This is old but gold. On that CD, released back in 1993 but still available,
there are 19 magnificent studio recordings from Mario del Monaco’s absolute
prime. And yes, he is at his best. I know, I know! I contradict myself. I
constantly repeat that for Mario’s best you have to go for his live recordings.
Listening to that disc, I’m not so sure anymore. These performances may be slightly
less elemental than their “live” counterparts, but there is elegance and
refinement that are sometimes lost in the heat of the stage.
Besides, the sound quality is distinctly superior. All selections on that disc, including the single mono example, boast the sumptuous sonics that have become Decca’s trademark. No “live” recording from the 1950s has depth, clarity and naturalness even remotely comparable to the studio efforts of the legendary British label from the same time. Now let’s listen to some music.
Besides, the sound quality is distinctly superior. All selections on that disc, including the single mono example, boast the sumptuous sonics that have become Decca’s trademark. No “live” recording from the 1950s has depth, clarity and naturalness even remotely comparable to the studio efforts of the legendary British label from the same time. Now let’s listen to some music.
The beautiful thing about
this disc is that 11 of the 16 arias on it are extracted from complete
recordings. These are all gems, not easy to obtain separately. For my part, Del
Monaco owns the roles of Otello,
Canio and Cheniér. The Moor’s death (16), Canio’s anguished reflections (14)
and Cheniér’s famous “Improviso” (12) have never received more impassioned renditions.
The only possible exceptions, of course, are Mario’s countless live recordings.
He may not own Cavaradossi (7-8), Calaf (10), Alvaro (2), Manrico (5), Radames
(1), Enzo (6) or Dick Johnson (15), but he is certainly a top contender. Alvaro’s poignant monologue
is not quite as fine as Mario’s stupendous live rendition with Mitropoulos (Florence , 1953), but
neither is it much inferior.
Manrico’s aria and cabaletta, here nicely given with the intervening short duet and Ruiz’s intrusion, is Mario’s best version; only one other complete recording of the part has survived, the 1957 radio performance that was used as a soundtrack, but this is less accomplished. Note his robust yet graceful phrasing in “Ah si, ben mio”, and the thrilling trills, the perfect pace and the stunning, yet devoid of ostentation, finale of “Di quella pira”. For once in this “cabaletta to end all cabalettas” (Charles Osborne), I have a feeling I’m listening to a character anxious to save his mother from the stake, not to a male prima donna whose only purpose is to split the roof with the final note.
Manrico’s aria and cabaletta, here nicely given with the intervening short duet and Ruiz’s intrusion, is Mario’s best version; only one other complete recording of the part has survived, the 1957 radio performance that was used as a soundtrack, but this is less accomplished. Note his robust yet graceful phrasing in “Ah si, ben mio”, and the thrilling trills, the perfect pace and the stunning, yet devoid of ostentation, finale of “Di quella pira”. For once in this “cabaletta to end all cabalettas” (Charles Osborne), I have a feeling I’m listening to a character anxious to save his mother from the stake, not to a male prima donna whose only purpose is to split the roof with the final note.
In his charming
memoirs, La mia vita e i miei successi (1982), Mario remembered the Decca recording sessions
with some distaste. Most of them, he says, were made in the stifling halls of
Academia di Santa Cecilia during the hot summer months. He was amused by the contrast
between the operatic artist in gorgeous costumes and the recording artist in
sweaty t-shirts. As you can see above, eight of the complete studio recordings
– that is, all of them except Il
Trovatore and La Gioconda – were
made with the orchestra of Santa Cecilia and, presumably, under the unpleasant
conditions described by Mario. None of them, however, shows any sign of fatigue or
discomfort.
Unfortunately,
Mario never made a commercial recording of Ernani,
though there are at least six live
recordings in existence; one of these with Mitropoulos (Florence , 1957) has become truly legendary. This
1956 studio take on Ernani’s recitative, cavatina and
cabaletta (“O tu che l’alma adora”, not mentioned in the booklet but it’s
there, trust me) is no slouch either. Live performance from 1946 is the only
complete recording of Mario’s singing Riccardo that we have. The recitative and
aria included here are ten years younger. “Forse la scoglia attinse”
is among the finest opportunities (together with “Se quel guerrier io fossi”,
“La vita e un inferno all’infelice” and so many others) to appreciate Mario’s versatile
and always dramatically relevant
declamation in Italian, while the aria, “Ma se m’è forza perderti”, shows him at
his lyrical best. The same is true of the beautifully executed “Amor ti vieta” from the
same sessions. (It must have been some LP, this one with Alberto Erede recorded
in 1956.) Mario loved the role of Loris Ipanov in Giordano’s Fedora, but he came to record it
commercially only in the end of his career (1969). The voice is considerably
fresher 13 years earlier. Finally, Vasco da Gama’s “Paradiso” from
Meyerbeer’s L’Africana survives the
hardest test. Mario makes perfectly mediocre music sound like masterpiece. It
takes genius to achieve that.
(Having mentioned
the lyric repertoire, one can lament the omission of some of Mario’s best work
in the field. Rodolfo from Puccini’s La
Boheme was hardly his best role, so it is no wonder that Decca partnered
Tebaldi with Bergonzi for the 1959 studio recording. But Mario did sing the
role on the stage early in his career (1943-50) and in 1954 he made a wonderful
recording of “Che gelida manina”. But with total timing of 75:53 it seems churlish, if not stupid,
to complain about omissions.)
The liner notes by
Alan Blyth are not much unlike the essay he supplied on the next year for the Testament
release of Mario’s early recordings for HMV. It is very pleasant to see the
most notorious feature of Mario’s singing defended by such an “authority”:
Del Monaco was
often accused, both on stage and on his many recordings for DECCA (with whom he
sang exclusively for the major part of his career), of singing at a relentless
forte. That is not borne out by close scrutiny of his singing here. For
instance, in the recitative before Riccardo’s last-act aria in Un ballo in maschera, the tone is often
subtly shaded, and the aria itself is delivered with sensitivity as regards
line and phrasing. He also
scrupulously avoids the lachrymose effects that mar the singing of so many
Italian tenors. Inevitably with a singer of his weight of voice, the softer
grain of a lighter tenor is not always in evidence simply because it is
impossible for a dramatic tenor to refine his tone in that manner.
As I have already
made clear, I agree about Riccardo’s recitative and aria. Mr Blyth’s example is
a fine one, but it is by far not the only one. It’s high time to demolish
once and for all the myth about Del Monaco’s “relentless forte”. Certainly, his
piano was nothing like Di Stefano’s or Bergonzi’s, but then again neither was
their forte anything like his. Furthermore, many people seem to associate lack
of subtlety (that word!) with lack of dynamic contrasts. This is a very superficial
point of view. Subtlety – whatever that means – must be achievable by other
methods as well, for example rhythmic variations and accentuated diction. Mario
excelled at these, though he was by no means as dynamically monotonous as many
connoisseurs would have you believe.
The 19 tracks on
this disc are full of examples. “Vesti la giubba” and “E lucevan
le stelle” are “subtly shaded” and “delivered with sensitivity as regards line
and phrasing”, are they not? Just hear the beginning of the former and “o dolci
baci, o languide carezze” in the latter. What about the beginning of “O tu che
seno agli angeli”? Isn’t this a beautifully
produced piano? “Celeste Aida”, “Come rugiada al cespite”, “Cielo e mar” and “Amor
ti vieta” are more robust than most other recordings. But are they sung with
“relentless forte” or without subtlety? I don’t think they are. “Niun mi tema”,
Othello’s death, taken by the way from the 1954 recording with Erede and not
from the comparatively mild remake with Karajan (1961), is anything but
insensitive to the text. In fact, there is not a single aria on this disc that
displays the vices that Mario del Monaco is supposed to have according to his
detractors.
I am obviously a
great fan of Mario del Monaco. But I do not subscribe to the “unconditional
admiration” demanded of this otherwise wonderful site. Hero worship is not my cup of tea. Nobody is or ever was perfect, and Mario certainly isn’t and wasn’t the sole
exception in human history. Occasionally, “live” and not only, his passion got
the better of him. Then his phrasing and even his normally impeccable diction
suffered. Very occasionally, he could and did produce very ugly stuff indeed! The only examples
for something like that on here are “Torna a Surriento” and “O sole mio”. The
refrains come off rather well, with Mario attacking the high notes in his
typically ferocious and compelling way, but the rest is much less admirable. It
sounds as if he tried deliberately to scale down his voice and sound more
lyrical. But going against your nature seldom leads to worthwhile results, and
this is certainly not the case here. Mario recorded a good deal of Italian songs,
not to mention excerpts from musicals, operettas and church works, but he was
seldom as convincing in this repertoire as he was in opera.
“Granada ” redeems the faults of its Italian companions.
This is the perfect conclusion of the disc. I don’t need any other recording of
this lovely Spanish song. I used to like Placido Domingo a lot, but that was
before I heard Mario del Monaco. This is some of the greatest singing on record
– ever. Mario has everything: ringing top notes, solid low ones, perfect
diction, dynamic variety, marvellous ability to keep the lilting rhythm and
sustain the melodic line. Placido, and everybody else, has fallen into complete
oblivion. Hear why.
Random selections with arias performed by Mario del Monaco are legion on the market. This is one of the best. It can easily stand comparison with any other collection, live or studio. The only drawback of this one is that the sound is not well equalized, and this has nothing to do with the voice; some arias (those from Tosca, for instance) just sound too quiet compared to the rest. Never mind a quibble like that. If you want to know why Mario del Monaco was one of the greatest operatic superstars of the 1950s, get this disc and you will know. Somerset Maugham once wrote that every writer has the right to be judged by his best. I don’t see why this rule should not apply to tenors as well. Whoever compiled that disc evidently agreed with me.
Random selections with arias performed by Mario del Monaco are legion on the market. This is one of the best. It can easily stand comparison with any other collection, live or studio. The only drawback of this one is that the sound is not well equalized, and this has nothing to do with the voice; some arias (those from Tosca, for instance) just sound too quiet compared to the rest. Never mind a quibble like that. If you want to know why Mario del Monaco was one of the greatest operatic superstars of the 1950s, get this disc and you will know. Somerset Maugham once wrote that every writer has the right to be judged by his best. I don’t see why this rule should not apply to tenors as well. Whoever compiled that disc evidently agreed with me.
Note
on Recording Dates
The recording dates given in
the booklet seem to be highly inaccurate. “Celeste Aida” and the three songs recorded
in 1954? Well, the aria comes from the 1952 complete recording, that’s for
sure. As for the songs with Ernesto Nicelli, the booklet to Mario del Monaco: Decca Recitals, 1952–1969
claims that “O sole mio” and “Granada ”
were recorded in 1958, “Torna a Surriento” in 1960. Similar comparisons show
quite a few discrepancies more. It’s a pity that such sloppiness should
accompany so fine an album. Compiling data from various sources, I think a more
reliable version would be this one: 1952 (1); 1954 (16); 1955 (2, 10); 1956 (3,
4, 5, 9, 11, 13); 1957 (6, 12); 1958 (15, 17, 19); 1959 (7, 8, 14); 1960 (18).