Since I began this series with a Russian artist, I thought it appropriate to continue up the vocal ladder with another Russian. Although Ivan Ershov was one of the finest heroic tenors of his era, he is, sadly, unfamiliar to most Americans. He should be mandatory listening for any student tenor. Ershov is a perfect example of the fallacy that if one is not familiar with a singer’s name then that singer must not have been very good. There are hundreds of singers that recorded in the pre-LP era who not only had superb voices and techniques but who also had the ability to provide us with insights into aspects of our own art. Ivan Ershov is one of them.
Ivan Ershov was born the illegitimate son of Maria Stepanova Ershova on a farm near Novocherkaask, Russia. It was his mother who encouraged an interest in music. While in parochial school he sang in the choir, but by 1882 had entered the Elets Railwaymen School, becoming a certified engine driver’s mate. During this time he continued to sing, entering amateur contests. He drew such notice that citizens of the town arranged a benefit in order for him to travel to Moscow for serious vocal study. Three months later, however, Ershov sang in St. Petersburg for the composer Anton Rubenstein, who recommended that he stay and study with Gabel and Palacek. Ershov studied with them for five years on a full scholarship. Between 1891 and 1893 he performed in many student performances, but in 1894 he traveled to Milan in order to refine his technique with Cesare Rossi. By 1895 Ershov had settled back in St. Petersburg as a member of the Imperial Opera where he performed for 34 years until 1929.
During his early years at the Maryinsky Theatre in St. Petersburg he became known not only for a varied repertoire, but also for his Wagner interpretations, which brought an earthy Russian character to Wagner’s music. His renown in these roles grew to such an extent that in 1901, Cosmia Wagner invited him to Bayreuth to perform in her husband’s operas. Ershov declined. He didn’t want to re-learn all his roles in German, and he feared he would have to “suppress his own interpretations of the roles in order to fit in with the Bayreuth traditions.” (Larry Lustig, The Record Collector, December, 1997)
In addition to Wagner, Ershov excelled in such diverse works as Les Huguenots, Eugene Onegin, Don Giovanni, and Ivan Susanin. His performance of Sobinin’s difficult aria with chorus was usually encored. Audiences were amazed at his ease and dexterity in the area of high C and D flat. Actually, Ershov’s repertoire was quite vast and included some 58 roles, 30 of which were by Russian and Soviet composers. He also performed in Aida, Cosi, Carmen, Puritani, Samson et Dalila, Faust, Romeo et Juliet, Hoffmann, Esclar-monde, Merry Wives of Windsor, Tristan, Tann-hauser, Lohengrin, Rheingold, Walküre, Freischutz, Otello, Fidelio and Salomé. It was with Otello that he retired from the stage in 1929.
Ershov was also a frequent and noted concert artist, known for Bach’s St. Matthew Passion, Mozart’s Requiem, Handel’s Samson, Berlioz’s Damnation of Faust, Beethoven’s 9th Symphony and the Verdi Requiem.
Ershov rarely sang outside St. Petersburg and was not concerned with becoming famous. From all reports he was a rather shy, modest man. As Larry Lustig notes in his excellent article, “he hated any kind of self-promotion, rarely gave interviews and even then would only talk about artistic matters. He suffered terrible stage fright before every one of his appearances….”
There was also an endearing insecurity laced within Ershov’s personality as is evidenced by a letter written to his wife in November of 1916: “The entire cast came to me to show how pleased and delighted they were, and I apologized like a fool, in case I had offended anybody.”
Handsome, with intense, dark eyes and a mobile face, like Chaliapin he took charge of his own makeup and costuming and was concerned about the quality of the productions surrounding him. Photos of Ershov in character prove to be as fascinating as those of Chaliapin.
By 1915 Ershov took over students from his teacher, Josef Palacek, and taught for twenty years. In 1922 he transformed the opera class of the Petrograd (formerly St. Petersburg, then Leningrad) Conservatory into the Opera Studio. In 1938 he was awarded the title of People’s Artist of the RSFSR, the Order of Lenin, and the title of the People’s Artist of the USSR. In 1941 he became a doctor of musicology. He died in Tashkent, where he had been evacuated with the staff of the Leningrad Conservatory.
Ershov made only 13 recordings, all in 1903, pretty much evenly distributed between G&T and Columbia. Some selections were recorded for both companies. The repertoire included arias from Verdi’s Otello, Meyerbeer’s Les Huguenots and Le Prophete, and Wagner’s Siegfried and Tannhauser>, as well as songs by Tchaikovsky and Mussorgsky and a single duet by Villebois. All are accompanied by piano.
Although small, this is an invaluable legacy. The recordings show Ershov to have been a solid, versatile musician proficient in refined nuance. His finely spun voice was mellow yet capable of tremendous intensity. His low register was sweet with a pleasing, dark tinge and a curious, but not unattractive, throaty quality in its lower extremes while the top register blossomed like the more modern Franco Corelli—open-throated and ringing. I have always been partial to Ershov’s timbre, energy and obvious commitment, and the emotional honesty of his delivery.
In Russia all 13 selections were gathered on a single LP (Melodyia M10 45189). As of this writing, only the seven G&Ts have appeared on CD: Pearl’s massive, five-volume (15 CD) set Singers of Imperial Russia, a superb collection of some of the rarest early Russian recordings. (Volume I – CDS 9997 9)
Pearl’s transfers are excellent. Although these recordings are almost 100 years old, they have astonishing clarity and presence. Ershov’s voice emerges as if he is in your living room. Despite some initial sharping and the antiquated recording, Raoul’s Romance from Les Huguenots is an excellent introduction to a voice that, in the next moment, could deliver Siegfried’s Forging Scene with dramatic diction (Russian, of course), crisp rhythm and floridity. But Ershov was more than loud high notes as his decrescendi and trills in the Pastorale and Drinking Song from Le Prophete prove.
Mussorgsky’s “Field Marshall” (Songs and Dances of Death) has tremendous energy and, like Ershov’s Wagner, is impassioned yet full of nuance. It remains one of the most satisfactory versions of the song one can hear. The Tchaikovsky “Serenade” is the other side of the coin, seductive and alluring.
I find that every time I listen to Ershov’s recordings I want to hear more. Fortunately, Ershov has left us at least a small glimpse of his artistry.
