Although a small portion of this text appears in some form or another in the context of the Acuto sfogato discussion, recently I was given some new information about this artist and I felt a new page would be appropriate.

For many, the most elusive of the modern-day acuto sfogato sopranos is probably the Spanish-born Maria Remola.  She was born in Barcelona on December 7, 1930 but moved to Cuba in 1952.  In 1956 she began her vocal studies with Francisco Fernandez Dominicis and made her professional debut in 1961 at the Payret Theatre in Havana as Dona Francisquita in the famous Zarzuela of that name.  She was extremely beloved in Cuba which she adopted as her home and performed in many Zarzuelas and operas throughout the island.  She toured Russia, Korea, Bulgaria, Vietnam and Mexico and appeared in London, Paris and Washington D.C.  It is said that while in Bulgaria, she finished her vocal technique with soprano Liliana Yalenska.  During the 1970s she became a professor of voice at the Ignacio Cervantes Conservatory for the Advancement of the Arts.

Maria Remola was famous enough in Cuba that she is given a rather back-handed compliment when referred to in a 1980s Cuban-made film called Chocolate and Strawberries with actors Jorge Perugorria and Vladimir Cruz.  During a scene in the movie one character is playing a recording of Maria Callas, the other remarks how nice it is to hear a singer besides Maria Remola.  It is interesting that she should be mentioned during the course of a political movie since one of the reasons so little mention can be found of this remarkable artist by her adopted Cuban countrymen is partly due to the fact that for a while she was associated with the Communist party of Castro.  This was supposedly a requirement for any singer, ballerina, or musician in order to succeed in Cuba and to be able to tour.

Despite her renown in Cuba she only recorded three LP albums for the Arieto label.  One is a program of operatic arias with the Sinfonia Orquesta Nacional de Cuba conducted by Guerrero.  On this LP she sings arias from Lakmé, Barber of Seville, Turandot, Rigoletto, Traviata, the Goyescas of Granados and the infamous Variations on a Theme by Mozart.  Judging from the acoustics, the album probably dates from the late 1960s.  The other two albums include one of Lecuona songs and another that combines more Lecuona songs with such concert pieces as Saint-Saens' "Vocalise" from Parysatis, Bachelet's "Chere Nuit," Dell Acqua's "Villanelle," Liadov's "Musical Snuff Box" and Debussy songs.  The famous Cuban composer Lecuona was so impressed with Remola's voice that he composed his El Ruissenor exclusively for her and also a special arrangement of Siboney which incorporated two brilliant cadenzas.  None of her performances are less than competent - some are a great deal more than that.  Although her florid technique was considerable and the sheen of her purely floated top register had its own remarkable elegance, there was an occasional, odd provinciality to her work.

Remola's particular vocal idiosyncrasy was to conclude arias a third above their traditional high tonic.  Rosina's aria in the Barber of Seville (sung in F) ends on a brilliant, sustained A above high C and Lakmé's Bell Song ends on a sustained G-sharp above high C.  Although recordings can be deceiving, her voice appears to have been a warm instrument and large enough to easily handle the thrust necessary for a successful "Sempre libera" from Verdi's La Traviata.  She elects to conclude the grand scena with an excellent final, sustained A-flat above high C.  The Latin vibrancy of her voice can turn hard on dime, but she is quite capable of a beautifully controlled high pianissimo - the final phrase of "Caro nome" leaps to a hushed G-sharp in altissimo that travels through a remarkable smooth diminuendo to a mere wisp of sound.  Her best effort, however, remains the notoriously difficult Adam variations on "Ah vous dirai-je Maman." After an extraordinarily long and difficult cadenza with flute, Remola finishes with a dead-on, sustained B above high C, the highest sustained note yet to be recorded by a classical artist.  As I mentioned earlier, her technical prowess was considerable - especially in the area of high staccati.  Sustained high notes obviously came easily to Remola who could call upon them with uncommon ease.  Different from usual high-voiced specialists, Remola seems to have been an anomaly in that her midlle and lower registers were uncommonly firm, full and warm-hued.  This makes some of her more startling acrobatics all the more stunning.  Although one might suspect that a singer capable of singing Liu's "Signore ascolta" from Turandot would also be able to manage a capable "Sempre libera" from Traviata, one does not expect that singer to be able to fling out a superb, sustained A flat above high C at its conclusion.

Recently I received a letter from Yamilet Hennebery whose mother, Meybol Gonzalez del Valle was Maria Remola's accompanist from the mid 1970s through 1982 at which time Yamilet and her mother left Cuba.  She was able to provide me with some fascinating insight into why this artist remains so obscure.  I am grateful to Yamilet for allowing me to quote her letter here, within my site.  "Back then (in the mid 1970s) I remember Remola as a tiny lady with a voice of crystalline qualities but great power.  (I figure she must be in her seventies now and still alive.)  At that time she was teaching in a government conservatory known as the 'Ignacio Cervantes Institute for the Advancement of the Arts.  The government paid extremely generous salaries to the artists at the expense of them going through periodic re-evaluations, so Remola had several professional singers under her tutelage that went through extensive training every semester in order to meet these requirements.  My mom was her accompanist both in the conservatory and in concerts, so needless to say, I was able to experience Remola up-close and personal.  She was truly endowed with a fantastic voice.  The most admirable thing about this lady is that her low and middle register(s) were as prominent as those of a dramatic soprano, and she was able to sing heavier Cuban Zarzuela roles with as much ease.  She sang Maria Belen Chacon, Cecilia Valdes, Dona Francisquita and others.  Unfortunately opera productions in Cuba were scarce because of the production costs but I did see a Traviata of hers that was to die for.

"In concerts she was truly amazing.  In private sessions vocalizing with my mom at the piano she, and this is not an exaggeration, could vocalize up to the last note of the piano keyboard (C'''''') without any strain.  Most of her interpretations were finished, as you mentioned, one-third above the original note as in Rosina's 'Una voce poco fa'.  Nevertheless, Remola had a (repertoire) that never made it to the recording studio for posterity.  Her Lucia was out of this world - the final cadenza of the mad scene featured trills and ornamentation that no human voice could replicate.  She sang the version that ends on a high F, but she did trills all the way from high D to the D above high D to culminate n a jaw-dropping sustained F above high F.  She also did something similar with the famous Queen of the Night classic 'Der Holle Rache', where she sang the staccato notes one octave higher than written (in other words, she did staccato Fs above high F).  In concert she also sang "D'amore al dolce impero" from (Rossini's) Armida with such agility and high leaps that an extremely difficult aria would seem a beginner's exercise to her.  You already know about her marvelous Mozart variations 'Ah vous dirais'.  She sang so much in concert that never was recorded: Dinorah's Sahdow Song, the Merry Widow, Isabella's arias from Robert le Diable, Alabieff's Nightingale, Proch's Theme and Variations.  I was very young when I met her in 1978, but those summers that I spent in the conservatory with her and my mom will forever be engraved in my memory.

Yamilet continued:

"I last heard (about Maria Remola) in 1996 from my voice teacher, Carmen Villaraos, a former student of Remola's.  Maria was still singing but could not find a market to record in Barcelona, Spain where she had relocated.  Her accompanist at the time is a friend of my voice teacher, and told her that Remola was not recording because Montserrat Caballe had closed all doors for her in Spain.

"She was born in Barcelona, but loved Cuba and its traditions as her very own homeland.  She was the darling of Cuban composers such as Lecuona and Roig who loved the brilliance and extension of her voice as well as her musicianship and discipline.  I told her once that I wanted to sing like her.  She smiled and said to me, 'with the proper technique you will, but you must be older.' And that's what she was, an incredible fine-tuned machine trapped in a tiny frame barely five feet tall, with an incredibly serene expression.  Those high notes would float effortlessly like clouds, no twitches or facial contortions.  I may not have recordings of her Lucia or Dinorah, but I can still hear the crystalline purity of those sounds in my head."

I asked Yamilet if she could further explain the political problems surrounding Remola.

"You must remember that Maria became famous in Cuba shortly after Castro' Communist regime had begun.  Joining the party was unfortunately a requirement for any artist if they wanted to be able to tour outside of Cuba and receive appointments and funding.  Look at the Cuban trumpet player, Arturo Sandoval as an example; he had a lot of problems filing for political asylum in the United States because of his prior connections to the Communist party and was denied the US citizenship several times.

"This being said, Remola never sponsored Castro's government like the famous ballerina Alicia Alonso did.  Maria was simply a soprano who wanted to sing; she had found a window of opportunity in Cuba and she was not going to give it up.  Singing in countries like Korea, Russia and Vietnam tied her even more to Castro's regime, but back then Castro would only allow touring in Communist or Socialist countries to prevent defection.  Maria was branded a Communist unfairly; many people wanted her to return to Spain in protest since there was nothing to stop her (she was born there after all) but she was happy in Cuba and decided to stay and play by the rules.  She was free to come and go as she pleased.

"My mother was fired from the Conservatory in 1982, when the Cuban government realized that my family had failed at its second attempt to leave the island.  Back then, Castro's government was sponsoring 'Repudiation Acts' against any individual attempting to emigrate to the United States.  These took place either at the individual's workplace or home and were extremely base.  Your co-workers and neighbors would gather outside your place and chant obscenities of all sorts; call you 'traitor' and 'worm' and throw rotten eggs and vegetables at you.  The director of the Conservatory approached Maria Remola about this matter when it became obvious that my mom was a 'traitor to the Revolution,' and Maria refused to participate.  Her quote was 'I respect Meybol as a pianist and as an individual; not only do we lose a talented professional, we lose a lady and a great person.  I lose my accompanist, I have nothing to celebrate.'

"Maria remained in Cuba until the early 1990s when she decided to call it quits and go back to her native Barcelona.  It is unfortunate that this placed her in a 'political limbo' with the Cuban defectors in (the United States) and the Communists in Cuba.  In the (United States) she was seen as an icon of the Cuban revolution who never lifted a finger to denounce the exploits of the Castro regime.  In Cuba she was seen as somebody who took advantage of the opportunities offered to her by the Revolution and then gave up.  This is why her recordings are so hard to come by; she became an outcast on both sides.  Nowadays that the Cuban exile in Miami has mellowed out some (believe it or not), there are many people expressing an interest in reviving her memory.  But Maria remains anonymous in Spain not making any waves."

Remola's decisions in relation to the politics of her time are not our concern here.  To be a working artist during such times of political upheaval is most difficult.  And who can say what we, ourselves, might have chosen had we been in the same situation.  One thing for sure: it is difficult to comprehend what day-to-day living must have been like at that time and in that place.  The truth of the matter is that Maria Remola's blacklisting and subsequent artistic obscurity is most unfortunate.  Especially for future generations.  From what Yamilet has stated, Maria Remola seems to have been a remarkable woman.