One of the things that draws me to the world of opera is the high-stakes sense of risk that is so often in the mix. . . the drive to step past what is comfortable and utterly safe and attempt what is just out of easy reach. For me this is one of the things that sets opera apart from from country western, from folk, from jazz, and from some pop music. I mean, no one sitting in a Joan Baez concert is thinking to themselves “ooh boy, I wonder if she’s going to hit that last note.” No one at a James Taylor concert is sitting on the edge of their seat wondering if he has to stamina to get through “Sweet Baby James.” You go to such concerts with complete confidence that you will hear what you have come to expect from the artist at hand. . .and what you love about them. Not that it isn’t challenging. Not that there isn’t room for a spark of unexpected magic – and not that there isn’t the occasional concert where a sore throat or other malady creates a bit of unexpected uncertainty. But mostly you go to such concerts with a sense of complete assurance. And to quote Mr. Seinfeld, “not that there’s anything wrong with that.” Some of the best musical experiences of my life have been exactly like that, enjoying concerts by James Taylor or Victoria Clark or Kelly O’Hara or Bernadette Peters without the slightest worry.
But in the world of opera, an experienced fan often watches and listens with furrowed brow. . . wondering if Soprano X is ready to be singing Brunnhilde or worrying that Tenor Y may no longer have what it takes to sing Otello or wondering if Bass Z sang out a bit too aggressively at the start of his death scene and won’t have enough steam for the final measures. And even when there’s no such worry or misgivings, when a singer is squarely in their prime and singing a role that fits them like a glove, there is still the unavoidable reality that opera is about taking the human voice to places where it cannot easily or effortlessly go. . . and there is always the very real possibility of calamity right around the corner. Musically, I get most excited when listening to opera, where every high C can be a moment of thrilling splendor OR a toe-curling catastrophe (or most often, somewhere in between.)
Last night at the Ravinia Festival, the Chicago Symphony was joined by one of my favorite singers, a soprano by the name of Deborah Voigt. Once upon a time, she was one of the most amply blessed dramatic sopranos on the planet – one of those singers who seemed to be able to just open up her mouth and glorious tone would pour out with ease. She was also a big woman (as so many big-voiced singers are) which didn’t seem to be that big a deal until she was rather rudely dismissed from a new production of Strauss’s Ariadne auf Naxos because the director and designer felt that she wouldn’t look right in the rather skimpy dresses that she would be wearing in the production. Well, the outrage over that echoed throughout the opera world and beyond, and Voigt’s story was told on 60 Minutes, Good Morning America, etc. and there was no question to whom the public’s sympathy and support was directed. But not long after that, Voigt decided to have stomach bypass surgery and lost a great deal of weight. . . which has given her new assurance on the stage and made her a physically healthier person – but which also seems to have changed her voice and perhaps made her (especially early on) a less consistent singer than she had been before her weight loss. All that has combined to make Voigt one of the most intently scrutinized singers in the world, with armchair critics weighing in at every opportunity in much the same way that sports fans mercilessly dissected every move of Brett Favre after he came out of retirement… and then came out of retirement again. Although he certainly had fans cheering him on, there were plenty of other people waiting to pounce on his every misstep.
To some extent, Deborah Voigt has sung the last few years under similar scrutiny, and this happened as she passed through her late 40’s and approached the age of 50 (often a tricky time for female singers anyway) while taking on some of the longest and most arduous aoprano roles like Isolde and Brunnhilde. That she has survived these last few years as well as she has is a testimony to her guts as well as to her grace under fire, to say nothing of her considerable gifts as a singer. And it makes me as big a fan of hers as ever.
So anyway. . . last night was a Ravinia concert of music of Beethoven, Wagner and Strauss, featuring one of the sternest challenges a soprano can face- the finale scene from Salome. Both Marshall and I looked forward to this concert with eagerness tempered by more than a little nervousness. Would Voigt be at the top of her game, throwing nothing but touchdown passes? Or would there be some interceptions and fumbles along the way? (My Brett Favre analogy is coming back to haunt me.) One thing about a concert like this is that there are no costumes, no sets, no supporting characters. It’s the star singer in the spotlight, pretty much naked (if you know what I mean) with nothing to hide behind and every vocal stumble (even the tiny ones) so much more evident than in a full staged opera performance. As the orchestra was playing its first piece of the night (the overture to Tannhauser, which begins very solemnly and serenely) I think Marshall and I were both praying that it would be a great night for Ms. Voigt and for all of us.
Well, I don’t know how much the good Lord had directly to do with it, but it turned out to be a STUPENDOUS night for Deborah Voigt. The first aria she sang, “Dich teure Halle” (also from the aformentioned Tannhauser) glowed beautifully, as it always does for her . . . but she had a long way to go and we just hoped she would be able to keep it up through the course of the long evening ahead. She went right from that into “Du bist der Lenz” from Die Walkure, and except for just the tiniest little catch on the high note, she sounded great. But where she really came into her own was in the last piece of the first half, an excerpt from Strauss’s Elektra that calls for soaring high notes as well as dramatic intensity, which she delivered in spades. And as she left the stage after that, I thought to myself “she really is one of the greatest singers in the whole world . . . and we are so lucky to be sitting in these seats, hearing this.” By the way, the first half also included the orchestra’s blazing performance of Siegfried’s Rhine Journey, an amazing piece of music which they played incredibly well … even if they were playing in shirtsleeves rather than in tuxes, thanks to the heat.
The second half began with Beethoven’s and one of four overtures which he wrote for his one and only opera, Fidelio. Right after that, Voigt sang “Abscheulicher!” which is the big soprano aria from the opera and incredibly hard. (Beethoven was SO mean to singers, or he didn’t know very much about the human voice. . . or both.) But no matter- Voigt almost made it sound easy, even the fiendishly difficult final measures. After that, the orchestra played the famous Dance of the Seven Veils from Strauss’s Salome, and although it’s usually interesting to see how the soprano manages to do the dance (or how the delicate matter of the strip tease in handled) it was neat to listen to this simply as a marvelous piece of music, magnicently played. And then came the final scene from the opera, which involves the horrifying sight of Salome singing to the severed head of the just-executed John the Baptist – but wrapped up in some of the most glorious music ever composed. And Voigt saved her most spectacular singing for this amazing scene and served up what might very well be the best performance of this that I have ever heard. And the Ravinia crowd, I’m so relieved to say, seemed to know that they had just witnessed something incredible and responded with a huge ovation. And Voigt, despite all she had already sung, responded to that ovation with TWO encores. . . a Strauss song called Zueignung, and then “I could have danced all night” from My Fair Lady. So to say that we got our money’s worth is the biggest understatement of the year.
I forgot to mention that part of the fun of the evening was running into a Carthage voice student of mine, David Duncan, who has become a devoted opera fan – and his good friend Aldis Siltumens, who’s no slouch when it comes to opera fandom. As I stood there talking with them, I found myself thinking back to when I was in college and realized that both of them have already taken in SO much more opera than I had at that age. And then, just to make myself dizzy, I thought about 25 or 30 into the future and found myself hoping that Marshall and I will still be hobbling into Ravinia to see great opera concerts (and maybe by then I will have converted my wife and she’ll be with us) . . . and that David will be there with one of his own voice students, passing the torch as it were. We may be traveling to Ravinia via jetpack or hovercraft . . . but I have a sneaking suspicion that there will still be plenty of people hungry for the thrill of hearing the final scene from Salome sung as gloriously as we heard it last night. And although it won’t be Deborah Voigt delivering those thrills, I trust that there will be some other prodigiously gifted singer willing to step into that spotlight and undertake that incredibly stern challenge and – one hopes – earning a triumph.
pictured above: My voice student, David Duncan, having his picture taken with Ms. Voigt after the concert. (She was incredibly gracious with everyone who stayed around to greet her.) By the way, when his friend Aldis posed with Ms. Voigt for his photo, she pointed at me (taking the photo) and asked “is this your dad?” That was worth another good chuckle.