He's your "typical" lyric baritone - except when his very flexible voice ventures up into tenor territory, or when his mellow voice veers towards basso range. He's a Mozart stylist, but equally at home in Monteverdi, Wagner, Gounod, Strauss, Tchaikovsky, Rossini, and Janacek. Exceptionally adept in portraying characters in his own language, he excels in the works of Britten and Sondheim. He's as well known in the recital hall as on the stages of the world's opera houses, and enjoys a reputation for having revived rarely-heard Victorian and Edwardian ballads. Throughout a lustrous career he's been awarded honors everywhere, including his native England... he's Sir Thomas Allen, and now in his early 60s, isn't exactly thinking about retirement.

Born in Seaham, a coal-mining town in northeastern England, Allen brings an honest sincerity, a kind of Everyman quality, to the stage. He's a wonderful singer, in perfect command of his voice, so the audience hears the character he's portraying, and not Tom Allen. Even more impressively, he's an actor with a wide range so the audience sees the character he's portraying. He adds layers to his comic roles, combining tears of both hilarity and sorrow, suavity and manipulation, charm and danger; and to his noble and tragic roles, he brings a stillness, a centeredness that illuminates the story, the music, and the audience's understanding.

Recently having celebrated 30-year and 20-year anniversaries at Covent Garden and the Met, respectively, it's good to know most of Allen's roles have also been recorded. His musicality and superb acting are on display on both CD and film, and his thoughtful intelligence, sense of humor, and keen insight can be found in his first book, Foreign Parts - A Singer's Journal (if you can find it, that is, but well worth the effort - try amazon.co.uk which sometimes has used copies).

Stage director Jonathan Miller says Allen is among the best actors he has worked with on any stage:

"Tom is not good considering he is a singer, he is an outstandingly accomplished stage presence whether he is singing or not. He brings a subtlety and finesse that is almost unprecedented. I've often tried to persuade him to take non-singing parts and think he'd be wonderful in Chekhov."

I couldn't agree with him more. Thomas Allen is magnetic, though hardly in a self-important or flashy way, both on and off stage. I saw his Papageno, early in his career; and later, a to-die-for Giovanni, a powerful and moving Ulisse, and a hysterically funny-but-slimy Dr Dulcamara - you simply can't tear your eyes (or ears) away from him. Well, I couldn't, despite his sharing the stage with the likes of Frederica von Stade, David Daniels, Ruth Ann Swenson, and Ramón Vargas. During our interview for the Tenor Book, he was charming, gracious, intelligent, articulate, and perfectly relaxed - until we wandered onto the subject of pop singers touted by the record companies as phenom-du-jour, and then the dialogue turned intense, passionate, and nearly out of control. We finally had to agree to save that discussion for another day... it's unlikely I'll ever get to finish that conversation with him though, a huge regret. (But who knows...)

Meanwhile, there are his recordings to listen to, watch, and be grateful he shares his work with us.

Ambitious variety of arias in the lyric tradition - Valentin and Figaro, but also Luisa Miller, Tannhäuser, Queen of Spades, Fledermaus,
Billy Budd, Pearl Fishers... and the Soliloquy from Carousel. A privilege to hear his interpretations forged by a lifetime in music.

with Ann Murray / Charles Mackerras

Allen is a wonderful song stylist, no matter the language, and his performance here is notable. Murray and Mackerras are fine, too.

A program of songs devoted entirely to settings of texts by the Romantic-age poet, Schiller.

Full texts and translations, along with Graham Johnson's notes.

Sentimental, Victorian-style
ballads (Love's Old Sweet Song, Roses of Picardy) from Allen's childhood.

Vol. 1 also available.
Malcolm Martineau, piano

Sheila Armstrong, Gerard English / Previn

This music has always suited Allen's voice particularly well - an exceptional performance.

Mei, Lopardo, Bruson / R. Abbado

Allen as Malatesta

Te Kanawa, Popp, von Stade, Ramey, Moll / Solti

Allen as The Count

Philip Langridge, Richard Van Allan / Atherton - ENO

Eva Jenis / Mackerras

VHS

Petrova, Armstrong, Hagegard / Jurowski - Glyndebourne

James, Vaness, Rost, Furlanetto / Conlon
Superb performance.

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One of the most dramatic baritones of the last half century, Tito Gobbi helped transform the static conventions of operatic acting into a more realistic, yet theatrical, standard of performance. Gobbi's elegant, sinister, seductive, threatening voice and his willingness to use his body and face along with the voice to portray his characters made him an ideal Verdi baritone.

Gobbi was born in Bassano del Grappa, Italy and pursued musical studies with the help and sponsorship of several early teachers. Early on in his career, he played a troubador in a film (I Condottieri), performed on radio, and won some contests - all this in and around a few last-minute substitutions on operatic stages. These stories are told, charmingly and hysterically, in Gobbi's autobiography, along with tales of his lifelong association with the conductor Tullio Serafin, and his stage partners, including his brother-in-law, basso Boris Christoff and soprano Maria Callas.

Debuts at La Scala and Covent Garden for the young Gobbi were as Belcore in Donizetti's L'Elisir d'Amore, and though he had an outstanding reputation for playing comic roles - Gianni Schicchi, Falstaff, Figaro - he is most remembered for his Simon Boccanegra, Iago, Rodrigo, Tonio, Don Giovanni, Wozzeck, and most of all, Rigoletto and Scarpia.

The roles Gobbi sank his teeth into were the ones requiring conflicting or competing portrayals of emotion: Falstaff, both sunny and dark. Rigoletto, both venal and tender. And Scarpia - seductive and terrifying. The Toscas performed with Maria Callas were legendary, setting a benchmark for all singers who followed. The two artists matched up well as both singers and actors - striking sparks, driving up the intensity level, and leaving the audience emotionally shattered.

There is a much-told story about Act II of Tosca, when Maria Callas backed up against the candelabra on Scarpia's desk and nearly caught her wig on fire. Gobbi put his hand on the back of her head, as if pulling her, unwillingly, into
his embrace, and patted out the smoldering strands. When she could lean in close to him - in character, of course - Callas murmered "Grazie, Tito," and continued on to stab him. In his memoirs, Gobbi recalls Maria Callas with understanding and affection - and unqualified admiration. Critics, fans, analysts, all have commented on the chemistry between Callas and Gobbi, the obvious dramatic playing off one another. Gobbi admires this ability too - it is not the most common practice, in opera - and writes of one such instance when Callas tripped and fell down an onstage step as Mario is dragged away to the torture chamber,

In Pagliacci, Tonio opens the opera with the classic Prologue, Si può? reportedly added by the composer at the request of Victor Maurel. It's an aria where the baritone can shine vocally, indulging himself - especially if he has a strong top - but it's also a showcase for his acting. A few tenors have even taken the role (notably Richard Tabuer) but the memorable creations are from the baritones throughout history: Titta Ruffo's pock-marked imbecile, based on a real-life model he encountered on a walk; Mattia Battistini, who is said to have switched roles to Silvio as soon as he'd finished Tonio's prologue, so as to get all the best tunes; Sherrill Milnes holding on to that A-flat forever and ever. And Tito Gobbi. Writing about Pagliacci, he says:

"Oh, that Prologue! There is in it an A Flat - not written in the score but always expected by the audience if one has any pretensions whatever to being a baritone of value. Especially is this so if the poor devil is a beginner. (Later on - which is just as bad - he must continue to produce it for the sake of his honour.)"

Tito Gobbi's career was honorable indeed. Some of his stage performances are preserved on tape, he's well represented in recordings, and he left his detailed views of about his own approach to his roles, as well as entire operas - for he was a stage director, and also trained young singers after he retired from the stage.

Classic arias + songs - Pagliacci, Barbiere, Chénier, Tosca, Macbeth and lots more Verdi. A lot of songs.

Tonio, Iago, Gérard, Rigoletto, Figaro, Scarpia, Jack Rance, Falstaff, more.

Schwarzkopf, Moffo, Barbieri, Alva / Karajan

Callas / deSabata

Musica probita, a little film (one of about 25 Gobbi made, in both singing and speaking roles) about a poor but talented baritone (of course!) who falls in love with an aristocratic young lady whose ill-mannered family treats him shamefully. In a twist from the usual cinematic formula of the time, the lovers do not marry and live happily ever after. Gobbi sings portions of arias. His acting is the focus, though.

The bonus on the tape is a grouping of staged arias from the heart of his repertoire - his nuanced acting and singing, and the use of makeup in conjunction with his expressions, is a treat.

Tito Gobbi wrote two memoirs after retiring from the operatic stage - neither falls into the trap he describes, above. The first is a traditional biography, except for being well-written and articulating the sensitivity and deep intelligence he brought to his roles and, indeed, to his life. The second dicusses particular operas in detail, blending Gobbi's experience as a performer and stage director - it's useful in understanding the performing conventions of his time. These books are a delight. Highly recommended.

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Already well established on an operatic career by 1979, Joseph Losey's film of Don Giovanni that year brought Ruggero Raimondi to the attention of audiences outside the opera house. At the time it was made, no one had presented opera on film in this way before. The visuals are exquisitely stylized; the vocal performances are, for the most part, wonderful. Some of the acting may be a little too opera-ish and the English subtitles are ridiculous. But Raimondi dominates the screen, as he does a stage. You find yourself completely mesmerized by him, absolutely seduced.

"It was my first time doing movies, and it was very difficult to understand how to act in front of the camera, because you only shoot thirty seconds or one minute a day. "The most important thing was the situation I found on the set with Losey. Sometimes I had the feeling he was looking inside of me... and I was trying very much to become more Don Giovanni than Ruggero Raimondi and to give a lot of feeling to this person through my emotions. This was the first time that I went deep inside myself to find the right emotion to feed the character. It was wonderful." - Ruggero Raimondi

DON GIOVANNI Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart te Kanawa, Moser, Berganza, Riegel, Raimondi, van Dam / Maazel / directed by Josef Losey

Originally from Bologna, Italy, Ruggero Raimondi began his musical studies in the Giuseppe Verdi Conservatory in Milan. He made his debut in 1964 as Colline in La Bohème; shortly afterwards, he stepped in, last-minute, at Rome's Teatro dell'Opera to sing Procida in I Vespri Siciliani - it's a significant role with an impressive entrance aria, and he was soon in demand all over Europe.

Like most singers with a basso cantante voice, his repertoire covers a wide range. As sensual as he was in the Losey film of Don Giovanni, Raimondi brings that same quality to roles he is particularly associated with - the basso nobile characters of Rossini as well as Verdi. But he also sings the Mozart Figaro, Don Quichotte, Boris Godunov, Scarpia and Escamillo - and has recently taken on Don Pasquale, Iago, the Dutchman, and Thomas Becket in Pizzetti's work. In all of his work, he presents a multi-dimensional characterization that's hard to resist, whether on the screen or on stage.

I saw his Philip II in an otherwise plodding production of Don Carlo in Vienna - you pay attention to absolutely nothing else when he's onstage. The weariness and the anger, barely controlled, come from the voice, but the torment and the tension were conveyed with his body - I swear, the man can act with his shoulders! Ella giammai m'amò was heart-stopping. It stopped the show, too, as the applause and the bravos went on for nearly seven minutes. The King sat immobile, slumped in his chair, until finally he simply dropped his head further onto his chest - the actor finally acknowledging the ovation with a sharp nod, entirely in character.

Raimondi's film work is spectacular - after the Giovanni came Rosi's Carmen (for which he prepared both physically and mentally by working with the famed Spanish toreador Antonio Ordoñez), and Boris Godunov, again with Losey. There are two memorable Scarpias in films of Tosca at different points in his career. Raimondi has also acted in non-operatic films - his presence, something like a wound-up-watchspring about to uncoil - comes across in front of the cameras as it does for a live audience.

"I always thought acting would be a very good way to earn your living - to have the possibility of changing your character without becoming a schizophrenic, to enter a world completely different from my own, the joy of becoming a king or a devil."

The sound quality may not be up to your usual standards in the comfortable western world, but this
is a deeply moving concert. When Sarajevo was torn apart by civil war, Zubin Mehta conducted Mozart's Requiem in the shell of the once-glorious National Library, with the Choir of the Cathedral of Sarajevo and the Philharmonic Orchestra of Sarajevo, and soloists José Carreras, Raimondi.

Gheorghiu, Alagna / Pappano
Wonderfully stylized film, superbly acted. Raimondi's Scarpia is the distallation of a lifetime on stage - pure evil, no charm - magnificent.

***
TOSCA (Rome) VHS
Filmed in real time - Domingo
and Raimondi are splendid.

CARMEN DVD
Migenes, Domingo / Maazel

This is not the opera, but rather Raimondi talking about his interpretation of the title character. Footage shows him on stage, in music rehearsals. Most entertaining - or educational, depending on your point of view - is a sequence of him coaching two young singers on La cì darem la mano... she's fine, but the young man is prim, proper, stiff and stuffy - the contrast with Raimondi is a riot. The youngster has no chance!

1995 - Behind-the-scenes /
month-in-the-life type of documentary. Nicely done.

***
RUGGERO RAIMONDI
AS A FILM ACTOR
La Vie est un Roman - 1983
Les Couleurs du Diable - 1997

try amazon France -
not available in English

Caballé, Domingo, Milnes / Giulini

von Stade, Stilwell, van Dam / Karajan

Milnes, Sills, Gedda / Levine

Kind of a singing competition with a barely-discernible plot, this is fun, frothy stuff - and some knock-your-socks-off singing.

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With his commanding stage presence, the American singer Norman Treigle is perhaps best remembered for his work in contemporary American opera, notably the works of Carlisle Floyd. He also made an impressive impact in the roles of Mozart's Figaro, Don Giovanni, Méphistophélès, Boris Godunov, and as the four villains in Les Contes d'Hoffmann in a splendid production with Beverly Sills at New York City Opera.

Born in New Orleans, Treigle was a choir boy as a child, and made a debut in 1947 with the New Orleans Opera - either as Lodovico in Verdi's Otello or the Duc de Vérone in Gounod's Roméo et Juliette, depending on which bio you happen to be reading. Either way, a smaller role, and he moved up from there. He first appeared with New York City Opera in 1953 as Colline in La Bohème, and sang there for the next 20 years.

It was three years after that debut when he first sang Olin Blitch in Floyd's Susannah, and from then on, he was NYCO's leading bass-baritone. He sang Blitch again in the European premiere of the opera, and went on to create leading roles in the premieres of three more Floyd operas.

While the characters in Susannah are extremely well constructed (as is true of all Floyd's operas), Treilge's vocal inflections, gestures, and posture, all intimately connected to the music, infused the tortured preacher with life. Treigle worked out every moment of the opera - he called it choreographing. The composer said he was ‘everything I could possibly have wanted in the role and then some, for I was forced to admit that he had enlarged the character more than I had thought possible and had invested the role with nuances that had never occurred to me.’

"When Norman Treigle died, they asked me to sing for the memorial service at City Opera.... "The Trees on the Mountains" leads to the pivotal scene between Susannah and Olin Blitch, when she says, 'I sing it to myself when I’m sad and lonely.' "So I sang it that night for Norman and I don’t suppose I had ever sung it as well in my whole life up to that point. I just barely made it off the stage before I totally fell apart. But that had been for Norman." - Phyllis Curtin

with Pinza, Siepi, Pasero, Neri (with Gobbi) Treigle, Christoff

Domingo, Caballé / Rudel

Sills, Burrows, Marsee / Rudel

Sills, Treigle / Rudel

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