AURELIANO PERTILE, TENOR, NOVEMBER 09, 1885

‘I always had a very romantic concept of music. For me, it was something that came from the soul, something not contrived but spontaneous – lifting you, fulfilling you naturally’. Victoria de los Angeles

Born in Barcelona on this day in 1923 to poor but hard-working parents , Victoria de los Angeles was one of the most loved performers of her time. Her connection with audiences, whether on the opera stage or concert hall podium was the very essence of her art. In her own words, ‘With a good audience, I find that I can do things that I really never believed to be possible. When all you’ve got to sing to is a microphone, there’s none of that human warmth! When I sing in an opera house or a concert hall, I have an intuitive feeling about the audience’s response. That is very important. I gain confidence from them. I find that I can do things for them that I really didn’t believe would be possible. But in a recording studio you really have to forget about that altogether.’

Her beginnings were not auspicious, as by her own report, she was a shy child. It was music and singing that helped her overcome this shyness, and it was her elder sister Carmen that encouraged her to sing and when she was sixteen-years-old entered Victoria in a local vocal competition that nudged her in the direction of considering singing as a career rather than medicine or literature.

She began studies at the Barcelona Conservatorio with Dolores Frau, who was to remain her only singing teacher. To her great good fortune young Victoria came to the notice of a well-connected music-lover and semi-professional musician, José Maria Lamaña, whose father had been at one time President of the Conservatorio, and who performed regularly with Ars Musica. Ars Musica had been founded by Lamaña in 1935 as a seven-piece chamber ensemble with the goal of reviving older Spanish repertoire. Lamaña not only found financial backers from Catalan aristocrats and industrialists to support her studies, but managed Victoria’s burgeoning career, providing her with her style (under-stated with simple gold bracelet, pearl earrings, classical dress), from which she never deviated throughout her long career. Lamaña ‘had no intention of allowing Victoria to sing for money until she was ready. The preparation of a great voice is like the honing of a blade. If the initial work is well and patiently done, the blade will need only a little stropping for it to retain its keenness.’

Her professional debut, nevertheless, was at age 19 in Barcelona as Mimì in La bohème. The year was 1941. Her Madrid debut in 1947, was with non-other than Beniamino Gigli in Manon. It was decided that her Madrid debut needed to be with star quality given her growing reputation. On the back of winning the Geneva Singing Competition in 1947, she was invited to La scala, but in her shyness and desire to be back ‘home’ as soon as possible, she turned down the offer! In the words of her biography she received a phone call whilst in Geneva:

[Oldani] ’We heard the broadcast. Magnificent. We would very much like you to come and sing for us here.’
‘Oh, I’d love to, but I’m afraid I’m going home today. I’ve got my ticket here.’
‘I quite understand, of course, but I am sure we can arrange something. It would only be a brief detour. You could change your ticket and fly back via Milan.’
‘No, thank you. I want to go home. They’re waiting for me.’
‘Um…I don’t think you understand. This is La Scala. We are asking that you come to sing for us at La Scala.’
An incredulous Oldani put down the telephone in Milan.

International success was not guaranteed and indeed her first recital in Scandinavia in a 2000-seat hall had only twenty-seven people in the audience. This was repeated in Latin America when in Brazil a mere twelve people attended. ‘I nearly invited the twelve people there to come up on stage,’ Victoria remembers. ‘It was a lovely concert – pure music-making with friends.’

By 1950 de los Angeles had been invited to Covent Garden, and in 1951 she made her Metropolitan Opera debut and she regularly sang at both houses until 1961.

Her most notable roles were Rosina, Violetta, Madama Butterfly, Mimì, Manon, and Desdemona in the Italian repertoire; Marguerite, Melisande and Carmen in the French and she appeared two years running in Bayreuth as Elisabeth. Her experience at Bayreuth seems to have been one of her happiest professional engagements and her appreciation of Wieland Wagner as a producer was immense as she later commented, ‘In many ways those are the best artistic conditions in which I ever worked.’

What of her voice though? How did those who heard her live react? J.B.Steane wrote, ‘For a start, the voice in its prime was so pure and so opulent. To song after song you could listen with uninterrupted pleasure to the sheer sound, with never a scrape nor a rattle, never a hint of surface wear or anything mean about the quality. But that of itself gives a poor idea, for it tells of what there was not….’ Her colleague, Elisabeth Schwarzkopf said of her, ‘She is quite astounding. She sings with miraculous ease and her legato is unsurpassed. Once in 1952 (or so) I heard her as Violetta and I decided not to sing it again.’ Shawe-Taylor noted that she, ‘possessed a warm, vibrant instrument of unusual clarity and flexibility, somewhat dark and southern in quality but capable of much tonal variety. In her best years the timbre of her voice was exceptionally sweet, and she was a most communicative artist in both song and opera.’

Her rapport with audiences was legendary, but she was also a consummate ‘singing obsessive’. She enjoyed talking about singing and was ever-ready to learn from others; she said of Marian
Anderson, for example, ’I have never discussed singing with anyone as much as with Marian. She was an almost mystic force. What Toscanini was to conducting, she was to singing. I admired her for the simplicity of her approach to singing. Like me, she sang from the heart or not at all. She was also an extraordinarily supportive and generous colleague.’

During the seventies she had almost confined herself to recitals, where she felt more fulfilled with the audience response. As an encore, it was noted that; ’Even then there could be another treat in store, for sometimes instead of bringing Gerald Moore back with her she would return alone but with guitar. ‘Adios Granada’ she would sing: the bold projected middle voice would fill the hall, the sensuous melisma told of dark faces and flickering shadows in a sunny land,…’ She performed the Catalan folk-song, ‘Song of the Birds’, for the closing ceremony of the Barcelona Olympic Games in 1992 and her last concert tour was to Australia in 1995. Victoria de los Angeles died in home town of Barcelona on the 15 January 2005.

AURELIANO PERTILE, TENOR, NOVEMBER 09, 1885

‘I always had a very romantic concept of music. For me, it was something that came from the soul, something not contrived but spontaneous – lifting you, fulfilling you naturally’. Victoria de los Angeles

Born in Barcelona on this day in 1923 to poor but hard-working parents , Victoria de los Angeles was one of the most loved performers of her time. Her connection with audiences, whether on the opera stage or concert hall podium was the very essence of her art. In her own words, ‘With a good audience, I find that I can do things that I really never believed to be possible. When all you’ve got to sing to is a microphone, there’s none of that human warmth! When I sing in an opera house or a concert hall, I have an intuitive feeling about the audience’s response. That is very important. I gain confidence from them. I find that I can do things for them that I really didn’t believe would be possible. But in a recording studio you really have to forget about that altogether.’

Her beginnings were not auspicious, as by her own report, she was a shy child. It was music and singing that helped her overcome this shyness, and it was her elder sister Carmen that encouraged her to sing and when she was sixteen-years-old entered Victoria in a local vocal competition that nudged her in the direction of considering singing as a career rather than medicine or literature.

She began studies at the Barcelona Conservatorio with Dolores Frau, who was to remain her only singing teacher. To her great good fortune young Victoria came to the notice of a well-connected music-lover and semi-professional musician, José Maria Lamaña, whose father had been at one time President of the Conservatorio, and who performed regularly with Ars Musica. Ars Musica had been founded by Lamaña in 1935 as a seven-piece chamber ensemble with the goal of reviving older Spanish repertoire. Lamaña not only found financial backers from Catalan aristocrats and industrialists to support her studies, but managed Victoria’s burgeoning career, providing her with her style (under-stated with simple gold bracelet, pearl earrings, classical dress), from which she never deviated throughout her long career. Lamaña ‘had no intention of allowing Victoria to sing for money until she was ready. The preparation of a great voice is like the honing of a blade. If the initial work is well and patiently done, the blade will need only a little stropping for it to retain its keenness.’

Her professional debut, nevertheless, was at age 19 in Barcelona as Mimì in La bohème. The year was 1941. Her Madrid debut in 1947, was with non-other than Beniamino Gigli in Manon. It was decided that her Madrid debut needed to be with star quality given her growing reputation. On the back of winning the Geneva Singing Competition in 1947, she was invited to La scala, but in her shyness and desire to be back ‘home’ as soon as possible, she turned down the offer! In the words of her biography she received a phone call whilst in Geneva:

[Oldani] ’We heard the broadcast. Magnificent. We would very much like you to come and sing for us here.’
‘Oh, I’d love to, but I’m afraid I’m going home today. I’ve got my ticket here.’
‘I quite understand, of course, but I am sure we can arrange something. It would only be a brief detour. You could change your ticket and fly back via Milan.’
‘No, thank you. I want to go home. They’re waiting for me.’
‘Um…I don’t think you understand. This is La Scala. We are asking that you come to sing for us at La Scala.’
An incredulous Oldani put down the telephone in Milan.

International success was not guaranteed and indeed her first recital in Scandinavia in a 2000-seat hall had only twenty-seven people in the audience. This was repeated in Latin America when in Brazil a mere twelve people attended. ‘I nearly invited the twelve people there to come up on stage,’ Victoria remembers. ‘It was a lovely concert – pure music-making with friends.’

By 1950 de los Angeles had been invited to Covent Garden, and in 1951 she made her Metropolitan Opera debut and she regularly sang at both houses until 1961.

Her most notable roles were Rosina, Violetta, Madama Butterfly, Mimì, Manon, and Desdemona in the Italian repertoire; Marguerite, Melisande and Carmen in the French and she appeared two years running in Bayreuth as Elisabeth. Her experience at Bayreuth seems to have been one of her happiest professional engagements and her appreciation of Wieland Wagner as a producer was immense as she later commented, ‘In many ways those are the best artistic conditions in which I ever worked.’

What of her voice though? How did those who heard her live react? J.B.Steane wrote, ‘For a start, the voice in its prime was so pure and so opulent. To song after song you could listen with uninterrupted pleasure to the sheer sound, with never a scrape nor a rattle, never a hint of surface wear or anything mean about the quality. But that of itself gives a poor idea, for it tells of what there was not….’ Her colleague, Elisabeth Schwarzkopf said of her, ‘She is quite astounding. She sings with miraculous ease and her legato is unsurpassed. Once in 1952 (or so) I heard her as Violetta and I decided not to sing it again.’ Shawe-Taylor noted that she, ‘possessed a warm, vibrant instrument of unusual clarity and flexibility, somewhat dark and southern in quality but capable of much tonal variety. In her best years the timbre of her voice was exceptionally sweet, and she was a most communicative artist in both song and opera.’

Her rapport with audiences was legendary, but she was also a consummate ‘singing obsessive’. She enjoyed talking about singing and was ever-ready to learn from others; she said of Marian
Anderson, for example, ’I have never discussed singing with anyone as much as with Marian. She was an almost mystic force. What Toscanini was to conducting, she was to singing. I admired her for the simplicity of her approach to singing. Like me, she sang from the heart or not at all. She was also an extraordinarily supportive and generous colleague.’

During the seventies she had almost confined herself to recitals, where she felt more fulfilled with the audience response. As an encore, it was noted that; ’Even then there could be another treat in store, for sometimes instead of bringing Gerald Moore back with her she would return alone but with guitar. ‘Adios Granada’ she would sing: the bold projected middle voice would fill the hall, the sensuous melisma told of dark faces and flickering shadows in a sunny land,…’ She performed the Catalan folk-song, ‘Song of the Birds’, for the closing ceremony of the Barcelona Olympic Games in 1992 and her last concert tour was to Australia in 1995. Victoria de los Angeles died in home town of Barcelona on the 15 January 2005.

VICTORIA DE LOS ANGELES, SOPRANO, NOVEMBER 01, 1923

‘I always had a very romantic concept of music. For me, it was something that came from the soul, something not contrived but spontaneous – lifting you, fulfilling you naturally’. Victoria de los Angeles

Born in Barcelona on this day in 1923 to poor but hard-working parents , Victoria de los Angeles was one of the most loved performers of her time. Her connection with audiences, whether on the opera stage or concert hall podium was the very essence of her art. In her own words, ‘With a good audience, I find that I can do things that I really never believed to be possible. When all you’ve got to sing to is a microphone, there’s none of that human warmth! When I sing in an opera house or a concert hall, I have an intuitive feeling about the audience’s response. That is very important. I gain confidence from them. I find that I can do things for them that I really didn’t believe would be possible. But in a recording studio you really have to forget about that altogether.’

Her beginnings were not auspicious, as by her own report, she was a shy child. It was music and singing that helped her overcome this shyness, and it was her elder sister Carmen that encouraged her to sing and when she was sixteen-years-old entered Victoria in a local vocal competition that nudged her in the direction of considering singing as a career rather than medicine or literature.

She began studies at the Barcelona Conservatorio with Dolores Frau, who was to remain her only singing teacher. To her great good fortune young Victoria came to the notice of a well-connected music-lover and semi-professional musician, José Maria Lamaña, whose father had been at one time President of the Conservatorio, and who performed regularly with Ars Musica. Ars Musica had been founded by Lamaña in 1935 as a seven-piece chamber ensemble with the goal of reviving older Spanish repertoire. Lamaña not only found financial backers from Catalan aristocrats and industrialists to support her studies, but managed Victoria’s burgeoning career, providing her with her style (under-stated with simple gold bracelet, pearl earrings, classical dress), from which she never deviated throughout her long career. Lamaña ‘had no intention of allowing Victoria to sing for money until she was ready. The preparation of a great voice is like the honing of a blade. If the initial work is well and patiently done, the blade will need only a little stropping for it to retain its keenness.’

Her professional debut, nevertheless, was at age 19 in Barcelona as Mimì in La bohème. The year was 1941. Her Madrid debut in 1947, was with non-other than Beniamino Gigli in Manon. It was decided that her Madrid debut needed to be with star quality given her growing reputation. On the back of winning the Geneva Singing Competition in 1947, she was invited to La scala, but in her shyness and desire to be back ‘home’ as soon as possible, she turned down the offer! In the words of her biography she received a phone call whilst in Geneva:

[Oldani] ’We heard the broadcast. Magnificent. We would very much like you to come and sing for us here.’
‘Oh, I’d love to, but I’m afraid I’m going home today. I’ve got my ticket here.’
‘I quite understand, of course, but I am sure we can arrange something. It would only be a brief detour. You could change your ticket and fly back via Milan.’
‘No, thank you. I want to go home. They’re waiting for me.’
‘Um…I don’t think you understand. This is La Scala. We are asking that you come to sing for us at La Scala.’
An incredulous Oldani put down the telephone in Milan.

International success was not guaranteed and indeed her first recital in Scandinavia in a 2000-seat hall had only twenty-seven people in the audience. This was repeated in Latin America when in Brazil a mere twelve people attended. ‘I nearly invited the twelve people there to come up on stage,’ Victoria remembers. ‘It was a lovely concert – pure music-making with friends.’

By 1950 de los Angeles had been invited to Covent Garden, and in 1951 she made her Metropolitan Opera debut and she regularly sang at both houses until 1961.

Her most notable roles were Rosina, Violetta, Madama Butterfly, Mimì, Manon, and Desdemona in the Italian repertoire; Marguerite, Melisande and Carmen in the French and she appeared two years running in Bayreuth as Elisabeth. Her experience at Bayreuth seems to have been one of her happiest professional engagements and her appreciation of Wieland Wagner as a producer was immense as she later commented, ‘In many ways those are the best artistic conditions in which I ever worked.’

What of her voice though? How did those who heard her live react? J.B.Steane wrote, ‘For a start, the voice in its prime was so pure and so opulent. To song after song you could listen with uninterrupted pleasure to the sheer sound, with never a scrape nor a rattle, never a hint of surface wear or anything mean about the quality. But that of itself gives a poor idea, for it tells of what there was not….’ Her colleague, Elisabeth Schwarzkopf said of her, ‘She is quite astounding. She sings with miraculous ease and her legato is unsurpassed. Once in 1952 (or so) I heard her as Violetta and I decided not to sing it again.’ Shawe-Taylor noted that she, ‘possessed a warm, vibrant instrument of unusual clarity and flexibility, somewhat dark and southern in quality but capable of much tonal variety. In her best years the timbre of her voice was exceptionally sweet, and she was a most communicative artist in both song and opera.’

Her rapport with audiences was legendary, but she was also a consummate ‘singing obsessive’. She enjoyed talking about singing and was ever-ready to learn from others; she said of Marian
Anderson, for example, ’I have never discussed singing with anyone as much as with Marian. She was an almost mystic force. What Toscanini was to conducting, she was to singing. I admired her for the simplicity of her approach to singing. Like me, she sang from the heart or not at all. She was also an extraordinarily supportive and generous colleague.’

During the seventies she had almost confined herself to recitals, where she felt more fulfilled with the audience response. As an encore, it was noted that; ’Even then there could be another treat in store, for sometimes instead of bringing Gerald Moore back with her she would return alone but with guitar. ‘Adios Granada’ she would sing: the bold projected middle voice would fill the hall, the sensuous melisma told of dark faces and flickering shadows in a sunny land,…’ She performed the Catalan folk-song, ‘Song of the Birds’, for the closing ceremony of the Barcelona Olympic Games in 1992 and her last concert tour was to Australia in 1995. Victoria de los Angeles died in home town of Barcelona on the 15 January 2005.

VICTORIA DE LOS ANGELES, SOPRANO, NOVEMBER 01, 1923

‘I always had a very romantic concept of music. For me, it was something that came from the soul, something not contrived but spontaneous – lifting you, fulfilling you naturally’. Victoria de los Angeles

Born in Barcelona on this day in 1923 to poor but hard-working parents , Victoria de los Angeles was one of the most loved performers of her time. Her connection with audiences, whether on the opera stage or concert hall podium was the very essence of her art. In her own words, ‘With a good audience, I find that I can do things that I really never believed to be possible. When all you’ve got to sing to is a microphone, there’s none of that human warmth! When I sing in an opera house or a concert hall, I have an intuitive feeling about the audience’s response. That is very important. I gain confidence from them. I find that I can do things for them that I really didn’t believe would be possible. But in a recording studio you really have to forget about that altogether.’

Her beginnings were not auspicious, as by her own report, she was a shy child. It was music and singing that helped her overcome this shyness, and it was her elder sister Carmen that encouraged her to sing and when she was sixteen-years-old entered Victoria in a local vocal competition that nudged her in the direction of considering singing as a career rather than medicine or literature.

She began studies at the Barcelona Conservatorio with Dolores Frau, who was to remain her only singing teacher. To her great good fortune young Victoria came to the notice of a well-connected music-lover and semi-professional musician, José Maria Lamaña, whose father had been at one time President of the Conservatorio, and who performed regularly with Ars Musica. Ars Musica had been founded by Lamaña in 1935 as a seven-piece chamber ensemble with the goal of reviving older Spanish repertoire. Lamaña not only found financial backers from Catalan aristocrats and industrialists to support her studies, but managed Victoria’s burgeoning career, providing her with her style (under-stated with simple gold bracelet, pearl earrings, classical dress), from which she never deviated throughout her long career. Lamaña ‘had no intention of allowing Victoria to sing for money until she was ready. The preparation of a great voice is like the honing of a blade. If the initial work is well and patiently done, the blade will need only a little stropping for it to retain its keenness.’

Her professional debut, nevertheless, was at age 19 in Barcelona as Mimì in La bohème. The year was 1941. Her Madrid debut in 1947, was with non-other than Beniamino Gigli in Manon. It was decided that her Madrid debut needed to be with star quality given her growing reputation. On the back of winning the Geneva Singing Competition in 1947, she was invited to La scala, but in her shyness and desire to be back ‘home’ as soon as possible, she turned down the offer! In the words of her biography she received a phone call whilst in Geneva:

[Oldani] ’We heard the broadcast. Magnificent. We would very much like you to come and sing for us here.’
‘Oh, I’d love to, but I’m afraid I’m going home today. I’ve got my ticket here.’
‘I quite understand, of course, but I am sure we can arrange something. It would only be a brief detour. You could change your ticket and fly back via Milan.’
‘No, thank you. I want to go home. They’re waiting for me.’
‘Um…I don’t think you understand. This is La Scala. We are asking that you come to sing for us at La Scala.’
An incredulous Oldani put down the telephone in Milan.

International success was not guaranteed and indeed her first recital in Scandinavia in a 2000-seat hall had only twenty-seven people in the audience. This was repeated in Latin America when in Brazil a mere twelve people attended. ‘I nearly invited the twelve people there to come up on stage,’ Victoria remembers. ‘It was a lovely concert – pure music-making with friends.’

By 1950 de los Angeles had been invited to Covent Garden, and in 1951 she made her Metropolitan Opera debut and she regularly sang at both houses until 1961.

Her most notable roles were Rosina, Violetta, Madama Butterfly, Mimì, Manon, and Desdemona in the Italian repertoire; Marguerite, Melisande and Carmen in the French and she appeared two years running in Bayreuth as Elisabeth. Her experience at Bayreuth seems to have been one of her happiest professional engagements and her appreciation of Wieland Wagner as a producer was immense as she later commented, ‘In many ways those are the best artistic conditions in which I ever worked.’

What of her voice though? How did those who heard her live react? J.B.Steane wrote, ‘For a start, the voice in its prime was so pure and so opulent. To song after song you could listen with uninterrupted pleasure to the sheer sound, with never a scrape nor a rattle, never a hint of surface wear or anything mean about the quality. But that of itself gives a poor idea, for it tells of what there was not….’ Her colleague, Elisabeth Schwarzkopf said of her, ‘She is quite astounding. She sings with miraculous ease and her legato is unsurpassed. Once in 1952 (or so) I heard her as Violetta and I decided not to sing it again.’ Shawe-Taylor noted that she, ‘possessed a warm, vibrant instrument of unusual clarity and flexibility, somewhat dark and southern in quality but capable of much tonal variety. In her best years the timbre of her voice was exceptionally sweet, and she was a most communicative artist in both song and opera.’

Her rapport with audiences was legendary, but she was also a consummate ‘singing obsessive’. She enjoyed talking about singing and was ever-ready to learn from others; she said of Marian
Anderson, for example, ’I have never discussed singing with anyone as much as with Marian. She was an almost mystic force. What Toscanini was to conducting, she was to singing. I admired her for the simplicity of her approach to singing. Like me, she sang from the heart or not at all. She was also an extraordinarily supportive and generous colleague.’

During the seventies she had almost confined herself to recitals, where she felt more fulfilled with the audience response. As an encore, it was noted that; ’Even then there could be another treat in store, for sometimes instead of bringing Gerald Moore back with her she would return alone but with guitar. ‘Adios Granada’ she would sing: the bold projected middle voice would fill the hall, the sensuous melisma told of dark faces and flickering shadows in a sunny land,…’ She performed the Catalan folk-song, ‘Song of the Birds’, for the closing ceremony of the Barcelona Olympic Games in 1992 and her last concert tour was to Australia in 1995. Victoria de los Angeles died in home town of Barcelona on the 15 January 2005.

TITO GOBBI, BARITONE, OCTOBER 24, 1913

‘The first time anyone noticed my voice was when I was at elementary school, which was the first stage of our education. Our singing teacher was preparing us for an end-of-term performance to take place before the general inspector and our parents. We were to do a sort of chorus of national songs, and at one of our rehearsals our teacher, Maestro Bevilacqua, started going around the class muttering to himself. Finally he stopped in front of me and exclaimed: ‘You’re the culprit! You’re shouting like a mad dog – its terrible! You keep silent. But as we don’t want the inspector to know you are not singing, simply open and shut your mouth and pretend to sing.’’ Tito Gobbi

Such was the vocal debut of one of the greatest operatic baritones of the twentieth century, and one of the most admired interpreters of the classic Italian repertoire, who dominated the stage with his presence, acting and vocal intelligence.

Tito Gobbi was born on the 24th October 1913 in Bassano del Grappa , a true son of the Veneto, to a successful mercantile family of the region that traced its presence there for centuries. The potential of his voice however, was noticed by a family friend, Baron Zanchetta hearing him sing, looked out the window and asked who was singing. The Baron summoned young Tito and told him he was a baritone and should seriously consider singing as a profession. At this stage, young Tito had never given thought to it, having considered himself more a painter, but ‘the Barone had planted the first germ of an idea in my mind, and he even gave me a few basic singing lessons.’ Tito accompanied his father to Rome for an opinion from the great Sicilian tenor, Giulio Crimi, who heard something in his voice, but recommended three months to see if there really was a vocal talent to work with. In this period of his life Tito supported himself by painting Roman subjects for tourists, which gives a small indication of his artistic talent. He also met his wife, who was an accompanist for Crimi and eventually Crimi took Tito into the household, believing he had the gifts and temperament of a great singer.

There were a number of ‘false starts’ to his professional career. Most depressingly in 1934 as the Count in La sonnambula in Gubbio which his family and Crimi attended. When Tito tentatively asked about the performance, Crimi’s response was, ‘My address,’ he replied grimly, is so and so. If you think you had better go on studying, come and see me tomorrow. Otherwise – good-bye.’ A short spell of study followed at La Scala where according to an amusing anecdote in his autobiography, much to his embarrassment, he fluffed his one line appearance as a Herald in Simone Boccanegra by coming in thirty seconds too early.

Better fortune was to follow when he stepped in at the Teatro Adriano in Rome in 1937 to sing the part of Germont. It was this appearance that brought him to the attention of Tullio Serafin who auditioned him and brought him into the Teatro Reale in Rome. Serafin was a great inspiration and taskmaster. Gobbi wrote, ‘He was utterly generous when generosity was called for, but equally he was ruthless if the situation demanded it.’ According to Gobbi, ‘The regime of work was severe. During my first six years at the Teatro Reale I learned sixty-six roles, not actually singing all of them on the stage of course but learning them in depth and sometimes ‘covering’ for more experienced singers.’ From 1938 he began to sing regularly at the Teatro Reale. His first great success was in a piece one does not normally associate with a great interpreter of Verdi and Puccini; in 1942 he played Wozzeck in the Italian premiere of Berg’s eponymous opera.

Following the war he made his first international appearances in Stockholm (1947) and the USA (1948), and his international reputation grew with the roles of Boccanegra, Posa, Iago, Rigoletto and Falstaff. He also most memorably was the Scarpia to Callas’s interpretation of Tosca and we are thankful to the black and white film made of the second act of Tosca to have a glimpse of how they both captivated an audience with their interpretative ability. Ever a thoughtful performer, his stage presence, charisma and acting ability was phenomenal. Those that saw and heard him during the 40s, 50s and 60s gave glowing reports: ’intelligence, musicianship and acting ability, allied to a fine though not large voice, made Gobbi one of the dominant singing actors of his generation.’ J.B. Steane wrote, ’Gobbi’s voice was one of the most beautiful I ever heard. If the reader rightly detects a note of defiance in that, it must be because both of us know that beauty of sound was not among the qualities most conspicuously attributed to him.…he paid the usual price of the actor-singer…people were so busy looking at him that they almost forgot to think about what they heard.’ And perhaps what is the greatest compliment of all, ‘…if the genie of the magic lamp or the operator of the time-machine were to offer a voyage back to hear one voice from the past ‘live’ experience, I would ask for Gobbi.’

Gobbi made numerous recordings and also appeared in twenty-six films. In 1965 he was invited to produce a Simone Boccanegra at Covent Garden and Chicago which launched a second career as an opera producer. His views on opera production align with his dramatic sensibility: ‘my first feeling is one of responsibility towards the composer and the librettist. I do not aim at headlines proclaiming, ‘“Tito Gobbi’s controversial production”. I have no ambition to read in any newspaper, “A piquant experience awaited us at the Opera last night, for when the curtain rose on Tito Gobbi’s production of Otello we found ourselves in the world of Watteau” (or Breughel, or God knows who). My simple intention is that the audience should find themselves on such an occasion in the world of Verdi and Shakespeare.’

A man of many gifts, he was generous and fair with his colleagues. When he acted as a manager and arranged a concert with Beniamino Gigli, he refused to take any commission. Gigli was so impressed with Gobbi’s integrity, he returned the favour by singing gratis at a benefit concert in Bassano. He gave singing master classes, was a fine painter, and authored two essential books; his autobiography and ‘Tito Gobbi on his World of Opera’ in which he outlined his interpretation of roles and thoughts on singers and singing.

He passed away in 1981.

TITO GOBBI, BARITONE, OCTOBER 24, 1913

‘The first time anyone noticed my voice was when I was at elementary school, which was the first stage of our education. Our singing teacher was preparing us for an end-of-term performance to take place before the general inspector and our parents. We were to do a sort of chorus of national songs, and at one of our rehearsals our teacher, Maestro Bevilacqua, started going around the class muttering to himself. Finally he stopped in front of me and exclaimed: ‘You’re the culprit! You’re shouting like a mad dog – its terrible! You keep silent. But as we don’t want the inspector to know you are not singing, simply open and shut your mouth and pretend to sing.’’ Tito Gobbi

Such was the vocal debut of one of the greatest operatic baritones of the twentieth century, and one of the most admired interpreters of the classic Italian repertoire, who dominated the stage with his presence, acting and vocal intelligence.

Tito Gobbi was born on the 24th October 1913 in Bassano del Grappa , a true son of the Veneto, to a successful mercantile family of the region that traced its presence there for centuries. The potential of his voice however, was noticed by a family friend, Baron Zanchetta hearing him sing, looked out the window and asked who was singing. The Baron summoned young Tito and told him he was a baritone and should seriously consider singing as a profession. At this stage, young Tito had never given thought to it, having considered himself more a painter, but ‘the Barone had planted the first germ of an idea in my mind, and he even gave me a few basic singing lessons.’ Tito accompanied his father to Rome for an opinion from the great Sicilian tenor, Giulio Crimi, who heard something in his voice, but recommended three months to see if there really was a vocal talent to work with. In this period of his life Tito supported himself by painting Roman subjects for tourists, which gives a small indication of his artistic talent. He also met his wife, who was an accompanist for Crimi and eventually Crimi took Tito into the household, believing he had the gifts and temperament of a great singer.

There were a number of ‘false starts’ to his professional career. Most depressingly in 1934 as the Count in La sonnambula in Gubbio which his family and Crimi attended. When Tito tentatively asked about the performance, Crimi’s response was, ‘My address,’ he replied grimly, is so and so. If you think you had better go on studying, come and see me tomorrow. Otherwise – good-bye.’ A short spell of study followed at La Scala where according to an amusing anecdote in his autobiography, much to his embarrassment, he fluffed his one line appearance as a Herald in Simone Boccanegra by coming in thirty seconds too early.

Better fortune was to follow when he stepped in at the Teatro Adriano in Rome in 1937 to sing the part of Germont. It was this appearance that brought him to the attention of Tullio Serafin who auditioned him and brought him into the Teatro Reale in Rome. Serafin was a great inspiration and taskmaster. Gobbi wrote, ‘He was utterly generous when generosity was called for, but equally he was ruthless if the situation demanded it.’ According to Gobbi, ‘The regime of work was severe. During my first six years at the Teatro Reale I learned sixty-six roles, not actually singing all of them on the stage of course but learning them in depth and sometimes ‘covering’ for more experienced singers.’ From 1938 he began to sing regularly at the Teatro Reale. His first great success was in a piece one does not normally associate with a great interpreter of Verdi and Puccini; in 1942 he played Wozzeck in the Italian premiere of Berg’s eponymous opera.

Following the war he made his first international appearances in Stockholm (1947) and the USA (1948), and his international reputation grew with the roles of Boccanegra, Posa, Iago, Rigoletto and Falstaff. He also most memorably was the Scarpia to Callas’s interpretation of Tosca and we are thankful to the black and white film made of the second act of Tosca to have a glimpse of how they both captivated an audience with their interpretative ability. Ever a thoughtful performer, his stage presence, charisma and acting ability was phenomenal. Those that saw and heard him during the 40s, 50s and 60s gave glowing reports: ’intelligence, musicianship and acting ability, allied to a fine though not large voice, made Gobbi one of the dominant singing actors of his generation.’ J.B. Steane wrote, ’Gobbi’s voice was one of the most beautiful I ever heard. If the reader rightly detects a note of defiance in that, it must be because both of us know that beauty of sound was not among the qualities most conspicuously attributed to him.…he paid the usual price of the actor-singer…people were so busy looking at him that they almost forgot to think about what they heard.’ And perhaps what is the greatest compliment of all, ‘…if the genie of the magic lamp or the operator of the time-machine were to offer a voyage back to hear one voice from the past ‘live’ experience, I would ask for Gobbi.’

Gobbi made numerous recordings and also appeared in twenty-six films. In 1965 he was invited to produce a Simone Boccanegra at Covent Garden and Chicago which launched a second career as an opera producer. His views on opera production align with his dramatic sensibility: ‘my first feeling is one of responsibility towards the composer and the librettist. I do not aim at headlines proclaiming, ‘“Tito Gobbi’s controversial production”. I have no ambition to read in any newspaper, “A piquant experience awaited us at the Opera last night, for when the curtain rose on Tito Gobbi’s production of Otello we found ourselves in the world of Watteau” (or Breughel, or God knows who). My simple intention is that the audience should find themselves on such an occasion in the world of Verdi and Shakespeare.’

A man of many gifts, he was generous and fair with his colleagues. When he acted as a manager and arranged a concert with Beniamino Gigli, he refused to take any commission. Gigli was so impressed with Gobbi’s integrity, he returned the favour by singing gratis at a benefit concert in Bassano. He gave singing master classes, was a fine painter, and authored two essential books; his autobiography and ‘Tito Gobbi on his World of Opera’ in which he outlined his interpretation of roles and thoughts on singers and singing.

He passed away in 1981.

EPISODE 15 CELEBRATING LUCIANO PAVAROTTI’S 90TH BIRTHDAY

Today, the October 12, 2025, marks the 90th birthday of my childhood tenor vocal hero, Luciano Pavarotti. Join me, Gyaan Lyon aka The Voice Detective on this special episode of The Voice Detective Show as I go on the trail of the legendary Maestro’s life, in his hometown of Moderna, Italy.

You can also read my tribute article to Luciano Pavarotti in the Legendary Singers Anthology

EPISODE 15 CELEBRATING LUCIANO PAVAROTTI’S 90TH BIRTHDAY

Today, the October 12, 2025, marks the 90th birthday of my childhood tenor vocal hero, Luciano Pavarotti. Join me, Gyaan Lyon aka The Voice Detective on this special episode of The Voice Detective Show as I go on the trail of the legendary Maestro’s life, in his hometown of Moderna, Italy.

You can also read my tribute article to Luciano Pavarotti in the Legendary Singers Anthology

GYAAN LYON LAUNCHES HIS ARTIST WEBSITE ON LUCIANO PAVAROTTI’S 90TH BIRTHDAY

Today, October 12, 2025, I am launching my personal website as a tenor, performing artist, musician, songwriter and artist on the 90th birthday of my childhood tenor vocal hero Maestro Luciano Pavarotti.

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CELEBRATING LUCIANO PAVAROTTI’S 90TH BIRTHDAY

Today, October 12, 2025, marks the 90th birthday of my childhood tenor vocal hero, Luciano Pavarotti. Join me, Gyaan Lyon aka The Voice Detective on this special episode of The Voice Detective Show as I go on the trail of the legendary Maestro’s life, in his hometown of Moderna, Italy.

He is the frontman of the Hip-hop Soul Band N.I.K.O., who are releasing their new LP ‘Hello & Ciao’ at their upcoming album release concert this Friday 26th September at the B72 in Vienna, Austria.

Since the age of 19, he has been professionally active in both drama and music productions. His two streams of career encompass not only acting, but also film directing; and as a musician, he has worked with a variety of styles as a frontman on the one hand, and as a producer on the other.

His first major film, where he was producer, writer and leading actor was in the Austrian film Sturmfrei (Storm Free) in 2009. Although he has appeared in over 15 films since 1997, he achieved national recognition in his native Austria with the role of Thomas in Die Migrantigen (The Migrants) in 2017. He has honed his acting skills with the New York based acting coach Susan Batson. In 2020, he was nominated for best actor in the short film Anna at the Pigneto Film Festival and most recently in 2024, he has appeared in the Netflix hit of The Decameron.

His musical career has been marked by a willingness to find the most fitting expression of musical and poetic ideas through the most suitable genre. This eclectic approach has meant he has been at times a solo rap artist from 2007 and from 2014 working with an ensemble; the hip-hop and soul band N.I.K.O.

It is no coincidence that the 2009 film Sturmfrei included music composed by Selikovsky demonstrating the versatility and synergy of his artistic passions. His first solo album in 2010 was ‘Dichter der Großstadt’ (‘Poet of the Big City’). This was followed by ‘Zwischen Asphalt und Milchstraße’ (‘Between Asphalt and Milky Way’) which introduced the band N.I.K.O to a wider audience. In 2018, the band N.I.K.O released the album ‘Unter Strom’ (‘Under Power’). And their latest release fourth studio album ‘Hallo & Ciao’ includes the singles ‘Ballaci Su’ and ‘Lady Godard’.

The current band members are:

Nikolai Selikovsky – Vocals, electric guitar, keyboard
Leslie April – Vocals, Keyboard
Lukas Fellner – Drums
Eva Brandner – Keyboard
Sara Hoffer – Saxophone
Bernhard Fellner – Trumpet
Federico Torri – Bass
Markus Pagitsch – Saxophone

N.I.K.O. has the distinction of being the first band from Austria in 2015 to finance a tour through crowdfunding playing in Germany, Switzerland and Austria. This was followed by articles in ZIB, News, Salzburg24 up to Germany in Die Zeit, and many other media. In the same year the band performed in various locations such as the Mole West in Burgenland, Haus des Meeres in Vienna and in the Gschupften Ferdl.

In line with the stated eclecticism, N.I.K.O. is a collective of musicians from different musical genres, which varies in number during their performances. Sometimes four and sometimes up to eight musicians perform live.

For more information about the band, visit:
ww.niko-official.com