More Caballé: as Lauretta, Luisa, Violetta, Lucia, and Elisabeth

Montserrat Caballé (1933-2018) as Violetta

by Ken

A couple of weeks ago we began taking note of the passing of Montserrat Caballé, and we began by perusing the Sunday Classics archives, which not that surprisingly held a fair amount of Caballé. So we started by hearing both arias from Caballé's extraordinary performance of Fiordiligi in Colin Davis's Philips recording of Mozart's Così fan tutte, followed by two of Richard Strauss's Four Last Songs and two recordings of "Casta diva" from Bellini's Norma.

There's still a lot to explore, both from the existing Sunday Classics archives and from newly added material. I thought we'd start today with this recording of that most beloved of soprano arias, "O mio babbino caro" from Puccini's delicious one-act opera Gianni Schicchi, which we spent some time exploring back in July-August 2010.

PUCCINI: Gianni Schicchi: "O mio babbino caro"

O my dear little daddy,
I like him. He's lovely, he's lovely.
I want to go to the Porta Rossa
to buy a wedding ring!
Yes, yes, I want to go there!
And if I were to love him in vain,
I would go to the Ponte Vecchio,
but to throw myself in the Arno!
I'm pining and I'm tormented!
O God, I'd like to die!
Daddy, have pity, have pity!
Daddy, have pity, have pity!

Montserrat Caballé, soprano; London Symphony Orchestra, Charles Mackerras, cond. EMI, recorded c1969


CABALLÉ AS LUISA MILLER AND VIOLETTA VALÉRY

Yes, we have more Caballé, but mostly as a spur to reflecting on my (and others' too?) relationship to music (and other arts too?)

Last week we had to pause our threads-in-progress to note the passing of Montserrat Caballé -- we'll get back to that really soon



Clip 1

Montserrat Caballé, soprano

by Ken

As noted above, this week brings yet another digression -- a digression from our serial digressions, if you will -- in this case from last week's post, "Montserrat Caballé (1933-2018)." There's still a lot to ponder -- and listen to -- from Caballé's career, but a small yet provocative happening this week will get us into an area I've been wanting to get into. What I've done is to press Mme Caballé into service as this week's Special Guest Artist, in a role I don't think anybody especially thinks of when they think of her. Which means dipping almost blindly into her recording of the role, which I've never though much of. But what the heck? We can listen to it together, and see what we think. (In fact, I even acquired the CD edition to make the audio-file-making easier, not to mention of higher quality, since we don't have to do all those LP dubs.)


NOW TO THAT SMALL YET PROVOCATIVE HAPPENING

So I was sitting in the dentist's chair waiting to finish up a round of work (nothing terribly threatening or invasive, unless you count the question of how it's going to get paid for) and I realized some music was playing in my head, and it took me a few beats to identify it. What I was hearing was something like what we heard in Clip 1 above. Or sometimes maybe more like this:

Clip 1 alt

Victoria de los Angeles, soprano; and --

To be honest, this has happened to me in olden days, before the memory started being not what it once was. However, of late it happens more often, and more often than I would expect with music that I know I know gosh-darned well.

I kept restarting the music in my head, and trying to get it to start earlier and/or run farther, with the result that almost at the same time I realized (a) why I was having trouble identifying the original "clip" and (b) what it was, more or less. As regards (a), my brain backed the excerpt up to a more identifiable "pickup" point, so that the excerpt was now something like this:

Clip 2

Montserrat Caballé, soprano

Or, again, sometimes maybe more like this:

Clip 2 alt

Victoria de los Angeles, soprano; and --

At least mercifully, now I at least knew who it was who was singing. The character, I mean -- it wasn't a particular singer I was hearing.The only thing was, as my brain allowed the clip to run farther, and soon enough a second voice was entering (and then again sometimes wasn't, a puzzle that was also solved eventually), meaning that, while I was pretty sure I had the character right, what she was singing wasn't what I first thought it was.


SO NO, THE MUSIC WASN'T THIS --

Montserrat Caballé (1933-2018)

Montserrat Caballé (who died a week ago yesterday, at 85):
"All the vocal virtues are here in abundance, giving us the
special thrill of hearing this music sung by a voice
of this size, beauty, and range of color"

In pity's name, my dearest, forgive
the misdeed of a loving soul;
amid this shade and these plants
forever hidden, oh God, let it be.

Montserrat Caballé (s), Fiordiligi; Orchestra of the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, Colin Davis, cond. Philips, recorded c1973

by Ken

Above we've heard the beginning of Fiordiligi's Act II rondo from Così fan tutte, "Per pietà." And yes, this is the very beginning, following directly -- as we'll hear again shortly -- with no further orchestral introduction from a stretch of orchestrally accompanied recitative. We've listened to "Per pietà" more than once, and each time I've tried to convey in words how beautiful it seems to me, and undoubtedly failed each time. So let me just say now, I'm not saying that it's the most beautiful thing Mozart ever wrote, but then again I'm not saying it isn't. It could be. From which it follows automatically: Something that could be the most beautiful thing Mozart ever wrote is one of the most beautiful combinations of sounds ever imagined by the mind of humankind.

We heard this opening chunk of "Per pietà" in a December 2015 post, "Ariadne and Fiordiligi: Real people and feelings vs. ideas about people and feelings," in which we hacked the aria into a series of chunks and made our way through them, listening to the same two performances all the way. Both were from complete recordings of Così: Margaret Price's (with Otto Klemperer, for EMI) and Montserrat Caballé's (with Colin Davis, for Philips). Eventually we heard not just theirs but a number of other fine recordings of the full recitative and aria, but none -- to my ears -- as good as Price's and Caballé's. As I wrote at the time:

Margaret Price's Fiordiligi seems to me one of the great recordings of an operatic role, fulfilling this extraordinariliy demanding music with an equally extraordinary array of vocal resources, and singing it all with such melting beauty and depth of feeling. Note in particular the handling of all those vocal skips and leaps, like that octave-and-a-fifth drop in the opening of "Per pietà"; I've never heard anyone make them sound as humanly believable. At a certain point in her career Price sensibly retired this role to move on to other things, but while she sang it, she sang it supremely.

And I would say pretty much the same for Caballé's Fiordiligi. We were just discussing her in the context of Strauss's Four Last Songs, wondering at the beauty, mobility, and size of the voice, and also venting frustration about the careless way the voice was often used. She was an unexpected choice as Philips's Fiordiligi, and, as it turned out, a spectacular choice. All the vocal virtues are here in abundance, giving us the special thrill of hearing this music sung by a voice of this size, beauty, and range of color.

OK, THIS IS AN ODD WAY TO MEMORIALIZE A SINGER,
BUT LIFE WITH LA CABALLÉ WAS, UM, COMPLICATED

Yet another digression that will be explained (eventually): Revisiting Sir Malcolm Sargent

MIDNIGHT UPDATE: Okay, I think we're just about there. For anyone who's been following along as this post filled out from its original "preliminary version," thanks for your patience and persistence. -- Ed.

It all started when I couldn't resist a too-cheap-to-pass-up copy of this 18-CD EMI set devoted to "The Great Recordings" of Sir Malcolm Sargent (from which some of the music files we're hearing today are drawn).

by Ken

Yes, as it says above, another digression, following upon last week's "'Spurn not the nobly born': No, not the proper post planned for this week, but we do make a little progress, and we hear some really nice music." And yes, we're still enmeshed in Wagner's Die Meistersinger, going back to September 23's "Still on the trail of our two classic Operatic Bad Days, we pause to sniff an elder tree."

In fact over the past week I've gotten enmeshed-er, which is far from an unpleasant thing, except for the expanses of lower-male-voice growling and rasping and grinding one is expected to endure -- and indeed lots of apparent Wagner fans smile and nod, as if this is perfectly normal and acceptable. Yikes! Of course in other Wagner operas the problem becomes even more acute, especially in the higher vocal categories: the heroic soprano and tenor roles (Isolde and Brünnhilde; Tannhäuser, Tristan, Siegmund, and Siegfried).


SO HOW DID SIR MALCOLM SARGENT (1895-1967) OF ALL
PEOPLE BECOME THIS WEEK'S DESIGNATED DIVERSION?

"Spurn not the nobly born": No, not the proper post planned for this week, but we do make a little progress, and we hear some really nice music

"Spurn not the nobly born," exhorts Earl Tolloller to the no-way-no-how-interested-in-high-rank Phyllis (who has much else to say and sing on the subject); here they're John Elliott and Kate Holt, in a 2009 Iolanthe production by Woodley Players Theatre (Stockport, U.K.). You won't hear much in the video clip, but naturally we've got a slew of audio clips --

GILBERT and SULLIVAN: Iolanthe: Act I, Phyllis, "Nay, tempt me not, to wealth I'll not be bound" . . . Earl Tolloller, "Spurn not the nobly born"

PHYLLIS: Nay, tempt me not;
to wealth I'll not be bound.
In lowly cot
alone is virtue found.
CHORUS OF PEERS: No, no; indeed high rank will never hurt you,
the peerage is not destitute of virtue.
EARL TOLLOLLER: Spurn not the nobly born
with love affected,
nor treat with virtuous scorn
the well-connected.
High rank involves no shame --
we boast an equal claim
with him of humble name
to be respected!
Blue blood! Blue blood!
When virtuous love is sought,
the power is naught,
though dating from the flood,
blue blood!
Spare us the bitter pain
of stern denials,
nor with low-born disdain
augment our trials.
Hearts just as pure and fair
may beat in Belgrave Square
as in the lowly air
of Seven Dials!
Blue blood! Blue blood!
Of what avail art thou
to serve us now?
Though dating from the flood,
blue blood!
CHORUS OF PEERS: Of what avail art thou
to serve us now?
Though dating from the flood,
blue blood!

Elsie Morison (s), Phyllis; Alexander Young (t), Earl Tolloller; Glyndebourne Festival Chorus, Pro Arte Orchestra, Sir Malcolm Sargent, cond. EMI, recorded Oct. 21-24, 1958

Mary Sansom (s), Phyllis; Thomas Round (t), Earl Tolloller; D'Oyly Carte Opera Chorus, New Symphony Orchestra of London, Isidore Godfrey, cond. Decca, recorded September 1960

Elizabeth Woollett (s), Phyllis; Phillip Creasy (t), Earl Tolloller; D'Oyly Carte Opera Chorus and Orchestra, John Pryce-Jones, cond. Jay Productions-Sony, recorded June 28-July 2, 1991

by Ken

No, as noted above, we have no proper post this week -- it just got too hard, and too stressful, and even though I got most of the audio clips made and had a pretty good idea (I think) of where and how the real post was/is intended to go, I just couldn't do it. (And after all, to anybody but me what does it matter?) Still, I've rallied enough to cobble together a sort of coulda-shoulda post-substitute, drawing on some of those already-made audio clips, which we'll hear in the click-through, but also with some additional clips made to order.

In the later stages of the time spent so busily not producing a post, I found myself reflecting me that the plight facing the operatic character we'll be hearing from in the click-through of this non-post, society's unyielding prejudice against persons of rank and privilege, isn't unique on the musical stage, which is how we come to be hearing from the implacable Phyllis and the imploring Earl Tolloller and chiming-in fellow lords.


JUST WHAT MIGHT A PERSON OF RANK ENDURE TO
OVERCOME SOCIETY'S SCORN FOR THE PRIVILEGED?