I am a strong advocate of live recordings. Although many people object to the often inferior sonics, extraneous stage noises, audible prompters or the obvious presence of an audience, there is a sense of occasion, an electricity on these recordings that one misses in studio efforts. I crave more of the true essence of a singer; the art that can only be found when an artist is in front of an audience. What does it matter if they flubbed a high note or momentarily forgot the text? That is part of the human condition. Studio recordings offer examples of the heights a singer aspires to; live recordings provide the reality.
Live operatic recording in the opera house is older than you might think. The famous Mapleson cylinders were recorded from up in the flies of the Metropolitan Opera house during the first years of the 20th century. Unfortunately, they were recorded acoustically at a great distance and one must have tremendous patience to listen to most of them because they are so overloaded with extraneous hiss and noise. Nonetheless a lot of fascinating information can be retrieved from these ancient cylinders and the singers caught mid-performance make a would-be time traveler’s mouth water: Nellie Melba, Antonio Scotti, Lillian Nordica, Pol Placon, Marcella Sembrich, Jean De Reszke, Emma Calve and others.
With the advent of electrical recording live documentation became a more intriguing reality. One of the first opera companies to take advantage of these possibilities was the Royal Opera House at Covent Garden. During the spring and summer of 1926, HMV recorded excerpts from a number of performances directly from that famous stage. These included an Otello with the remarkable tenor Giovanni Zenatello and the justly revered Boris with Feodor Chaliapin (which all singers should experience at least once in their lifetime) (EMI). There also was an oddity: excerpts from the Farewell Concert of Dame Nellie Melba (June 8, 1926). Next to Chaliapin’s Boris this is the most important. I say this because Melba’s studio recordings do so little to explain why she was so renowned and revered. From them one gets the impression of a remarkable technician but an often inelegant artist of little phrase tapering or creative subtlety. However, along with her contemporary, Enrico Caruso she was one of the most important figures in “modern” operatic history, and it was the immense popularity of their discs that helped solidify recording as a serious means of distributing music and not a mere toy. For that reason it is all the more frustrating to listen to her commercial legacy. An entirely different slant, however, is suggested by the Covent Garden Farewell (which included excerpts from Otello and La Bohème). These discs provide the simple answer for her immense popularity: it was due to the intrinsic quality of her instrument. No one else had the Melba “sound.” Despite her being sixty-five years old (and occasionally short-breathed), one finally gets to experience the distinctive quality of her voice, pure and yet brilliant, with an exquisite, silver, fiery shimmer — especially in the upper middle register. Anyone wanting to understand Melba’s appeal has only to turn to the “Donde lieta” from the 1926 Farewell.
But this type of live recording differs from typical pirate recordings in that they were done in complete agreement with the musicians involved. Ironically, by opening this door, commercial record companies spawned the work of the recording pirates, and throughout the decades the two branches of live documentation have existed side by side.
The Metropolitan Opera — so covetous of its legacy and so eager to prevent American listeners from having access to the historical broadcast recordings widely enjoyed in Europe — has never valued this heritage enough to make its own recordings of the weekly broadcasts. The fact that almost every Saturday matinee broadcast since 1936 has been preserved is due entirely to the devotion of the fans and the performers themselves. When the Met wishes to issue the occasional broadcast as “bait” for contributions to the Opera Guild, they are forced to appeal to listeners or individual singers who had the foresight to have them recorded privately for their personal study. Up until the advent of magnetic tape, broadcasts were generally preserved on acetate discs. Because there were no applicable copyright laws in effect at that time (as long as a work was in public domain) and since they were for “private use,” this posed no problems. It is with the selling of these private-made recordings that one enters into problems of legality. With the introduction of tape, however, it became possible to record from the audience, and the traditional opera pirate was born. These so-called pirates became quite ingenious in secreting portable reel-to-reel recorders into the opera house and after Philips introduced the first consumer cassette in 1963, it became even easier.
Pirated recordings have always exerted an irresistible allure. Not only because of the artistic realism they presented but also simply because they were forbidden and difficult to find.
Humble Beginnings
Before the floodtide of live performances became a reality approximately 50 years ago, a small group of teenage collectors led by Irwin Elkins were fortunate in gaining access to a large group of original 16” transcription discs of early performances from the 1930’s and 1940’s. Through these and other acquisitions from singers and small recording studios in the New York metropolitan area, a central depository was created which was later to become the Omega Opera Archive, with Dr. Elkins as sole proprietor. Even today, the Omega Archive is the original source for many of the live opera CDs now available. From this pioneering effort, distribution was begun. Tapes were given to Eddie Smith, the first to press these recordings into LPs for wide dissemination. Trading was initiated with European collectors, and it was not long before small companies were established which obtained copies — several generations removed from the original material — pressed them as records and sold them “under the counter” in establishments nationwide, in many cases with questionable filtering and pitch. (Unfortunately, in current practice, some of the CDs now widely available have similar defects.)
When I came to New York, the heyday of pirate recordings was in full swing. This was long before the CD takeover. At that time there were only two shops in Manhattan where you could find these recordings. One was Music Masters (ridiculously overpriced) and the other was the Discophile, a tiny store hidden down some dark steps on crowded 8th Street in the West Village. Going to the Discophile was an adventure. In addition to commercially released LP recordings you could also find the entire catalogue of pirates. Owner Franz Jolowicz was an affable, erudite guide who was able to lead not only the seasoned collector but also the novice (which I was) to the most interesting recordings. If you had the money you could buy mouth-watering revivals with Callas, Sutherland, Christoff, Corelli, Gedda, Kraus, and many others.
Although some pirate LP recordings came in plain sleeves with only frugal presentation, some sets — especially those made by MRF (which produced around 150 sets and even had their own Cherubini line of operas) and BJR (which became known for the best sounding discs) — were beautifully constructed. Covers were superbly executed with imaginative art and inside were booklets with full, translated libretti, performance photos and scholarly notes that put to shame the more expensively produced commercial sets of EMI, Decca and DGG.
Rarest Repertoire
The repertoire available on pirate recordings completely surpassed that of commercial releases. Back in 1976 you could buy Alfanos’ fascinating verismo epic, Risurrezione (with cult-diva Magda Olivero), a work yet to see a studio recording; or Opera Rara’s London revivals of Mercadante’s Virginia, Gli Orazi e Curiazi and Meyerbeer’s L’Etoile du Nord (all with the extraordinary Janet Price); or Pacini’s Maria Tudor; Mascagni’s Parisina, Isabeau, Piccolo Marat and Iris; Giordano’s Siberia, or even Handel’s Semele, a 1968 performance with Beverly Sills and Seth McCoy that seriously rivals more recent commercial efforts. And the above selections were not even a tiny fraction of the immense number of performances available on reel-to-reel tape from the mail-order catalogues of Mr. Tape, Ed Rosen or Charles Handelman (New York’s three main purveyors of pirated opera during the ‘70s-80s).
With the emergence of Tower Records, Virgin and other mega corporations during the 1980s, small neighborhood shops like the Discophile were edged out of business. The sacred spot that was once the Discophile, considered by many to be a musical landmark, finally closed in July of 1985. It is now a dress shop. I confess that I still get a sharp stab of nostalgia whenever I pass it today.
Behind the Scenes at the Pirate Factory
By 1981 I was working part-time as an audio technician for Ralph Ferrandina, a.k.a. Mr. Tape, whose office was at Broadway and 68th Street. His catalogue was vast — some 9,000 reel-to reels — and included not only complete opera performances but also recitals, concerts and collections featuring single artists. Ralph was not the only one with a huge library of performances; there were many private collectors who had almost as much. He had contacts in most of the main cities throughout the world and traders would send lists of the items they had to offer and request things they wanted in return. Tapes came daily to the office, and during the five or so years that I worked at Mr. Tape my job was to choose performances from the various traders’ lists, write liner notes for his LP and CD releases, pitch the new tapes that came in and make customer copies. There were about 26 reel-to-reel tape recorders and six double-cassette decks. I was in charge of these and often they were all working at the same time. Copies were made at double speed, and I quickly became accustomed to listening to Aida double time in one ear and Marina in the other. As I grew adept with that schizophrenic way of listening, I learned how to stop each opera independently of the other for clean side breaks for cassette copies. I also learned that one can recognize some voices even double time due to peculiar mannerisms singers pick up during the course of their career. It was a frenetic job but I loved it.
Input and Encouragement from the Artists
I was also fascinated by the customer listing (kept in a file cabinet of index cards) which included not only well-known New York critics, musicologists and vocal coaches but also such artists as Leonie Rysanek, Gwenyth Jones and Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau.
Ralph knew many artists personally, and it was not unusual for singers to bring in tapes of their own performances. I remember Grace Bumbry and Virginia Zeani bringing tapes they wanted to ensure were available to fans. Often Sam Ramey, Catherine Malfitano, Teresa Stratas and other singers stopped by, sometimes just to chat.
Legalities vs. Your Right to Hear and Learn
It is important to understand that this was a different era. At that time, despite the gray legality of Mr. Tape’s business, most singers were just grateful their work was documented and circulating. These recordings were viewed by most singers not only as a form of publicity but also as a way to further one’s career and even perhaps to incite the interest of other, commercial recording companies. By the mid 1980s it had become common practice for agents to send tapes of their clients in performance to opera companies in order to help secure a contract. Often, it did the trick.
Although never a big business like EMI or Decca, technically what Ralph Ferrandina was doing was illegal (at least when it came to American performances) and the ramifications of all this are complex. For, although American copyright acts passed in 1971 allowed for home taping of broadcasts for private use (taping within the opera house has always been forbidden) by selling those performances he was breaking that copyright law. And, of course, any selling of internal house-recordings was also illegal. This becomes even more complicated because American copyright laws differ in structure and content from those in Europe. Interestingly, if you take a look at the pirate performances available in American stores today you will notice that most originate from Europe. The reverse is true over there.
Even though I was a professional singer and a member of AGMA I did not really mind the fact that I was involved in something so legally ambiguous. I believed then — as I do now — that live (and pirate) recordings are invaluable documents that represent an artist’s truth. I also lamented that there were so many excellent singers — Giangiacomo Guelfi, Leyla Gencer, Virginia Zeani, Magda Olivero, Willard White, Diana Soviero, Gianni Raimondi, Ruth Falcon, Teresa Stratas and Oralia Dominguez — the general public knew little about only because they seemed to have been ignored by commercial recording companies. But mainly it had to do with Ralph’s attitude, a genuine, deep love and respect for the art of singing. And although the legalities were questionable, I truly believe he felt that he was not only preserving something important but also helping promote the art of operatic tradition and its interpreters. I was always proud of what we did in that office because everyone involved cared deeply about the quality of what was being produced and believed in the importance of making such invaluable performances available to anyone who wanted to hear them. Perhaps, also ingenuously, I felt as though I was part-custodian of great treasures of vocal art. A priceless library that, whether right or wrong, I felt all had a right to hear.
An Ear to the Ground
I was given a rare opportunity to learn about obscure works and experience their revivals and often knew of singers long before they became internationally known. I remember the day a tape was brought to the office of the New York recital debut of an English soprano who was being sponsored by the Wagner Society of New York. She sang arias from Clemenza, Semiramide and Gioconda as well as songs by Quilter, Barber and Bridge. Her name was Jane Eaglen and the date of that recital was June 18, 1984.
Eventually, in November of 1986, Mr. Tape was closed down by the FBI, not because of opera pirating, but for selling videos of the American Ballet Theater. Because of the changing climate in the recording industry and the shifting of copyright laws, however, I have no doubt that Mr. Tape would have closed by the early 1990s. Ralph would not have seen that day come in any case; he died in 1991.
Commercial Companies Enter the Fray
Coinciding with the time I worked at Mr. Tape, however, some interesting changes began to occur in American operatic recording practices. It was around that time (1980) that commercial recording companies discovered that releasing live recordings could be a serious viable alternative to making them in a studio. The considerations were not entirely artistic. Recording an opera during a run of performances is considerably cheaper and easier to manage than locating and renting a space, scheduling rehearsal and recording time and then patch-up sessions. Live recordings released today by such labels as Sony, BMG, EMI, Philips or Decca, however, differ from typical pirate recordings in that full releases have been secured from all participants which permit the recording to be released.
Many of the prized pirate recordings of 30 years ago are now in legal and wide commercial release, available at Tower, Virgin and HMV at a fraction of their previous cost. I remember spending over $60 in the early 1980s for the Hunt CDs of the renowned 1952 Bayreuth Tristan with Modl and Vinay. Now you can buy it on Opera D’Oro for $15.00. Such riches are welcome for the opportunity to make valuable artistic comparisons, sometimes even between a singer’s studio work and that done on stage. On the other hand, such a wealth can be intimidating and ultimately defeating. I also miss the lure of the forbidden now that so many of these recording are in legal release.
The Met Couldn’t Stop It
Because recordings of Metropolitan Opera performances continue to be actively prohibited, the “forbidden” allure attached to collecting them endures. They remain some of the most prized items in private collections. During any given night at the Met at least five (probably more) people are making pirate tapes. I know this for a fact. Fortunately, despite the Met’s efforts almost 2,000 Met performances have been preserved on tape with over 200 now available on CD, available mostly in Europe. More are released every year. Admittedly much of this contraband is interesting only from a historical standpoint but some are “unrepeatable” classics.
These would include the infamous Ponselle Carmen (1936 and 1937); the debut of mezzo soprano Jennie Tourel in Mignon (1937); an unsurpassed 1949 Salomé with Welitsch and Reiner; a 1939 Simon Boccanegra with Tibbett and Rethberg; a mercurial Gioconda with Milanov and Martinelli from that same year; the frothy, 1940 Fille du Regiment and sweetly sung Lakme with Lily Pons; a fiery 1940 Ballo with Bjoerling and Milanov; Martinelli’s Otello (1938 or 1941); a dynamic 1943 Tristan with Traubel, Melchior and Kipnis; a remarkable Tosca from 1956 with Tebaldi, Tucker and Warren intensely conducted by Dimitri Mitropolous; what many consider to be THE Turandot (1961) with Nilsson, Corelli and Moffo with Stokowski conducting; a stunning broadcast debut of Joan Sutherland in Lucia; and the joint debuts of both Leontyne Price and Franco Corelli in Trovatore both from 1961. All these pirated documents prove exactly why these singers were so popular and why these recordings are so prized. But even more importantly they serve to illustrate the vast changes in artistic taste, vocal tradition and voices themselves that have occurred during the past seventy years.
Today’s Multiple Choices
Today there is a plethora of small labels that specialize in live performances. A number of them are attached to various festivals. Most are available at Tower, HMV and Virgin Records, and if you live in the New York area and can’t find what you are looking for there, it is very possible you will find it second-hand at Academy Records. There are the excellent budget labels of Gala and Opera D’Oro both offering generally superb sound. Then there are the more expensive labels of Myto — probably the premiere label of pirate recordings today, Dynamic (Martina Franca Festival), Bella Voce, Marco Polo (Wexford Festival), Arcadia (formerly Hunt), Melodram, Voce della Luna, Arlecchino, Grand Tier, On Stage, Nuova Era, The Fourties, Mondo Musica (Teatro La Fenice), Legato Classics, Music and Arts, G.O.P and VAI (New Orleans series), not to mention live releases now offered on such major labels such as BMG (the Munich and Vienna series) EMI (Salzburg, La Scala, and the Callas library) and Sony (Opera Orchestra of New York). The only drawback to the smaller labels is that some do not include a libretto — though most include at least a synopsis of the action. Because of this, in most cases live recordings should be considered as supplementary to studio efforts unless you are dealing with rare works. In the case of the Callas performances, many connoisseurs have grown discontented with the way EMI has remastered the live recordings. To meet a growing demand, Divina Records (www.divinarecords.com) in Argentina has begun selling their own versions, from superior sound sources, which are custom-made on an individual basis for each order. For collectors unsatisfied with the quality of other commercially available CDs — or those wishing for access to a wider variety of performances than available in stores — Dr. Elkins at Omega Opera Archives will custom make CDs or tapes of any performances in his extensive collection. The Omega Opera Archive’s current holdings can be seen on Harold Sokolsky’s excellent website: www.operaphile .com or Dr. Elkins will provide a hard copy of the catalogue. Inquire on line (OmegaTwo@msn.com.) or by mail (Omega Opera Archive, P. O. Box 305, Pomona, N.Y. 10970).
Works You Won’t Hear on Commercial Records
In many instances live recordings are the only account of a work that can be found. Dynamic has released Giordano’s final opera, Il Re, and his Mese Mariano. Recorded at the Martina Franca Festival, they are invaluable opportunities to hear and study works seldom mounted. In the case of Il Re, the reasons are not hard to understand, the lead female role, Rosalina, is the most bizarre verismo role written, her music being a cross between Tosca and Zerbinetta. Patrizia Cioffi finally proves that the role is both singable and very beautiful.
Dynamic has also released the French version of Il Trovatore, the early version of Verdi’s Macbeth, and a true rarity, Massenet’s Roma. But there are many other rarities. There is Nielsen’s Saul and David, a 1972 Copenhagen broadcast in English with Christoff, Soderstrom, Borg and Fisher (Opera D’Oro), Catalani’s Loreley from a 1968 Milan performance with Suliotis, Cecchele and Cappuccilli (Living Stage), and Meyerbeer’s L’Etoile du Nord, given a bravura performance by Elisabeth Futral and the forces of the Wexford Opera (Marco Polo). Everyone is familiar with Humperdinck’s Hansel & Gretel, but how about his Konigskinder, from a 1952 Cologne performance with Fischer-Dieskau, Anders, and Moller-Sieperman? There is also Rubenstein’s The Demon from the Wexford Festival (Marco Polo), and a 1974 Munich revival of Marschner’s Der Vampyr with Auger, Tomowa-Sintow, Hillebrand and Hermann (Opera D’Oro).
Then there are the bel canto revivals, including Rossini’s Ciro in Babilonia, a 1988 Chiabrera performance with Dessi and Palacio (Agora); Donizetti’s Maria Stuarda (1967), Belisario (1969, 1970), Caterina Cornaro (1972) and Les Martyres (1975) all with Leyla Gencer, or his Castello di Kennilworth (Fonit Cetra) and Adelia (BMG) both with Mariella Devia; Renata Scotto’s 1968 Palermo revival of Bellini’s La Straniera (Melodram); Christina Deutekom’s 1970 revival of Rossini’s Armida, probably the finest singing she did on stage (Mondo Musica). Many New Yorkers remember the exceptional Carnegie Hall 1970 performance of Donizetti’s Fille du Regiment (two years before the more famous Sutherland-Pavarotti Met revival) with Sills, Hirst, Corena and Greenspon and conducted by Roland Gagnon. Released by Legato, it is not only a tribute to Beverly Sills but also to a great unsung hero, Roland Gagnon, who composed virtually all of Sills’ cadenzas and ornaments during her NYCO prime. Sills (in phenomenal voice) dominates the performance, demonstrating an expressive style of florid singing that harks back to earlier eras of virtuosi. There is an exciting pairing of Scotto and Christoff in a 1968 Italian revival of Meyerbeer’s Robert le Diable (Myto), the first performance of the work in the 20th century. There are also the important revivals of his Les Huguenots – one in Italian (Milan 1962) with Corelli, Sutherland, Simionato, Cossotto, Tozzi, Ghiaurov (Gala) and a 1971 Vienna concert with Gedda, Shane, Tarres, Scovotti and Diaz (Myto).
Thrilling Views of the Basic Repertoire
There are also many outstanding performances of the basic repertoire. A few would include a 1978 Munich Cavalleria with an ardent Rysanek, Domingo and Di Bella; an eloquently sung Lucia from Florence (1996) with Devia, Bros and Frontali conducted by Mehta (Fone), and a unique Don Giovanni from Vienna in 1963 with Price, Waechter and Gueden (Gala).
Many performances are surprises. One is an intensely sung (if idiosyncratically rearranged by Karajan) 1964 performance of Frau Ohne Schatten from Vienna (DGG) with Rysanek, Ludwig, Thomas, Berry and Grace Hoffmann, with Lucia Popp and Fritz Wunderlich in supporting roles — vocally one of the finest performances of the 1960s. There is a frantic but surprisingly satisfying 1949 performance of Ballo in Maschera from Edinburgh with Welitsch, Picchi, Silveri and Noni, conducted by Gui (On Stage). Or an outstanding 1955 Bayreuth performance of Gotterdammerung with a young Birgit Nilsson surrounded by Rysanek, Aldenhoff, Uhde, Frick, Topper and Schech and conducted by Knappertsbusch (Orfeo), as well as Christa Ludwig’s singular 1971 Lady Macbeth with Sherrill Milnes effective as Macbeth (Opera D’Oro). This last can now be compared with a 1950 Berlin Macbeth with Modl and Metternich (Myto), a revival that took place two years before Maria Callas’ more celebrated performances at La Scala. Out of her own fertile imagination, Mödl creates a riveting, sometimes frightening and constantly shifting portrait of the power-lusting queen.
Hear Them in Roles They Never Got to Record
In many instances live recordings offer the only chance of hearing artists in roles for which they were famous but never recorded, or performing with other artists in casts renowned at the time on stage but impossible to duplicate in a recording studio due to conflicting alliances with recording companies. During the 1960s Elektra was performed all over the world with three women who became closely identified with their roles: Birgit Nilsson, Leonie Rysanek and Regina Resnik. Although Nilsson and Resnik recorded the work together on Decca, it is only on pirate recordings that you can hear the trio intact. Legato released a 1965 Vienna performance that clearly explains what all the furor was about. In a star-studded cast that also included Windgassen, Waechter, Unger, Janowitz and Mastilovic (soon to be a formidable Elektra in her own right) and conducted by Karl Bohm, this document is a piece of operatic legend. Two performances of Lakme also demonstrate famous pairings on stage but not in the studio, Welting and Kraus (1980, Ornamenti) and Devia and Gedda (1981, Legato). Or how about a 1960 New York concert of Les Troyens with Resnik, Steber, Cassilly and Singher (VAI), or Grace Bumbry paired with an explosive Magda Olivero in an Italian, curiously veristic revival of Janacek’s Jenufa (Myto).
One Time Only and Not to Be Missed
Then there are those performances that are one of a kind – a hilarious, not to be missed 1965 NY revival of Dittersdorf’s Arcifanfano with Steber, Brooks, Rehfuss and the musical satirist, Anna Russell (VAI). There is also the famous 1954 Florence revival of Fanciulla del West with a white-hot Eleanor Steber and Mario Del Monaco (Myto); a fascinating, surprisingly reflective Italian-sung 1964 performance of Die Meistersinger with Taddei, Christoff, Rizzoli and Tatone (Datum); an unorthodox yet outrageously exciting Don Giovanni from the 1950 Salzburg Festival with Gobbi, Welitsch, Swarzkopf, Kunz and Dermota (EMI Salzburg Festspiel Documents); the famous 1969 Vienna revival of Smetana’s Dalibor with the Rysanek sisters singing together on the same stage along with Spiess and Waechter; or the legendary La Scala debuts of Sills and Horne in Rossini’s Siege of Corinth (Opera D’Oro). Or how about Caballe, Moll, Nimsgern, Kollo and Scovotti in a 1973 RAI performance of Strauss’ Arabella (Bella Voce); or a 1976 German-sung performance of Dvorak’s Rusalka from Switzerland with a poignant Teresa Stratas with Killebrew, White, Zidek (Bella Voce); or the landmark 1956 Munich revival of Aegyptische Helena with Rysanek, Kupper, Uhde and Malaniuk conducted by Keilberth (Orfeo), an outstanding document and one of the few recordings (live or studio) that gives an accurate aural picture of the Rysanek instrument. Or a real sleeper – Tosca from 1974 with Nilsson, Carreras, Fredricks and Ramey (Legato).
Long a favorite with collectors and singers is a Forza del Destino dating from San Carlo in 1958 with Tebaldi, Corelli, Bastianini, Christoff, Dominguez and Capecchi (GOP). (There is also a video of this performance.) There is a dangerously intense revival of Verdi’s Nabucco from Milan in 1967 with Guelfi and Suliotis (Opera D’Oro) and a dark, haunting Elektra from 1958 Salzburg with Inge Borkh, Lisa Della Casa and Jean Madeira with Marilyn Horne as one of the five Serving Maids (Opera D’Oro). Perversely fascinating is a 1969 Manon from Milan with Freni and Pavarotti in which the leads perform Massenet as though Puccini (Opera D’Oro). Contrasting that is a delicious 1965 Salzburg performance of Mozart’s Entfuhrung with Rothenberger, Grist, Wunderlich, Unger and Corena conducted by Mehta (Orfeo). There is a moving, Italian-sung performance (1958) of Massenet’s Don Quichote with Christoff and Teresa Berganza (Opera D’Oro); and a famous Naples revival of Pacini’s Saffo with Gencer and Louis Quilico (Arkadia). Another of those once in a lifetime performances is a 1962 Salzburg Trovatore (Gala) with Price, Corelli, Bastianini and Simionato conducted by Karajan – spectacular singing, excellent recording and an unforgettable evening of listening all for $10.00.
And Maria Callas – The Tip of the Iceberg
Each of the 60-plus performances of Maria Callas is certainly worth investigating for many reasons. Among them the legendary Mexico City Aida with her massive high E flat at the end of the Triumphal Scene (Melodram or Opera D’Oro) or the celebrated 1952 revival of Rossini’s Armida from Florence which, despite its murky sound, displays with startling clarity Callas’ genius in florid music – as well as her penchant for interpolating extreme high notes during her prime (Melodram). Callas’ first assumption of the Trovatore Leonora (which she prepared herself, without the help of her usual mentor, Tullio Serafin) also shows this trait (Opera D’Oro). Then there is the Dallas Medea (Gala)…
As if all of this were not too much already, it does not even take into account the many live recitals and concerts released which spotlight one or more artist. They could easily take up an article of their own.
Get a (Down) Load of This!
And now a new form of documenting live performances has recently become available – CD Rom. The father of this new movement is Mike Richter who has released some astonishing volumes, including performances of all the Wagner operas on a single disc and all the Strauss operas on another. Not playable on a regular CD player but rather on the CD Rom drive of your computer these discs are treasure troves. Most of them include libretti, artist and production photos, biographies and notes – a veritable multi-media extravaganza.
Any readers not familiar with Mike Richter’s work should visit his web site (http://mrichter.simplenet.com/) and examine his Audio Encyclopedia which is now up to about 8 volumes. The discs average about $8.00 and are absolutely indispensable for anyone interested in vocal tradition. One of the most impressive is a “Tribute to San Francisco Opera” (the Adler years) which includes some twenty operas as well as a 1970 Leontyne Price Concert and Mahler’s Das Lied von der Erde with Janet Baker and Jess Thomas, conducted by Josef Krips. Most of the performances are one of a kind. Where else can you find Jess Thomas’ Peter Grimes; or Vickers and Rysanek paired together in Aida; Giacomo Aragall’s Werther; a 1982 Dialogues of the Carmelites with Carol Vaness, Leontyne Price, Regine Crespin and Virginia Zeani (who sang in the 1957 world premier); or Gioconda with Gencer and Bumbry, Amy Shuard’s Gotterdammerung; Nancy Tatum’s Forza del Destino (with Carlo Bergonzi no less); or an Ariadne cast with Colette Boky as Zerbinetta surrounded by Ludmila Dvoraka and Jess Thomas with Janis Martin as the Composer?
They Will Become an Obscession
Believe it or not, even with all the recordings I have mentioned this is only the tip of the mountain. There are thousands out there for you to enjoy and learn from. Before, such performances were the stuff of dreams and secretly coveted by most people. Today anyone can own them. Never before in the history of recording has such a wealth of live material been so easily accessible to the general consumer. Indeed, the labels Gala and Opera D’Oro (both about $4.99 a disc) now make it possible for one to build a varied and exciting library of live recordings for practically no money at all. For people interested in such cost-inhibiting operas as the Wagner Ring Cycle, both labels offer revered performances for about $50.00 – about a third of the cost of a “normal” commercial recording of the 4 opera cycle.
As with the acoustic recordings I urge you to take a chance on enriching your collection with live performances. I should warn you, however, once you get a taste for them, they will become an obsession. They are truly the modern singer’s legacy and they reveal, without apology, the singers’ humanity and spirit. Without them we would be deprived of some of the greatest performances ever to have taken place – our legacy.
