We move on to No. 7 as we count our way through those "Top 10 [or 11] Orchestral Clarinet Solos" with (mostly) Stanley Drucker

STANLEY D. GOES TO THE OPERA --
AND HEREUPON HANGS OUR TALE
(with apologies for the crappy sound and crappier end-edit)


OR, TO HEAR IT IN CONTEXT --
(still in crappy sound, but at least without my unavoidably crappy edit)

Great Performers at Lincoln Center, Avery Fisher Hall, live, April 1983
[Note the audience's response when they hear Stanley D. launch "The Solo."]

And the stars were shining
and the earth was perfumed,
the garden gate creaked,
and footsteps grazed the path.
She entered, all fragrance,
she fell into my arms.
O sweet kisses, o languid caresses,
while I, trembling,
unloosed the veils, revealing her beauty!
Gone forever that dream of love --
the hour has fled,
and I die despairing, and I die despairing!
Yet never before have I loved life, loved life so much!

Luciano Pavarotti, tenor; with Stanley Drucker, clarinet; New York Philharmonic, Zubin Mehta, cond. Encore performance from a Pavarotti-Mehta "Gala Concert," telecast live from Avery Fisher Hall, Apr. 4, 1983 (with post-performance announcements by Martin Bookspan)
[Note: Farther along we're going to hear Luciano P. in good studio sound.]

by Ken

We're continuing our countdown through Charlotte (NC) Symphony Orchestra clarinetist Allan Rosenfeld's list of his "Top 10 Orchestral Clarinet Solos," in the company (mostly) of the New York Philharmonic's 61-season clarinetist, Stanley Drucker (1929-2022) -- first, from age 19, as assistant principal, then for an amazing 49 seasons as principal clarinet.

Last week (in "An orchestra principal's most visible job is playing orchestral solos written for his/her instrument. He-e-re's Stanley D.!") we made it all the way down from No. 10 (the end of "Pines of the Janiculum" from Respighi's Pines of Rome) to No. 8 (the opening of the Andante of the Brahms Third Symphony) -- oh, right, passing through No. 9 (from the "Andante cantabile non troppo" section of Tchaikovsky's Francesca da Rimini).

So here I was thinking that with two good pushes we could get through the whole list, even allowing ample excursion time to look in a larger way at the music represented, which, as I tried to explain, is one effect pondering Stanley D.'s enormous career has had on me. I mean, to have been that immersed in music -- mostly not of his own choosing -- all those decades while maintaining an insistence on bringing to each performance first-performance freshness: How awesome is that?


WOULDN'T YOU KNOW? RIGHT AWAY AT NO. 7 I GOT STUCK

"Sweet memories of our land fill him with strength and courage": Freni as Micaëla

Franco Corelli and Mirella Freni -- not as Don José and Micaëla, alas, but as
Gounod's Roméo and Juliette, at the Met in 1969 (photo by Louis Melancon)

MICAËLA: Your mother was leaving chapel with me,
and that's when, while kissing me --
"You'll go," she said to me, "to the city;
the route isn't long, once in Seville,
you'll search out my son, my José, my child.
And you'll tell him that his mother
dreams night and day about her absent one,
that she regrets and that she hopes,
that she forgives and that she waits.
All that -- right, sweetie? --
on my behalf you'll tell him;
and this kiss that I give you,
on my behalf you'll pass it on to him."
DON JOSÉ: A kiss from my mother?
MICAËLA: A kiss for her son.
DON JOSÉ: A kiss from my mother!
MICAËLA: A kiss for her son.
José, I pass it on to you, as I promised.
DON JOSÉ: My mother, I see her!
Yes, I see again my village!
O memories of other times!
Sweet memories of our land! etc.
MICAËLA [overlapping JOSÉ]: His mother, he sees her!
He sees again his village!
O memories of other times!
Memories of our land! etc.
BOTH: Memories of our land,
you fill his/my heart with strength and courage. etc.
DON JOSÉ [to himself]: Who knows of what demon
I was going to be the prey!
[Collected again] Even from afar my mother protects me,
and this kiss that she sends me,
[with élan] this kiss that she sends me
wards off danger and saves her son.
MICAËLA [like recitative -- animatedly]:
What demon? what danger?
I don't really understand. What does that mean?
DON JOSÉ: Nothing, nothing!
Let's speak of you, our messenger;
you're going to return to our land?
MICAËLA: Yes, this very evening . . .
tomorrow I'll see your mother.
DON JOSÉ: You'll see her! Well then, you'll tell her --
[with spirit that her son loves her and reveres her,
and that he repents today.
He wishes that back there his mother may be happy with him
All that -- right, sweetie? --
on my behalf you'll tell her,
and this kiss that I give you,
on my behalf you'll pass it on to her.
MICAËLA [simply]: Yes, I promise you . . .
on behalf of her son,
I will pass it on as I've promised.
DON JOSÉ: My mother, I see her!
Yes, I see again my village!
O memories of other times!
Sweet memories of our land! etc.
MICAËLA [overlapping JOSÉ]: His mother, he sees her!
He sees again his village!
O memories of other times!
Memories of our land! etc.
BOTH: Memories of our land,
you fill his/my heart with strength and courage, etc.

with Franco Corelli (t), Don José; Vienna Philharmonic, Herbert von Karajan, cond. RCA, recorded November 1963

with Jon Vickers (t), Don José; Orchestra of the Théâtre National de l'Opéra (Paris), Rafael Frühbeck de Burgos, cond. EMI, recorded July and September 1969
And finally, um, a 53-year-old Micaëla?

with Neil Shicoff (t), Don José; Orchestre National de France, Seiji Ozawa, cond. Philips, recorded July 13-22, 1988

by Ken

When last we convened, the immediate plan called for further consideration of three roles that (in addition to Nannetta in Verdi's Falstaff, which we've already considered as much as we're going to) figured importantly in the burgeoning international career of Mirella Freni: Micaëla in Bizet's Carmen, Adina in Donizetti's Elixir of Love, and inevitably her early-career signature role, Mimì in Puccini's La Bohème.

The most fun, certainly, would (or rather will) be Adina, because, while the role may not have figured all that prominently in her career, her assumption of it unleashed an opera-long explosion of sheer vocal joy. But I thought we needed to hold off on that, at least to consider Micaëla, because, as I noted last time, it's such an extraordinary thing to have a singer achieve international sizzle status off of what we normally think of as second-line (if not third-line) lyric-soprano roles like Nannetta and Micaëla. As I said before, other future stars have sung one or both of these roles on their way up, but I can't think of another soprano who was sprung to stardom by either.

Falstaff, to begin with, is such a resolutely ensemble piece that you wouldn't think Nannetta, so carefully threaded by Boito and Verdi through the opera's Merry Wives scenes, before being let loose in the magical final scene in Windsor Park as the Queen of the Fairies, the wives' secret weapon for the tormenting of Falstaff, could be that kind of attention-getter. My theory is that Nannetta embodies the most magical of the many strands of magic woven into the opera: the love and hope invested by the near-octogenarian Verdi in the children, Nannetta and Fenton.

Ostensibly Falstaff is "about" Sir John's grotesque attempt at wooing the Mistresses Ford and Page and the comeuppance delivered by these Merry Wives of Windsor. But in the end, it seems to me, the really important thing that happens is Alice Ford's triumphant thwarting of her husband's monstrous plan to marry their daughter off to the wildly inappropriate Dr. Cajus. There are a lot of reasons why I return so frequently to the 1963 RCA-Decca Falstaff recording conducted so wonderfully by Sir Georg Solti, but certainly one indelible attractions is the performances of Freni and Alfredo Kraus as Nannetta and Fenton.


NOW, AS FOR MICAËLA

On our way to focusing on Nedda's scenes with the two baritones of Leoncavallo's "Pagliacci"

Daniel Sutin as Tonio the clown in Austin, 2012

PROLOGUE (sung by the performance's Tonio) -- conclusion:
And you, rather than our poor
actors' costumes, consider
our souls, because we are people,
of flesh and bone, and since in this orphan
world, just like you, we breathe the air!

I've told you the concept.
Now hear how it worked out.
Let's go -- begin!

Leonard Warren (b), Tonio; RCA Victor Orchestra, Renato Cellini, cond. RCA-EMI, recorded January 1953

Giuseppe Taddei (b), Tonio; Orchestra of the Teatro alla Scala, Herbert von Karajan, cond. DG, recorded Sept.-Oct. 1965

by Ken

The recordings by leonard Warren and Giuseppe Taddei are the ones we heard in the September 2010 post "The Prologue to Leoncavallo's I Pagliacci entreats, 'Consider our souls' " when we broke the Prologue down into chunks, culminating in this one. We should probably note that the high notes -- on "al pari di voi" ("just like you") and "incominciate!" ("begin!") -- aren't Leoncavallo's, but the music sounds pretty flat without them, and I can't imagine he would complain about the effect that Leonard Warren in particular achieves with them.

I was tempted to repeat that Prologue breakdown here, but especially now that I've imported it that series of posts into the stand-alone "Sunday Classics" blog, it's readily available via click-through. But I don't want to venture into the opera again without hearing the whole of the Prologue, so let's do that.

THE COMPLETE PAGLIACCI PROLOGUE

Preview: Our "Vesti la giubba" recordings are identified, and the aria is put in context

Jussi Bjoerling sings the recitative and aria, with Howard Barlow conducting, from the Voice of Firestone telecast of Nov. 19, 1951.

by Ken

First, let's finish last night's unfinished business. Here again are our seven recordings of "Vesti la giubba," now properly identified. You'll notice that the singers are in alphabetical order.

LEONCAVALLO: I Pagliacci: Act I, " Recitar! Mentre preso dal delirio . . . Vesti la giubba"

[English translation by Peggie Cochrane]

Recitative
To have to act, whilst caught up in mad frenzy;
I no longer know what I'm saying nor what I'm doing.
And yet you must -- force yourself to try!
You're the comedian!
Aria
Put on your costume and make up your face.
The public pays and wants to laugh here.
And if Harlequin should steal your Columbine,
laugh, comedian, and everyone'll clap!
Turn your agony and tears to jest,
your sobs and sufferings to a grimace.
Ah! Laugh, comedian, over your ruined love.
Laugh at the pain that is poisoning your heart.

A

Jussi Bjoerling, tenor; RCA Victor Orchestra, Renato Cellini, cond. RCA/EMI, recorded January 1953
B

Franco Corelli, tenor; Metropolitan Opera Orchestra, Fausto Cleva, cond. Live performance, Apr. 11, 1964
C

Mario del Monaco, tenor; Metropolitan Opera Orchestra, Dimitri Mitropoulos, cond. Live performance, Jan. 3, 1959
D

Giuseppe di Stefano, tenor; Orchestra of the Teatro alla Scala, Tullio Serafin, cond. EMI, recorded June 12-17, 1954
E

Plácido Domingo, tenor; San Francisco Opera Orchestra, Kenneth Schermerhorn, cond. Live performance, Nov. 5, 1976
F

Luciano Pavarotti, tenor; Philadelphia Orchestra, Riccardo Muti, cond. Philips, live performance, February 1992
G

[aria only] Lawrence Tibbett, baritone; orchestra, Alfred Newman, cond. Delos (Stanford Archive Series), recorded for the soundtrack of Metropolitan, 1935

The oddity is that our final Canio is not a tenor but a baritone, perhaps the finest America has produced, Lawrence Tibbett. (Okay, it's transposed down a tone, and yes, that would have been a correct answer to the question of what's odd about one of our recordings. But still . . . ) Tomorrow we're going to hear him back in his proper range, singing the Prologue to Pagliacci. Note that among our tenor Canios we've heard a not-quite-even split between lyric (Bjoerling, di Stefano, Domingo, Pavarotti) and dramatic (Corelli, del Monaco) tenors, and while "Vesti la giubba" is probably the part of the role most accessible to lyric tenors, I think you'll still hear a marked difference in the kind of effect the different voice types make in the music.

BONUS: NOW WE ARE GOING TO HEAR CARUSO

Last night I teased you with a photo of the label of Victor 88061, Enrico Caruso's third (I think) recording of "Vesti la giubba" (famous, by the way, as the first record to sell a million copies), with the news that no, we weren't going to hear it. Well, now we are. (Confession: I didn't realize I had it on CD.)


Enrico Caruso, tenor. Victor, recorded March 17, 1907

Here Giuseppe di Stefano sings just the aria.


NOW WHY DON'T WE HEAR THE ARIA IN ITS PROPER CONTEXT?

Although Pagliacci is normally thought of as a one-act opera -- usually in combination with Pietro Mascagni's one-act Cavalleria rusticana -- it's technically in two acts, separated by an intermezzo (just as Cavalleria is in two scenes separated by the famous Intermezzo). The scene that culminates in "Vesti la giubba" brings Act I to a pretty theatrical close, and since the opera is virtually always performed in one act, it's followed immediately by the Intermezzo sinfonico (technically really an entr'acte), so why don't we hear that as well? We're going to hear it again tomorrow, when it will make more musical sense after we've spent some time with the Prologue, which contributes important music to it. Our final Canio today, the Russian Vladimir Atlantov, is another specimen of the full-weight dramatic tenor.

LEONCAVALLO: I Pagliacci: Act I, Scene 4; Intermezzo sinfonico

A little troupe of traveling players, having only recently arrived in this Calabrian village, has a show to put on, "a ventitre ore," as Canio, the volatile boss of the troupe has put it so invitingly to the villagers -- "at 23 hours," or 11pm. Canio accepted an invitation from the villagers for a pre-show libation, and was joined by Beppe but not the hunchback Tonio, who claimed he had to groom the donkey and stayed behind with Canio's wife, the troupe's diva, the extremely unhappy Nedda. Leaving the donkey to fend for itself, Tonio made profoundly unwelcome overtures to Nedda, which she not only rejected but ridiculed, finally driving him off with a whip. Nedda was then joined by a man with whom, in a tender and passionate scene, she agreed to run off after the show, at midnight. Unfortunately Tonio saw them and to get revenge on Nedda has quietly brought Canio back to the scene.

TONIO [to CANIO]: Tread softly and you'll catch them!
SILVIO [climbing over the wall, to NEDDA]: I'll be waiting there at midnight. Clamber down cautiously and you'll find me.
NEDDA [to SILVIO]: Till tonight, and I'll be yours forever. CANIO [overhearing these words]: Ha!
NEDDA [shouting in Silvio's wake, as she becomes aware of CANIO's presence]: Fly!
[CANIO rushes to the wall. NEDDA goes to bar his way but, shoving her aside, he vaults over.]
NEDDA: Help him, Lord!
CANIO's voice offstage: Coward! You're hiding!
TONIO [laughing cynically]: Ha ha ha!
NEDDA [to TONIO]: Bravo! Bravo, my Tonio!
TONIO: I do what I can.
NEDDA: That's what I thought.
TONIO: But I don't despair of doing a great deal better!
NEDDA: You revolt and disgust me!
TONIO: Oh, you don't know how happy I am about it! Ha ha ha!
CANIO [clambering back across the wall]: Derision and scorn! Nothing! He knows that path well. No matter -- [furiously, to NEDDA]: since you're going to tell me your lover's name now!
NEDDA: Who?
CANIO: You, by our eternal Father! [Drawing his knife] And if I haven't cut your throat before this it's because, before I soil this blade with your stinking blood, you shameless woman, I want his name! Speak!
NEDDA: Insults won't do any good. My lips are sealed.
CANIO: His name, his name, don't delay, woman!
NEDDA: No!
[At this point BEPPE comes hurrying onto the scene.] No! I'll never tell it!
CANIO [rushing at NEDDA, knife upraised]: By Our Lady!
BEPPE [seizing him, as he rushes at NEDDA, wrestling the knife away from him and flinging it away]: Boss! What are you doing? For the love of God! People are coming out of church and coming here for the show. Let's go . . . come along. Calm yourself!
CANIO: Let me go, Beppe! His name! His name!
BEPPE [calling to TONIO]: Tonio, come and hold him!
CANIO: His name!
BEPPE: Let's go, the public is arriving! You'll talk things over later! [To NEDDA] And you, come away from there. Go and get dressed. [As he pushes her inside and goes in with her] You know, Canio is violent but good-hearted.
CANIO: Disgrace! Disgrace!
TONIO [softly, to CANIO]: Calm yourself, boss. It's better to dissemble; the gallant'll return. Rely on me! I'll keep a watch on her. Now let's give the performance. Who knows but he won't come to the show and give himself away. Come now. One must dissemble, in order to succeed!
BEPPE [coming from the stage]: Let's go, come on, get dressed, boss. [Turning to TONIO] And you beat the drum, Tonio.
[Both go off, leaving CANIO alone.]
CANIO: [Recitative]
To have to act, whilst caught up in mad frenzy;
I no longer know what I'm saying nor what I'm doing.
And yet you must -- force yourself to try!
You're the comedian!
[Aria]
Put on your costume and make up your face.
The public pays and wants to laugh here.
And if Harlequin should steal your Columbine,
laugh, comedian, and everyone'll clap!
Turn your agony and tears to jest,
your sobs and sufferings to a grimace.
Ah! Laugh, comedian, over your ruined love.
Laugh at the pain that is poisoning your heart.

Bernd Weikl (b), Tonio; Wolfgang Brendel (b), Silvio; Lucia Popp (s), Nedda; Vladimir Atlantov (t), Canio; Alexandru Ionita (t), Beppe; Munich Radio Orchestra, Lamberto Gardelli, cond. Eurodisc, recorded December 1983

Tito Gobbi (b), Tonio; Mario Zanasi (b), Silvio; Lucine Amara (s), Nedda; Franco Corelli (t), Canio; Mario Spina (t), Beppe; Orchestra of the Teatro all Scala, Lovro von Matačić, cond. EMI, recorded 1961


TOMORROW: The Prologue to Pagliacci begs us, "Consider our souls."

#