June 29. 1984


The Singers in Uniform

By Jean-François Briane


ENGLISH TRANSLATION
By John Skippen
RETURN TO ORIGINAL FRENCH


At the finals of the International Competition for Singers in Paris they were giving out the prizes. Among the prizewinners, a few talented ones, but in general the singing lacked color and personality, and effort was too obvious in many of the performances.

" Number 2, number 5, and the number 6 of course.!" "No really, number 4 should pull through.!" We're not at the horse races nor listening to people filling in a lottery form, but simply overhearing the conversation at the interval of the final concert at the Théâatre des Champs-Elysées. But these comments are a reflection of the studious and slightly indifferent atmosphere in the hall. The members of the jury are enthroned in the dress circle, opposite the stage, the lights are on them, and amongst them one is astonished to see three great legends of the opera stage, looking like three Walkyries, Elisabth Schwarzkopf, Rita Streich and Mady Mesplé. Very intimidating.

The first competition was held in 1967 and was organized to launch the careers of young singers and also to promote French music. Each candidate must perform mélodies of Berlioz, Debussy, Ravel, Poulenc, etc. Donald Collup, with his attractive and refined yet sensual voice, seduced us with "Nos Souvernirs" and "Sérénade italienne" of Chausson; he was awarded the prize for French mélodie. However, after deliberating a very long time, the jury did not award a first prize. The same thing happened in 1982. Perhaps the presence of a public and the stagefright - this provocation partly explains the lack of real intensity in the performances. (These singers are just beginning a career, and already they have the press on their back .) There were ten other prizes awarded, but none seemed to be obvious and necessary choices. You felt as if the evening was a concert of bits and pieces and not of interesting voices.

By coincidence a few days after this, on the 18th June, the Ministry of Culture announced a plan to promote the art of singing in France. It involves the training of students and teachers alike, sponsoring performance opportunities and a few strange recommendations such as having a singer regularly checked by a doctor as he progresses towards stardom. In the meantime, as we wait for the results of these good resolutions, singing in France seems to be in a bad state. The great French singers of the past such as Régine Crespin, and before her, Georges Thill, Berthe Monmart, André Pernet, Denise Duval, Geneviève Moizan, have not found the young artists to carry the torch, except for a few new talents such as Philippe Rouillon (who had a small role recently in ‘Iphigénie en Tauride’ at the Opéra de Paris).

The final exams at the Conservatoire de Paris, on the 18th and 19th June, was another opportunity to consider the state of singing in France. At the Salle Gaveau, with its gold stucco, the lighting is just as pitiless but the atmosphere was different : not a tuxedo and evening dress affair, the audience more restrained (cut rate ticket prices for students, servicemen and the elderly). The old ladies got excited over the slightest thing ; a countertenor for example. "But he sings like a woman!"

One was struck by the effort these young singers seemed to need to produce a sound. Striving to place their voices correctly, they were too tense. There was too much copying techniques from other singers. But surely each person has his own way of singing, just like walking. And one noticed a general uniformity : Berlioz sounded like Puccini, Valentin sounded like Spartacus, Mimi like Olympia ; Don Quichotte like the Erlk÷"nig. As if the only important thing was the high C (or higher), the clever vocalizing, the showing off of one;s craft. Diction was not always clear, the vowels did not have distinctive colors. No one went to the extremes of the Australian diva Joan Sutherland however, famous for her non existant diction. There is no golden rule for opera or for other repertoire. It ’s true you can listen to Joan Sutherland in her moments of grace, you don’t understand a word, but it’s sublime.

A few candidates stood out from the rest however. Jean-Marie Nirouet (‘Premier Prix’) is a countertenor who likes roses a lot, whether they be English roses (Purcell) or Swedish roses (Sibelius). Hubert François (second prize’) has a powerful bass voice and presents himself well (very Belle Epoque with a Montesquie moustache). In his Gluck aria the diction was perfectly clear. Everything was flawless until the high note in "Largo al factotum" of Rossini didn’t come out for some technical reason, but this was forgiveable and forgiven. Amongst the women, Laurence Monteynol was awarded the Premier Prix (a beautiful "Nachtigall" of Berg). The second prize: Annie Kodric-Alix, Pascale Bendoyan and Florence Katz, who sang the "Negresses" of Milhaud as if she was born in Mississippi.

Perhaps there aren't any really big voices anymore, perhaps the young singers of today don't know how to open up their high notes. La Schwarzkopf says paradoxically : "Singers today? There are too many of them." If a voice seems promising the singer is immediately thrown to the front of the stage. And everyone pretends to have discovered (at least once a year) the nex Callas.

Too many contracts, too many roles. Teresa Stich-Randall, during her masterclass at Aix-en-Provence, scolded one singer for her particularly large appetite : the girl already saw herself as Norma, La Traviata, Isolde, Donna Anna as well as other opera heroines. But Madame Stich-Randall was of the opinion that two Mozart roles were enough for a lifetime. These days the opera stars complain that they must fly from one opera house to another, singing a different role at each place, and their art suffers. This also leads to a uniformity of style instead of keeping alive the national traditions of singing and the particular color of the native country of the singer. To understand this disaster all you need to do is listen to Ninon Vallin singing Debussy in the 20s, as if she was born in the depths of Andalucia.

But there is also a problem with the present day public: they are onlt satisfies with a sort of deep-frozen bel canto style. Where are the voices that adapt themselves to the role? The wise grandfathers; the shy thin young girls are sung these days bu frustrated Normas and Don Josés.

Then there is the delicate question of the choice of voice teacher - difficult when one knows of the eccentric techniques taught by equally eccentric teachers (some of them capable of ruining voices for ever). For example ; singing with your nose against the wall, or jumping up and down and turning around at the same time. Voice training is just as delicate a domaine asPsychoanalysis and choosing a teacher just as difficult as choosing an analyst. A bad teacher teaching a complicated and unhealthy technique handicaps a singer right from the start.



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