Leoncavallo’s Pagliacci - A survey of the major studio recordings by Ralph Moore Given the continued popularity of this most enduring of operatic warhorses, it is surprising how few studio recordings it has received compared with other major crowd-pleasers. I have restricted my survey to studio-made, post-war recordings in Italian on the grounds that the average modern collector will want fair (mono) to excellent (digital) sound in the original language; there are only fourteen of those, plus a radio broadcast and two film soundtracks featuring names so famous I thought it best to include them, and, finally, a live concert performance which was a prime recommendation from ‘Gramophone’, the ‘Penguin Guide’ and the ‘Classical Good CD Guide’, so I could hardly ignore it - making eighteen recordings in total. The most recent studio recording in Italian was made nearly thirty years ago in 1992; perhaps that points to a continuing shortage of singers able to do justice to the brief but very demanding role of Canio. All the great tenors of the 50’s and 60’s – Del Monaco, Björling, Tucker, Corelli and Bergonzi - recorded it in the studio, sometimes twice, each of the “The Three Tenors” made his recording in the 70’s, and there is a handful of mostly lesser accounts before Rahbari conducted that final studio version – and that’s it. Doubtless there are other, worthy, live recordings but, as I always say when doing these surveys, I can consider only a sampling of approximately 140 available and have to start – or rather finish – somewhere, so I use studio provenance and quality of singers and sound combined as my criteria for inclusion and mostly exclude live versions, which still permits me to consider five recordings from the 50’s in fair mono sound. Interestingly, this was the opera which lent itself most readily to being recorded at the dawn of the recording age and was the first to be so, as it is a one-Act opera lasting only seventy or so minutes and thus more easily accommodated on 78s: no fewer than seven studio versions were made between 1907 and 1934. It was also the first opera to be recorded in sound, in 1931.Those early studio recordings feature many singers whose names are now largely forgotten, but a few are more famous, such as Apollo Granforte, Francesco Merli and, most renowned of all, Beniamino Gigli. His studio account was made in 1934, in the company of other distinguished singers such as Iva Pacetti and Mario Basiola, so it is obviously in the historical category and I have considered it here only as an appendix. Despite the excellence of the music given to Nedda and Tonio, this opera is primarily a showpiece for an Italianate tenor. Featuring in innumerable recitals and highlight discs is his highlight aria “Vesti la giubba” - or as the rather quaint, to modern ears, 1893 translation by Frederic Edward Weatherly would have it, “On with the motley”; perhaps “Put on your costume” is more accurate, if prosaic. However, Tonio’s opening “Prologo” aria is also a celebrated anthology item, as is Nedda’s “Stridono lassú”; all the principals are given their chance to shine and there are nice items for the secondary roles of Silvio and Beppe, too. The action of the opera is melodramatic, meaty stuff, based on a real event which formed the background to a murder investigation presided over by the composer’s father, who was a magistrate and the concluding “play within a play” is an almost Shakespearian device - a gift for singers with good acting skills, its irony being both funny and fearsome. The sordid nature of the plot is typical of the verismo genre, concerned with the everyday lives of ordinary folk instead of kings and queens, ranging a gamut of emotions from broad humour to murderous rage. The immediacy of its emotional impact is complemented by a sustained melodic invention with no longueurs. It is of course invariably coupled with the similarly earthy Cavalleria rusticana for performance; “Cav ‘n’ Pag” are staples of the operatic repertoire and perhaps I shall survey “Cav” later. Incidentally, the concluding line of the opera, "La Commedia è finita!" is, according to Leoncavallo’s manuscript, supposed to be sung by Tonio, which is appropriate as he is the wicked controlling force in the action, but since as early as 1895 tenors singing Canio have appropriated it to leave themselves MusicWeb International May 2020 Leoncavallo’s Pagliacci survey in the spotlight as the curtain falls. However, in age devoted to “authenticity”, increasingly numerous exceptions below include those conducted by Cellini (as early as 1953), von Matačić, Muti – always a stickler for such things – Prêtre and Chailly. Finally, for true devotees, I recommend three films: the first two are vintage and one modern. The first is from 1948, in which the music, presented virtually complete, is frenetically conducted by Giuseppe Morelli (Youtube). It stars Tito Gobbi in finest, youthful voice, singing and acting both the roles of Tonio and Silvio (which would not be possible on stage, as they meet), Gina Lollobrigida (lip- synching Onelia Fineschi’s prettily-sung Nedda) and, weirdly, baritone Afro Poli miming stentorian tenor Galliano Masini’s Canio. It is also available on a Gala CD in harsh, mono sound which is nonetheless considerably superior to the wavery soundtrack for this second – pretty hammy! – film from 1954 (Youtube). The third is Franco Zeffirelli’s 1982 version (Youtube). The soundtracks of the latter two are reviewed below. The recordings Alfredo Simonetto – 1951 (mono; radio broadcast) Warner Fonit Cetra Orchestra - RAI Torino Chorus - RAI Torino Canio - Carlo Bergonzi Nedda - Carla Gavazzi Tonio - Carlo Tagliabue Beppe - Salvatore De Tommaso Silvio - Marcello Rossi Christopher Howell reviewed this approvingly back in 2003 and I broadly agree with his judgment. The sound here is crisp, peaky mono, the voices a bit covered by the prominent orchestra. The first of those we hear is that stalwart baritone Tagliabue, secure and even with a tremendous top A flat. Bergonzi, having only recently converted from baritone to tenor, is in equally impressive voice, rougher and more robust and resonant than for Karajan fourteen years later, so more appropriate to playing a middle-aged husband, despite being so much younger. (This is his third recorded outing for Cetra as a tenor, the first being in Simon Boccanegra and the second in I due Foscari.) There is still a baritonal tinge to his timbre and he is both considerably more animated and less patrician here than for Karajan, perhaps liberated by a more energised conductor; Simonetto is clearly wholly at home on this music, flexible and liberated. Mario Rossi is a similarly full-throated, attractively-toned Silvio, virile and youthful. I did not much care for Carla Gavazzi’s foray into Mozart for Cetra as Donna Anna but she was a formidable Minnie in La fanciulla del West and a good Adriana Lecouvreur; her powerful, flexible voice is better suited to verismo roles. She is decidedly “old school” in manner and all the better for it, with a quick vibrato and a nice, rounded, hooty top. The pinched sound disqualifies this from being a prime recommendation but for the collector tolerant of historical sound it’s lovely example of really Italianate verismo singing and playing. Fausto Cleva – 1951 (mono) Sony, Preiser, Cantus Metropolitan Opera Association Orchestra & Chorus Canio - Richard Tucker Nedda - Lucine Amara Tonio - Giuseppe Valdengo MusicWeb International p2 Leoncavallo’s Pagliacci survey Beppe - Thomas Hayward Silvio - Clifford Harvuot Very well conducted. Tucker and Valdengo superb – Amara average. Göran Forsling reviewed this recently and I partially share his enthusiasm for it, even if I am less enamoured of Amara’s Nedda and have more reservations about the sound. Richard Tucker is one of those tenors whom you would expect to be vocally and temperamentally suited to portraying Canio – and so it proves. The hardness in his tone and the amplitude of his top notes contribute virility to his characterisation but he is also able to spin a legato line, as in “Un tal gioco”. With the glottal catch in his voice and the odd sob he is closest to Gigli in manner although his tenor is not as honeyed. Toscanini’s favourite Valdengo is another baritone with an intrinsically elegant timbre, making it more difficult for him to suggest evil, but he gives a very animated performance and can inject a snarl as he did in his celebrated Iago. He is a little weak at the bottom of his voice but the money notes are there. Lucine Amara is better here than her older self with Corelli nine years later but her rather squeaky, cramped soprano is still not ideal; she does not sound like a young woman and there is not much colourific variation in her voice. There are many better exponents. Her duet with Clifford Harvuot’s Silvio goes well enough but there’s not much bloom on either voice; his baritone is rather hoarse. Thomas Hayward is a playful, fresh-toned Beppe. The conducting is sometimes hard-driven but I don’t mind that as long as the overture, Intermezzo and the lyrical sections in general are allowed to swoon. The hissy, mono sound is a bit distant and boxy compared with better-engineered, contemporary recordings such as RCA’s with Björling, which is a pity, especially as the chorus sounds harsh and distorted and as such that consigns this to the historical category. This is worth hearing for Tucker’s Canio but it is generally surpassed in its other departments. Renato Cellini – 1953 (mono) RCA, EMI, Membran, Urania, Naxos RCA Victor Orchestra; Robert Shaw Chorale Canio - Jussi Björling Nedda - Victoria de los Ángeles Tonio - Leonard Warren Beppe - Paul Franke Silvio - Robert Merrill My MusicWeb colleague Bob Farr reviewed this back in 2004, comparing the EMI and Naxos remasterings; his conclusion was “[w]hichever version you choose you will enjoy a worthwhile and well sung performance”.