As I often do when a canonical work is coming up for revival after an absence, I nosed around in some long-unheard recordings of Ballo. With thoughts of Verdi in Francophile Stockholm in mind, I began wondering what sort of cast might be assembled from historical artifacts that would capture a northerly feel, and perhaps some of the comique flavoring in the early scenes, without cheating the core qualities of the music. This is, for sure, a detour off the historic high road of Ballo interpretations. But for this brief trip, I took it, initially inspired by a re-encounter with the 2005 Preiser CD release of a 1937/38/42 Berlin radio performance starring Helge Roswaenge.^(I) There is northerliness here, but much of it of an inappropriate kind if we’re sticking to our bel canto standards. The German language is always an impediment to the Verdian idiom. Syllabification and accent inconveniences, the matching of vowels to pitches, the binding of consonants into the legato line—these can’t ever feel entirely right in Verdi’s music. But the essential problem is the manner of adapting Verdi’s music to the interpretive notions (“singingacting” notions, in particular) coming into fashion in the German theatres at that time, and exemplified by the lavishly talented Roswaenge. He proclaimed “Richard, Graf von Warwich” his favorite role, and certainly had all the equipment for it—a long, balanced range of Jugendlich/spinto calibre, with an extended, ringing top and a solid bottom end that enabled both a strong low C in “Di tu se fedele” (I’ll keep the familiar Italian titles) and a lightness of touch that still had easy carry. He could play with dynamics and with shadings. What, as we say, could go wrong?

With the advance stipulation that most of Roswaenge’s Richard goes right, I’d say that two things get in the way of non-German listeners’ unqualified acceptance, as they do not, at least to the same degree, with some of his male compatriots of that time (his frequent recorded baritone partner Heinrich Schlusnus for one, but such tenors as Ralf and Völker, too). The first is the singingacting adaptation I have mentioned. It arises from an artistic initiative both laudable and inescapable in a time when the European operatic cultures were grounded almost exclusively in native-language performance: the necessity of finding a performance mode that incorporates the musical and dramatic essentials of non-native masterworks, yet comes to terms with not only what audiences of the given time and place will find compatible enough with their own traditions to find “natural” and persuasive, but with the expressive inclinations of the performers themselves, steeped in those same traditions. For Roswaenge, who to the best of my knowledge sang exclusively in German except for very early outings in his native Denmark,^(II) this would have meant the absorption of all the adaptations to German-language Verdi he had inherited, plus a loving intimacy with Germano/Austro/Hungarian operetta idiom. And it meant the grafting of these practices onto a vocal personality that was, first, highly responsive to basically Italianate concepts of legato, portamento, vowel purity, etc. (scantily trained, he evidently listened to Caruso a lot, but cited Leo Slezak as a model), and that, second, exulted in its own bravura and in a predilection for highly theatricalized expression. He was clearly an enthusiastic actor of voice and body, and a performance maniac—in his Die Grossen Sänger, Jürgen Kesting reports that in his prime Roswaenge sang some 200 performances per year, often twenty or more in a month, not counting recitals, radio performances like this Maskenball, film work, or recordings. While his repertoire was extensive, and inclusive of many roles most tenors would find a strain in the upper range, he sang very little Wagner, even of Jugendlich weight. And that was wise, for the absence of high-end thrills would have deprived him of his feature attraction, and the incessant pressure on the upper-middle range would have endangered the balance and limberness of his voice.