Quando m’en vo’” may not come to mind as traditional Christmas music, but Musetta does sing it on Christmas Eve. (Another Christmas Eve aria, “Pourquoi me réveiller,” Werther’s suicide threat, seemed less festive somehow.)
Puccini’s metronome mark reveals that he expected the aria to be much faster than it is usually now performed. While I am not proposing that we must follow his marking exactly, I do think we should recognize that “slow waltz tempo” does not mean “slow,” but only slow for a waltz. To preserve the rhythmic nuances that give this melody its willful charm, the singer must vigilantly observe not only the many indications of “quasi ritenuto,” but also those of “a tempo” that so suddenly retract them.
The aria as a whole makes a crescendo not of loudness, but of outrageousness. In the comparatively innocent first section, Musetta merely declares that people admire her. In the second section, begun more confidingly in the middle register, she begins to acknowledge her pleasure in these attentions. Her analogies become sensual: she speaks of “savoring” the desire she sees coming through the eyes of her admirers, and she perceives the “scent” of their lust. The sense of this “savoring” can be paralleled and conveyed by the singer’s savoring the wealth of double consonants in this passage — assaporo, allor, sottil, etc. (You know the rule: those that can be prolonged, such as ss and ll, are prolonged; those that cannot, such as cc, zz, are slightly delayed.) Finally comes the bald admission, “it makes me happy!” To ensure that “felice mi fa!” is heard as a single clause, the singer may minimize the eighth-note break after “felice.” Continuing the crescendo (indicated in the orchestra part) through the final syllable of the preceding “m’aggira” adds to the climactic effect of “felice mi fa.” At this point Alcindoro starts grumbling about the song’s indecency, and the soprano should be giving him good cause to complain.
Many singers find the grace notes at the word “bramosia” confusing. These must come before the beat if for no other reason than because there is no time to do them on the beat. To preserve the correct pronunciation of “bramosia,” one should begin the “si” with the grace notes, and change to “a” about midway through the eighth-note G-sharp.
“E tu che sai” marks a crucial change: it is the first time she addresses Marcello directly. I like to imagine that until now, she is singing a pre-existing song, but at this point she begins improvising new words specifically adapted to the occasion. The sadistic triumph of the phrase “ma ti senti morir” can be enhanced by rushing up the four sixteenth notes that lead to the high B. (When the same sixteenth-note figure recurs in the tune’s reprise before rehearsal number 26, however, it ought to be sung in time for the sake of ensemble.) There is no doubt that Puccini’s hairpin demands a diminuendo from forte to piano on the final high B. But the hairpin does not tell us when in the course of the fermata we must begin this diminuendo; in this respect, hairpins are particularly inexact symbols. A long diminuendo is certainly not dictated, and only those who both find it consistent with the expression of the passage and who enjoy executing it need attempt it. A tapering at the end of the note may well be all that is intended by the composer. The mannerism of breaking after rather than before “ma” may be piquant (the first time one hears it), but clearly contradicts Puccini’s intention.
Beware of inaccurate sheet music editions of this aria. Because of its long popularity, there are many.
