Nico Castel gives his age as 75, but on the phone he has the voice and energy of a man 50 years younger. Who needs caffeine after spending an hour with this guy? Our conversation ranged from the state of singing today to his musical mentors, artists such as Julius Rudel and Norman Treigle.
After a 40-year career as a character tenor, Castel continues his “life’s work” today, as staff diction coach for the Metropolitan Opera, teaching at Juilliard, translating libretti (143 so far, with more to come), preparing his texts on diction and interpretation (standard reference works at every conservatory and voice studio), teaching privately, running a summer program at Vassar College with his wife, Carol—and, as he did for this conversation, holding forth with insight and wit.
Anyone who thinks a career in character roles is easier on the voice has another think coming. Between 1908 and 1938, for example, no Metropolitan season was complete without Angelo Bada. If you don’t know that name, he sang more than 2,000 Met performances. Impresario and conductor Giulio Gatti-Casazza tells in his memoirs of a stormy rehearsal with Caruso and Toscanini that drove Gatti to shout, “With you two I can do without! But I can’t do without Bada!”
Tenor Jan Peerce had warm words for Alessio De Paolis, who as Borsa in Rigoletto could easily dominate a scene if you weren’t careful. And if you think Caruso was a record holder of opera performances, you’d be right. Charles Anthony Caruso from New Orleans made his debut at the Met as Charles Anthony (wouldn’t you?) in 1954, and well over 2000 performances later he’s still going strong.
Character roles require superior linguistic and acting skills. Lest you disagree, just listen to the first prisoner in Fidelio, Beppe in Pagliacci or the lamplighter in Manon Lescaut.
Nico Castel began his singing career in leading roles, but quickly realized there was another way to go.
“I made my debut as Almaviva in ‘Barbiere’ with Tony Amato,” he said. “That was back in 1955, and I was just out of the Army. But soon I realized that while my voice was good, I didn’t have the natural upward extension necessary for the big tenor roles. I thought it was more intelligent to have a long career as a character tenor than a short one singing leads.”
Upward extension or not, Castel’s musical and linguistic skills soon got noticed.
“In 1958 I went to Santa Fe. At first I thought: ‘Santa Fe? You mean with cowboys? Where is Santa Fe?’ The Santa Fe Opera was all of two years old then.
“Those early summers in Santa Fe were incredible. Stravinsky was there. I was part of the first performances of his Lamentations of Jeremiah. My colleagues back then were Phyllis Curtin, Frank Poretta, Regina Sarfaty, and Andrew Foldi. They were already fantastic artists with long-established careers. We did the ‘Lamentations’ in the Santa Fe Cathedral with Stravinsky. Later I did Fenton [Falstaff] in Santa Fe and the premiere of Bernard Herman’s opera Wuthering Heights. Phyllis Curtin sang Cathy in that.”
Eventually the young Castel made his way to the New York City Opera, during that company’s golden period, just before it moved to Lincoln Center from the old City Center, back in the mid-Sixties.
“I sang with City Opera in both of their homes,” Castel remembers. “I auditioned for Julius Rudel with Goro and Beppe in Pagliacci. They hired me immediately, and how I loved that company! Rudel became my mentor. I adored that man.
“One of my most memorable assignments there was Guillot in the new production of Manon with Beverly Sills. She was unforgettable in the role. The entire production was magnificent, and it put Manon back on the map in New York after many years. Later I was able to record Guillot with Beverly and Nicolai Gedda.
“In 1969, Mr. Bing made me an offer to come to the Met. I really debated. City Opera was home and I didn’t want to leave home. But of course going to the Met was an important next step. Off I went.”
Indeed he did. From his debut in 1970, Castel appeared 793 times with the Metropolitan, up until 1997. His debut role was Basilio in Le nozze di Figaro, with Cesare Siepi and Teresa Stratas.
“Siepi was an idol of mine,” remarked Castel. “When he complimented me on my Italian it was a tremendous honor. Of course, he played Basilio too, but in ‘Barbiere.’ He was very sleazy in this, squinting around with that magnificent voice just rolling out—and did you know that Siepi sang beautiful German? We don’t often hear that from Italian singers. Siepi’s Gurnemanz in Parsifal was a dream.
“And then there was Nicolai Gedda, another idol. He was a superb linguist. No matter what language he sang in, the accents and inflections were always perfect.
“So many great stage animals were at the Met, but I will name names and say that Franco Corelli as Werther had this magnificent voice, and he was great to look at. But his French was unbelievable. We had a little French lady who was our diction coach, and she would go to him and say: ‘Pliz Meester Co-rel-LEE.’ He was always very sweet and gracious to her, and [her pleas] made no difference at all.
“And I’ve seen my share of horrible opera productions. Scarpia getting up after he’s been stabbed and being around for Tosca’s final jump. Silvio in Pagliacci being sodomized. Everybody wants to change [things]. What’s wrong with a beautifully sung performance that is faithful to the text and music?
“Renata Scotto’s Butterfly was tremendous,” Castel continued. “My wife, Carol, worked as her secretary and we both got to know her. I remember after one ‘Butterfly’ performance, Scotto was exhausted, just drained, and she said to Carol, ‘You know-a Carol, after dis I’m-a so emotion-ated!’ I loved that word. ‘Emotion-ated!’ And I still use it today with all my students.
“All of these artists connected immediately to the text. To see and hear Beverly Sills as Manon, kneeling by the table as she sang ‘Adieu notre petite table,’ was wonderful. They knew and understood at once both what they were singing and how what they were singing affected the other characters in the opera.”
The leap from supporting artist to diction guru isn’t as wide for Castel as it might have been.
“I was born in Portugal and when I was very young my family moved to Caracas [Venezuela]. I come from a family of linguists, descended from Sephardic Jews. My father spoke 13 languages, and I learned eight. I also had a Viennese nanny who only spoke German. So there was I, a little Portuguese boy in South America whose first language was German. Then I was put into a French lycée in Caracas, where I had to learn French, then Italian, and eventually Ladino, the language of the Sephardic Jews.”
So what’s the best way for a singer to learn a new language?
“Ideally they should speak the language in which they sing” said Castel. “I did, except for Russian, which I had to learn phonetically. The way to learn is through hard work! There’s a lot a singer can do by himself—but one method I really recommend is to do the European summer programs. Go over there and live with a family and speak only their language.
“My life’s work is to help singers really understand what they are singing about, through my books. All of them have all the IPA work done for you. Every work is translated and phoneticized. I want a baritone to really understand what is going on when he tells Violetta ‘D’Alfredo il padre in me vedete!’
“But look,” Castel continued, “singers and teachers both have to make allowances for the languages. If you sing very high you may have to modify the vowel—you have to allow for the closed a’s and o’s. And you need to be consistent in your pronunciations. There may be one correct way to pronounce, but the color of the individual voice has to be taken into consideration. You are dealing with beautiful songs, after all. And you have to be aware of a verb.
“I’ve become a verb, did you know that? [No.] ‘Have you Nico-ed that text yet?’
“I always demonstrate in lessons. I always sing for them. Yes, you can work alone, but the work is incomplete unless you have someone to imitate or someone to sing with. IPA by itself is an idea, but you have to do it live, out loud, orally. Teacher demonstration is crucial.
“Today we have many young Asian artists, and they cope magnificently with the language challenge. They learn to imitate so well they fool you. But they also use the sounds of the languages to tell the story, and they are absolutely genuine. Like Hei-Kyung Hong. A genius! I remember a rehearsal of ‘Bohème’ at the Met. Rudel was conducting. Hei-Kyung had just done ‘Mi chiamano Mimì.’ Julius stopped and got very quiet and we all thought, ‘Oh-oh!’ And then he said, ‘I have never heard that sung more beautifully in my life.’”
So what about style?
“Style is ephemeral. It is often dictated by the languages,” Castel replied. “In Italian you must have the legato. Bellini’s lines are long and can be plaintive. Donizetti’s lines are long and often more dramatic. You need to know how to place the long vowels in Italian so your pitch doesn’t sag. Now with German, you use less portamento. German portamento is for operetta, giving it charm and a little schmaltz, but not for Mozart and Strauss. French is difficult because of the consonant clusters—and those nasal vowels can be killing. Singers sometimes shut down their voices with these vowels, which is not necessary at all. You have a word like montagine. So you have to really use the m’s and n’s.”
And the most difficult language for Castel to learn?
“Czech! I had to do The Makropoulos Affair at City Opera. I was Vitek, the court clerk. Oh my! The consonant clusters were incredible, every one of them. Later on, I did a concert performance of ‘Makropoulos’ with the Little Orchestra Society. For this I did Prus. We all slaved away at the Czech for weeks. Then the prima donna, Maria Kouba, arrived and announced that she only knew it in German and that’s how she was going to sing it!”
Like many pedagogues, Castel has a lot to say about the study of singers of the past.
“You cannot be an educated singer and not know who came before you. Picasso would not have become Picasso had he not studied Michelangelo. Study [Dame Nellie] Melba, and Tita Ruffo, and Rosa Ponselle, and [Beniamino] Gigli. There was a reason that composers and conductors and audiences fell all over themselves hearing these people.
“Their recordings are easy to find. You can learn all about performance practice listening to people who actually worked with Verdi, Puccini, and [Richard] Strauss. You don’t have to agree, but you must inform yourself. Go listen and find out.”
Lest Castel seem to be claiming today’s standards are lower, he’s quick to point out some of his contemporary favorites.
“Today we have Ben Heppner, who was so great in Idomeneo. Kristin Jepson is terrific and Dorothea Röschmann is at the top of her game. And we’re blessed with some fine young conductors. I think Marco Armaliato is magnificent, and so is Nicola Luisotti. They really understand the operas they conduct and they love them, and they help make us—we oldtimers—love them even more.
“Jimmy Levine of course is fabulous, and you know, this is a great time for the Met. I think the world of Peter Gelb. The new production of ‘Butterfly’ is stunning. Anthony Minghella, the [film] director, isn’t a musician, but he knew every word and every note of the opera at the first rehearsal. The show’s a big hit. And [Cristina] Gallaardo-Domas, what a fine tragedienne! And with [Massimo] Giordano and [Dwayne] Croft singing so beautifully.
“Look how Gelb is making the Met more viable. He makes free passes to dress rehearsals available. Now the company is on SIRIUS radio and on the Web nearly every night. And those fabulous broadcasts going back to the 1930s are now being broadcast all over again. There was a Rigoletto the other night, with Leonard Warren, Roberta Peters, and Richard Tucker. Listen to the interplay between Peters and Warren. What a blessing to have all of this material available again!
“He [Gelb] makes cheap rush seats available. It’s a new world, and it’s going to be a wonderful one.”
For information on classes and Nico’s publications, go to www.castelopera.com.
