Luisa Tetrazzini - Part II
Luisa Tetrazzini and Recording
To fully appreciate singers from Tetrazzini's era the listener must first accept a few things. A given is the fact that the sonics of their recordings are nowhere near what one is accustomed to today and it may take a bit of work on the part of the listener to listen through the background noise.
Then (and this is important) one must remember that many of her recordings were made almost 100 years ago when stylistic and vocal priorities were different from those we hold today. Many people dismiss these early recordings as worthless vanities of indulgent singers, but the opposite is true. 78 rpm recordings are priceless relics - for all practical purposes they are live performances - splice-free and honest to a fault.
Another thing to remember in our era of the compact disc is that these early recordings were never intended to be listened to in groups of 20 or so. They were meant to be enjoyed one at a time. When Tetrazzini made her 1907 Gramophone discs of arias from Lucia, Lakmé and Dinorah she never imagined that they could (or would) be listened to one after another, without a break, for an hour or more. Back in 1907, when someone bought a record they usually bought one at a time since their cost prohibited mass buying by the general public. (According to statistics a single 78 rpm disc cost about the same as a pair of shoes.) So, when originally created, a recording was meant to be savored as its own entity. The fact that today we have access to so many singers' complete discographies, and the ability to easily buy them for our own enjoyment, is the greatest gift modern technology has given the record collector. We are not talking about just a few singers here either. It is a list of remarkable diversity: Luisa Tetrazzini, Enrico Caruso, Emma Calve, Amelita Galli-Curci, Edith Mason, Beniamino Gigli, John McCormack, Graziela Pareto, Regina Pacini, Tito Ruffo, Olympia Boronat, Bernardo DeMuro, Claudia Muzio, Giacomo Lauri-Volpi, Victor Maurel, Maurice Renaud, Tito Schipa, Adelina Patti and Francesco Tamagno are only some of the complete editions available. Even so, it is important not to forget the reality that existed when these recordings were originally made.
J B Steane once outlined the best way to listen to an old recording as it was originally intended: pick one or two selections and concentrate on them. Without distraction, listen and re-listen to them. Then listen to them again.Get to really know the singer's voice and how it is being used - both good and bad points - and then leave them alone. Come back the next day and do the same thing. I guarantee that before you know it, when you play that record it will be as if you were returning to an old friend. That is one of the most satisfying experiences you can have with a recording. It is then that you will reap the full benefits from these early recordings and the singers they represent.
Luisa Tetrazzini's recordings show her voice to have been an unusually large instrument within its upper reaches - a factor not at all common with coloratura sopranos during that era. Unfortunately, as Henderson criticized, the lower reaches did not possess the same fullness - often sounding anemic or underdeveloped. That is not to imply that her lower register was not solid or sturdy, but rather that its timbre differed greatly from the rest of the voice as it ascended. Different from many of her florid sisters, Tetrazzini thrust her high notes into the acoustics with a rare abandon. She was one of the first of the recorded coloratura sopranos to incorporate drama into her singing - especially in her approach to high notes. (She also used understatement as well - as in Dinorah and Lucia.) Her range was quite wide - from at least A below the staff to the high E above. Her technical battery was unusually advanced and even included an ability to sing a top E flat pianissimo and such things as a high, double messa-di-voce (a vocal feat not heard today) which became a trademark Tetrazzini effect, and perfectly gradated morendi.
Like many of her contemporaries, Tetrazzini was a prodigious recording artist, making over 100 recordings. She often recorded more than one version of an aria. Sometimes this was to replace an older recording but usually she was merely duplicating selections for each of the two branches of Gramophone (America and Europe). For instance:
Donizetti: Mad Scene (Lucia) - three versions: 1904, 1907, 1911
Delibes: Bell Song (Lakmé) - four versions: 1907, 1911 (twice), 1913
Verdi: "Sempre libera" (Traviata) - three versions: 1907, 1911 (twice)
Thomas: Polonaise (Mignon) - four versions: 1907, 1908 (unpublished), 1911 (twice)
Rossini: "Una voce poco fa" (Barber of Seville) - three versions: 1904, 1907, 1911
Verdi: "Caro nome" (Rigoletto) - three versions: 1904, 1907, 1911
Donizetti: "O luce di quest anima" (Linda) - three versions: 1910, 1911, 1914
She also made two versions of many of the arias in her repertoire including:
Bellini: "Ah non credea" (Sonnambula) 1909, 1911
Bellini: "Ah non giunge" (Sonnambula) 1904, 1911
Benedict: Carnival of Venice Variations 1909, 1911
Bizet: Micaela's Aria (Carmen) 1910, 1914
David: "Charmant Oiseau" (Perle du Bresil) 1911
Meyerbeer: Shadow Song (Dinorah) 1907, 1914
Proch: Theme and Variations 1911
Venzano: Waltz 1911
Verdi: "Saper voreste" (Ballo in Maschera) 1909, 1911
Despite what one might think, when Tetrazzini re-recorded an aria it is not always the newer version that is to be preferred. It varies. Sometimes it is even a tie. For instance, in regards to Lakmé's Bell Song it is the first (1907) version that out-ranks the other three recordings. In the case of Bellini's "Ah non credea" from La Sonnambula it is a tie between the two versions. With Rosina's "Una voce poco fa," however, it is the last (1911) USA recording that best typifies the humor and brilliance she brought to the aria. Philine's famous Polonaise finds a tie between the first (1907) disc and the last (1911) recording. Even so, all Tetrazzini's recordings are interesting and do much to explain the type of artist and person she was. The earlier recordings made in London between 1907 and 1910 show the exceptional brilliance of her voice and attack, while recordings made after that show changes in her voice because of natural aging, and certain, fascinating vocal mannerisms she began to rely on (such as the use of a straight, laser-like tone - which we will get into later).
Tetrazzini's recording career can be broken down into three segments.
I - Five arias made for the American Zonophone company (1904)
II - The London Gramophone series (HMV) (1907-1922)
III - The American RCA Victor series (1911-1920)
When one examines the years that Tetrazzini made recordings, some might wonder at the obvious break in activity between 1914 and 1920. This was due to the Great War of 1914-1918 which also terminated her stage career. Tetrazzini stopped touring and recording and settled in Italy for the duration. By the time she returned to the studios in 1920 her international career had (understandably) begun to wind down and her recording activities eventually dissolved.
The CD Compilations
Unfortunately, at the time of this writing (January, 2003), all but the Pearl 5-disc set are out of print.(Luisa Tetrazzini - The Complete Recordings Pearl 9220-5). I understand that the five CDs in that set are also available separately.
Interestingly, depending on my mood, in many instances I favor listening to the Nimbus Tetrazzini releases over some of the other editions. One reason is that they give a good idea (even if illusionary) of what Tetrazzini's voice might have sounded like in an operatic theatre or a concert hall - the voice bouncing off the wood walls. When it comes to this artist that can be a fascinating aural impression to experience. Also, the Nimbus technique often shears off the hard brilliance of the singer's upper register in some of her 1911 (and later) recordings.
The 1992 EMI set is also out of print. You may still find copies of it (and the Romophone and Nimbus releases) in some of the larger record stores and in second-hand record shops - such as Academy Records in New York City. The EMI set contains some of the soprano's most fresh, dynamic singing and was one of that firm's finest issues of its kind. Not only did the accompanying booklet contain excellent, erudite articles by Michael Aspinall but also texts of the songs. It was a deluxe treatment befitting the singer it was meant to honor.
There have been other, single-disc collections of Tetrazzini including Gramophono, Minerva and Phonographe and I am confident that soon other firms will release collections of her recordings. For this appreciation, however, I decided to concentrate on the listings of the EMI, Romophone and Nimbus editions - the three major collections that have been easily available. (A complete listing of their contents can be found in the appendix at the end of Part IV.)
Generally, when referring to the quality of pressings, I did not include the Pearl set in my discussion since, in a number of instances, they are inferior to those used by the other firms.
That Intangible Something
A final consideration. When one listens to Tetrazzini's recordings questions arise about her phenomenal popularity. One can tell from her recordings that there was a splendid coloratura technique and a potent personality. But there are issues concerning the lower register and other things that one can easily discern on her discs. There must have been something else.
And, indeed, it seems that there were qualities of this soprano's art that completely eluded the recording process of the time.
At the time of her debut as Violetta at Covent Garden (1907), the critic of the Daily Mail wrote:
"...(Tetrazzini's singing offered) a human tenderness and a pathos few of us realised (Traviata) possessed. She has the magic gift of 'tears in the voice' and is withal a consummate actress...There were actual tears among the audience, too, on Saturday night when she sang 'Dite alla giovane' lifted out of its customary vocal display into a song of renunciation, heart-rending in its emotional intensity. Never in late years have we seen La Traviata acted as Tetrazzini played it on Saturday night; rarely, if ever, have we heard Verdi's music so exquisitely sung."
Strongly disagreeing with Henderson (quoted in Part I), Henry Krehbiel (New York Tribune) felt that Tetrazzini's allure as Violetta was due to "the combination of beautiful singing as such and acting. Not acting in the sense of attitude, motion and facial expression, although these were all admirable, but in the dramatic feeling which imbued the singing - the dramatic color which shifted with kaleidoscopic swiftness from phrase to phrase, filling it with the blood of the play."
During comments in an obituary for Tetrazzini, Frieda Hempel, herself, emphasized a particular quality that we, today, do not associate with this singer or her recordings, but which must have been present when heard in person.
"Tetrazzini always sang in full voice, a luscious voice, full of personality and sensuality. You must have the erotic in your voice. Tetrazzini had it tremendously." (Obituary, by John Pitts Sanborn, 1940)
Singers often sound different in front of an audience than they do when in a recording studio. That is easily proven by comparing the commercial and live recordings of Maria Callas. Her studio efforts were remarkable achievements, no matter what standards one wishes to apply. But when in front of an audience there was an electricity in her singing that can only be experienced through the live recordings themselves. Even such an elemental thing as the rate of vibrato oscillation often underwent drastic alterations. In Tetrazzini's case it seems the contrast between singing live and recording in a studio may have also applied.
Vincent Shean commented:
"Searching for some explanation of the Tetrazzini phenomenon we find in all the newspaper writing, both in London and in New York, an element that we who have not heard her could not possibly expect. She is said to have had an 'extremely emotional voice' in the passages that permitted or called for its use. This we could never have learned from the phonograph records now accessible. From those we are able to perceive a very long breath and a remarkable high coloratura, but no emotion at all. At the actual performances in the opera house there was apparently some almost electrically emotional quality, because it is stressed again and again by quite competent reviewers...
"When we see photographs of Mme Tetrazzini now, we find them a trifle ridiculous. Her weight was excessive by our standards, and seems worse because it was so obviously encased in rigid armor. That a woman with such an appearance could have been actress, and could with her acting and her voice reduce an audience to tears is hard for us to believe. And yet the evidence is all there, many columns of it in the New York press of the time, providing a least a psychological basis for the unreasoning mania with which her appearances were attended.
"What she did as a coloratura we know - that is fully shown by the public prints - and it was remarkable enough, although we can understand it technically. She had absolute control of runs, trills, staccati, and every other ornament of the coloratura soprano voice in its upper range. This alone might dazzle an audience, but it could never shake them emotionally in the way described by those who heard Tetrazzini. There was another quality, probably apparent only in actual stage performance, which no recording device could capture."(Oscar Hammerstein I, NY, 1956)
Astute listeners can, however, catch glimpses of this quality on a number of her recordings. In arias like "Ah non credea" (Sonnambula), "Saper voreste" (Ballo in Maschera), Anetta's aria (Crispino e la Comare), the Mad Scene (Hamlet), and even the Bell Song from Lakmé there are certain, definite variations in timbre that show an interpretive mind at work. Tetrazzini's colorations on recordings, however, are only pastel shades of the obviously brilliant colors she offered to live audiences. If listened to with this awareness, these discs paint quite a different picture of this singer than was previously thought.
It should also be remembered that tempi played into this as well. A 78 rpm recording only lasted about four minutes. Most arias had to be mercilessly cut in order to make them fit into that time frame and, naturally, that greatly affected what a singer was able to do interpretively. For example, compare the timings of Lily Pons' 1930 Victor recording of the Bell Song (about six minutes) with one of her live performances (over seven minutes). Obviously Pons was doing something during that extra minute or so. I suspect that the same thing applies to Tetrazzini - although, unfortunately, there are no live performances against which we can prove that supposition.