After the recent success with Sondra Radvanovsky, I returned to the Met's Vespri for one reason: Nelly Miricioiu. The Romanian soprano has built a formidable career in Europe singing roles such as Norma and Tosca and is featured in studio recordings of rarely performed works for the Opera Rara label. She has a huge cult following among opera fandom, and her name is regularly mentioned along with other notably intense singing actresses such as Raina Kabaivanska and Magda Olivero. From what I saw and heard last night, she can barely suggest in the slightest manner the true greatness of the aforementioned singers.

Vocally, she was a mixed bag. She has a cutting, vinegar-tinged middle, with a shrill top. She used those qualities to some effect to dig into her first scene and in the subsequent cabaletta, where (for better or worse) she came just short of total abandon. I found that her finest moments came in the second act duet with Arrigo, where she shaped the vocal line with a committed, firm legato. She husbanded enough of her resources to give an impassioned "Arrigo! ah, parli a un core," only to falter in the final pianissimo. Unfortunately, the "Mercè, dilette amiche" was her undoing. Her high notes sounded like a cat being flayed alive. The more her voice got unhinged, the more insecure she seemed onstage. The bolero, which is regarded as the highlight of this opera, was the low point of the evening. While I didn't expect much from her vocally, I did expect a certain degree of dementia in her plastique. Instead, what she offered was a dull portrayal of a dull character in a dull production. She didn't even deliver in the camp department.

What a luxury to have a good Italian baritone (in the person of Leo Nucci, pictured left) singing with passion, without sacrificing the soft caressing of those Verdian lines. He was most deserving of the loudest ovations of the evening. As Procida, Samuel Ramey seemed to have a bit less of the wobble that was so pronounced at the prima; he gave us a performance that, though just beneath his best, was remarkable in power and character. Francisco Casanova sounds (is it possible?) more and more squeally every time I hear him.

Having consumed an entire pumpkin pie myself within a 24-hour span, I found the weekend an inappropriate time to update. Luckily, the opera world went on without my tryptophan-laden ass:

• Debbie Voigt floats, Milli Vanilli style.
• Quel horreur! Natalie Dessay goes under the knife for polyp.
• Zinka Milanov recording of non-Met gems, care of Mike Richter.
• Franco Zeffirelli is knighted, says Callas was poisoned.

Deborah Voigt may be having her pumpkin pie, but apparently she's not eating it, too. You'll see what I mean when she shows off her new hot bod atop a float in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade tomorrow. Don't scoff. Apparently she's lost around 80 pounds and has been tearin' it up in the Met's Tannhäuser. Obvs she'll be singing something; otherwise, who'll know or care who she is? Well… besides J.Jo. The Parade will be broacast on NBC, 9 AM to noon in all time zones.



EDIT: [Via Opera-L]

Voigt will be riding on the "Statue of Liberty" float. The parade schedule calls for her to perform a song (not an aria… .) at Macy's in Herald Square at approximately 11:12 AM/EST.

Monday night the audience poured into Carnegie Hall with great anticipation for what would be Aprile Millo's first ever Minnie. The hall was buzzing with excitement, as advanced reports from the dress rehearsal were uncharacteristically ecstatic.

Millo did not disappoint. As is customary for the diva these days, she took a bit to warm up, undersinging her lines right up until the "Laggiu nel soledad." She sang the aria with searing intensity and intelligent phrasing. She then unleashed a stunning high C to cap the aria, as if to say Make no mistake about it, this is going to be MY evening. She obliterated everything in her path from that point on. In the second act, she offered the best balls-out singing we've yet heard from her: full-throated, beautiful high B's and C's and an arrestingly freakish chest voice. All evening, Millo rode Eve Queller's orchestral climaxes to thrilling effect.

Hilli is giggling as I write this: Carl Tanner's Dick was a mystery for most of the evening. While like the basic sound of his voice, his low and middle voice were grainy and soft—almost inaudible given that Queler was determined to drown out all of her singers this evening. He did, however, deliver in the highest of notes, and his third act "Ch'ella mi creda" was vocalized and phrased with ardent feeling. He tried to upstage Millo by holding on to the final "Addio!" Even a fool familiar with Callas's stories knows that such stage games rarely endear him to fans [especially Millo's very dedicated disciples] and most assuredly not to the diva herself.

Marco Chingaro, who made his American debut, was inaudible to me for the entire evening. This was a lyric baritone trying on a role that is three times the size of his voice. My advice to Ms. Queler: if you are going to bring in small voices, at least be considerate enough to let them be heard.

Any public appearance of Millo brings out her light-loafered following, but this performance was particularly well-attended and enthusiastically received. The excellent work of the gay, gay, Gay Men's Chorus [as the miners] certainly added to the frenzy, but this night was, above all, a personal triumph for Millo—one that I hope major theaters will take note of so that they may re-install and recognize this major talent in the Italian repertoire.

Well, well, well. Look who showed up at last night's Fanciulla! Still so adorable, so gracious, so elegant at the age of 91. During intermission, she sang to me with all her heart and her kindness and her vivacity. I think I may have had one too many glasses of wine, so I don't remember taking this picture, but if I'm not mistaken, she was demonstrating a scene from a naughty little romp in which she participated. I overheard her say something to the effect of, "Marilyn Chambers… che bella gola."



Could it have been that that earned her this?

TLC's What Not to Wear is guilty pleasure of mine. Family members set up a two-week secret filming of one of their poorly-dressed beloved and arrange for the two hosts, Stacey and Clinton, to ambush said person in public for a fashion intervention. The guest gets to go on a $5,000 clothing shopping spree, but he or she must agree to give up the entire contents of the offending wardrobe and adhere to the fashion rules for dress the hosts set before the first shopping day.

Imagine our surprise when we caught a glimpse of a very special family member in the corner of the screen! Visit the What Not to Wear Video Intervention page and view the upper right hand corner selection, entitled "Laura's video." Keep your eye open for a certain lovable opera personality. Judging from her ivory ensemble last night at the OONY Fanciulla, I'd venture to say that she was the one who set up this intervention in the first place.

Any guesses? Leave 'em in the comments.

While I'm not super-crazy about her voice, I wouldn't be surprised if Canadian soprano Measha Brueggergosman breaks out into semi-stardom over the next year. When I first saw her, I thought Jill Scott had crossed over to opera [that ought to please Gelb!]. It looks as though she's doing a lot of oratorio work, but New Yorkers will have a chance to add to the already considerable acclaim when she presents a recital at Carnegie Hall on December 3rd. With any luck, she'll be giving face at the Met, too. That is, if the black dress doesn't sing first.

Ahhh, finally. Someone to stand with me on the corner of Anna Netrebko is Nothing Special At All and the Met's Musical Directors Are Apparently Deaf to Good Singing. There aren't a lot of other hookers workin' this block, but I'm definitely glad to add Vilaine Fille to Trrill extended family who has my back. It mystifies me that Netrebko is treated as the second coming, but then not everyone has the same criteria that we do. Her voice on the new album is anything but sempre libera. No, Vilaine, those grace notes that Puccini wrote are not for Netrebko, but neither are the acciacature in the Bellini [Vilaine Fille gives us a great quote from Callas on this]. Nevermind the moments when she is required to sing low notes whose pitches clearly dictate a use of a chest-dominated tone. The most telling are il fantasma in the Lucia mad scene and muoia in "Sempre libera," where she barely seems to be phonating at all. Singing "breathlessly" and "passionately" should not be used in place of singing the pitches as they were intended: with clarity and evenness of tone and vowel—something which she seems to have trouble with throughout all her recordings. Mother Nature will take care of her, though. Either she'll flop in a couple years, or she'll really figure out what she's doing, not doing, or doing too much of.

On a more positive note, I did take Vilaine's comments about Swedish baritone Peter Mattei quite seriously and decided to check him out. After all, nothing fluffs my petticoats more than an excellent baritone, and there don't seem to be a ton of them singing in the US lately. And now, having heard Mr. Mattei, I offer a hearty "Yum!" and agree he's quite a find, with a sound that has the grace and sweetness of Thomas Hampson and the intensity of Vladimir Chernov. I was surprised to find him on the recent Les Troyens recording, which won the Grammy Classical Record of the Year and which includes the superb singing of Stephen Milling, who brought down the house as Gurnemanz in last summer's Parsifal at the Seattle Opera. Mattei is impressive as Posa on Naxos' live Don Carlo from the Royal Swedish Opera. I find his serenade on the much-lauded Don Giovanni a little white, but he never exceeds the bounds of taste or style. He's got Wolfram at La Scala next, and judging from his sensitivity and true command of soft singing, he's sure to score a major triumph. Give him a few months and the Met'll be sorry they didn't scoop him for some real roles earlier.



EDIT: Not five minutes after publishing, the Assolutas had occasion to see the music video for the Jewel Song from Netrebko's DVD The Woman, the Voice on the Classic Arts Showcase. We couldn't decide on our favorite part! For me, it was the complete lack of a trill in every spot where they're written. Leyla said she particularly enjoyed the obvious references to Björk with the "avant-garde" shards-of-mirror mobile draped about Miss Netrebko, who is bedecked in a bad ripoff of As Four. Of course, Hilli went for the obvious: Anna's nasty, nasty booty-dip-and-pop during the "tank top with wine-colored vinyl pants-under a blue tutu" scene. We did all agree, however, that the lip synching was silly; the vocal evidence says there's no way she was taking it as easy at she's pretending during the actual recording. If you haven't had the pleasure, keep your televisions tuned to Classic Arts; they tend to show the programming on repeat for a week, usually.

Our dear friend La Cieca at Parterre Box announced today a refurbishment of his Opera House internet radio station. Just click the link below and you can hear any of seven superb live performances of the operas of Giuseppe Verdi right from your desk. The broadcasts are streamed via Live365 [if you have trouble, just visit the How to Listen page]. If only Live365 allowed you to skip ahead to your favorite performance or aria. But hell, it's better than waiting all week only to be disappointed by the weekend.


The program includes the following performances:

Aida - 8 June 1968: Bruno Bartoletti - Arroyo, Bergonzi, Cvejic, MacNeil

Don Carlo - 9 June 1967: Oliviero de Fabritiis - Craig, Bacquier, Hines, Jones, Cossotto

I Lombardi (abridged) 19 January 1986: Eve Queler - Millo, Bergonzi, Plishka

Il Trovatore - 5 June 1969: Oliviero de Fabritiis - Price, Bergonzi, Cossotto, Cappuccilli

La traviata - 27 March 1958: Franco Ghione - Callas, Kraus, Sereni

Otello - May 1963: Berislav Klobucar - Vickers, Kabaivanska, Quilico, Valori

Rigoletto - 16 June 1961: Argeo Quadri - MacNeil, Gencer, Raimondi

To listen to this web radio program, simply click on the following link:

+ Il Gran Teatro della Cieca

More questions than answers about vibrato at Musical Crematorium. I'm especially concerned with the New Harvard Dictionary's definition, which seems to imply that vibrato is something that a singer does and uses. It's maybe a little irresponsible to offer the view that a singer adds vibrato to his singing the way that a violinist makes the conscious effort to fluctuate the pitch in order to enrich the sound.

I am pleased to see, though, that the student blogger (DepauwDiva) is circumspect enough to take in other sources, including Mozart himself, that recognize vibrato as a natural vocal function. She also cites Cornelius Reid, author of arguably the most important books in the 20th century vocal pedagogy canon. Reid's early statement sees vibrato as a mystery, but in his later book, Free Voice: A Guide to Natural Singing, he expounds on his former position. Regrettably, it seems the student never got around to reading it [I can't blame her; it's quite technical, lofty, and not for those easily confused). Still, it remains, in my overeducated experience, the most likely and logical mechanical explanation for the phenomenon of the vibrato:

"After the pressure of the breath against the stretched vocal cords has set them into vibration an unusual action occurs. Instead of remaining in a fixed position of vibratory tension the cords yield somewhat to the breath pressure exerted beneath them so that the air escaping from the lungs is released in a series of puffs. With each puff the chords spread apart momentarily; then, after the briefest interruption the opening immediately closes as the cords in an undulating motion return to normal position.

With the vocal cords the upward and outward movement followed causes a slight raising of the pitch to take place. With the reduction of breath pressure made possible by the escape of each puff of air this change is straightaway counteracted by a lowering of the pitch as the vocal cords spring back to their normal position. During the return of the cords to the normal position the mean pitch is exceeded, so that when a tone is sustained a series of rapid pitch fluctuations take place whereby the tone that is heard actually represents the center point of a rapid alteration between an imperceptibly raised peak and a slightly lowered depression. One of the most important features of this phenomenon is the regularity of its occurrence, both in amplitude, that is to say, in width of pitch change, and in periodicity, or the number of oscillations per second. The action just described is heard in singing as a vibrato."

You can purchase Reid's books from Jospeh Patelson Music House.

Things don't look good for Tebaldi. Hilli said that she can't wait to see the old queens dive off the parapets when she goes, but I'm a little more sensitive. After all, it was only last month that we lost Robert Merrill. Will there be anyone to carry Tebaldi's torch now? From the reports of the dress rehearsal, we'll have a very, very promising answer Monday at OONY.

I'd love to tell you that this story began with X's and O's backstage after some brilliant festival run of the Donizetti queens, where three devastatingly virtuosic sopranos got together and came up with the idea for a no-hold-barred opera weblog. But here's how it really happened.

    I was enjoying a stiff drink late on a Wednesday evening at home, when I got the intercom buzz from downstairs. I don't normally get visitors, so I was understandably disturbed when through the speaker I heard "Aprite la porta! We're tired and hungry and pissed off. We saw your light on. Now let us in!"
    "Um, who are you?"
    "We're the Assolutas, you prick! We're about to put the muthafuckin' TINA back in Christina Gallardo-Domas. "
    "Look, I agree; she sucks. But bitches, please! Methamphetamines are for gay people."
    "Opera is so messed up today, and no one seems to care. When someone speaks up about the lack of excellence in singing, they get treated like a guest at the Holocaust Hotel," one of them replied. "The three of us met at an audition for the next substitute member of the unstable… er… ever-changing 90's R&B girl group En Vogue. We were so fed up with our colleagues' singing and with the atrocious sounds on the Met Broadcasts that we decided to make a go of the crossover career. It seemed to work for everyone else… didn't it? But then we got to thinking, once we got famous for being opera singers turned urban music idols, there'd probably be a mad rush of shitty sopranos and tenors flocking to Timb's studio to get they piece. So we decided to take a torch to every major opera house in America. We figured someone would get the message. It's gonna be like the Jedi Purge of the Old Republic! They'll all either die or go into hiding!"
    "Wait, wait, wait! Maybe there's another way to go about this, though. Instead of washing your hands of the opera world, why not do the crossover that every news agency and pundit in America is doing?"
    "What's that?"
    "Ghorl! Ain'tchoo never heard of the Internets? We're gonna get y'all a web log! I mean… a weblog! It'll give you a chance to be catty and 'academic,' and hopefully you'll be occupied enough not to notice your withdrawl from crystal."
    "We're into it."

    I let them in, they came up the stairs, they knocked on the door, I opened. Except one thing. There wasn't three of them; there was one. It was a fright: this haggard, skeletal, convulsive woman in front of me with her skirts hiked around her waist and her feet skittering about, doing the pee-pee dance. "I thought you said there were three of you!" I exclaimed.
    "Oh, there are, darling. We're aaallll in here," she said, tapping on her head. She offered an ear-splitting "Hojotoho" (each a major third apart), I was sold. I let her proceed with her toilette and fixed her a cauldron of hot soup. I showed her a few websites of interest and how to encode mp3's. Meanwhile, I fiddled with MovableType, futzed with the voice of contralto Ernestine Schumann-Heink, and fenagled a little valid CSS to create Trrill.com: Florid Passages from Queer Opera Zealots.

    Now, with their hands on the mouse, their ears on any recording they can find, and their pince nez stuffed neatly into their corsets, the Assolutas sit in their palco funesto, ready to spit fire on the unsuspecting opera world.

+ Read more here.