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by Stanley Henig, |
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Fernando de Lucia
Fernando de Lucia, born in 1860, was one of the earliest artists to leave a substantial recorded legacy: his earliest recordings date from 1902, the year in which The Gramophone Company introduced the first celebrity catalogue. In assessing De Lucia's career, an obvious starting point is an article published in the July 1955 issue of Opera by Desmond Shawe-Taylor. "Fernando de Lucia now appears to represent an epoch in the history of singing which is remote and in certain respects almost legendary. In his day he was a highly successful interpreter of the latest operas by Mascagni, Leoncavallo, Giordano and Puccini; but he is now remembered rather as a master of the florid style of the early nineteenth century... His technique and phrasing are unlike those of any contemporary or later tenor within our experience." Pointing to a tradition in which vocal ornamentation had once been largely left to the taste and skill of the singer, Shawe-Taylor quotes Chorley -- perhaps the greatest of nineteenth-century critics -- who judged the principal singers of the day "not only by their tone, execution and powers of expression, but by the taste which they showed in ... variations and embellishments". Shawe-Taylor argues that by the 1950s little survived of this singing tradition, but "to form some notion of the blithe, self-confident manner in which cadenzas and changes were once improvised by the old singers, we must study the gramophone records of Fernando de Lucia". This new set, including all of his records made for The Gramophone Company between 1902 and 1909, together with a selection from the vast number made later for Phonotype, offers a major resource to enable us to do exactly what Shawe-Taylor suggested. And that study is considerably helped by the beautifully illustrated accompanying booklet that contains Michael Aspinall's informative notes. The approximately 100 arias and songs cover a wide range. Three pieces from La sonnambula, recorded in 1908 -- two of them duets with Maria Galvany -- seem to me near the ideal. Could there ever have been a more ingratiating Elvino? This is perhaps the moment to introduce a major area of controversy where De Lucia's recorded output is concerned -- pitch. There seems no disagreement that his recordings were frequently transposed downwards, but opinions vary as to the extent. Clearly Marston Records invested much time in studying the records and working out the right speeds for playback of the original shellac discs. I can only comment that for me the results seem completely appropriate in aural terms. De Lucia was the "star" and he determined transpositions, potentially creating problems for partners in duets. However, in La sonnambula Galvany also seems more at ease than might be the case if the recordings had been at score pitch. Nine years later two pieces from L'elisir d'amore show De Lucia with a rather more baritonal voice, but these are still beautifully etched versions, although in the duet Angela de Angelis seems an unequal partner. Rossini, Bellini and Donizetti are considered quintessential Italian Romantic composers: the term "bel canto" is often specifically used to describe their works. Thomas's Mignon contains an equally Romantic libretto. Three arias from this opera recorded by De Lucia in 1905 and 1906 represent for me the ultimate in both fine singing and power of expression. Every word and phrase is lovingly caressed -- perhaps on balance these are my favourite tracks on the four CDs. Moving to another genre and perhaps the one that made De Lucia most famous in his lifetime -- namely, verismo -- there are three early arias from Fedora, and here too we find the same caressing of word and phrase. His is not the only way to interpret these arias, but they are certainly a delight to the ear. For "Amor ti vieta", we are perhaps spoilt by the existence of a record by Caruso who created the role of Loris. However, De Lucia's style of singing makes "Mia madre" and "Vedi, io pango" morsels of rare beauty to cherish. There is space only for a few other brief comments. Despite repeated listening, I am unconvinced by the aria from Verdi's Luisa Miller, one of the rarest of the early records; but the singer is very much more at home in La traviata. A late Phonotype from Les huguenots suggests that French Grand Opera was simply not for De Lucia. His interpretation of Lohengrin is interesting if unusual, but the normally fine Josefina Huguet sounds ill at ease in the duet. The pair sound much more at home in the next item recorded -- the duet from Carmen. Finally, there are songs that serve as a reminder of De Lucia's birthplace in Naples. Al but one of those included are from Gramophone Company recordings. I would particularly recommend Denza's Occhi di fata, Tosti's La serenata and Di Capua's O sole mio. They are amongst the most popular of the genre, but the way in which De Lucia delivers them is again unique. Listening through all the tracks -- sometimes repeatedly -- one can only echo the word used by Shawe-Taylor -- "study". De Lucia's voice did change over the years of his recordings, becoming inevitably darker. But the fascination of listening to this almost forgotten mode of singing is revelatory in all kinds of ways and our learning process is continuous. Stanley Henig
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