On Christmas Day 2005, according to the Swedish press, the opera world lost one of its most beloved dramatic sopranos. Birgit Nilsson left us then, but her family preferred not to tell the public of her passing until after her funeral, so we did not learn of our loss until January.
The soprano was born in 1918, the only child of a farm family in southern Sweden. Although she was extremely musical, her first voice teacher told her he did not think farm girls became opera singers. He had no idea of her determination.
In 1946, she made a modestly successful debut at the Swedish Royal Opera as Agathe in Carl Maria von Weber’s Der Freischutz. She had not yet achieved complete mastery over her huge voice. Later, she said that voice teachers had done little for her, so she was largely self-taught. During the late ‘40s, she developed the technique that allowed her to focus her tone so that it could cut through the heaviest orchestration.
In 1951, Nilsson made her first international appearance, as Elettra in Mozart’s Idomeneo at England’s Glyndebourne Festival. Her engagement there was a success—but she really came into her own when she started singing Wagner. After she sang her first set of Brünnhildes in Der Ring des Nibelungen, in 1954 at the Munich Opera, her fame began to spread like wildfire.
Two years later, she made her first U.S. appearance, at the San Francisco Opera as Isolde. By the time she made her Metropolitan Opera debut on Dec. 18, 1959, huge crowds were waiting to hear her. When she and the other artists took their final bows, they were greeted with a solid 15 minutes of applause. The New York Times ran—on its front page—a review that praised her as a new star in the operatic firmament.
Nilsson was known for her down-to-earth humor as well as her incredible vocal ability. Astrid Varnay, who had made her Met debut earlier, was only a few weeks older. They were good friends and they sometimes played jokes on each other. Varnay once telephoned Nilsson, disguising her voice to sound like an officious secretary. When she knew her friend had taken the bait, Varnay laughingly said: “This is your mother,” referring to her role as Klytaemnestra, the mother of Elektra. Nilsson often sang Elektra, and for years after that, she called Varnay “Mutti.”
She was famous for her quick wit and for getting her own way when she knew she was right. When she was rehearsing a very dark “Ring” production with conductor and stage director Herbert von Karajan, she appeared on stage in a winged miner’s helmet that featured a shining light on the front.
Musicologist Michael Kaye was working as an assistant stage director during one of her performances as Brünnhilde in Die Walküre at Lyric Opera of Chicago.
“At the premiere, I was in the wings with her, obliged to give her the appointed cue to enter,” he remembers. “Since the director wanted her onstage very early for the dialogue with Siegmund, I wondered why she would not budge from the wings when the music for her entrance was played. Despite some gentle reminders that it was time to go, she waited.
“Finally, she rose from the little stool upon which she was resting and walked majestically, in character, on to the set. As she passed, she said in a kindly manner, ‘See, I know ven to go!’”
Nilsson was well known for her secure vocal technique. One Saturday afternoon, I was listening to the Metropolitan Opera broadcast of Fidelio in the company of Leonie Rysanek, who had sung the part of Leonore in other productions. After the “Abscheulicher,” Leonie said, “She’s so secure you could go to sleep listening to her.” You never wondered if Nilsson would hit the high notes. Even if she did not feel well, they were always there.
Susan Marie Pierson, who worked at the Metropolitan Opera in an administrative capacity before she began singing there, recalls, “I saw Nilsson perform her last Elektra there. I would usually wait at her dressing room door, afterwards, to say hello. She would flash a tired smile and ask if there were many people waiting outside the stage door for her. I always had to say that yes, unfortunately, there were. She would heave a sigh, say ‘Ooh, I’m so tired!’ but then put on a big smile and sail out the door to sign every program, record album, poster, etc., that was put in front of her. What a tremendous artist!”
During the 22 years in which she sang complete operas at the Met, she appeared in 16 roles for a total of 223 performances. She retired in 1984 but when she came back to sing at James Levine’s 25th anniversary Gala in 1996, she was still able to toss off Brünnhilde’s “Ho-jo-to-ho” with seeming ease.
Even in retirement, Nilsson continued to work with young singers.
“I was the winner of her vocal competition some years ago,” writes Christine Goerke. “I had just begun to learn Elsa in Lohengrin and sang ‘Einsam in trüben tagen’ as part of the competition. It turned out that I had learned a wrong note and didn’t realize it. Birgit came up to me after I’d won, took my hand, and said, ‘You know, I think you have one note wrong. Hang on let me see.’ Holding my hand, she began to sing. I was giggling and in tears at the same time just standing next to her. I couldn’t believe that this woman was holding my hand and singing right there next to me! She then stopped, turned to me, laughed, and said, ‘There! I was right. Now you owe me five dollars.’ I would have given her anything!”
Pierson remembers Nilsson’s Opera Delaware master class.
“I was one of two professional artists engaged for Stiffelio who were put on the program after the list of college-age singers. I sang ‘Ernani, involami’ and had a wonderful time. Nilsson told me to think of my body ‘wie ein Schrank,’ i.e. built like an armoire. This concept has proven invaluable for singing Wagner and Strauss. She also said we should always think of smoothing and keeping the vibrato width narrow, and that we should not let the voice get too wild, like a runaway pig.
“I didn’t know it at the time, but I found out later that she and her husband raised a few pigs on their farm in Sweden.”
Unfortunately for us, Birgit Nilsson has crossed the rainbow bridge into Valhalla, but she left us many recordings of her singing, and videos that detail her interpretations. Her legacy is a source of immense pleasure and inspiration for us all.
