José Carreras & Georges Thill
José
Carreras & Georges Thill
Note: Finding recordings of and
writings on Georges Thill was rather difficult in comparison with the previous
singers I’ve studied. Rather than abandon the pursuit entirely, however, I
decided to focus a bit more heavily on José Carreras by listening to three full
operas and excerpts. For Thill I was limited to excerpted arias from a variety
of sources and highlights of a Charpentier opera.
José
Carreras
José Carreras’ career defies
easy explanation because of the multiplicity of factors that defined both his
technique and his repertoire throughout. It remains unclear if his progression
from Bel Canto lyric repertoire all
the way through spinto repertoire
caused or was caused by a darkening depth in the voice even as it retained its
fundamental characteristics. Many critics questioned the function conductors
and fame played in role selection and a strong suspicion hangs in the air that
the heavier roles damaged the voice. Finally, the extent to which Carreras’
leukemia around 1988 limited his career is unclear. I listened to a recording
of Elisabetta, regina d'Inghilterra
from 1975, a recording of La traviata
live from Tokyo in 1973, a recording of Andrea Chénier released during
Carreras’ illness but seemingly recorded before it (or at least before it was
diagnosed), and outtakes primarily from the Three Tenors concerts. My findings
suggest that illness took a toll on an already declining voice. Delineating the
causes of that decline remains somewhat more difficult.
Of Rossini’s tenor roles, Leicester
in Elisabetta, regina d'Inghilterra does
not demand the proficiency with coloratura
that, say, Almaviva does in Il barbiere
di Siviglia. I do not know the opera well, but I could not shake the
feeling that perhaps some coloratura
sections had been cut for this recording, especially since Elisabetta has no
dearth of coloratura. Intriguingly
the recordings available (and there were a surprising number) of Carreras
singing Bel Canto were in less
popular roles. Though the few quicker passages did not seem the cleanest, with
heavier glottal or aspirate onsets to set off the moving notes, this did not
seem to be a huge impairment. It left me wondering, however, if Carreras really
had the means to venture into roles requiring coloratura, and how many of these were cut for him. Otherwise, his
performance was admirable if not quite polished. The high notes were there, the
portrayal seemed dramatically appropriate, and the voice had the ringing
cleanness of a young, virile tenor. On the one hand, there is something
impressive about hearing a more substantial lyric voice tackle a role that sits
high and has many “goal” high notes. Indeed, Carreras’ lyric voice, if in fact that
is what it was, possessed an unusually dark timbre. On the other hand, it
lacked the ease and fluidity that is expected of the greatest tenore di grazia. Though some online
reviews of the CD suggest insecurity in the high notes, I did not hear any hint
that Carreras struggled with them. I did, however, hear the possibility of an
unhealthy approach. The sound was certainly thrilling, with a great deal of
metallic ring, but I could not help but wonder if the production was close to a
shout with just enough depth to make it pleasant and artistic, especially
because it seemed very different from the rest of the voice. The sound was
perhaps not as uncovered, or at least clearly so, as that of Giuseppe di
Stefano, but it did seem to be somehow improperly shallow and forward (yet,
somehow, not lacking depth of tone). This issue became more pronounced as the
career went on, which is why I bring it up here. Particularly useful excerpts
for this study were Leicester’s first entrance in Act I of the opera over
several tracks, his Act II aria “Sposa
amata,” and the finale of the opera. In all, Carreras handled the role
well, if perhaps in a matter that was less stylistically elegant and free and
with some potential issues in the top range due to a distinct tonal break that
might have become increasingly unpleasant to observers and damaging to its producer.
While I almost hesitate to say
so at risk of seeming to be jumping on a bandwagon, Carreras’ Alfredo in La traviata seemed to truly have him in
his element, to stunning effect. It was here, however, that some of the
surprising darkness in his tone became particularly apparent. From the opening
of the opera in the Brindisi, the scuro side of the voice was particularly
apparent. The net effect of this is a thrilling tone molten in its richness yet
still bright. Seemingly this would be exactly the tone one would desire from a
tenor. Even in the Act I aria ("Lunge
da lei... De' miei bollenti spiriti" with “O mio rimorso” cut) the darkness is overwhelming. There is less
disconnect between the high notes in parts than as Leicester, but the weight in
the top seems misplaced. In Act II the effect becomes even more pronounced. It
was in this La traviata where I began
to become confused about Carreras; it was almost as though I was listening to
some combination of Giuseppe di Stefano and Franco Corelli singing Alfredo.
Perhaps it was like listening to the former try to sing the role after the
fashion of the latter. Of the things to which I listened, Carreras was
certainly at his best vocally and interpretively as Alfredo, and it was easy to
see why people regard him so highly after hearing this relatively early
recording. The voice is deeply rich in a way many lyric tenor voices are not
without seeming heavy the way we might expect a spinto voice to be. Though in some places into the passaggio I wondered if too much weight
(and yet somehow sometimes a seeming disconnect between the even darker tone
below and the higher tone above) and over-darkening was being employed, I was left
with the sense that the role was well within Carreras’ abilities and that he
was offering a beautiful portrayal. Entering into this from the perspective of
not really liking Carreras, this convinced me, so to speak.
It was intriguing, then, to
look at Andrea Chénier, recorded in
studio, almost ten years later. Opera
People was a great resource for last week’s singers. This week it provides
an interesting historical perspective, suggesting, “While Nemorino in L’elisir d’amore and Rodolfo in La bohéme are ideal, he has his eyes on Andrea Chénier and the mighty Verdi
heroes… José Carreras is a meteor that we hope will burn brightly for decades
to come.” Sadly, that reality did not
come to pass. The book also makes the comparison between Carreras and di
Stefano and details Herbert von Karajan’s role in pushing the tenor into
heavier repertoire. Carreras’ performance as Andrea Chénier further confuses
the matter of his voice. Where he sounded richly dark in the middle and lower
range but secure if a bit disconnected in the top as Leicester and richly dark
with a unified sound throughout the voice, if perhaps at the expense of too
much weight in the passaggio as
Alfredo, Chénier seems to have shed most of the richness from the voice,
leaving a metallic, very forward, almost “thrown” sound. Of course "Un dì all'azzurro spazio" and "Come un bel dì di maggio" are
benchmarks for performance in the role, though it requires beefy singing
throughout. The width of Carreras’ vibrato certainly has increased by this
point in the career, and though he sometimes shaded the top notes with more
weight, there did at times seem to be a thinness in quality perhaps
reminiscence of di Stefano’s over-opened singing through the passaggio. Carreras’ sound possessed
some additional sort of raggedness, however. The opera’s finale in particular
offers a useful study of the tenor’s approach to the higher range of the voice,
showing his tendency to hook into the high notes with great thrust, perhaps to
the detriment of the instrument.
Reviews available seemed to all
fall around the late-80s to early-90s period and offered useful supplemental
observations. The earliest reviews Carreras as Don Alvaro in 1983, noting as I
did his seemingly unusually dark timbre for a lyric tenor and praising his tone
while criticizing a less melodic and over-emotional performance. A 1984 review
of a video of Turandot continues to
describe the voice as lovely but suggests the role is straining at times. The
next review in 1996 offers perhaps the most insight, especially comparing
pre-illness and post-illness changes, describing, “Mr. Carreras seemed vocally
pretty much back to where he was before his bout with leukemia. The big,
serviceable, rough-edged delivery is intact, but there has been no retreat
toward the golden sound that promised so much at the beginning of his career.” A
1996 review of a song recital calls the voice, “in a sad state after pushing
the voice beyond its essentially lyrical resources,” and finally a review of a
Three Tenors concert the same year describes the voice as, “wasted” and
“leathery.” I certainly agree from listening to Three Tenors recordings that at
this point Carreras’ voice was far gone, and the listening I have done, along
with reviews, suggest leukemia was not the sole cause.
In Rossini, in light Verdi (as
much as there is such a thing), and in Giordano Carreras presented a different
side of himself at each turn, with each side interpretively successful. That
said, he exhibited many signs of vocal-decline risk throughout. Perhaps the
Rossini was a bit beyond a true lyric or even dark, rich, slightly larger lyric
tenor voice, but it showed the lyricism of the instrument even while revealing
the unnatural timbre. Alfredo seemed by far most appropriate, but even there it
was unclear whether the richness Carreras possessed was natural or a result of
some over-darkening. It also revealed Carreras’ approach to high notes, which
seemed to oscillate between disconnected and over-opened and muscled up from
below, and with a sudden burst of energy in either case rather than a smooth
onset. Finally, Andrea Chénier was still enjoyable to hear, but the darkness
seemed gone from the voice, replaced with a metallic, somewhat wildly forced
sound that was at times rough. What caused what and which, if any, of these
elements described in this paragraph led to Carreras’ decline is uncertain.
Perhaps none of these auditory qualities actually made any difference and they
are all merely results of the simple acoustic difficulty of contending with
orchestras too large for the instrument. Even into the Three Tenors concerts
Carreras certainly managed better
than many tenors can claim. It’s clear, however, that far from being “a meteor
that we hope will burn brightly for decades to come” Carreras’ “golden sound
that promised so much at the beginning of his career” dissipated rapidly only a
little more than a decade after his rise to prominence, aided by disease that
we are nonetheless thankful he overcame.
Georges
Thill
Georges
Thill unfortunately did not record many, or any, operas in full and his output
is much less available through publicly available resources. Writings about his
career are equally elusive. Still, I patched together an interesting portrait
of the artist through highlights of Gustave Charpentier’s Louise, a compilation entitled Airs
d’opéra Français, and other excerpts in my personal collection and on YouTube.
Thill’s
appreciation for French music is clear. The excerpts from Louise, an unusual selection in the 1930s, show a range of scenes
from arias to duets to ensemble pieces. What I discovered immediately with
Louise was that whatever perception I might have formed during the session
deciding to study Thill this week was inaccurate. While the production
definitely has a French feel to it and it is stylistically more French than
Italian, it is by no means a purely lyrical approach in the tradition that grew
out of the haute contre but rather
one firmly rooted in post-romantic technique with the necessary foundations for
dramatic repertoire. Even in this unusual Charpentier repertoire it is clear
that the singing employs moderate vibrato, not a laser-like, narrow vibrato.
Thill certainly makes use of smooth, seemingly rich singing in his middle
range. Some of the higher passages, however, definitely have the power and ring
of at least a typical Verdian lyric tenor production, if not an even more
dramatic voice. Interestingly, in this Charpentier he is often very
declarative, singing in a way that is almost talkative (I hesitate to use the
word “shouting” as it has very negative connotations; perhaps a projected,
pitched stage voice would be the best analogy). The first track on the CD is
probably the best for hearing the whole range on the disc. Overall it is
enjoyable though the sound quality is not so wonderful.
The
compilation of French pieces to which I listened further reflects Georges
Thill’s appreciation of French repertoire and also less usual repertoire. It
may be, however, that this also indicates a relatively more regional stature
compared to other tenors. Here, the differentiation between repertoires is
actually clearer than on the Charpentier. An aria from Gluck’s Alceste shows a more characteristic
early French style, mellifluous, reserved, yet flowing. As the CD progresses,
it becomes clear that Thill’s success in multiple repertoires is characterized
by two factors: two slightly different styles of singing and an understanding
of stylistic imperatives for lyric rather than heroic moments. Particularly
brilliant is that this differentiation is apparent both on a macro-level
between different repertoire and also on a micro-level at different moments
within that repertoire. It would be fair to say that, in general, selections
from La damnation de Faust, Faust, Roméo et Juliette, and Werther
use a more lyric, smoother approach with Thill singing very easily and
lyrically through the passages and, when possible, even taking high sections or
top notes softly. Contrariwise, selections from Les troyens a Carthage, Le
Cid, Carmen, Samson et Dalila and in a way Guillaume
Tell employ a more robust tone. In both cases, however, Thill never ceases
to consider which sections require declamatory phrasing and which are better
suited by a flowing line. He employs pianissimi
in both kinds of repertoire, though more in the lyric repertoire, and also
seems to modulate his vibrato and tone quality based on the repertoire.
Particularly in what I believe is probably the D4-A4 range he seems to be able
to alternate between a more honeyed, syrupy tone and a more metallic, gripping
ring.
Thill’s
approach to more Italianate repertoire and more standard repertoire is much the
same. The contradiction is that, though it is hard to tell exactly, he seems to
have been a lyrico-spinto voice
perhaps “truly” (say, in the middle of his career) decidedly on the spinto end, yet in the heaviest
repertoire he never entirely abandoned French reserve or long legato lines (“Nessun dorma” would be a quintessential example). The latter may
just be good singing, the former, however, is definitely remarkable. The only
review I could find was actually an obituary noting his success in both lyric
and dramatic repertoire but suggesting his high notes could be shaky unless he
was in top form. The studio recordings to which I listened of course did not
show this. I will admit that while the top notes seemed wonderful and ringing,
he did seem to really attack them except when specifically executing a piano effect. I took this to mean that,
like many heavier voices, he perhaps had to work for those notes even if the
result was superb when he got there. Amazingly, while this in some ways was
reminiscent of my complaint about Carreras hooking into the top notes, the same
break in tone was not apparent here, it seemed consistent, just louder and more
present than the rest of Thill’s range. As a closing note, I will mention that
in a vague way, Thill reminds me of Jussi Björling, my favorite tenor and the
inspiration for this project. A similarly brilliant ring mixed with just enough
depth to make the tone appreciable gives me this impression. The voices are
unmistakably different and Björling employed a more Italianate style.
Unfortunately, Thill’s voice declined much more rapidly than did Björling’s
(although judging that was cut short). I did not note much in my listening to
suggest this, perhaps with the exception that the voice does seem to lack the
viscerally raw power of someone like Del Monaco or Corelli, but instead relied
on a very bright, perhaps overly open production. It may be that Thill and
Carreras are not that different, after all, but the results of Thill’s
recordings are decidedly more unified and make more sense, suggesting a more
coherent technique. Based on what I heard, I would like to imagine that Thill
was simply less durable than others or that it really was, as he believed, his
lifestyle outside of singing that caused his decline, whereas, unfortunately, I
really do believe technical flaws and role selection errors cut-short Carreras’
singing prime.
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