The Write Thing

I have always thought that music other than classical or opera sounds better in studio recordings. In fact, it has often been incredibly annoying to me to be forced to witness a totally different version of a song — where sharp Cs suddenly go flat or lower. It is the closest experience to fraud. Another factor that goes against live sessions in pop or rock music, for example, is that singers’ voices tend to be a disappointment. Phil Collins’ voice is one case that comes to mind. The velvet-like substance of his sound in studio albums of the 1990s or later cannot compare at all with the scratchy, sometimes flat metallic ring that he has when he’s performing live.
As a matter of fact, very few people can boast a really good and rich voice when they go live, and avoid undermining their own studio reputations. Paul McCartney is an example of those who can in the world of male singers, and Barbra Streisand is his counterpart among women.
However, in the realm of opera, the live-studio conundrum can only be resolved in favor of the live performance. Live is where the passion is. Opera is one of the most complete forms of artistic expression. Music, acting and dancing converge in a unique synthesis of perfection — when it is done well, of course. Live in opera might mean Callas singing the E flat to close the Triumphal scene at the end of the second act of Aida in the Mexico 1951 version (yes, a magnificent moment of ecstasy for the ear, soul and mind), or Caballé extending her pianissimo beyond the humanly possible at the end of “Signore ascolta”. It can mean standing ovations that would beat the delirious paroxysm of the hooligans in a regular World Cup Final. These are but a few of the examples of why opera should, above all, be live…Centuries later, it breathes as much passion in as it lets out.

Many years ago, a former girlfriend was defending this theory of hers stating that, in tennis, if two women were playing doubles, that meant they were in some sort of a “more than friendly” relationship. She would ramble about Steffi and Gaby, Conchita and Patricia, and so on. I was thinking if, in the opera world, the story might not be similar. It appears that, at times, it has been. After all, a lesbian fantasy might as well be to sleep with a prima donna…at least for intello-lesbians.

A very famous opera critic in Buenos Aires once told me about the rumors involving a famous soprano of the 1960s, whose first name was Lisa, and one of her co-stars. It seems that there was quite a lot of thorough backstage rehearsing before and after the performances. Well, if we consider that this famous soprano was well-known for her portrayal of the Marshalin in Der Rosenkavalier, or her role as the Countess in Mozart’s Nozze di Figaro, the association with the world of tennis does not seem too capricious. After all, what else would roles en travesti be good for?

Years ago, mezzo-soprano Marilyn Horne mentioned an anecdote about herself having a similar slant. She commented that, during an interview, a journalist asked her whether it was true that she and Joan Sutherland were in fact having an affair. At the time, the two women were singing the opera for which they were known best as a duet — Rossini’s Semiramide — with Horne in the starring role en travesti. Horne’s answer to the out-of-place question was blunt and funny, as she is in life, and throughout her delicious autobiography My Life. She nonchalantly explained that it was indeed the case, only that Sutherland played the man between them, because she was taller.

Had Horne said that today, she would have been greeted with approving grins on one side of the GLBT spectrum and, probably, might also have been accused of being politically incorrect by others, more sensitive to the existence of roles in same-sex relationships. Whatever the case, back in the 1970s, Horne’s answer was surely avant-garde and brilliantly funny.

I am thinking that funny might indeed be a key word in a world of difference. We are far from able to thrive on difference nowadays, the world at large is. If we could only be more relaxed about ourselves and laugh at our own incoherence, we might all be a little happier, and free.