Francesco Cilea (1866-1950) had the misfortune of attempting a career as an opera composer during the period dominated by Giacomo Puccini. His modest compositional skill forced him to abandon opera after 1907, mostly for pedagogy. He is best known for L’arlesiana (1897) and Adriana Lecouvreur (1902). Both operas benefited from the presence of Enrico Caruso in their tenor leads.
Of the two operas just mentioned Adriana Lecouvreur is far more often performed. In fact, the Met has never done L’arlesiana while Adriana Lecouvreur has staged Adriana 81 times. The opera survives mainly because of its Act 2 tenor aria È la solita storia del pastore (Federico’s Lament). The lyrics in Italian and English are below
Federico is madly in love with a girl from Arles, the Arlesiana of the title, but his family has arranged his marriage with Vivetta. Vivetta has always loved Federico since childhood and is disappointed to know of his love for l’Arlesiana. When he has been left alone, Federico reads the letters of l’Arlesiana (which prove she has another lover) and ponders them with his broken heart. The ‘poor boy’ in the second line is Federico’s brother who has a learning disability – he’s called L’Innocente.
The aria requires both beauty of tone and stylistic excellence to be fully realized. Just about every tenor includes it on one of his recordings on recitals. Giuseppe Di Stefano’s 1947 recording made when he was just 25 years old sets the standard for those who followed him. Federico’s lament Di Stefano. The high note commonly sung near the end is a tenorial insertion; it’s not in the score.
Mario Lanza was born the same year as Di Stefano – 1921. This recording was made in concert at the Royal Albert Hall the year before he died. Lamento di Federico Lanza. Note how dark his voice had become. He seems to have developed into a spinto tenor.
Alfredo Krauss was one of the great stylists of the last century. His singing of the aria is finely honed and limited only by the size of his lyric tenor. Federico’s Lament Krauss
Franco Bonisolli had a beautiful tenor that was capable of producing great singing. Alas, he also had spells during which bizarre behavior drove him off the operatic rails. His rendition of this aria is excellent. Federico’s Lament Bonisolli.
Salvatore Fisichella was one of the great bel canto tenors of the 20th century. For reasons mysterious to me he only sang five performances at the Met all in 1986. He gets everything his lyric voice will allow from the aria. Federico’s Lament Fisichella.
Ferruccio Tagliaviani had a very light tenor; he was noted for his piano singing. He participated in the first complete recording of the opera in 1951. Tagliavini Federico’s Lament.
Jonas Kaufmann has a very wide repertoire. He can sing bel canto, Verdi, Puccini, and Wagner. His reading of the aria is finely nuanced and fully expresses the text. The only quibble, and it’s a very small one, is the ‘brown’ sound of his voice. Ferdico’s Lament Kaufmann
Rolando Villazon is one of opera’s sad stories. He was in the middle of a great career when his voice left him. He was able to reconstruct it so he could sing light roles but he never got back to the top of the pole where he was until disaster struck. Federico’s lament Villazon.
Modest though Cilea’s achievements are he has a lasting position in opera, a feat attained by only a few composers.
È la solita storia del pastore…
Il povero ragazzo voleva raccontarla
E s’addormì.
C’è nel sonno l’oblio.
Come l’invidio!
Anch’io vorrei dormir così,
nel sonno almen l’oblio trovar!
La pace sol cercando io vo’.
Vorrei poter tutto scordar!
Ma ogni sforzo è vano.
Davanti ho sempre di lei
il dolce sembiante.
La pace tolta è solo a me.
Perché degg’io tanto penar?
Lei! Sempre lei mi parla al cor!
Fatale vision, mi lascia!
Mi fai tanto male! Ahimè!
It’s the old tale of the shepherd…
The poor boy wanted to retell it
And he fell asleep.
There is oblivion in sleep.
How I envy him!
I too would like to sleep like that
To find oblivion at least in slumber!
I am searching only for peace.
I would like to be able to forget everything!
Yet every effort is in vain.
Before me I always have
her sweet face.
Peace is ever taken from me.
Why must I suffer so very much?
She, as always speaks to my heart.
Fatal vision, leave me!
You hurt me so deeply! Alas!
The unbelievably short Metropolitan Opera career of Salvatore Fisichella was all but predicted in this review of his Arturo in “Puritani” with Joan Sutherland: “Fisichella had to work for whatever he got. The signs of struggle were evident in the tight-throated sound and the uneven texture of his singing. He did get up high, and his top notes punched through the orchestra, but without ease or fluidity. And he suffers from the usual problem faced by Italian tenors singing next to Sutherland: Even wearing elevator shoes, he had to stand one step higher than she did merely to seem the same height. (Peter Goodman, Newsday)
From a review of Di Stefano in “Manon”: “Mr. Di Stefano again impressed by the excellence of his voice, with its warm, concentrated tones, marked by pronounced beauty of timbre. He looked the part of the handsome young aristocrat of Abbé Prevost’s imagination and acted the role ably, investing his impersonation with refinement and fervor. In the duet of the first act and the aria “Le Rêve,” Mr. Di Stefano’s singing was admirably clean. If the sounds in the lower register lacked something of the resonance and meatiness of the rest of the long scale, the entire voice, from top to bottom, was well pointed, pure and firm. ‘Le Rêve’ was delivered with skilled use of mezza voce and finely produced pianissimo effects, without resorting to falsetto.” (Noel Straus, The New York Times, Sunday, March 28, 1966)
“For ten years, Kraus has acquired a reputation for good looks, a limber voice, and a flair for higher top notes than the average tenor cares to risk. All of these are in the tradition of such Spanish predecessors as Constantino and Lazaro, both of whom performed the part in this same house. The question always, is: How will the voice measure up to requirements of the theater? So far as ‘Rigoletto’ is concerned, one need not wait long for the answer: ‘Questa O quella’ occurs almost as soon as the curtain goes up, and Kraus’s version left little doubt that he could be heard. His is not a ‘big’ voice by any means, but it is free and forward in its production, strongly supported, and always gratifying to the ear.
The most hopeful sign for his vocal future was the general fluency of his performance, coupled with a youthful presence and a figure slim enough to suggest a Prince who is having an enjoyable time being dissolute rather than already paying the price for it. He did not always accomplish what he set out to do in phrasing and dynamics, but the tokens of intention (such as a real pianissimo in ‘Parmi, veder’) were all honorable ones. (Irving Kolodin, Saturday Review, February 19, 1966)
“Sharon Sweet, a young New York-born soprano, first stepped on the Met stage as Leonora in ‘II Trovatore,’ and she was a singular sensation. From the [very first] measure’ of “Tacea la notte,’ she proved she was a Verdi soprano to the manner born, prompting comparisons to Zinka Milanov. Not so farfetched – Sweet’s wide-ranging voice is big, beautiful, impeccably schooled and effortlessly, naturally produced from top to bottom. There was also good news in the superb Azucena of Shirley Verrett, who was in markedly better vocal shape than she was earlier this season. But the Manrico of Franco Bonisolli was merely a joke, despite a good high C. Bad taste ruled the stage when he was on it and, despite his wearing Errol Flynn’s ‘Sea Hawk’ boots, the only swashbuckling he offered was the off-and-on duel he had with conductor Michelangelo Veltri. (Bill Zakariasen, Mew York Daily News)