A Battle Of Adjectives

PHOTO: Associated Press

The little people in Dallas – my two older grandchildren – generally begin their seven-minute trip to pre-school with a comment on the day.

The younger – the redhead – will usually remark, “Mommy, it is a beautiful day!”

“Yes sweetheart, it is indeed a beautiful day!”

Her brother – only 15 months older – rejoins, “Mom, it is a handsome day!”

“Yes sir! It is a handsome day!”

“It is a beautiful day!”

“No, it is a handsome day!”

“A beautiful day!”

“A handsome day!”

This battle of adjectives continues without resolution until they arrive to the distraction of another day at pre-school.

There is today. It is a sad day with the news of the death of Joan Sutherland, the renowned soprano.

When it comes to descriptive terms and Dame Joan, the only adjectives that could be argued would be those associated with any which disparage her ability, her achievements, and her good natured decency in a world famous for histrionics. As Brian Kellow would state in the article on her death in OPERA NEWS, “Sutherland ……was a model of consistency.”

There is just nothing bad to say about Dame Joan.

I first encountered the remarkable voice at a spaghetti feast in the home of my vocal coach sometime in 1962. A recording had just become available. We listened in absolute awe. The resulting comments of that evening centered around the general theme, “I cannot not believe this amazing instrument.”

It was unbelievable. After her debut at La Scala, the normally overly critical Italian press dubbed her, “La Stupenda!”

I last saw her on stage in a production of Donizetti’s Anna Bolena at Lyric Opera in Chicago in the mid-eighties. It was still unbelievable.

In contrast to the antics of Maria Callas, who had reintroduced the “bel canto” (beautiful song) to the opera world, Sutherland was sane and sensible. She never failed to live up to her audience’s vocal expectations. This “presbyterian” approach paid off in a long and celebrated career.

The career was void of controversy. There were no firings, no process servers meeting airplanes, no trysts on yachts off Greece, and no t-shirts sported by any casts which read, “I SURVIVED THE BATTLE.” Did you get that, Kathleen?

However, for this gifted singer, it was not a direct path to glory.

Sutherland, owing to her physical stature and on the advice of early voice teachers, felt that she would have a career in the ponderous melodies of Wagner. She admitted to seeing herself as a Kirsten Flagstad. I cannot imagine Dame Joan’s expansive chin strapped into a horned helmet. The glare from the breastplate would have been problematic, as well.

But thanks to the perceptiveness of Richard Bonynge, her vocal coach and accompanist at the Royal Academy in London, she was guided toward the upper register and toward the elaborate melodies of the bel canto composers. Bonynge, who would become her husband and favored conductor, taught her the intricate ornamentation required of this genre. Her trills were legendary. If you can listen to only one example of Joan Sutherland, I would recommend the 1964 recording of Bellini’s Norma. The “Casta Diva” is beyond belief.

The story goes that before the transformation to a coloratura had been completed, Sutherland stopped by the Metropolitan Opera in NYC in 1957 on her way from Vancouver to London. She auditioned and was accepted as a “stable soprano.” In any opera, there are many roles filled out by the “resident” singers of the company. The stars – big names – are the ticket sellers; the stable singers provide the backbone. She was offered $1,500 a week at that point. She declined the offer and when she returned triumphantly in 1961 as Lucia, she was paid almost 10 times that each time she walked on stage. Thank you Mr. Bonynge!

Sutherland’s voice had one peculiarity – well, actually two. Her diction, even when singing in English, was problematic. She did nothing to hamper the purity of her tone, so often you could not understand her words. She also used a “high tongue” position which did not impact her, but did do havoc for any number of singers who thought they could get away with it. Only Joan!!

Since Bonynge was often her vocal coach and critic, the two of them worked out a system where the voice was a "third" entity in the marriage. The voice could be discussed without it being personal. "Didn't you feel the voice was a bit under pitch today?" That can really ruin most marriages.

Sutherland was very conscious of her weight and stature on stage. As a result, she insisted on bringing her own costumes for opera productions in which she was appearing. While there were some concessions to the wishes of the production, the design and line of each of her outfits was styled to play down her width. Often, there was a lighter color material down the middle of the dress, with darker panels to the side. “Hey, look at me, I’m slim!”

But nobody cared. That voice did it for the world.

It was said that during rehearsal breaks she could be found backstage knitting for her grandchildren. She was unassuming, a regular person with the greatest voice of the century.

She was beautiful!

She was handsome!

She was both, and more!

In December, I will pull out “The Joy Of Christmas” and fill the house with the sounds of Joan. I will not understand many of the words, but that will not bother me in the least. It is about the voice!

Thank you Joan Sutherland.