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A friend said to me: "Your memories are not committed to one ot two singers and they cover an era which few if any of us know from other than recordings. The only way most of us can know how Ponselle compares with Milanov or Renee Fleming or how Martinelli or Gigli compares to Domingo or Pavarotti, is through the reminiscences of those who were there and heard them." This is the impetus that started me on this journey back into the past.
I started to listen to the Metropolitan Opera Saturday afternoon broadcasts around 1935. I cannot explain the why of what attracted me to this except that I had a desire to sing and here was the opportunity via radio to hear the greatest singers of the day. Every Saturday. I heard such singers as Flagstad and Melchior, Ponselle, Martinelli, Tibbett, Bonelli, Kipnis and a host of others. The first time I heard Bellini's Norma it was with Gina Cigna, Martinelli and Pinza. I heard Montemezzi conduct his L'Amore dei tre Re with Grace Moore, Charles Kullman, Bonelli and Pinza. It is a thrill to remember Ponselle in La Gioconda, Grace Moore in Louise and my first Otello with Martinelli and Elizabeth Rethberg. But these were all aural experiences.
1937 The Met came to Cleveland each year and the performances were given in the huge expanse of Cleveland's Public Auditorium. A local newspaper in March of 1937 ran a contest where readers were to identify a group of artists in costume. I had begun to compile a scrapbook from anywhere I could get pictures. I sent in my answers and won two tickets for the Friday night performance of Mignon with Gladys Swarthout, Richard Crooks, Josephine Antoine and Ezio Pinza. This was, for an 18-year-old college freshman, a highlight of my life. Mignon was a first opera experience never to be forgotten. When the Act I curtain came up the spectacle was fantastic. This was the first time I had been exposed to this end of show business. It was a long way from high-school plays and I was hooked on opera from then on. If ever it could be said that I revelled in the singing, this was it. Every aria and concerted scene was a treat, much better than the radio experience. Pinza as Lothario was outstanding and for me the thrill of hearing live the voices I had become familiar with through recordings was another thrill. Gladys Swarthout's creamy mezzo and her sympathetic portrayal of the waif, Mignon, were rewarding in the pleasure it evoked. I had heard Crooks and Bori sing Manon shortly before and his ringing tenor filled the hall with ease. All this moved me to stop at the box office and get a ticket for the next afternoon's performance of Carmen with Rosa Ponselle. This didn't cause me any financial problem because the ticket for the balcony seat was only $1.00 (That's right $1.00).
Believe me, That was the best buck I ever spent. I was comfortably in my seat when the curtain went up and soon after that the cigarette girls came out of the factory and with them Rosa Ponselle. Her costume was not as ragged as the others (it was designed by the couturier Valentina) but how she sang. From that first moment I was in love with Carmen. I had eyes for her only and literally hung on every note as if it came from the throat of a goddess, If I had thought Swarthout's voice was creamy this was pure gold. I know that the critics who were much more musically knowledgeable than I didn't like her Carmen, but I thought that no one else would ever sing it as well. I cannot really describe the voice but it was the same sound that can be heard on the "Ernani involami" recording, plus. For a long time I didn't remember how the tenor or baritone sounded (Rene Maison and Julius Huehn) but years later a friend gave me a copy of the recording from the Eddie Smith files, and it recalled the whole of that performance. I found out that the tenor and baritone were more than adequate - they were very good. It was one of the very few times that Julius Huehn sang outside the Wagner roles at the Met.
Those two nights were my introduction to the Grand World of Opera . It was only later that the newspapers printed the fact that the April 17, 1937 performance was the last that Ponselle would sing with the company. My recording had been played many times and is usually the Carmen of preference even though I have several recordings that purport to be "the best" recording of the Opera. I wrote in my program "What an introduction to Carmen. Ponselle was superb"
1938 A season of radio broadcasts had included the inevitable Aida and my first hearing of Romeo and Juliette with my new love Bidú Sayão. Her Romeo was Richard Crooks. To forestall critics, this Romeo was on Dec. 25, 1937, but it was in the '38-'39 season. It seemed as if each season brought new first performances to me. In April the Met again came to Cleveland and opened with La Traviata with Jepson, Nino Martini and one of my favorite baritones of all time, John Charles Thomas, as Germont pere. This one I could sit back and enjoy because I had practically memorized the libretto from listening to the recording of the opera. I could really enjoy the "live" singing experience. Jepson and Martini proved to me worthy in the roles of Violetta and Alfredo My biggest thrill this evening was when the best looking Germont I've ever seen came on stage and began the long duet scene with Violetta. This was a voice that deserved the term luscious and creamy for its sound and the music held no problem for this fine singer. It is too bad that the complete opera was not recorded with him as the Germont. This was one of the most enjoyable performances of Traviata that I have seen over the years.
On Thursday evening, I had my ticket for Rigoletto. The Duke was to be Jan Kiepura , whom the paper had named "The Polish Caruso", Carlo Tagliabue was Rigoletto and a debutante named Amri Galli-Campi was to be the Gilda, Norman Cordon was Sparafucile. The soprano had a voice so small I don't think it was heard beyond the tenth row. This was the first and only role she ever sang with the company.
She was worse than the legendary Marian Talley who at least lasted for a few seasons at the Met. Howeevr the rest of the cast was excellent. Kiepura lived up to his name and after the "addio" preceding the "Caro nome" the audience went berserk as he ran off the stage with his ringing high-C still echoing in the hall. So he came running back out to the front of the stage and lifted his arms in the traditional fighters hand-clasp above his head while the audience roared its approval. I doubt if the management felt the same.
But for me the real star of the evening was Tagliabue. A very short person naturally, he was made shorter and gnome-like with the costume and the huge hump on his back . Having heard him on records I expected a more normal-sized person for the voice was huge. For the role however, he was perfect. In fact, of the many Rigolettos I've seen, he is the only one who really looked the part 100 percent. Thank God he had the voice to go with it. His scene with the courtiers was so well sung and acted that I was reminded of the recorded scene by Giuseppe de Luca. The music held no terror for him. Kiepura drew much deserved applause for his "Parmi veder" and "La donna é mobile" and at the end got a well deserved standing ovation. Of course, his good looks and stalwart figure didn't hurt any. This week in one of the local theaters the motion picture: "The Charm of La Boheme" was being shown starring Jan Kiepura and Marta Eggerth who soon became his wife. This didn't hurt either. Kiepura also sang Rodolfo to Grace Moore's Mimi on Saturday afternoon.
On Saturday night three of us from school became slaves in the Grand Finale to Act II of Aida. I had never been back stage before and the number of people in action off stgae was astounding. I stood in the wings watch out as Elizabeth Rethberg sang "Ritorna vincitor" and Pinza, as the High Priest, came up with his assistant priests to go on stage for the Temple scene. I stood right next to him and it was truly an experience. Even through his heavy make-up, the Pinza features were all in place. For a college kid this was as good as it got. For a few minutes I felt a real part of the Company. Thank goodness the Finale to Act II was not marred by any of the "college" slaves or soldiers. All went well. The opportunity to stand near Amonasro (Richard Bonelli) was savored indeed. I always had a soft spot for Bonelli ever after. I never realized the size of his voice until I stood near him on that stage. I listen now to his recordings with a great deal of pleasure and respect as I recall that sound in my mind. It is always nice to recall that at one time I was on-stage with the Metropolitan Opera Company.
1939 The Met tour came again to Cleveland and opening night March 27 was Otello. By this time I had decided that Otello was by far my favorite opera and I had gone to great length te learn as much about it as I could. I had gotten the two volumes of records and knew every twist and turn of the score. Opening night was a glittery affair as might be expected for an opera premiere. Giovanni Martinelli was Otello, Helen Jepson was Desdemona and John Brownlee replaced an indisposed Lawrence Tibbett. John Brownleee turned out to be the star of the evening. His thrilling and properly sinister rendition of the role of Iago was more than adequate. He was matched in intensity by the heroic effort of the veteran Giovanni Martinelli . Their duet in the second Act was proof that Martinelli was able to handle the dificult vocal score. Helen Jepson sang beautifully and her arias in the last act were poignant, angelic in tone and moving. Her voice was silken in texture, dramatic in the duets with Otello. Her portrayal of Desdemona was dignified and noble and despairing at her treatment by Otello. I could not have been more pleased and thrilled by this opera. Later I learned that Brownlee was put into the part so suddenly that while he knew the role of Iago, it was not in Italian but French and he managed the arias and duets in Italian but the rest of the role was sung in French. They also had to send a rush order to New York to send Scotti's costumes for him to wear because he was much smaller than Tibbett.
The other opera I saw that week was Lucia di Lammermoor with Lina Aimaro as Lucia (replacing an ailing Lily Pons), Giovanni Martinelli (with a black hair wig), Ezio Pinza as Raimondo and John Brownlee as Enrico Ashton. Suffice it say that Lina Aimaro was not up to the requirements of the vocal part. She tried and the audience applauded her effort but she was not Lily Pons. The famous sextette was applauded and emphatically approved by the audience almost to the point of demanding an encore. Martinelli's steely voice sang the part of Edgardo with great virtuosity. Pinza's Raimondo was sung with all the skill and vocal ease that he always had. I owned the great recording of the final scene with Gigli and Pinza and looked forward to hearing this for the first time "live". I was not disappointed. There have been few basses since that had the vocal charisma that came with ease to Ezio Pinza.
1940 On the evening of February 28, 1939, a friend and myself attended a concert in Severence Hall by the Cleveland Jewish Singing Society. The guest artist was Alexander Kipnis. My friend and I had been Kipnis fans from listening to his recordings and just had to hear him in person. Kipnis sang five operatic arias in the first half of the concert and after the intermission sang a group of five Jewish and Russian folksongs. The staid audience must heve thought that there were a couple of "crazies" in the balcony when we shouted out "Bravos" and stood and applauded Kipnis in his three appearences. However when the concert was over we went backstage to see if we might possibly get his autograph. When we got to the dressing room, no one was there except Kipnis sitting in a chair all alone. We introduced ourselves, got our autograph and also an invitation to leave with him and walk to his hotel which was about two blocks away. This we did and sat with him in the lobby for about twenty minutes talking with the most gentlemanly person in the art world I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. It was astonishing that a singer of his stature would take a few moments relaxing with a couple of college kids who literally were "adoring fans". Before he left he said that he was returning to Cleveland with the Met on tour and that he would be pleased to meet us again at that time.
Sure enough In the first week of April the Met returned and Kipnis was on the roster to sing the King in Tannhäuser and Marke in Tristan. One of the first things I did was to call the hotel where the artists stayed and called his room. The phone was answered by the man himself and the conversation resulted in arranging to visit him the next day. I brought a few records with me to ask him to autograph then. Now, as I think back, only a brash college kid would have been so presumptuous. I knocked on the door and it was opened by Mr. Kipnis himself. We had a nice visit and he did autograph the records I brought with me. As I said I never met a more gracious person. I also got an invitation to visit backstage with him while he prepared for King Marke in Tristan on Thursday evening.
But before that could occur, La Boheme was on for Wednesday with Licia Albanese, Charles Kullman and (the reason I came that night) Giuseppe de Luca siging Marcello. The bohemian quartet, Pinza, Kullman, Chehanovsky and de Luca would be hard to surpass in any age. I was familiar with the de Luca voice from recordings and the thrill to hear that same smooth sound from the stage was indescribable. His Marcello became the model for all others in future years. What can one say about the congenial matching of all the characters with the sweet, frail voice of Licia Albanese present in each act. I'm sure there were many wet eyes when Act IV was over. In the intervening years I grew to love this fine soprano in the many roles she portrayed on Saturday afternoons and on recordings. With the chance to see and hear Giuseppe de Luca in person, I went away a pretty satisified opera fan. And could hardly wait for the Friday night Tristan.
I don't recall just how I got through the stage door security but I must have been convincing because I was pointed in the direction of the artists' rooms of the far side of the stage. I had to cross this "vast" expanse with stage hands and others on the stage. There was Rose Bampton talking with a couple of other people and I suppose I looked way out of place. Eventually I came to what appeared to be an oversized closet where Alexander Kipnis sat before a mirrored table and was in the process of adjusting the King Marke beard. There was no room to sit and talk so I just stood inside the doorway. My back was toward the corridor and behind me a big voice called in something, for all I remember it may have been in German. Kipnis turned and said "Meet my young friend here". I turned around and there was a huge person, I recognized him at once as Lauritz Melchior, who shook my hand with one that was like a ham alongside my puny fingers, said "Hello" in English and strode off - I assumed to his own dressing room. I was about two feet off the floor, to have been in the presence of two of the great ones. As the opera start was imminent, I hurried down to find my seat. It seemed that I had walked almost a quarter mile to get there.
I have to tell you that Tristan at this point in time, was not my favorite opera. I usually either didn't listen to it or only part before I turned it off. This Wagner opera was a dull thud in the world of opera. Give me a performance of Traviata or Boheme any day but Tristan, no way. I was resolved that I could sit through this one because I had to wait until the end of the second act to hear King Marke. Now whatever happened I cannot explain because from the opening prelude, I was completely mesmerized. Flagstad and Melchior were splendid in the first Act. There was a minimum of action but both singers just stood there on that huge stage and sang like I had never heard them sing before.
If I thought that the first Act was good, and it must have been as the time went by totally unnoticed and it must have been over an hour, the second Act surpassed the first. The music and the singing were superb. Suddenly, there was Kipnis on stage as King Mark with his retinue and Melot. The voice I knew so well began the monologue with a sadness in in that is hard to describe. To hear this magnificent bass voice sounding a notably eloquent, sympathetic speech concluded a most satisfying Act II. My dislike for Tristan had in two acts turned to instant love for every note. At that moment I would have voted for it as my favorite opera. This was the closest I have ever come to such a change in my musical taste.
Act III just added to this unique and thrilling experience. I do not know if you can imagine hearing this work for the first time and with perfect casting. Whatever limitations there were in Melchior's singing it wasn't apparent in his ability to build, step by step, this monumental vocalism and carry it to its conclusion without the slightest hint of the fatigue that must surely accompany such a feat. I was totally immersed in his sinking lower and lower until he died in the arms of Isolde.
To me at that moment, the conductor, Erich Leinsdorf, was transported on the voices of the singers to deliver an orchestral accompaniment that was their equal. The orchestra played a notable part in the unity and cohesiveness of the performance. (This is me in 1999 remembering an experience that was unforgettable and is strong in memory even until today. I surely could not have expressed myself in these terms at the time.) And to cap the entire performance there was Kirsten Flagstad singing as only she could, that great paean of love, the Liebestod. When the curtain came down there was an outburst of applause that was truly merited. I was drained and this evening was the moment when I truly became an opera lover. It was only a few years ago that I was able to obtain a copy of the Metropolitan Opera Historic Broadcast of 2/8/41 with almost the same cast.
There was an interesting meeting afterwards. My buddy and I were walking back to where we had parked his car and I heard someone walking behind us. I turned around and it was Leonard Warren. I recognized him at once and spoke to him. He joined us and asked us how we liked the performance. As we talked he said that he had gone to the performance particularly to see and hear Alexander Kipnis because he had a great admiration for his fellow artist. After that my Warren admiration grew by leaps and bounds. I never missed the opportunity to hear him in opera.
I followed Tristan by attending the Saturday evening performance of La Gioconda. This was prompted by our little conversation with Leonard Warren the night before. Warren was singing Barnaba with Zinka Milanov, Bruna Castagna, and Ezio Pinza in the cast. Gladys Swarthout and Giovanni Martinelli made up the rest. This was truly what today we would term a Golden Age of Opera cast. Each big moment in this opera from La Cieca's aria and the duet with Gioconda in Act I to the great duet "Enzo Grimaldo" and Barnaba's "O monumento" brought the audience to its feet at the curtain calls. Since I was seeing this opera for the first time, I was waiting for all the big arias and duets that I was familiar with from recordings, and I was not disappointed. Leonard Warren was as fine a Barnaba as I could ever imagine. He was malevolent to the extreme. His portrayal of Barnaba was at times like a fury unleashed. I had been waiting to hear Martinelli whom I considered on his last legs with the Met, but his "Cielo e mar" and his duets with both Barnaba and Laura were old time operatic vocalism. "Cielo e mar" was sung with a full voice that came close to stopping the show for an encore. I had never heard it sung so well. Milanov did not win any awards for her acting but she sang the heck out of Gioconda's part. Bruna Castagna must have been one of the most underrated contraltos if her time but tonight she was in unbeatable form. This was a real contralto voice with all the beauty that her Italian heritage could bring to it. Needless to say the Alvise of Ezio Pinza was voiced superbly. This splendid artist made this role outstanding by his acting, make-up and vocalism. All in all this was a most satisfying evening and a grand finish to the week. It was not a let-down after the Tristan of the night before. Warren's scream at the dead Gioconda "Ier tua madre..Io l'ho affogata!" I have strangled your Mother!" was a fitting end to this evening of love and mayhem.
1941 Monday night April 14 started the week with the now famous production of Mozart's Le Nozze di Figaro with Pinza, Rethberg, Sayao, Risë Stevens, John Brownlee and Salvatore Baccaloni. Ettore Panizza was the conductor. Having heard the broadcast and judging it to be a fine performance, I was eager to see this one "live". I was not disappointed. From the opening duet to the final apologies from the Count, there didn't seem to be a single thing out of place either visually or vocally. All the principals were in great voice and there was ample evidence that the Met was building an ensemble par excellence. John Brownlee and Ezio Pinza gave excellent acting as well as vocal performances. If there had ever been a better Susanna than Bidú Sayão, I never knew it for the first and only Susanna for me was the diminutive Sayão. Even the smaller parts were cast to perfection. Irra Pettina as Marcellina was particularly fine. Even at this point it is almost a redundancy the praise the vocalism and acting of Ezio Pinza in this part. His rendition of "Aprite po quel occhi" was a marvel that the audience noisily applauded.
Tuesday night brought Lily Pons, Raoul Jobin and Salvatore Baccaloni to the stage as The Daughter of the Regiment, Tonio and Sgt. Sulpice. This was a rollicking and amusing tale well sung and acted by the principals. I do not recall if Jobin sang Tonio's first act aria with the nine high "C's" but if he did, it really went unnoticed without the hype that preceded the Pavarotti performance in the late 60's. Lily Pons sang and acted the role with real virtuosity. It gave her a part which she could act as well as sing and she did both to the joy of the appreciative audience. At the end she waved the French flag and sang the Marseillaise to a standing ovation. Thank goodness the Pons sound is realistically recorded in the many records she made over the years. Lily Pons really stole my heart tonight.
Friday evening brought The Barber of Seville to Cleveland, The cast was outstanding: Figaro: John Brownlee; Count Almaviva: Tito Schipa; Dr. Bartolo: Salvatore Baccaloni; Rosina: Bidú Sayão; Don Basilio: Norman Cordon; Fiorello: Wilfred Engelman; Berta: Irra Pettina; Gennaro Papi conducting. Without a doubt this was the finest single performance I saw the Met bring to Cleveland. The Tristan was great for other reasons but this one had high comedy, great singing and acting and the one single performance that is etched in memory for the sound.
In the middle of the first Act, Tito Schipa took Figaro's guitar and, standing with Brownlee, sang the serenade to his own accompaniment. You could have heard a pin drop as the audience, 10,000 strong, was so quiet you could hear the guitar all over the hall and Schipa, with that delightful Schipa voice wooed the audience as well. It was a moment that I can never forget. The acting by-play between Cordon as Don Basilio and his diminutive counterpart, Schipa, in Act II was hilarious but not slapstick. Needless to say every artist was superb in their rendition of the characters. I noted in my program that Norman Cordon was excellent as Basilio and that his "La Calunnia" aria was done to a turn. Sayão sang Adam's Variations on a Mozart theme for the Lesson Scene. This earned her a standing ovation from the huge crowd.
1942 This was the last year I was able to see the Met in Cleveland because for the next four years I was in the Army. However as they did every year the Met Tour came April 6 - 11. I was only able to see two performances. The opening night Don Giovanni with Brownlee, Baccaloni, Bampton, Sayão, Novotna, Crooks and conducted by Bruno Walter. I had been fascinated with John Brownlee's Don ever since I had heard it via short wave radio from Glyndebourne on the BBC. It was dream of a performance. I could not find fault with anything. Rose Bampton scored a real triumph before a home-town audience. Her beautiful voice filled the hall and her acting fitted the part to a tee. Jarmila Novotna, whom I first saw in New York as Violetta, was an ideal Donna Elvira. Bidú Sayão was and always has been my ideal Zerlina. John Brownlee was up to all my expectations. His voice was ideal for the Don and a great match for the Leporello of Salvatore Baccaloni. Their duets "E via buffoni" and the scene in the cemetery "O statua gentilissimo" could not have been more successful. Elvira was a perfect part for the regal acting and voice of Novotna. And the whole thing was welded together by the firm hand of Bruno Walter who also played the piano for the recitatives. Richard Crooks was excellent in the part although he fell short in his rendition of the "Il mio tesoro". He could not manage the long Mozartean phrases although he was applauded well. His acting was very good and his voice rang out in the trios and sextette. In general, the whole cast was excellent. Baccaloni's Leporello was played for the more comic elements as was Mack Harrell's Masetto. However these are small quibbles in an otherwise fine performance. Curtain calls drew standing ovations.
The other performance I saw was La Traviata with Helen Jepson. Jan Peerce, John Charles Thomas and Thelma Votipka. This again was a Traviata that met all the requirements. The singers were in top form to the endless pleasure of an audience that filled only about three-quarters of the hall. John Charles Thomas again played his first class Germont Sr., and the Act II duet with Jepson was as good as it gets. I had seen Jepson and Peerce in this opera in New York a week after Peerce's debut with Tibbett as Germont. The growth of Jan Peerce in both acting and voice was apparent in this performance. All in all a grand evening at the opera. I always got a thrill out of hearing in person the voices that I had become familiar with via recordings.
1946 The next few years were opera-less and when the Met came on tour in 1946 I was only able to see one performance, Romeo and Juliet with the substitute cast of Raoul Jobin and Patrice Munsel. The broadcast in February had starred Björling and Sayão as the star-crossed lovers. Jobin and Munsel were not the same but did a very credible performance. I cannot fault their efforts but they were not Björling and Sayão. Outstanding was the Friar Laurent of Ezio Pinza. The wedding scene was very moving as was the scene in the Tomb. This was the first time I had seen this opera and I managed to keep the images in my mind for a long time. It is too bad that the vocal performances were not so impressionable. The audience response was exceptional, so what do I know?
The following years brought only sporadic opera evenings because of living out of town and growing family needs. However there were a few memorable ones On Saturday evening April 26, 1958 the opera was Otello with Mario del Monaco, Zinka Milanov and Leonard Warren. If ever there was a performance of this opera for the ages this was it. I have never before or since seen a perfomance that had the drive and passion as did this one. All the artists gave stellar performances. Vocally it was superb. For me, the Otello of my lifetime was Mario del Monaco. He was Otello personified. He followed the downfall of Otello to perfection and the final death scene was a triumph. Matching him note for note was Zinka Milanov. This must have been the performance of her life. Near the end of her career at the Met, she was without a peer tonight and Leonard Warren surpassed all other Iagos in my memory. That night he was the most evil personage that ever walked the stage. That big Warren baritone resounded to the far reaches of the hall. And at the end of the opera, hundreds of the audience rushed to the orchestra pit and cheered these singers for their tremendous effort. I had never seen this done in all the years before. Of course I was one of these "crazy" opera lovers. Verdi would have been proud of the Otello the Met presented that night. It is one of three or four performance that I saw that could be classed as perfect in the sense that they were done as the opera was intended to be sung and acted.
On April 25, 1964, I saw a very fine La Boheme with Franco Corelli as Rodolfo and Renata Tebaldi as Mimi. This was a voices come first opera. What an evening vocally! Corelli and Tebaldi sang marvelously well and gave great pleasure right up to the very end.
I have to mention one final performance for this "history".
On May 1, 1965 I attended a performance of Der Fliegende Holländer with George London, Leonie Rysanek, Arturo Sergi and George Shirley; Joseph Rosenstock conducted. This evening was a true landmark in all these performances. George London and Leonie Rysanek sang as if this was the last performance they would ever sing. Everything that has ever been said of George London, singing or acting, was surpassed this evening and matching him note for note was Leonie Rysanek. I, and all the others in the audience were literally spellbound by the intensity of this performance. If ever a performance could be called electrifying this was it. At the end of the third Act, literally hundreds ran to the front to stomp and cheer this cast which had done such a truly great performance. This was the first and only time I ever saw George London and Leonie Rysanek in performance and they left in my mind a totally unforgettable evening. If this sounds a little exuberant after 34 years, it is. I can still hear Leonie as Senta sing the ballad that opens the second Act, the "Wie aus der Ferne" duet and the finale of the opera . It had made all other performances seem secondary even though there have been some good ones. It is performances like this that make one wish for a recording to capture the spell of such an evening.
I hope that some of my magnificent pleasure from the Met on Tour can be discerned. I realize that I have not described voices and how they sounded in the hall. I was not at the time more than a past student of voice and as a listener I reveled in the sound that these fine singers produced. How they did this will have to remain their secret and we still have to rely on their recordings which, fortunately, bring their legacy to our ears every time we play one of their records. From long listening I can say that their recordings faithfully bring them back to life and keep their memory alive and well.
By Bill Scharf - b_scharf@yahoo.com
Mail me at operas@mrichter.com
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