Even among Verdi’s early works, his sixth opera, I Due Foscari, is a rarity. Compared to Nabucco or Ernani, it takes a long while to launch – I would say it actually does it in a powerful closing scene. Some (Verdi included) blame the libretto inspired in Lord Byron’s dramatically tame play. Although Piave basically repeats the same structure for every scene – someone interrupts something that eventually happens anyway – the historical events around Venice’s Doge Francesco Foscari are indeed operatic material. I would rather blame Verdi himself, who was not at his more melodically inspired and not really able to depict the dramatic situations – the first performances in Vienna had the audience laughing at a waltz reminiscent of Johann Strauss in one very depressing scene.
In any case, when you have a cast up to the challenging vocal parts, it can be a rewarding experience. The Deutsche Oper should be praised by its serious attempt of resurrecting the opera. Conductor Roberto Rizzi Brignoli, for instance, seemed to be determined to prove that there is drama from bar one in the score. With the help of of a fully engaged orchestra and top-class choral singing, he certainly fared better than the bureaucratic Lamberto Gardelli in his studio recording with the ORF orchestra. However, there was a price to pay for the intensity, which was loudness. Without that, the distinguished cast here gathered could be even more convincing.
American soprano Angela Meade, who has made me an admirer since an impressively sung Semiramide a couple of years ago, showed Berlin what golden age is about. Her lyric soprano has gained richness and power without any loss of clarity, offering round, creamy, unforced tones throughout. Although Katia Ricciarelli’s soprano is more immediately seductive in the studio recording, Meade is simply more at ease with the demands and excitingly coped with faster tempi. She could not restrain herself from wowing the audience with an extra in-alt, Caballé-ian high pianissimi and kilometrically long phrases without breathing pauses. The way she presided over ensembles was particularly chilling. Although she is not the sacro-fuoco kind of singer, she is far from musically bland either – and sang the role of Lucrezia Conterini with the necessary passion. Exhilarating as her performance was, I wish that she and the conductor could relax a bit more for her to sculpt a bit more her phrasing, as Ricciarelli often could do – in other words, giving the music and the text a bit more time. But that’s me trying to make something truly exceptional a bit more believable for my 12 or 13 readers. In Gardelli’s CDs José Carreras takes the role of Jacopo Foscari, singing with unbridled impetuosity. Healthy in its exuberant high notes as the Spanish tenor’s recording is, I am afraid I prefer Ramón Vargas’s more sensitive and restrained approach. His voice is on the light side for this role, but the tonal quality is so pleasing and he phrases with such good taste that the trade-off is more than worthwhile. It is amazing that the 70-year-old Leo Nucci still sings with such firmness and power, but – even in his prime his singing was never warm, noble and smooth as Piero Cappuccilli’s (again in Gardelli’s CDs). What made his Foscari interesting was his high theatrical voltage – and that he’s still got. The dramatic solo when the Doge is asked to resign in act III was delivered with formidable intensity, bringing the house down with shouts of bravo and applause. I cannot say how complete this performance was, but I have missed the arioso Oh, morte fossi allora for the baritone in the scene that opens the second part of act III. I might be wrong – I don’t intend to seem a connoisseur of early Verdi… Last but not least, Tobias Kehrer deserves special mention – his rock-solid, forceful, dark bass will procure him a great career. Although his Italian is good enough, if he could be a little bit more idiomatic, he could certainly navigate the Italian repertoire, as René Pape has done.
This is a good one, too. Much appreciation to you for daring to put into print the most glaring defect of Angela Meade as a Verdi singer (we should get such an honest written statement in New York from ANY of the newspaper critics on la Meade). She is a skilled fioratura specialist – but not skilled enough to ‘sculpt’ memorable Verdi legato phrasing (as you pointed out). Brignoli obviously was aware of her vocal limitations – I suspect he wisely drove the tempi fast enough to avoid any Lucrezia embarassments. Even Christine Deutekom in her heyday could do a better job of elegant legato phrasing than Meade.
But am I too demanding in my expectations of a later romantic singing style in primeval bel canto influenced early Verdi? Obviously I can’t stand la Meade, but I do appreciate her vocally engineered atlhletic skills even though her performances represent the antithesis of what I like in singers.
“golden age”? …perhaps golden age of the early 19th century…
Hi, Jerold!
Many points to comment here – thank you for taking the pains to answer. Always appreciated.
1 – Angela Meade as a Verdi singer. Well, I wouldn’t go that far. I generally call a Verdi singer someone whose roles are Aida, Leonora (both of them), Amelia et al. Although Lucrezia Contarini and Elvira (in Ernani) are roles in Verdi operas and already have a hint of what was going to come, they would rather fit into the repertoire of a singer who deals with big Bellini/Rossini/Donizetti roles, don’t you think? In that sense, I wouldn’t call Angela Meade a Verdi soprano yet. Maybe in the future – but not now.
2 – Embarrassment is a big word. Have you heard the Met’s last Macbeths?
3 – Golden Age. Well, an age cannot be made of three people. Of course, for every Grisi, for every Duprez, there were those who could stand on stage with them without any shame but didn’t share the last ounce of genius. But they belonged there – shared similar technical standards, style and approach. For future reference, the concept of “golden age” here adopted is: singers who have given themselves enough time to master technique and who have become adept enough to make whatever they want according to the natural limitations of their own vocal nature. I mean, a soprano who can say “here I want to sing this high c pianissimo for three bars, then increase it to forte and then scale back down to pianissimo and then take a descending scale and landing in this perfectly audible low note on the breath” and then DO IT. As if it was a natural thing, not as if she would die out trying it. Has this become rare these days? Unfortunately, yes: a) big voices take time to mature and one must endure the “early” years in which a singer is going to be nothing more than an interesting potential – who wants to wait nowadays?; b) the “establishment” want singers to be young and exciting, to take 100 new roles per year and to sing them all over the world… in a tight schedule, you cannot REALLY cultivate that refinement.
I very much appreciate you taking the time to enlighten us with such eloquent explanations. I apologize for not being able to competitively match your persuasive discourse but I am sure you have already figured out that it is not really possible for me to do so – the best I can offer are my rude-i-mentary halfquestions halfcomments.
I was unaware that Meade had a big voice. When I heard 2 performances with Meade as Anna Bolena, she sounded quite small voiced compared to the other soprano who sang that same role that season, but of course it must be my hearing. I really should try to remember to get some hearing aids soon, hopefully before I croak.
So I guess it is taking Meade awhile to ‘mature’ into her art – I am not doubting you so I’ll have to take your word for it because I am a not a connoisseur of such matters. The wikipedia lists Meade’s birthyear (no actual month or date listed) as 1977, so she was in her 35th year in 2012 when I heard her as Elvira in Ernani.
I wonder how long it took Raina Kabaivanska to ‘mature’ enough to sing an Elvira in an Ernani that I really loved (La Scala 1969) in her 36th year – or to sing an incredibly beautiful Manon Lescaut at the Met in her 29th year? I am not comparing the two singers, don’t get me wrong. I am just curious why I hear a bland, colourless monochromatic tone from Meade singing ugly, awkward overdecorated fioratura embellishments NOT written by Verdi in Ernani, quite the antithesis of what I heard from Kabaivanksa when she was close to the same age. I will just have to assume that Kabaivanska was an early ‘bloomer’ artistically AND I MUST try to convince myself (with the assistance of Meade’s publicity hype) that Meade is going to mature (artistically that is – she already appears to be ‘mature’ enough in other aspects) and she WILL get better and better every time I have to listen to her.
Best wishes and thanks again for your answer!
Hi, Jerold!
We are not competing here… don’t worry! And I’m not trying to convince you that you should like or dislike anyone. And I’m definitely not on Angela Meade’s publicists’ payroll either.
Good singers are in constant development – Lucia Popp was developing in new possibilities when she died. So, regardless of how good they are when they are young, they should always develop. Kabaivanska too. When exactly one should reach their absolute best? I don’t know. Varnay was singing Sieglinde and Brünnhilde at the Met at 23; Anja Silja was singing Rosina at 16 (in Braunschweig, ok…), Mozart has already composed Mitridate at 15… so what’s exactly the point? When one starts to reason with absolutes, it is very difficult to reach any conclusion other than black/white, right/wrong etc. I am never worried about who is best and who is worst and I never hate things. Again, I am not trying to convince you that you should be like that – I am just explaining the context in which I write what I write. And I am NOT picking a fight with you – you comment my posts and I thank you for that! And we often agree about things, don’t we? So let’s just agree to disagree this time.
Don’t take me seriously – I’m like this all the time, you aren’t the only one who gets the jabs – once I get fed up with a singer (their performance(s) annoy me) , I am even more suspicious and critical next time I hear them. I have been accused of writing singers off, that is not true – I will re-listen to anyone again (once in awhile even Debbie Voigt has a decent night). Quite often I find that singers I had previously idolized have not withstood my fickle-natured test of time – their performances have NOT aged like fine wine – conversely I listen to performances from years ago and am able to appreciate singers I had previously disliked.
I am not interested in Mozart, as incredibly brilliant as some of his music is; his hype doesn’t need me in light of all the excessive Mozart-worship going on ad nauseum, generation after generation.
Of the singers you mention I liked Popp as the Queen of the Night the 1st time I heard her on a rare occasion I ventured out to Mozart – last time I saw Popp was as the Marschallin in Hamburg a few months before she died – I liked all her performances equally (particularly as Eva & Elsa) regardless of her ‘development’; Kabaivanska I first saw as Cio-cio -san and the last time as Tatjana – again all of her performances were enjoyable for me; Varnay I enjoyed in her early rebroadcasts from the Met & Bayreuth, but I didn’t care for her ‘development’ in later performances starting around 1966; 1st time I her her I disliked Anja Silja in San Francisco (circa 1970) with her shrill, strident, colourless Salome (definitely not seductive of tone), but by the last time I saw her in the early 90′s as Ortrud in Zurich (after hearing her Erwartung, Brunnhilde and Marie in Wozzeck) , I found her to be one of the greatest of singers I ever had the privilege to hear.
I really do appreciate your insight. The subtleties involved in a singer’s development are quite often beyond my limited skills of observation – I can only tell you that someone like Silja is a rare bird in my nest of appreciation – unfortunately I find most singers go downhill in their ‘development’ over the years – Silja went up and thus she was a notable exception.
Anyone who likes Lucia Popp has limitless credit with me!
I saw Silja’s Ortrud too in the late 1990′s – vocally flawed, but most compelling. Actually, there is an in-house Lohengrin with both Popp’s Elsa and SIlja’s Ortrud, from Munich if I am not mistaken.