'Tis The Last Rose Of Summer

I was just walking down a busy sidewalk, and there it was.  It was undamaged.  Either it had only just been accidentally dropped, or people had been taking care to walk around it.

Sentimental me, I was instantly reminded of the lovely Irish song referenced above in the title.  Except, my first encounter with it was through a German version of it.

Let me explain.  When I was a child my father's LP collection included a recording of selections from the opera Martha by Friedrich von Flotow, with Anneliese Rothenberger and Fritz Wunderlich in the starring roles.  I fell in love with it the very first time I listened to it, but I didn't know that this particular song was actually an already-existing song that had been borrowed into the opera with translated German lyrics (as "Letzte Rose") -- I simply assumed it was just part of the opera, composed by Flotow and cleverly presented as an Irish song as sung by "Martha", the peasant character assumed by Lady Harriet (Queen Anne's lady-in-waiting, who was herself so high-born that she had her own staff of ladies-in-waiting to wait on her) for a lark, not realizing that she was about to break farmer Lionel's heart, who had taken her act at face value.  Only much later did I come to realize that there was actually a beautiful original Irish version of the song.

But still, I'll always remember the first line as "Letzte Rose, wie magst du so einsam hier bluehn?", because that's how I memorized it first...

Here is the relevant cut from that recording (there have been other recordings with different leads):

Le Veau D'Or

The Golden Calf still stands!

Praised be his power

from one end of the world

to the other

In praise of this infamous idol

kings and peasants alike

to the jingling of coins

dance a wild round

around his pedestal

And Satan leads the dance!

I don't normally like to post links to YouTube videos, because they might end up disappearing at some point.  But I think this performance by Boris Christoff of "The Golden Calf" from the opera Faust by Gounod is fairly safe from that worry, it's a classic.  That scary smile at the end of the first verse!

And, perhaps I risk being rather impertinent with my cartoonish effort here, but I think this face below is also a pretty good visual fit for Mephistopheles, as he sings in praise of his master, the Devil.  Also, I didn't think of it at the time I drew it, but that bare suggestion of hair even looks a bit like a ram's horns.  That mirthless smile...!

A Wonderful Discovery

GIUSEPPE GIACOMINI, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE?

I love opera. I confess I don't know the first thing about its technical aspects -- I just like listening to my favorite singers singing my favorite passages and arias. I guess I'm missing out on the finer points of appreciation because I'm not an educated listener, but I do try to learn the lyrics where I can, and like any true fan I insist on my right to love and hate with irrational whimsy.

[I write the following with apologies in advance for fans of Caruso, Björling, Pavarotti, Domingo, Fleming and Te Kanawa -- forgive me, I'm an uneducated listener, like I said]

Take the first time I ever heard a Caruso recording, many years ago. I no longer remember what the song was, but I do remember being disappointed; I had come to think of Enrico Caruso as The Legend, the gold standard -- after all, wasn't an entire episode of I Dream of Jeannie devoted to Major Nelson suddenly singing like Caruso and shattering glass with his voice (god, I'm old)? But what I heard sounded to me thin and reedy, and rather too pretty, not at all like what I'd expected (although, to be fair, the tinny old recording could have been partly responsible). The old-fashioned way of ornamenting the melody (if that's what it was) with exaggerated flourishes didn't do anything for me, either. It was almost like listening to a highfalutin' version of early white jazz singing, which I can't stand.

I was somewhat familiar with Mario Lanza at the time because my father had an LP of his role in 'The Student Prince' in his collection, and while I know Lanza had his detractors because he was a Hollywood-Personality-Not-A-Real-Opera-Singer, I much prefer his voice -- the man just sounds manlier.

Gradually I came to realize that I just prefer thick, muscular voices, even in tenors, to bright voices. Which is why I'm also not into Jussi Björling and Luciano Pavarotti (I also can't stand Placido Domingo, but for a different reason).

In female singers I'm more accepting of sprightly, pretty voices, but my favorite gals are still those with just a touch of darkness to their voices (just not to the murky depths of a Renée Fleming or Kiri Te Kanawa). I love Dawn Upshaw, for example; and even though I don't understand all those weird tuneless modern songs she likes to sing, I admire her for her wide repertoire. And for a time I was kind of infatuated with Mirella Freni -- when my dormmate at USC remarked, upon seeing her face on my album, that he thought she was 'ugly' (which is not true!) I was shocked, shocked, I tell you! Pitiable boy, he had no idea that it was the face of the woman who sang the most entrancing and heartfelt rendition of "O Mio Babbino Caro" since baby Schicchi squeaked his way into the world (Bidú Sayão did -- possibly -- the second best version).

Anyway, a little while ago I was eating dinner in front of the computer, perusing YouTube for various renditions of Vesti La Giubbba, when I came across a name I had not seen before -- Giuseppe Giacomini -- and thought I'd give him a listen.

Was I amazed! Here was the most full-throated, deep-chested tenor I'd ever heard -- in fact, he sounded more like a baritone. Wow, I was incredulous. I listened spellbound as he approached the climax, and suddenly my fists started clenching all by themselves and my eyes were welling up with tears. That's right, I literally cried over my bowl of chicken-and-dumpling soup as I listened to Giuseppe Giacomini sing "Ridi, Pagliaccio, sul tuo amore infranto--"

Here is a still I stole off a video of him singing it live:


[Some minutes later] Wow, while looking up Bryn Terfel -- for comparison with Giacomini -- I came across a video of Terfel singing a Welsh lullaby, "Suo Gân", in a live performance given in South Korea -- and how beautiful it is! Isn't it wonderful, how one marvelous discovery leads to another, and another, and still others on the internet? I cannot wait for the day when we'll be able to have super-mini computers directly implanted in our brains (supposing hack-proof quantum computing becomes available before then). Goodbye, studying;  hello, Borgassimilation (there probably aren't many people who view the Borg civilization in a positive light, but I do -- kind of)!