Jonas Kaufman, tenor. Amazing, gorgeous color to the voice. Wonderful technique. Doesn't hurt that he's good looking, too. And, no, I do not think he's a baritone, or singing with a manufactured dark tone. This is the real deal, and he's wonderful.
Walkuere: Winterstuerme
Martha: Ach, so fromm
The next is from the FIFA World Player Gala December 2006, with a bit of sports commentator speaking over the beginning. Annoying, but worth getting through to the good stuff.
Die Zauberfloete: Dies Bildnis
And it's a GOOOOOOAAAAAAALLLLLLLL!
Der Rosenkavalier: Italian tenor
Love how he teases/honors Pavarotti at the end with the big "handkerchief". He resembles Hugh Jackman here, don't you agree, ladies?
Franco Corelli was born in Ancona, Italy, on 8 April 1921. In 1951 he won the Maggio Musicale competition in Florence, and again won a competition at Spoleto, singing Don Jose in Carmen. He made his debut at La Scala, Milan opposite Maria Callas in Spontini's "La Vestale" on the opening night of the season in 1954.
Franco Corelli reposed at the age of 82 in Milan, October 29, 2003. One of the great tenors of the 20th Century. Enjoy.
A singer friend introduced me to the great tenor in the 80's while he was singing Hoffmann at the Met. I was definitely star-struck, as the gracious man took some time to talk and shake my hand. I shall never forget it.
Now for the fun stuff:
M'appari from von Flotow's Martha
Ah, leve-toi, soleil, Gounod's Romeo et Juliette
Two versions of the love duet from Verdi's Otello.
I still get goose-bumps listening to the lady.
Every inch the incredible diva. Yes, her voice was as big as it seems.
Dich, teure Halle, from Wagner's Tannhauser
Clip below is the end of Strauss'sSalome. It looks like some kind of gala; it's at the Met in NYC, and the stage looks like it's from Strauss's Der Rosenkavalier.
When asked what was the most important requirement for a soprano to sing Isolde, Nilsson said, "a comfortable pair of shoes."
When Nilsson was asked if she thought Joan Sutherland's famous bouffant hairdo was real, she answered: "I don't know. I haven't pulled it yet."
Nilsson called Turandot, one of the most punishing roles in the soprano repertory, her "vacation role."
Rudolf Bing made a ritual joke of getting on his knees every time Nilsson returned to the Met. When he did this after having been knighted by Queen Elizabeth, Nilsson said, "You do that much better since you practiced for the queen."
Bing asked Nilsson to sing the final scene from Salome at his farewell gala in 1972. As an added inducement, he said that she could have his head on a platter. Nilsson replied, "Oh, that's not necessary, Mr. Bing. I will use my imagination."
Nilsson did not get along with the famous conductor Herbert von Karajan . Once when rehearsing on stage at the Vienna Staatsoper, her string of pearls broke. While helping her retrieve them, Karajan asked, "Are these real pearls bought with your fabulous Metropolitan Opera fees?" Nilsson replied, "No, these are very ordinary fake pearls bought with your lousy Vienna Staatsoper fees."
When Nilsson first arrived at the Met to rehearse the production of Die Walkure conducted by Karajan, she said, "Nu, where's Herbie?" And Karajan once sent Nilsson a cable several pages long, proposing in great detail a variety of projects, different dates and operas. Nilsson cabled back: "Busy. Birgit."
There was a healthy competition between Nilsson and tenor Franco Corelli as to who could hold the high C the longest in Act II of Turandot. In one tour performance, after Nilsson outlasted Corelli on the high C, Corelli stormed off to Bing during the next intermission and said that he was not going to continue the performance. Bing, who knew how to handle Corelli's tantrums, suggested that he retaliate by biting Nilsson on the neck when Calaf kisses Turandot in Act III. Corelli didn't bite Nilsson but he was so delighted with the idea that he told her about Bing's suggestion. She then cabled Bing, informing him that she had to cancel the next two tour Turandot performances because she had contracted rabies.
Here's a listen to the healthy competition:
And a most beautiful Liebestod, from Wagner's Tristan und Isolde:
Leonard Bernstein called her the "perfect Mahler mezzo".
Christa Ludwig had one of the most gorgeously thrilling voices of the 20th Century.
Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen
The poem, by Friedrich Rueckert, after the video, first in German, then English.
Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen,
Mit der ich sonst viele Zeit verdorben,
Sie hat so lange von mir nichts vernommen,
Sie mag wohl glauben, ich sei gestorben.
Es ist mir auch gar nichts daran gelegen,
Ob sie mich für gestorben hält,
Ich kann auch gar nichts sagen dagegen,
Denn wirklich bin ich gestorben der Welt.
Ich bin gestorben dem Weltgewimmel,
Und ruh' in einem stillen Gebiet.
Ich leb' allein in mir und meinem Himmel,
In meinem Lieben, in meinem Lied.
I am lost to the world
with which I used to waste so much time,
It has heard nothing from me for so long
that it may very well believe that I am dead!
It is of no consequence to me
Whether it thinks me dead;
I cannot deny it,
for I really am dead to the world.
I am dead to the world's tumult,
And I rest in a quiet realm!
I live alone in my heaven,
In my love and in my song!
This singer has always been one of my favorites, since the first time I heard a recording of him 'way back in the early 1980's,
He never sang badly. He never had an 'off' day.
One story I remember hearing about him: the great tenor was asked about warming up before going on stage, what did he do, how long did he warm up, etc. The great tenor said --I test the voice, perhaps sing a scale, not more. If the voice is there, it's there; if not, there's not anything anyone can do about it.
From all accounts, the voice of Jussi Bjoerling was always "there".
UPDATED:
I love the tenor voice. [sigh] Nothing like it. And of course, I have my favorites.
This will be an on-going, occasional series (meaning, I'll post the next one when I get to it.)
I have my favorites, but I must begin the series with the one and only Pavarotti.
Just saying his name connotes brilliance: voice, talent, love of life, embracing it all.
He knew how to work an audience!
Theofficial website is incredibly lovely and professional, and clearly an act of love and admiration. It is hard to believe Maestro Luciano has been gone over three years. We shall not see -- nor hear -- his like again.
I remember as a music student first hearing his voice. Once heard, it cannot be mistaken for any other. Clear, golden, warm, and masculine. When he sang, the listener could sit back and relax, knowing that there was nothing he could not do in his chosen repertoire. That is precisely what some critics nailed him for: he stuck to his repertoire, and did not venture far from it. To me, that shows his understanding of his voice and of the music business. He knew what would 'sell,' and he knew if he failed in a role he couldn't handle on stage, his career would not be what he was aiming for. Brilliant.
Late in his career he ventured into pop music (who can forget the album with John Denver...). I didn't care much for that music. Enough said.
The album that still brings a smile to my face is his Turandot with Joan Sutherland (another great singer I miss.) "L'egnimi sono tre, una lat vita!" My Word! King of the High C's, indeed!
I do wish I had heard that voice "live." In anything.