A Singer’s Guide to Voices: Mezzo-Soprano
I thought I would turn my attention today to the glorious sound that is the mezzo-soprano voice. The recent death, at the age of 93, of the wonderful Christa Ludwig, perhaps the greatest mezzo of the last 100 years, has prompted me to write about the female voice which I love the most. Before all my soprano and contralto friends combine to shoot me, I must make clear that I love all of you, but my personal taste centres around the mezzo voice.
Inevitably, it is that comparative word, mezzo, which causes the most harm in this debate, and we should maybe start with trying to work out what it means. In Italian, it is half or middle or medium, so mezzo forte is half the volume of forte (loud), mezzanine is the floor halfway between two others etc. The hierarchy of singing puts the mezzo-soprano at an initial disadvantage, by being a subsection of soprano, and this explains the centuries old problem of mezzos wanting to be “real” sopranos, and the frequent error of this endeavour. It is also the case that, like tenors, the sopranos tend to command the highest fees, although I think that is less prevalent these days, but the question of fees is the final taboo among singers. We NEVER ask our colleagues what they earn, and they never ask us!
We have learned that a mezzo-soprano is a subsection of soprano, but what does that mean? The problem is compounded by the fact that women’s voices, unlike men’s, tend to be more amorphous in terms of range.
Basses, on the whole, have a span of notes which are physically clear. A bass-baritone (a terribly confusing term that has become more popular recently, to negative effect) has a slightly higher range, and a pure baritone higher still. It is usually clear that a tenor sings beyond the range of a baritone, and over a longer period, but there are examples, like the French Bariton-Martin (the Pélléas voice, and one or two other roles) which can be a low tenor.
Women’s voices are much less clear-cut. Obviously, there are the real high sopranos (Queen of the Night, Sophie, Olympia) and the low contraltos (Erda, Hippolyta, Mother Goose, Lucretia), but many, many roles are difficult to define, and rely much more on personal taste than accurate measurements. For example, Verdi, who was the composer who wrote the clearest division of roles into his operas, was a master of writing parts which on the face of it look identical in tessitura (range of pitch) but which sound quite different. Many of his mezzo parts go very high, but it is the timbre, as well as the number of particularly high and low notes, which tell us whether they are mezzo or soprano roles. This is a difficult concept to grasp, especially for laymen, but also for casting directors, most of whom are not themselves singers. It is also true that voices change and mellow with age, so it makes casting young singers even more complicated. I remember, when I was Honorary Professor of Singing at St Andrews University, the many discussions we had about categorising students’ voices and the disagreements, often quite radical, about what someone sounded like. I felt that, with my 40 years’ experience on stage, I was best qualified to judge, but others were adamant that decisions could be really subjective, and so we occasionally got the casting very wrong. It was no one’s fault really, because, to a large extent, a lot of casting is subjective and the best casting directors (Sarah Playfair, Bernd Loebe, Peter Katona) often find themselves making decisions that they cannot necessarily explain rationally. A huge amount rests with the singers themselves – we must know when we are miscast and flag it up quickly, despite the initial embarrassment. There is nothing worse than going through several weeks of rehearsals, and into performances, knowing you are in the wrong role, and that you have been miscast from the beginning, but saying nothing, out of embarrassment, is even worse, although entirely understandable. It has only happened to me a couple of times over the years, but it is a horrible feeling, knowing that everyone else is thinking ”Oh dear, he is not really up to this”!
The old apocryphal saying, about a choir member in a Northern Choral Society, saying to a soloist who is not right for the part, “Never mind, Lad. Ah don’t blame thee, ah blame those as sent thee”, rings horribly true!
Anyway, having tried to explain about how difficult it is to say who is a mezzo and who isn’t, we can probably agree about who have been the greatest. The list is fabulous, and I know I will omit some singers whose lack readers will find impossible to understand, and will include some that likewise, they will oppose. All I can say is that subjectivity will play its part, and that is the writer’s prerogative!
Looking back over my lifetime, I suppose the first mezzos who caught my attention were the ones I heard either at the Edinburgh Festival or with Scottish Opera, in the early 1970s. Janet Baker, still going strong at 87 at time of writing, made a huge impression as Dido in Berlioz’s ‘Les Troyens’, an opera I went on to sing many times over the years.
Janet Baker
She dominated the second half of Berlioz’s mammoth opera, in the first full staging in Scotland, conducted by Sir Alexander Gibson, and of course also sang the completely different take on the same character in Purcell’s ‘Dido and Aeneas’. Her rendition of “When I am laid in earth” at the conclusion of that wonderful early opera remains one of the most moving performances of any work. Janet had a wonderful ability to colour a phrase, and to shape it and mould it to her will, such that you could only imagine her singing it, and no other. That was also the case with her magnificent performance of ‘Urlicht’, the song that serves as the 4th movement of Mahler’s 2nd Symphony. There is a splendid DVD of her singing it in Ely Cathedral with Leonard Bernstein in 1973, and, if you can see past the magnificent and gravity-defying hairstyle, she delivers this most beautiful of songs with deep longing and a touching melancholy. I remember too, a fabulous Octavian in Strauss’ ‘Der Rosenkavalier’ with Scottish Opera around the same time, when she contrived, with a most womanly skill, somehow to portray the over-sexed and over-emotional teenage boy who is desperate to love his older woman, the Marschallin.
I saw her many times over the years, and was thrilled, in 1981, when, as chair of the judging panel of the Kathleen Ferrier Award, she gave me the Decca Kathleen Ferrier Prize, and was most kind and generous in her words about my singing.
Not long after that occasion, I found myself as a company solo singer at Scottish Opera and met some of the doyennes of Scottish singing as colleagues. One of my favourites, who has remained a friend for decades now, and whom I have sung with in all sorts of strange locations all over Europe, is Linda Ormiston, a great singer with a fantastic flair for the stage. We sang in ‘Magic Flute’, ‘The Bartered Bride’ and ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ during my time at Scottish, and she was a most entertaining and delightful colleague. Around the same time, she appeared in a cabaret act with the baritone, Donald Maxwell, The Music Box, and I will never forget the two of them singing the quartet from Verdi’s ‘Rigoletto’ - think about it!
Those were the great days of Scottish Opera. Under the guidance of Alexander Gibson, it was very much a national Opera, acting as a springboard for countless Scottish singers, and giving the audiences a chance to hear the best singers in Scotland alongside some fantastic singers from England and abroad. It would be invidious to single out more of the superb mezzos from that era, so we can let Linda represent that fine phalanx of talent.
That era from 1970 to 1990 was a fertile one for great mezzo sopranos. I have already mentioned Christa Ludwig, who sadly, I only heard once, at Covent Garden, but who I must rate as one of the greatest voices of all time.
Crista Ludwig
Mezzos are often talked about in relation to the creaminess of their tone or timbre, and Madame Ludwig had the most delicious double cream in her vocal chords. Almost everything she recorded became the definitive recording of that work. From Octavian to Brangäne (‘Tristan’), from Dorabella to Cherubino, from Ortrud (‘Lohengrin’) to Kundry (‘Parsifal’) and from Carmen to Dido, she reigned supreme, as her vocal splendour combined with her keen intelligence to produce the perfect singer. Her range was vast, and she seemed incapable of making an ugly sound. Her ease at the top allowed her occasionally to foray into soprano territory, singing Leonore in ‘Fidelio’ and the Marschallin in ‘Rosenkavalier’, and these were magnificent assumptions, but I preferred when she sang the mezzo roles, for which, I think, her timbre was best suited.
Her true greatness was revealed in her Bach recordings, which came in an era before the early music revolution but are nonetheless a model of perfect singing. Her rendition of “Erbarme dich” from the St Matthew Passion is one of the great recordings of all time, searching out the depths of sorrow at Christ’s crucifixion.
Her Verdi Requiem with Giulini also acts as a demonstration of perfection, and her spine-tingling duet with Schwarzkopf, with whom she made several recordings which have become standards, is exceptional.
Around this time, we were lucky in Edinburgh to welcome the great Spanish mezzo, Teresa Berganza, to the Festival. I remember her Carmen, opposite Domingo, conducted by Claudio Abbado, at the King’s Theatre. What a joy to watch these great stars at such proximity! Mirella Freni sang Micaela, and the show was directed by Piero Faggioli and designed by Ezio Frigerio (who was also responsible for the sets of ‘Les Troyens’ when I sang it at La Scala).
Similarly, her Cherubino, with Fischer-Dieskau, Geraint Evans, Ileana Cotrubas, Heather Harper and Bill McCue, with Barenboim conducting, was a wonderful memory. Think of that cast now. It brings home to me how unbelievably fortunate we were in those middle years of the 70s, when Peter Diamand was the Festival Director, and when the finest stars in the world came to Edinburgh for one-off, unrepeatable performances. Giulini, Haitink, Abbado, Bernstein and Barenboim – all played the Usher Hall, and Timothy West as King Lear at the Assembly Hall, with late night ragas from Ravi Shankar (and me selling programmes!). Those were indeed the days, my friends!
Another unusual feature of that “Golden Age” of singing in my youth was the emergence of several fabulous black American mezzos. The names of Grace Bumbry, Shirley Verrett and Jessye Norman stand out.
Grace Bumbry
Grace Bumbry was born in St Louis in 1937, into a poor but musical family. Youthful promise saw her winning a local talent competition which got her a scholarship to the St Louis Institute of Music, who promptly turned her down because she was black! She moved up north to escape the stifling atmosphere of St Louis, started working with Lotte Lehmann, won the Met Competition in 1958 and joined Basel Opera after a great success as Amneris in ‘Aida’ at the Paris Opera. In 1961, she appeared at Bayreuth, as Venus in Wagner’s ‘Tannhäuser’ in Wieland Wagner’s production, whose premiere attracted a lot of attention for its ‘colour blind’ casting. The naysayers were won over to the extent of a 30-minute ovation for the 24-year old, and her career took off. She was a fabulous Eboli in Verdi’s ‘Don Carlo’ and sang a super sultry Carmen all over the world. I saw her Eboli at Covent Garden, which was absolutely fantastic.
Shirley Verrett was born in 1931 in New Orleans but moved to Los Angeles as a child. Her breakthrough also was winning the Met Competition in 1961, and she went on to great things in Europe and America. Both these fine black singers had to put up with a lot of hassle in the 60s and 70s, but their magnificent talent opened many doors that might otherwise have remained closed.
Jessye Norman, born in 1945, completes the triumvirate with another career of spectacular proportions, although she sang much more German music than the other two, who were more often heard in the Italian repertoire. All three were examples of the syndrome I wrote about earlier, all making large raids on the soprano repertoire, to some effect, especially Jessye, as their rich powerful mezzo tones were taken up thrillingly into the soprano register. With these singers, it was much harder to tell soprano from mezzo, and I can only assume it was part of their physical make up or bone structure that stood out as different. Whatever the reason, they were outstanding singers in any era, and their triumph over discrimination and prejudice was doubly rewarding.
In Part 2, I shall look at the great mezzo-sopranos of recent years, and have a look at several very promising, and already established, Scottish mezzos. It is a strange quirk of fate, but most of the Scottish singers of note at the moment, are mezzos.
