Il Barbiere di Siviglia premiered in Rome on February 20, 1816 with the famous contralto prima donna Geltrude Giorgi-Righetti as Rosina. The role was, however, quickly snatched up by enterprising sopranos. Since that time it has become one of the few in the literature to be shared between both high and low voices. “Una voce poco fa” has a rich recording history, mainly due to its having been usurped by leading sopranos during the last century. The extremely popular recordings they made were greatly responsible for the aria and the opera, itself becoming a popular standard of the performing literature. Rather than an all-inclusive survey, we will concentrate on representative performances available on CD and generally easy for a singer to find as references for study. Not surprisingly, quite a few sopranos figure in the list. Some of them are illustrative not only of creative ornamentation but also of the constantly vacillating vocal traditions. This becomes especially important today with the loss of the national schools of singing and the resulting homogenization of international vocalism. In the first half of the Twentieth Century there were considerably different vocal schools depending on whether one studied in Italy, Spain, Germany or France – the main vocal capitals of the world at that time.
The movement to return the role to its original mezzo soprano voice was a slow one, and that is why the most famous early renditions of this aria feature noted coloratura sopranos.
The high sopranos seem to have usurped the role and the aria soon after its premiere. In 1825 (9 years after the opera’s debut) Mezzo Maria Malibran was a noted Rosina – having made her Paris, London and New York debuts in the role that year. By 1828, the renowned high soprano Henriette Sontag was being lauded for her performances. Fanny Persiani (the first Lucia) was also a noted Rosina at this time. Difficulties with some of the low notes required by the original writing were solved by using variants, raising vocal lines up an octave, and for certain sopranos, the transposition of the entire piece up one half-step to F major. When the voice is so much lighter and higher, Rossini’s music has to be literally re-composed to fit the new voice type; the character, and the music itself, take on an entirely new color and emphasis. By 1867, Adelina Patti, the most famous coloratura of her day, had a secure grasp on the part, sealing its fate for at least 60 years. But despite Patti’s influence, the role continued to be occasionally shared by both voice types. Both soprano Giulia Grisi (the first Elvira in I Puritani) and the contralto Emma Albani were known for their portrayals.
Because of Patti’s influence, most early recordings of this aria are by sopranos. In July of 1924, when the critic Herman Klein reviewed notable recordings of this aria for The Gramophone, the singers included Tetrazzini, Galli-Curci, Sembrich, Evelyn Scotney and Celys Beralta – not a mezzo among them.
Today’s technology gives singers an important advantage: the opportunity to refer to older recordings in order to examine and learn from the various embellishments chosen to ornament the aria, whether one agrees with those choices or not. When listening to the (admittedly outrageous) embellishments on some of these early recordings, one should not judge too harshly but rather look into the stylistic proprieties of that particular era, as well as the construction and use of the ornamentation selected. By using such filigree, singers often accented the flirtatiousness of Rossini’s music; not only are they flirting with the listener, they are also flirting with the music itself.
Rossini expected singers to ornament his music, and singers of his time were more thoroughly trained in this art and its stylistic proprieties than they are today. In some instances Rossini composed additional ornaments for singers. The library of the Milan Conservatory has in its possession a set of variants Rossini composed for this aria in 1852 specifically for one Matilde Juva. Interestingly, some of them resemble the decorative passages still used in many of today’s performances.
Singers should never feel self-conscious in ornamenting this music. It is an expression of their own creativity and one of the ways artists can make a personal statement about the music they are singing. The key is in knowing how to ornament in an appropriate style. The singers of Rossini’s day were as comfortable with this contemporary – to them – style as a singer like Sarah Vaughan was in our time as she effortlessly embellished a Gershwin tune without ever using the same variants twice. This is where recordings can be of great help. Through them, one can not only hear how trends have changed but also, with a little intuitive and deductive work, forecast where they will go next. Fifty years ago it was considered stylistically correct to sing Handel come scritto. Today it is quite another story. Conversely, sixty years ago it was considered a valid part of “tradition” for a high soprano to conclude “Caro nome” from Rigoletto on a top E. Not so today. Most singers depend on “traditional” ornamentation whether it actually suits their voice or not. Singers should be responsible to their own gifts and choose only those variants that match and highlight their particular abilities.
To both sopranos and mezzos working on this aria, my suggestion is to listen to as many diverse recordings as you can (both soprano and mezzo versions). You will get a feeling not only for the different styles displayed but also – and most importantly – the types of ornaments chosen by the various voices. Then select embellishments that suit your individual gifts, ones that flatter the most expressive parts of your voice. You can combine various ornaments, using those chosen by other singers as points of departure from which to compose your own. The possibilities are limited only by your own willingness to be inventive, creative and imaginative.
One of the first recordings of the aria was made in 1902 by Irene Abendroth, who recorded only the last portion in German with piano. (Symposium CD 1085) By this time the artistic concept of Rossini’s music had been corrupted and the aria had become an almost vapid display piece. An acquired taste, Abendroth presents a fascinating if archaic style of singing no longer in vogue, and we can learn much from her discs. During that era, German high sopranos were taught a vocal technique that included a muscular setting of the high register. Although meant to lend instrumental clarity and precision of tone and pitch to high notes, it does not suit Italian music. And most sopranos who adopted this method displayed soft (often not unattractive) but squeezed-out high notes. Abendroth’s dexterity was quite phenomenal, however, as was the gentle ripple of her trills. What is especially important for today’s listeners is Abendroth’s superb sense of rubato. Her inner timing in the midst of complex ornamental patterns is a lesson in itself. It lends smoothness to the execution and embellishments because she is in control of the tempo and moves it as she wishes. Many of her ornaments are still used today – some 98 years later – yet, despite the involved embellishments she goes no higher than a staccato D.
The irrepressible Marcella Sembrich made a pyrotechnical version in 1907 (Nimbus 7901). Sembrich was a famous Rosina who performed in the first production of Barbiere given in the initial season of the Metropolitan Opera in 1883. When she came to record this aria she was past her prime, having already sung professionally for 30 years. Nonetheless this is a remarkable performance. Her impossibly ornate version is in the “Patti style” and its voluminous flourishes sound decidedly odd to modern ears. Gone is Rossini’s moderato marking, replaced with presto. Sembrich’s version is probably the apex of the virtuoso tradition in performances of this aria. There is a remarkable, controlled energy coupled with a theatrical dash. All of this is governed by a polished technique – a rare combination. Sembrich’s bright, fast-spun voice glistens through the impossibly rapid ornamentation with dazzling speed and although we, today, may strongly disagree with her over-ornamented performance, her execution is a marvel in itself. An accomplished musician who also played the violin and piano, Sembrich was completely familiar with all the compositional intricacies and ornamental possibilities, and her recordings show uncommon individuality in that respect.
Two years later, in 1909, a virtuoso of the Spanish school made a recording that points out the tremendous differences in the vocal and ornamental approach between schools of training at the time. Elvira de Hidalgo gained most of her fame late in life – after her singing career was over – as the teacher of Maria Callas. Indeed, it was de Hidalgo who instilled in her student a love for florid music and its challenges. Like Sembrich, De Hidalgo recorded both sections of the aria (Bel Age CD 103.005) but differences are apparent in the free use of vibrato to heighten excitement and in the type of ornament used. Her top register, however was not treated well by the primitive recording process. Like other high sopranos with a similar placement – Maria Galvany, Roberta Peters, Ruth Welting and Renata Scotto, it emerges from recordings wiry, pinched and lacking overtones. One might not agree with some of De Hidalgo’s liberties, but they are backed-up by some impressive musicianship. De Hidalgo elected to sing the aria in its original key and by 1909, sopranos who had the ability preferred to end the aria with a final, climactic high E (or F) – as does de Hidalgo. Although purists shudder, and although a singer must be careful to avoid a certain “circus side show” aspect of such an interpolation, it can be a triumphant finish to an aria that is, after all, a self-indulgent soliloquy.
The next year, 1910, saw an addition to the canon that was the last word in the German florid school of training at that time. Frieda Hempel was one of those outstanding sopranos just as impressive in Lied as in pyrotechnical displays. She had a distinctive timbre of warm, floated tone supported by a lively imagination backed by a thorough knowledge of ornamental devices. Although her highest notes were typical of the Germanic, squeezed schooling and often emerge pale on recordings, her exquisite musicianship counteracted the aural detriments of that method. Because Hempel compressed her top register, like the others who used this technique, she had little sustaining power on highest notes and her most brilliant effects were of a staccato nature. Her German-sung recording (in F) of “Frag ich mein” is a delight from beginning to end (Nimbus 7849). It is a relic but certainly worth careful study, especially in the originality of her ornamentation. Only when she sustains such notes as the high C does one gets the feel of the Germanic compression method at work. During the first section she displays her superb legato and fine sense of character. She was one of the few artists that could make a trill sound like a private chuckle. Through the mess of black notes and high staccati during the second half, Hempel’s Rosina makes her point: “I know what I am doing; don’t mess with me!” She is also one of the first artists on recording to make a definite differentiation between the music before and after the transitional “ma.” She makes a fine build to the end and the rather short, straight high F also makes its point.
1911 produced a classic recording by the great Italian florid specialist, Luisa Tetrazzini, famous for her Rosina. Tetrazzini was an anomaly during her era, performing the florid repertoire but with the size and bite of a spinto soprano. Indeed her voice was hefty enough to make successful recordings of arias from Aida, Trovatore and Forza. Her “Una voce” (Nimbus 7808) is in the original key and unique for its combination of florid individuality and propulsive energy. This is a bubbly, infectious performance from a Rosina who is obviously fond of playing practical jokes. Most fascinating are the many delicate triplets and gruppetti that were obviously improvised while recording. Tetrazzini lets loose with some glorious high register singing and secure coloratura work and always apparent is an endearing tongue-in-cheek. Her use of chromatic scales accents Rosina’s sly humor while her staccati resemble peals of laughter as do her use of grace notes – as if gasping for breath. Of all the early recordings, Tetrazzini’s has the most dazzling finish with a brilliant cadenza, easy, propulsive trill on high B and a triumphant top E.
In 1916 and 1925, the Hungarian soprano Maria Ivogün made a number of versions of this aria. Ivogün was the teacher of Erna Berger and Rita Streich and was responsible for instilling in the young Schwarzkopf a love for Lieder. Although Ivogün’s voice seems a bit uneven to us today, it had a delicious timbre and was beautifully and elegantly handled. Like Selma Kurz and other high, German-trained artists at this time whose voices were physiologically based on the “float” rather than the “spin,” her top register was kept somewhat segregated from the rest of the voice and after the high C had to switch to a more easily negotiable whistle-voice. Today, listeners often find her high register lacking in impact because of its delicate, bird-like sound. But do not be fooled – Ivogün was an artist of the first magnitude.
Probably the most interesting Ivogün version of this aria is a 1916 disc, unreleased at the time but now on Preiser CD (89094). One questions its suppression, since it is a wonderful performance. Aside from one or two notes that fail to make the mark, the coloratura is a model of artistic perfection. Her ornamentation, of which there is quite a bit, is distinctive and different in composition and effect than those of Frieda Hempel. As if bursting into laughter, for the repeat of “Io sono docile” Ivogün bounces back and forth around high C, crowning the phrase with a top F. Although today’s critics might consider her elaborate version bordering on bad taste, her ornaments are all aural depictions of laughter or humor. Like many of the soprano Rosinas, this is a playful rather than determined character. Determination was left to the mezzos.
Although Amelita Galli-Curci’s 1917 recording is justly famous, I miss the sense of mischievous spontaneity found on the Tetrazzini disc. Galli-Curci’s soft, elegant vocalism was better displayed in more plaintive music or in pyrotechnics originating from French rather than Italian shores.
By this time Rosina was rarely heard in the original mezzo version, but in 1927 the great Spanish mezzo, Conchita Supervia began to change that situation. Her remarkable series of Rossini recordings, begun that year, made a definite statement about the merits of returning the role of Rosina to its original voice range. She inaugurated the modern Rossini mezzo movement with performances of Cenerentola and Italiana as well as Barbiere and without the example of her success, later day artists like Simionato, Berganza, Horne, Baltsa and Bartoli would have had a much more difficult battle on their hands. Supervia’s Odeon 78 of “Una voce” is a testimony to her individuality and creativity. Today’s listeners may have to adjust to her rapid, rather gritty vibrato and aggressive manner but this is a sterling performance of color, vivacity and rapid divisions easily articulated.
Supervia’s recording is a wonderful rendition ripe with vitality. There is a sense of self-possessed excitement (similar to what we are now accustomed to hearing from Cecilia Bartoli) and her voice easily encompasses the aria’s range from low G to top B. This should be mandatory listening for any mezzo thinking of essaying this piece. There are many nuances, some lovely decrescendi, and Supervia interpolates a number of excellent top Bs. Tempi are gracious and, unlike the previous recordings, Supervia’s conveys no sense of virtuosity for its own sake. She proves that the piece can be effective as written and without any extraneous notes in alt.
Any discussion of an aria like this should include at least one recording which serves as a warning to singers. I have selected one from the late 1930s by the German soprano Erna Sack. (Dante Lys 041) Originally a contralto, Sack discovered that she had a range in altissimo and soon became internationally famous for her octave leaps to G and A above high C. She made recordings of the aria in both keys – as if not sure which one better suited her peculiar gifts. Unfortunately, as both versions prove, except for staccati, Sack’s florid technique was rudimentary. She manages to float some ethereal extreme high notes in whistle-voice, but there is no characterization and her florid work is almost embarrassingly bumpy; sloppy, slurred and amateurish. Sack was much more effective and convincing in the concert showpiece repertoire where her outrageous stylistic improprieties were less objectionable.
For nearly twenty years (1930s-1950) Lily Pons reigned supreme in the coloratura soprano repertoire at the Metropolitan Opera. And, until 1971 and the advent of the indomitable Marilyn Horne, Barbiere was considered part of that repertoire. Pons’ 1935 “Una voce” (in F) for Victor (BMG 09026-61411-2) finds her in fresher voice than a later effort for Columbia. Her sweet, fast-spun voice was able to twirl some exquisite pianissimi and her staccato technique was of the first caliber. In this aria (which she frequently programmed on recitals and even sang in one of her three Hollywood movies) Pons continued the virtuostic tradition of Patti and Sembrich. Accepted as such she provides the listener with a fascinating bombardment of cadential flourishes and laughter-like high staccatti. The penultimate decoration of chromatic staccati sounds distinctly contrived to modern ears, but her final, long high F is quite good.
It wasn’t until 1950, that the Italian firm of Cetra made the first commercial recording of the opera with a mezzo Rosina sung by Giulietta Simionato. Although now out of print, the set was a landmark. Simionato was a famous Rosina at the time and even recorded the opera again for Decca in 1956. Although not a perfect florid artist, through her strong projection of character and dynamic singing in this role she caused distinct waves to be felt in the sensibilities of international audiences. If Supervia was the mother of the mezzo Rosina movement, Simionato was her first-born.
Shortly after this, in 1952, Victoria De Los Angeles offered a compromise between the two versions for those who could not decide which they preferred. Singing in the original keys but with an occasional flirtation with the soprano ornamentation, she is a gentle, quite mischievous Rosina and her inherently beautiful timbre and elegant manner did much to illuminate her portrayals of Rosina. (Testament CD SBTG 2166) Her second version, recorded in 1962 virtually repeats the same, superb vocalism found in this, her earlier set.
In 1954, Maria Callas made her first recording of this aria. It was part of an outstanding recital called “Coloratura-Lyric” that remains a milestone album of the latter half of this century (EMI 7472822). Although she also made a complete recording of the opera (1957) after having performed the role on stage, her first effort more perfectly captures the character of Rosina. Actually, along with De los Angeles, Callas’ recording of this aria did much to further the cause of the mezzo movement. By that I mean that although she performs what would basically be called a soprano version (in the original key of E), the darkness of her voice and the solidity of her lower register did much to re-accustom listeners to such sounds in this music. Even more important, Callas imbued the aria with countless touches of subtle humor which jump out at the listener from the speakers. As is the case with most of the Callas recordings there is much that an intuitive singer can deduce concerning phrasing, inner timing of phrases and the art of nuance – especially the use of mezzo forte and piano. Taken at a very gracious tempo, Callas phrases all the fioriture with elegance and instead of avoiding the low G, digs into it, giving the first image of what lies behind all Rosina’s purported smiles. Her ornamentation is spare and can mostly be done by mezzo artists.
In 1958, Roberta Peters had the distinction of singing Rosina in the first complete recording of the work (now on BMG CD). Peters demonstrates a poised, easy florid technique and is a lively Rosina. She shows superb artistry and an unusual fullness in the lower register for a soprano Rosina.
By this time mezzos had begun seriously to reclaim the role. The staunchest promoter was the lovely Teresa Berganza who made a delightful recording of the aria on a 1959 recital (London 421-327-2). It captures the young singer at her bravura best. Building on the work done by Supervia and Simionato, Berganza dedicated herself to promoting Rossini’s mezzo heroines, and for once the timing was perfect. Supervia lessened the soprano grasp on the role, Simionato gave an undeniably strong yank, but it was Berganza who pried it away from them with a vengeance. She made the most positive statement to date for the return of the role to its original key by her fluent, articulate vocalism and immaculate bel canto musicianship, not to mention beautiful, easy high Bs and Cs. She made a complete recording of the opera in 1964 (Decca) and then again in 1971 (DGG 415 695-2). One of the most informative things about her second recording was that there was practically no loss of the vocal sheen displayed in 1959. Any complete version you can find with her (either live or studio) is not only a delight to hear but also a lesson in the preservation of one’s voice. One interesting note – Berganza’s 1964 version times out at 6:00 while her 1971 version is 5:30, yet not once does one get the feeling she is rushing through Rossini’s music. (Her 1964 version is now available for about $15, and the 1971 for about $19. You can’t go wrong with this wonderful, imaginative singer.)
James Levine’s 1975 version with Beverly Sills (or the 1974 French version with Mady Mesple) did little to further sopranos’ cause for reclaiming the role. In Mesple’s case because her excessively frontal, finely-spun voice was not flattered by the closeness of the recording process and in the case of Sills because the recording caught her voice too late in her career. Had Sills recorded the opera in 1968, the story might have been different.
The decades of the 80s and 90s have shown a tremendous surge in complete recordings of the Barber with mezzo Rosinas. In the fifty years between 1919 (an abridged, acoustic recording of the opera with a forgettable soprano Rosina: Malvina Pereira), and 1970 only four complete recordings with mezzo artists were made. From that time until today, however, no fewer than eight more have been released, though not all are still in print. Sopranos have not left the picture; they continue to record the aria for recitals and are occasionally cast as Rosina.
During the 1970s Lucia Valentini-Terrani was a noted Rossini specialist and in 1980 she recorded the aria on a Fonit Cetra disc (CDC66) From the first notes of this dark-voiced singer, you realize this is going to be something special. Beginning quietly, as if to herself, she gradually expands and becomes more animated with some refreshing ornamentation. Although high B does not always seem easy for this singer (at least by the time she recorded this aria) she proves herself to be an excellent technician.
On February 20, 1971, Marilyn Horne had the distinction of being the first broadcast mezzo soprano Rosina at the Metropolitan Opera, 155 years to the day of the opera’s premiere. In America at least, the mezzo Rosina had finally reclaimed the role.
Horne made two recordings of this aria. The first stunning version (1966) was originally released as part of the 2 LP set “Souvenir of a Golden Era” which, shamefully, has yet to be released in its entirety on CD. The “Una voce” from that set was once available on CD but was withdrawn around 1995. One hopes that it will reappear since it is a valuable document of this remarkable singer, the Sembrich of mezzos. Rosina was one of Horne’s favorite roles (“delicious to sing and to act,” she once wrote) and it was a role closely associated with the diva. So it is surprising that her complete recording came rather late in her career (1982). Nonetheless it is a testament to her interpretation and obvious love for the role. The most captivating aspect of Horne’s performance is the fact that it is so well acted with the voice that the listener can effortlessly trace Rosina’s mood changes through Horne’s subtle tone painting. In fluent voice she demonstrates her florid and interpretive art. Her dark, at times throaty vocalism shows a sepulchral low G as well as excellent high Bs. In the repeat of “Io sono docile” Horne lets out all the stops with her famous split-second octave drops and intricate ornamentation. Although Horne was fond of “digging” into her lower register in an uncommonly aggressive manner, because of her superb vocal polish and smooth vocal emission, it rarely sounds vulgar. Because of these unusual contrasts, she provides an interesting portrait of the character. Outside, this Rosina is formidable but inside she is a pussycat.
The darling of publicists, Cecilia Bartoli recorded the opera for Decca-London (425 520-2) in 1988 while still in her twenties. Her performance is a gracious one (her tempi take the aria into almost a full minute more than Berganza’s 1971 version) and it successfully combines delicacy and determination in equal parts. One thing that makes her rendition different from many others is the time she takes to make her points. Because her range is unusually extensive (up to E natural) the tessitura holds no terrors, and she is able to ornament with comfort, grace and elegance. Her variants are sensible and rightly highlight her rich-voiced vivacity without ever leaving the realm of the character or its original voice range. Despite the amount of nuance she slathers on the piece, none of it sounds contrived, a remarkable accomplishment in itself and worthy of some study. Solid and beautiful from a full, rich low G to a brightly-emphatic high B, Bartoli’s voice glistens through the fioriture with an inherent ease – never forgetting that each flourish conveys some meaning.
The Welsh mezzo Della Jones, known for her Handel and Rossini performances, is one of the glories of Great Britain. It has been our loss that she has visited America so infrequently. Jones is a true virtuoso, but one tempered by sensitive musicianship. She has long been famous for her florid work – much of which can be heard on Opera Rara’s recordings of obscure operas. She has a solid, firm, clear lower register, yet can lighten her voice to delicately touch high B staccato. Her choice of variants is stylistically accurate and shows a wonderful imagination. Her Rossini Recital on Chandos (8865) recorded in 1990, includes this aria and it is fascinating. Jones is deliciously fluent, and there is an élan to her coloratura one misses from many more famous artists. At times forceful, at times inward, she gives a multi-faceted portrayal. Jones recorded the entire role for Chandos in 1995 as part of their opera sung in English series.
If you are interested in hearing Agnes Baltsa sing this piece, I suggest you look for her 1982 complete recording on Philips. Baltsa was an important player in the Rossini revival and she sang this role often, taking part in a number of esteemed Rossini recordings and revivals. Unfortunately, I find her 1990 rendition of this aria (Sony CD, SK45964) too forceful in the lower reaches to be completely successful. Baltsa offers an overpowering Rosina of a type that occasionally turns up in recordings and live interpretations but that is not really appropriate unless it is tempered with some rounding softness. Contributing to this is her tendency to sing in a mixed chest-voice quite high, even up to B natural in the staff. The problem with this kind of approach is that it attaches a coarse finish to the character that is at odds with Rossini’s writing. Although she’s no wimp, neither is Rosina a shrew. The main attraction of Baltsa’s performance is the energy and directness that she brings to Rossini’s music. But because of her use of high chest voice there are audible, and at times disconcerting, contrasts between registers.
Sonia Ganassi, on the budget label Naxos (8 660027.29) provides an interesting if not first-rate performance of the aria. Ganassi has a darker, less kaleidoscopic timbre than Bartoli, Jones and others but she gives a performance that is never less than interesting. Occasionally her fioriture is just off the mark in cleanliness, but she is musical and never just “sings” Rosini’s music. Interestingly, Ganassi adopts one or two of the typical “soprano” ornaments, and most attractive are her complex ornaments for the reprise of “Io sono docile,” which she rips through with an enviable ease. She also has an excellent high B. This was the one recording I found I grew more fond of with repeated hearings. This complete Naxos set is a lively, theatrical performance offering the most value for your money.
The Polish mezzo Ewa Podles recorded this aria in 1995 on an excellent, all-Rossini recital (Naxos 8.553543). Like the Italian Ganassi, Podles has a darker-hued voice but also a more dramatic style. Podles offers a different face to the character, and like Baltsa’s creation, this is a Rosina you would NOT want to cross. With a voice obviously larger than others we have examined, it is colorful and extremely well managed. There are, however, some suspicious, unnecessary glottal attacks that detract from the smooth line Rossini created. Podles is impressive, however, in the thrust of her coloratura and the bite of her top register. Whereas Bartoli and Jones conceal most of their determination behind coy, gentle smiles, Podles lets you know up front that she WILL get what she wants. I prefer Podles in more heroic Rossini roles where her innately bold sense of drama better suits the music.
In 1992, DGG released a new Barbiere with Kathleen Battle as an anachronistic soprano Rosina. During the 1980s Battle sang Rosina a number of times at the Met but the gimmick of this recording was in the casting of tenor Placido Domingo in the baritone role of Figaro. Battle acquits herself well in the aria (in the original key) but by this time the tables have turned and her breathy, high, light voice and coy rendition sound distinctly eccentric. She does, however, manage to easily encompass the written low G and incorporate some unusual variants.
Jennifer Larmore recorded the complete opera in 1992 but the version discussed here stems from a 1993 recital disc for Teldec (D630-15549-2). She too is a Rosina (in the aria at least) in the emphatic “tradition” but her warm (rather than dark), soft-grained voice and manner are less distracting than Podles or Baltsa. Larmore also provides some fine effects with dynamics. She manages to get her character and point across without smacking the listener on the head. A gracious and sensible singer, Larmore even introduces a bit of light laughter between verses of “Io sono docile” – which I did not find objectionable in the least.
The most recent exponent of this aria is the Bulgarian mezzo Vesselina Kasarova. Her “Una voce” is rich in nuance and characterization although she oddly changes Rossini’s legato marking to staccato in a number of places. As she plays with the music it is obvious she enjoys what she is doing and this is transmitted clearly to the listener. Kasarova’s setting-up of the mood-changing “ma” is one of the most evocative on disc. You can almost see her raising her finger cautioning the listener. One senses that this is a tomboy Rosina who would get into a brawl if necessary.
The recordings we have considered in this survey cover over 90 years of varying traditions. Although the role of Rosina has undergone many changes, each era has much to offer the curious student and enterprising singer.
After listening to so many recordings of this piece, I believe that the ultimate truth about this specific aria is that it doesn’t matter whether it is sung by a mezzo or a soprano. What does matter is HOW it is sung and that it is sung well. If you can sing it with a respectful recognition of what Rossini intended and with some imaginative creativity you will have accomplished what he wanted.
Nick Limansky has sung with all the major professional choral groups in New York City including The Bach Aria Group, Musica Sacra, New York Choral Artists, Opera Orchestra of New York and in Alvin Ailey’s Revelations. A freelance writer, he has written reviews of new releases of historical singers for the English magazine, The Record Collector (in existence since 1940) and has begun a series of analytical articles tracing the recorded history of various arias. He has given three lectures to the New York Vocal Record Collectors Society and is presently completing a biography and critical analysis of the Peruvian singer Yma Sumac. He is married to the soprano Gail Limansky.
