In short, we are using E-19 tenor and baritone voices as our standard of comparison. (I) We’ve come to think of the high- and middle-range male voices capable of effectively negotiating the roles of what over this period became the standard repertory as the “real” tenor and baritone structures, in terms of continuous range, calibre, timbral properties, and technical capacities. And though I recognize this can’t stand objective scrutiny (a Lully or Cavalli tenor is not less “real” than a Verdi/Puccini, Wagner/Strauss one, or a comprimario than a tenore robusto or Heldentenor; nor is a mélodie baritone of the Bernac/Panzéra/Souzay type less a baritone than a Rigoletto or a Wolfram), I’m comfortable with it, since I believe it represents the most complete development of those voice categories. However, over the century-plus of what we must now call the post-E-19 era, and especially during the latter half of that span, three interrelated developments have degraded the standard set by the best E-19 tenors and baritones and, by extension, many more of the less-than-best who nevertheless sang with success according to that model. First, there has been a general darkening and loosening of the vocal structures of these voice types (and their high-voiced female counterparts), resulting in a notable gain in thickness and dullness of tone, and concomitant loss of sparkle, squillo or “ring,” brightness or brilliance, and of tonal center, or core. Second, there has over recent decades been a lessening of the energy directed at this darker, looser structure, producing singing that is thick and dull without being voluminous and gutsy. And third, there has been enough leakage from older and newer musical usages (I call these “Skipover” voices, and they share this low-energy condition, though not always the darker-colored one) to influence the singing of standard repertory roles. I discuss these developments, and my thoughts on their etiology, at some length in my book and in piecemeal fashion on many of these posts. I won’t recapitulate the latter here, but will refer you to an especially germane one—The Thirty-Three Tenors (11/20/20), which discusses the technical practices of Marston’s British Tenors Before Peter Pears (the term “baritenor” surfacing among them), plus significant releases of recordings by “real” tenors Richard Tauber and Jussi Björling.
In the context of this E-19 devolution, the term “baritenor” would imply a voice of essentially baritonal coloration whose compass and practicable tessitura extends into tenor territory, and is thus at least theoretically capable of essaying roles that cross over our tenor/baritone dividing line. (Or, conceivably, it might suggest a voice of tenorial timbre that descends into the lower octave with sufficient penetration and color to make baritone parts feasible. See below.) Several examples of the migration toward a darker overall coloration in tenor voices have been considered in this series of articles. To proceed through the archive chronologically without cluttering us up with dates: Marc Heller, who stepped into the challenging part of Enrico in Respighi’s La Campana sommersa; Vittorio Grigolo, as Gounod’s Roméo; Stuart Skelton, as Verdi’s Otello (live) and Siegmund and Tristan via recording and video; Curtis Bannister, the Florestan/”Stan” of Heartbeat’s Fidelio; and Brandon Jovanovich, last season’s Bacchus in Ariadne—all examples of tenor adjustments of darker hue and less tenorial sparkle, relative to their vocal calibrations, than we would have formerly expected, though none suggests effectiveness in baritone assignments. And at the highest end of accomplishment, ever-darker-and-thicker has also been the trajectory of Jonas Kaufmann’s voice, accompanied by a barely noticeable gain in calibre, over the course of his career. All are descendants of our operatic Gen X, slacker dropouts from the course requirements of clarity and brilliance of tone. Yet none has ventured into baritone roles, or styled himself other than tenor.
Footnotes
↑I | “E-19:” my habituated readers will be familiar with the term, which I first introduced in a New York Times Sunday piece in 1991, then employed extensively in Opera as Opera, and have used occasionally in previous posts. For the unhabituated: it’s short for “Extended 19th-Century,” which in operatic terms begins with the early Romantics (1810s through the ’30s) and ends around WW1—dates approximate at both ends). It’s an adaptation of the historian Eric Hobsbawm’s more generally applicable one. |
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