For Rosenkavalier

From the moment I knew it existed I have loved it more than all the others.  I can see vividly in my mind’s eye standing before the student ushering sign-up sheet for the San Francisco Opera and having no idea what to see.  My fellow students said “Der Rosenkavalier.”  As one.  I also remember vividly sitting in the aisle on the right side of the balcony circle, feeling like a voyeur as Elisabeth Schwarzkopf and Kirsten Meier sang their love scene on the bed.

I remember holding the program under the lights that shine onto the stairs.  WTF.  I didn’t swear in those days.  It seemed more real than any theatrical performance I had ever seen.  The Schwarzkopf loomed large over this role.  I was hooked.

Es gibt ein Reich

Elizabeth Schwarzkopf singing "Es gibt ein Reich" is back:

Controversy

Controversy is the mother’s milk of opera. The most famous controversy of the twentieth-century was the Callas vs Tebaldi rivalry. Maria Callas, probably the most exciting opera singer ever recorded, was wildly famous but extremely controversial, for her harsh upper register and occasional wobble. There were always people who preferred the beautiful voice and fabulous technique of Renata Tebaldi and said so loudly and often. But today the contest is decided: Maria’s recordings still sell very well while the far more bland Tebaldi generates much less interest.

I have liked a lot of controversial singers. My first great love was Elisabeth Schwarzkopf. I saw her sing the Marschallin when I had never heard of her. I realized at once that I was seeing something extraordinary, something far beyond anything I had seen to that time. What was the controversy? She covered her tone and pinched off the sound, problems which increased as she got older. She sought and for my ears achieved a level of expression far beyond the reach of the average singer.

I didn’t follow her everywhere she led. In her film autobiography she often chose to show herself singing cute folksongs. I don’t share her taste for these. I loved her Hugo Wolf Goethe Lieder album, honored her Strauss and Mozart where this uniquely German singer completely transcended the German taste for cute. She found the essence, and emphasized a narrow repertoire of exquisite performances. If you loved Renata Tebaldi, you probably wouldn’t like her.

Beverly Sills was always the center of a raging controversy which pitted her against Roberta Peters. They faced off against each other across the patio at Lincoln Center—Beverly at City Opera and Roberta at the Met. Sills possessed a passionate soul and a light, fragile, and almost soubrette like voice, while Peters was vocal and technical perfection, unexciting, maybe even bland perfection.

I have loved Kathleen Battle, controversial for her character rather than for her singing. She seems to hate the public. I read somewhere that she had set up a contest where the prize was that the winner got to meet her. Do I care? I was in a performance with Kathleen Battle when the San Francisco Symphony presented Brahms’ German Requiem, conducted by Robert Shaw. It was beyond wonderful, not least because of Ms Battle’s divine “Wir hab’ nun traurigkeit.” I was backstage with her and never thought of trying to meet her.

It is generally music that makes a singer interesting to me. Kathleen has a rare gift for musical phrasing which she acquired in black churches, the usual source for American singers of all kinds. The film biography with Winton Marsallis shows her singing in her home church. She has the chops.

I only ever wanted to meet Cecilia Bartoli, a very controversial singer. Her voice is not very large, and her technique is odd. Her technique was entirely invented by her very brilliant and creative and completely untrained mother. Her technique has changed enormously over the years so that her tessitura is now quite high, possibly too high, and she looks gorgeous, but she still hasn’t achieved what one would call a true legato, breaking the phrase unexpectedly at times. She addresses this issue by emphasizing less legato repertoire.

Cecilia is the most musically creative singer I have ever heard. I went completely mad over her Rossini Heroines album, and like a lot of other people, wish that is the path she had followed. We respect her and admire her choices, but pine away for Semiramide. I love her, but have given up wanting to meet her.

Which brings us to the latest of my controversial singers: Anna Netrebko. For me there is no controversy, but all around me I hear people complaining that they don’t like the sound of her voice. One friend says he doesn’t like anything about her. This is a shame. I have to say I adore the sound of her voice, and realize that it comes partly from god and partly from her characteristically Russian vocal technique. She is optimized for this sound. She is not optimized for coloratura and doesn’t really have a very good trill. Do I sit there thinking, “if only she would trill right there?” Not very likely! She leaves out the trills and the really high notes, so why listen to her at all? Name a singer, any singer, who can bring so much to a theatrical performance. She has beauty, both visual and aural; she has true emotion; she brings excitement to the opera stage as frankly no one else today.

My own feeling is that when a performer is putting it out, you should make an effort to take it in. Would my life be fuller if I refused to tolerate Maria’s wobble, Leontyne’s bad acting, Elisabeth’s narrow tone, Kathleen’s bitchiness, Beverly’s fragility, Cecilia’s chirps or Anna’s growl? You keep the bland ones, and I’ll go with the excitement.

Elisabeth Schwarzkopf (9 December 1915 – 3 August 2006)

I hardly know what to say now that Elisabeth Schwarzkopf has died. She was for me simply the personification of opera, the person who brought me to it and taught me that in art the deepest emotions come from opera.

Two of her recordings made the Gramophone 100 all time greatest recordings list: Strauss "Four Last Songs" and Der Rosenkavalier. I have written about her often, but this is probably the best.

So how does Elisabeth stack up?

So how does Elisabeth stack up? I have put on my player:

Leontyne Price sings Mozart (recorded 1965-77) various.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Leontyne Price, but the sheer size of her voice leaves one with the feeling of struggle. Elisabeth is right: she stays in the style of Mozart and does not wander off into Verdi or Puccini, but she is struggling to get the large ship of her voice into the tiny bottle of Mozart style. Her “Ch’io mi scordi di te,” K. 505, is the most operatic of the group and the best performance for Leontyne. It gives scope to the enormous size of all her interpretations.

Kiri Te Kanawa Mozart Arias (recorded 1981-93) Gyorgy Fischer.

The sense of struggle stops when we come to Kiri, a singer who is just right for Mozart, both vocally and musically. Kiri is food and drink. She doesn’t sing “Ch’io mi scordi di te,” K. 505.

Elisabeth Schwarzkopf Mozart Opera Arias (recorded 1946-52) von Karajan, Krips, Pritchard, Braithwaite.

I have always enjoyed Elisabeth’s Mozart. This recording is very early in her post war career. Her “Martern aller Arten” is especially impressive, and her performances of the Countess Almaviva’s arias are considered definitive.

Mozart Lieder, Koncertarien Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, Walter Gieseking etc. (recorded 1955-1968).

Her “Ch’io mi scordi di te,” K. 505, is from 1968. At 52 she had already learned to cover her tone, but it’s still recognizably her. She answers the question, “If Elisabeth Schwarzkopf were a mezzo, what would she sound like?” She can still skip through the fast notes, and she still has the best glissando going, graceful and beautiful. She knows how, and she knows when.

Kathleen Battle Mozart Arias (recorded 1986) Andre Previn.

Kathleen Battle is the most personal interpreter of Mozart of this bunch. She is the most herself, the most poetic and ethereal. I miss her. Her “Ch’io mi scordi di te” is a different aria, one with a violin obbligato instead of the piano in K.505.

Cecilia Bartoli Mozart Arias (recorded 1991) Gyorgy Fischer.

Cecilia was 25 when she recorded this album. At that age she was mature and less idiosyncratic than she became later. I think this is the Cecilia Bartoli I prefer. Her “Ch’io mi scordi di te,” K. 505, is gorgeous, just the right amount of light and heavy.

The star of all these albums is Mozart. “Ch’io mi scordi di te,” K. 505, is called the greatest of all concert arias. They kicked out Renée Fleming in Vienna because she said she couldn’t sing it, and they wouldn’t do without. Listening to these singers perform it, it shines brighter with repetition. Why is it that one never tires of Mozart? We need all of these singers and more to fill our Mozart requirement.

I would have to investigate further to see if Elisabeth sets the style for those who came later. Perhaps she shines more backward than forward.

Footnote. Many of these recordings are now hard to find. I'm showing the ones I could find.
Footnote 2. 2012 I found a lot more than before.
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Elisabeth

The July issue of Opera News is devoted to Mozart, and Charles Scribner III has made the pilgrimage to Switzerland to interview the 90 year old Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, one of the twentieth century's greatest interpreters of the divine Mozart.

She is especially lavish in her praise of Leontyne Price's work, especially her Donna Anna. I vaguely recall seeing this on television in the days long ago when opera was broadcast live.

She says some interesting things. "Why do you want to write about music when you can make it?" Indeed. I often wonder about this myself, but since my voice is kaput and I can't really play the piano, all that's left is conducting and voice teaching, two of the many subjects I studied at Indiana.

She also says, "Everything you need to know about living life is in Der Rosenkavalier." Halten und nehmen, halten und lassen.

Two Schools of Thought

I am searching for an understanding, and this is what I have concluded: there are two schools of thought about what opera should be. One is religiously maintained by the Metropolitan Opera and I have to assume other companies, but I imagine none so much as the Met. In this school we set standards and we maintain them. We never do silly productions no matter how provoked. In this rule they may be the only ones maintaining it. Voices must be of the best quality. Their arms would open wide for Leontyne Price, a singer with a large beautiful voice, wonderful technique and phrasing, but not one single clue about acting. They would adore Roberta Peters with her strong voice and fabulous technique while snubbing the far more interesting Beverly Sills. Vocal and technical quality are their criteria. These are not inherently bad criteria, but there are other possible approaches. 

The other perspective is the one that says opera is show business, that what is wanted is interesting all-around performances, fascinating theater. This is the perspective of most of the rest of the opera world. I'm starting to sound like an apologist for Lotfi Mansouri. Kurt Herbert Adler kept his feet firmly in both camps, searching for the best of both worlds. 

My idols are Elisabeth Schwarzkopf and Cecilia Bartoli, so you should not have to puzzle long over which side of the argument I am on. There are many paths to art. To those with the great voice and technique I say that you should not consider your work done. Continue to seek the complete performance. Continue to seek the greater truth behind each role. To the lesser talents I say not to abandon hope, but you will have to invent yourself with a lot more creativity than the natural talents. Cecilia is going to be 40 soon, and still she has only sung three times at the Met and those in performances of roles not her standard repertoire. They wanted her for her fame but do not believe that she meets their standards. They snubbed Elisabeth in the same way. In 1962 she was 46, and still it was two years before she made her Met debut. Beverly Sills is the third person to be treated in this way, but she was only just across the patio at City Opera.

Elisabeth Schwarzkopf

Spelled with an S, apparently. She is 90 now and living in Zurich. She was a Nazi, perhaps even an enthusiastic one, but all is forgiven. She sang perhaps a half dozen roles, and in spite of this is one of the immortals. I was surprised to see in the annals of the San Francisco Opera that she sang the Marschallin in at least three different seasons there. They weren't afraid to repeat a success. Adler brought her to San Francisco long before the Met. She was one of his great achievements.

Shopping

I can't think when I have had a more successful trip to a record store than yesterday. I like all of it very much, including:

Rosa Ponselle arias and songs. The digital remastering of old 78's is really good now. It is fascinating to hear her "Casta Diva." We lose awareness of the icons in our past, but this version does not know of Maria Callas, and rushes forward where Maria would have held back, achieves an equally interesting but completely different interpretion. No contemporary singer would think of doing anything this different.

Ewa Podleś. Ach! A true contralto, that rarest of all voices. The recording is just called "Ewa Podleś, Garrick Ohlsson, Live." You have to hear this to believe it, especially the Mussorgsky "Songs and Dances of Death," done in Russian. Ewa is Polish, and the recording was made in Poland. If you haven't heard her, I guarantee you have never heard anything like the sound of her voice. Her style is also quite interesting, somewhat rough, like her voice.

Dawn Upshaw singing Ayre, a song cycle with a sound that isn't at all like classical music. Klesmer is what I would have called it. It is ethnic in language and style, and Dawn Upshaw achieves this. I have read on the internet people complaining about Dawn Upshaw, wondering why she is there when others have more beautiful voices. There are two things: voice and style. There is nothing wrong with her voice, but that isn't why she's here. Apparently nothing is too hard for her. She achieved cult status with her performance of Gorecki's Third symphony, a musically awesome performance. She was unbelievable in L'Amour de loin, a work with virtually no toe holds, no musical landmarks to orient yourself to, nothing but the ever flowing ocean below you. Everything turns to music in her hands.

Gramophone Issue 1000. Their list of the 100 greatest recordings of all time includes a few of my favorites, including the Bjoerling and de los Angeles La Boheme I recommended everyone should buy. Elisabeth Schwarzkopf is in the list for Der Rosenkavalier and the Four Last Songs of Strauss. These choices are called controversial. The author says yes, I know this is controversial, but I still like it. It isn't told why they are controversial. Somebody somewhere doesn't like Schwarzkopf. I wouldn't doubt that you could find fuller voices to sing these notes, but she is the point of departure, the standard for performance of these works for her grace, for her emotional presence in the moment.

The list hasn't nearly enough opera, contains nothing by Bellini or Donizetti. I grew up on De Los Angeles' "Les Nuits d'Été" and not Regine Crespin's. I have always preferred Janet Baker's Das Lied von der Erde and not the more historical version by Bruno Walter, considered the definitive interpreter of Mahler. If you learn to love a particular recording, you are not likely ever to change.

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Die Zeit

Die ist ein sonderbar Ding.

There has never been a video of the incredible Rosenkavalier of Kiri te Kanawa, Tatiana Troyanos, Kurt Moll, Judith Blegen, and of course Luciano Pavarotti, but I have copies of both broadcasts.

My first Rosenkavalier starred Elisabeth Schwarzkopf. I was a student at San Francisco State and got in as an usher in the balcony. All the seats were full of people and I sat in the aisle on the right side of the balcony circle. The other students said, "Be sure to see this!" I had never heard of her. I told you I was a philistine. At that time I had been in more operas than I had seen.

This was before supertitles. She was electric, exciting and absolutely real. I have been ever since fanatically mad for Rosenkavalier and never get enough of it. I sing along with the Marschallin and used to have the motto "halten und nehmen, halten und lassen" written on my board at work. She is right--it is something to strive for, to grasp love when it comes and let it go when it leaves.

Renée Fleming and Susan Graham did an excellent Marschallin and Octavian together with quite a lot of personal rapport.

Wie eine Sanduhr.

I suppose in this era of supertitles I should translate. " Time, it is an extraordinary thing. Like an hourglass." In your mind you should sing along.

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