One of the greatest singing legends of all time performed only twice on an opera stage... yet this American tenor's voice has thrilled generations of audiences around the world. 45 years after his death, his recordings are still best sellers. Hundreds of singers have been inspired to pursue a career in opera because of his films and records - just as youngsters of all ages became lifelong opera fans. I'm certainly a member of that club, falling under opera's spell as a pre-teen when I saw The Great Caruso.  Audiences half a century ago responded to the magic of Mario Lanza - and they still do.

Born Alfred Cocozza in South Philadelphia, the boy was the only child of a disabled war veteran and his wife who once harbored dreams of being a singer - and whose maiden name was Maria Lanza. Young Freddie was an altar boy but otherwise not terribly angelic - he had a typical South Philly childhood, missing a lot of school and hanging around some of the rough kids. At home, though, there were always records playing - Caruso and Gigli - and Freddie's talent was apparent early on. He had some vocal training in his very early twenties with soprano Irene Williams and auditioned for conductor Serge Koussevitzky, winning a scholarship to Tanglewood where he studied alongside the likes of Leonard Bernstein and Lukas Foss.

Freddie Cocozza - now calling himself Mario Lanza - appeared onstage in a production of Nicolai's The Merry Wives of Windsor. The critics praised his "superb natural voice [that] has few equals among tenors of the day in quality, warmth, and power." [Noel Straus - The New York Times]

Everyone thought he was headed for career on stage as an opera singer - Mario too, at that point - so who was to know that those performances would make up exactly half his stage life? But even when blessed with a great natural voice, a young singer facing an operatic career is looking at years of dedication and discipline, usually climbing that career ladder one rung at a time... but Lanza's path would be a different one.

A stint in the Army interrupted his vocal studies, but he made performance films for the troops - and married his best pal's sister, Betty Hicks. Resuming his career after the war, Lanza worked with baritone Robert Weede, Renato Cellini, and conductor Peter Herman Adler, who was impressed by Lanza's inherent musicality. Adler prophesied in 1951: "Ten years with the right opera company, and no one could compare with [Lanza]."

In 1945 Lanza recorded six radio performances that reveal, at age 24, not only the beauty of the voice but the musicality behind it. He left the show to work on his vocal technique, ending up with Enrico Rosati, the former teacher of Beniamino Gigli and Giacomo Lauri-Volpi. "For 34 years, since Gigli, I have waited for this voice!" the maestro declared. Here Lanza acquired a much-improved sense of line, outstanding breath control, and a solid technique that would enable him to sing for hours without tiring [from the excellent Derek McGovern article].

In 1947, while touring North America, the Bel Canto Trio [soprano Frances Yeend, bass George London, and Lanza] made an appearance at the Hollywood Bowl which resulted in adulation, a movie contract with MGM and a recording contract with RCA. Lanza was to give six months a year to filmmaking and appearances, leaving him six months to devote to his operatic career - it was, in fact, this "crossover" aspect that so appealed to the movie bosses.

His first two movies - That Midnight Kiss and The Toast of New Orleans - set box office records. On screen, Lanza is engaging, sensual, playful, charming - and he had that voice! On radio, his Coca-Cola-sponsored shows were high points of America's weekly listening; on record, he was one of RCA's best-selling artists, earning gold records in both the classical and popular categories. Lanza was suddenly a big Hollywood star, beseiged at every appearance, and the would-be opera singer, not at all sure of his footing, wasn't prepared for any of it.

In 1949, it seemed he could do no wrong. But then there was criticism over his appearance on a TV show in the early '50s when he lip-synched to one of his songs. (50 years later, some things haven't changed.) He'd convinced MGM to make a film about his idol, Enrico Caruso, and after a "difficult" shoot, The Great Caruso appeared - and the public response eclipsed anything Lanza had experienced to this point.

Those in the "serious" opera world did an about-face and now began to patronize and disparage Lanza: he has no stage experience - his voice is too small for the opera house - who does he think he is, anyway, portraying Caruso? Time Magazine put him on a 1951 cover, but the article - written anonymously! - belittled Lanza's singing style, mocked his intellect, and ridiculed his personal life. After that, he was fair game for the tabloids.

Lanza, insecure and overly sensitive, continued to perform in public, but had lost his confidence about building a career in opera, knowing the scrutiny he would receive as a "movie singer." He turned down one offer after another to appear with various opera companies, both in Europe and at home. He battled alcoholism and bankruptcy - and his weight. Hollywood wanted the big voice, but not the barrel-chest look that goes along with it (some things never change) and Lanza spent a lifetime alternating between crash diets - grapefruit, steak, and pills - and binge eating.

After The Great Caruso, his films never achieved the same status he'd known before [see below]. He moved his family to Italy to attempt a comeback both on the screen and on stage - the audience response to his live London concert is both heartwarming and a bit unnerving in its intensity. He coached diligently on the music for his last two films, which give us a voice that is both more powerful and secure than before; music and text interpretations that are far more sophisticated than the earlier years; and yet... A singer's instrument cannot be put away in a case when the performance is over - by definition, it reflects the individual characteristics of its owner. As Lanza's health was failing, the voice could not help but be uneven, too.

Despite the question marks about the voice and about Lanza's ability to commit, managers of opera houses across Italy began offering him opportunities to appear on stage. He finally agreed to open the 1960-61 season at the Rome Opera as Canio in Pagliacci. He would never get there.

After a tormented life, mentally torn between Hollywood stardom and the idealized dream of a career in opera, and physically and emotionally wracked by insecurities, substance abuse, depression, phlebitis and a roster of other ailments, Mario Lanza died of a pulmonary embolism following his third heart attack - at the age of 38.

Lanza's recorded legacy of popular songs is how most of us know this wonderful tenor. What's good on the recordings is very, very good; the rest of it is, frankly, pretty uneven.You can fall for him yourself by sorting through the recordings. The whole world certainly fell for him. Whether Mario Lanza didn't live up to his potential... whether he was afraid of his gift... whether he subconsciously avoided the inevitable Caruso comparison by staying away from the opera stage - interesting as those discussions   may be, they are ultimately irrelevant. Lanza ended up on a path that allowed him to have the greatest influence on a huge number of people, to touch our hearts in a way that would have been impossible any other way. And that's a richly astonishing legacy for any human being.

"Lanza is the greatest musical talent of America in our century. A man who is bringing great music to the kids, the farms, the ghettos, and the palaces...
In 50 years, people will recognize Lanza for the great artist he is."

- Lawrence Tibbett - in 1950

What's the best recording to start with? It's not an easy question to answer. There is so much repetition on the various compilations that three or four CD's can give a pretty good cross-section, and yet still repeat some items. RCA had Lanza return to the studio and re-record much of the same material as from the albums first done in mono - the technology in the early days of stereo was not perfect by any measure - but later, the voice was exceptionally uneven, so the recordings made during the last two or three years of Lanza's life (mostly in Rome) are not nearly as good. 

As a result, the experience of listening to the CDs can also be uneven because the selections mix recordings made at different times in Lanza's 10-year recording career. The first mono recordings, issued on 78s, were made before Lanza turned 30: you can hear the movement (or "spin") in the voice - this, together with that big, ballsy sound, is what generated all the excitement. But only six or seven years later, when he should have been in his prime, the voice has lost its flexibility and much of its expressiveness, and the sound is no longer "forward" but "back," sounding repressed, less free and soaring.

Other recordings were made for the film soundtracks; The Mario Lanza Show, a weekly radio program sponsored by Coca-Cola for two years; and two live concerts at either end of the career which give an indication of the audiences' fanatical responsiveness to Lanza.

The complex question of when the recording tracks were made, under what circumstances, and a dozen other details about them can seem like a huge puzzle. It can also be quite addicting trying to sort it all out, and after just a short time of exploring Lanza's life, you begin to understand how some people get obsessed with it.

If you're looking for the best overall representation of the voice, the excitement, then The Mario Lanza Collection (above) is an excellent choice. If you don't want a 3-CD set, some of the single CDs listed below will do well. There's also a very good 2-CD set, Artists of the Century: Mario Lanza, The Ultimate Collection with similar material as is in the above Collection (see the Tenor CDs page). And because there's so much confusion, here are some listings of what you might want to avoid, as well as what you want to acquire. Happy listening!

Recorded less than a year before his death, the sensitivity he brings to the dozen Neapolitan songs is astonishing - okay, with the exception of Funiculi' Funicula'. The rest are not the "usual suspects" of Neopolitan songs, and they are magical. However, the selections from The Vagabond King were recorded 7 months later, with Judith Raskin and chorus added in after Mario's death. As you would expect, neither the singing nor the sound is as good. Overall though, an excellent choice.

Intriguing that these are mostly alternate tracks from what ended up in the films, and they're usually subtly better - except for Beloved from The Student Prince. This is Mario's take - the one Bernhardt told him was too emotional. Compare it with the one he re-recorded after the dust settled,  the one used in the film, and you'll hear that Mario was wrong.
[Note there are lots of CDs with the title Be My Love - see how complicated it gets?]

The whole of The Student Prince (9 selections) is excellent, really outstanding, but the CD is marred by the terrible singing in The Desert Song items, recorded later in Rome.

The title is correct - it's a very good mix of popular songs, plus 'O sole mio and Granada, songs from The Student Prince, Carousel, South Pacific and The Land of Smiles, along with 5 arias. Good choice for just one CD.

Probably the best choice for a single CD item - excellent versions of Be My Love, Only a Rose (just Lanza on this, not the duet as on other CDs), more, including Danny Boy. But the CD is really hard to find.

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