BRIEFLY defined, the singer’s Technique may be said to consist principally of the ability to govern the voice in its three phases of Pitch, Colour, and Intensity. That is, he must be able to sing every note throughout the compass of the voice (Pitch) in different qualities or timbres (Colour), and with various degrees of power (Intensity). And although the modern schools of composition for the voice do not encourage the display of florid execution, a singer would be ill-advised indeed to neglect this factor, on the plea that it has no longer any practical application. No greater error is conceivable. Should an instrumental virtuoso fail to acquire mastery of transcendental difficulties, his performance of any piece would not be perfect: the greater includes the less. A singer would be very short-sighted who did not adopt an analogous line of reasoning. Without an appreciable amount of agilitÀ, the performance of modern music is laboured and heavy; that of the classics, impossible. In fact, virtuosity, if properly understood, is as indispensable to-day as ever it was. As much vocal virtuosity is required to interpret successfully the music of Falstaff, in Verdi’s opera, as is necessary for Maometto Secondo or Semiramide by Rossini. It is simply another form of virtuosity; that In short, virtuosity may have changed in form, but it is still one of the cornerstones of the singer’s art. An executive artist will spare no pains to acquire perfect technical skill; for the mÉtier, or mechanical elements of any art, can be acquired, spontaneous though the results may sometimes appear. Its primary use is, and should be, to serve as a medium of interpretation. True, virtuosity is frequently a vehicle for personal display, as, notably, in the operas of Cimarosa, Bellini, Donizetti, and the earlier works of Rossini and Verdi. At its worst, however, it is a practical demonstration of the fact that the executant, vocal or instrumental, has completely mastered the mechanical elements of his profession; that, to use the argot of the studios, “il connaÎt son mÉtier” (he knows his trade). Imperfect technique, indeed, is to be deprecated, if merely for the reason that it may debar a singer from interpreting accurately the composer’s ideas. How seldom, if ever, even in the best lyric theatres, is the following passage heard as the composer himself indicated:
[Listen] or the concluding phrase of “Celeste Aida” (in Aida, Act I), as Verdi wrote it and wished it to be sung:
[Listen] At present the majority of operatic tenors, to whom are assigned the strong tenor (fort tÉnor) rÔles, can sing the higher tones of their compass only in forte, and with full voice. Thus an additional and very charming effect is lost to them. Yet Adolphe Nourrit, who created the rÔle of RaoÛl in Les Huguenots, sang, it is said, the phrase as written. The late Italo Campanini, Sims Reeves, and the famous Spanish tenor GayarrÉ, were all able to sing the
[Listen] mezza voce, by a skilled use of the covered tones. I do not ignore the fact that cases occur where artists, owing to some physiological peculiarity or personal idiosyncrasy, are unable to overcome certain special difficulties; where, indeed, the effort would produce but meagre results. But such instances are the exception, not the rule. The lyric artist who is gifted merely with a beautiful voice, over which he has acquired but imperfect control, is at the mercy of every slight indisposition that may temporarily affect the quality and sonority of his instrument. But he who is a “singer” in the real and artistic sense of the word, he who has acquired skill in the use of the voice, is armed at all points against such accidents. By his art, by clever devices of varied tone-colour and degrees of intensity, he can so screen the momentary loss of brilliance, etc., as to conceal that fact from his auditors, who imagine him to be in the possession of his normal physical powers. The technical or mechanical part of any art can be taught and learned, as I have said. It is only a case of well-guided effort. Patience and unceasing perseverance will in this, as in all other matters, achieve the desired result. Nature gives only the ability and aptitude to acquire; it is persistent study which enables their possessor to arrive at perfection. Serious and lasting results are obtained only by constant practice. It is a curious fact that many people more than usually gifted arrive only at mediocrity. Certain things, such as the trill or scales, come naturally easy to them. This being the case, they neglect to perfect their agilitÀ, which remains defective. Others, although but moder But we must make a great distinction between the preliminary exercises which put the singer in full possession of the purely mechanical branch of his art (Technique), and the Æsthetic studies in Taste and the research for what dramatic authors call “the Science of Effect,” or Style. The former must be thoroughly accomplished, otherwise the latter cannot be undertaken satisfactorily. A good and reliable technique is undoubtedly of primary necessity. But it is by no means all. One may have a voice which is well-posed and of good resonance, and also have sufficient flexibility to perform neatly all the rapid passages with which the pages of the classic composers abound. But this is not singing; nor is the possessor of these an artist. He has simply the necessary and preliminary knowledge which should enable him to become one, by further study of the Æsthetic side of the art of singing. He has, as it were, collected the materials necessary for the erection of a splendid edifice, and has now to learn the effective means of combining them. So, when the voice is “formed,” a frank and easy emission obtained, a sufficiency of Technique acquired, the next step in the singer’s education is the practical study of the problem of Style. |