s better than anything written in the 21st century.