Wozzeck is one of the three roles, and by far the lengthiest of the three (the others being Andres and the First Apprentice), designated for both its voice type (baritone) and Sprechstimme—the latter as distinct from spoken declamation over underscoring (mélodrame), which several of the other characters also employ. The originator of the part, Leo Schützendorf^(I), clearly prized by the composer, had a large, long-ranged bass-baritone voice, quite dark in basic coloration. He was a highly illustrative vocal personality whose recordings, mostly of basso-buffo or operetta Charakter selections, are remindful of the more extravagant forays of Michael Bohnen or Mathieu Ahlersmeyer, or of the recitations of some of the early Twentieth-Century German and Austrian actors. One can easily imagine a vivid and powerfully sung characterization from him, whose over-the-top tendencies were (one hopes) restrained by the nature of the material and intelligent directorial and conductorial advice. He was also evidently a man of volatile temperament with demons to wrestle with, who may have felt a strong identification with Wozzeck’s tortured soul.

In the post-WW2 era, many formidable artists have taken on Wozzeck, in the theatre and/or on recordings. Having heard a number of them, and with due admiration for their accomplishments, I have concluded that the best sort of voice for this role is a relatively plain one, sturdy and musically listenable, deployed by a superior musician who is alert to the dramatic implications of Berg’s many indications, and determined to loyally pursue them so far as his physical capacities will allow. Too strong a suggestion of richness, of chiaroscuro, of civilized overlay in the tone itself seems “wrong” for the character and the musical idiom. This leads me back to the Wozzecks of the ’50s—Uhde (also a physical actor of presence and commitment), Harrell of the Mitropoulos recording, and probably Rothmüller as well, though to the best of my recollection I never heard him live. None of these is a voice to swoon over in terms of bel canto blandishments, but each meets the criteria I’m suggesting.

Of course, when we glance at the score, we are confronted with the myriad of Berg’s expressive demands, which call for great technical stability and a range of response that is essentially primal, but strewn with moments of “sophisticated” nuance, of control of softer dynamics in the upper range, and with messa di voce (swell-and-diminish) episodes of varied lengths, usually closely related to observances in the orchestral writing. The pitch compass of the role is wide (two octaves and a third, low F to high A, though the very highest notes, G# and A, and the low F, are isolated occurrences and are notated as Sprechgesang), but the tessitura is not more demanding than that of the higher Verdi roles or, to bring it closer to home stylistically and linguistically, higher Heldenbariton ones like Kurwenal, Telramund, or Jokanaan. The catch is, first, that though on the page the writing would suggest a high lyric baritone, a deeper, more dramatic quality is needed; and, second, that so many of the higher-lying passages, whether notated as fully sung or spokesung, are not set up for sustained singing, but for emotionally intense declamation—in effect, for strong spoken inflections at pitches well above the natural speaking range. The voice’s support system and registrational response is not given the accustomed time to organize itself for these utterances, and the aesthetic aims do not follow the tracks of “good singing.”