The first time I
became aware of Leona Mitchell was when Decca released their
recording of Porgy and Bess in the mid-1970s. She was
Bess and she got rave reviews. Edward Greenfield in Gramophone
wrote “Gorgeous”, also quoted in the booklet notes for the present
recital, which originally appeared in 1980, Here it is released
on CD for the first time. Why Ms Mitchell never had a great
recording career is hard to know and after listening to this
recital I would say that this must have been one of the worst
A&R miscalculations over the last three decades. It is interesting
to note that the other soprano find on that Porgy and Bess
recording, singing the much smaller role of Clara, was Barbara
Hendricks; we all know what a successful recording artist she
became. It may have something to do with personality, with an
immediately recognizable timbre. At a blindfold test I would
have no difficulty at all picking out Barbara Hendricks with
her quick vibrato and plangent tone, while Leona Mitchell could
be any one of a number of wonderful voices. Long and close acquaintance
with a voice in the end means that one learns its characteristics
and we have few opportunities to hear Leona Mitchell.
What is beyond doubt
is that this is indeed a gorgeous voice, recorded here when
she had just turned thirty. No doubt it filled out even more
during the following decade, since she went on to sing Turandot,
while she here has exactly the right size and type of voice
for Liù. Taking two well-known sopranos from an earlier generation
who both sang this repertoire, recording almost all the arias
here, she is somewhere between the lyrical Victoria de los Angeles
and the lirico-spinto Renata Tebaldi. Picking one item at random,
Mimi’s aria from La Bohème, she has the girlish quality
that made de los Angeles’ Mimi so enchanting and vulnerable
but also with the extra power of Tebaldi in reserve for the
big outburst. But Tebaldi never sounded frail and girlish, hers
was a decidedly matronly approach. The same difference, even
more pronounced, can be noted in the Butterfly aria, where Tebaldi
could never be mistaken for a teenager. On the other hand de
los Angeles and Mitchell have a natural youthfulness.
Leaving aside her
great predecessors and possible comparisons, Leona Mitchell
sings very well indeed in Countess Almaviva’s Dove sono.
The voice is beautiful, there is fine pianissimo singing and
she has a trill. Despite this one gets the feeling that she
is just a bit uninvolved. She identifies much more readily with
Mimi. Mi chiamano Mimi is a fine portrait of the little
seamstress. Adler could be more flexible but together they build
a magnificent climax from Ma quando vien lo sgelo (But
when spring comes) and the concluding parlando phrases are sensitively
done. Un bel di, vedremo from Madama Butterfly
actually begins a few bars before the aria proper, which gives
more relief to the portrait. There is some really glorious vocalism
here in the spinto mould but also much sensitive singing. The
aria from La Rondine with its piano prelude is beautifully
sung on that thin thread of tone that Puccini prescribes, though
with some unnecessary bulges marring the line – surely inserted
for expressive reasons, but the melody is so expressive in itself.
Suzel’s flower aria
from L’Amico Fritz is the odd number out here. It’s a
fine piece of music, memorably recorded by Mirella Freni in
the complete recording with Pavarotti. It shows that Mascagni
was more than the blood and thunder of Cavalleria rusticana.
Just listen to the string writing of the postlude, where the
National Philharmonic really show their capacity. The aria is
affectionately sung and Leona Mitchell can stand comparison
even with Freni.
Back with Puccini
and Gianni Schicchi where the loving daughter is finely
delineated in the famous aria, sung with golden tone and in
the final bars the voice has a slight flutter of emotion. That
Liù was a favourite part with Ms Mitchell is easy to imagine
when hearing her in the tragic second aria, sung just prior
to Liù’s suicide and practically the last thing that Puccini
completed. Mitchell made her debut in this role on the occasion
of Birgit Nilsson’s final performance as Turandot and later
sang it with Caballé and Pavarotti.
Mathilde’s great
aria from William Tell, sung in Italian as has long been common
practice, is here preceded by the quite lengthy recitative,
which is just as important as the aria. This is another affectionate
and inward reading with exquisitely shaded dynamics. The final
item, from Verdi’s “galley years”, takes us to more florid territory,
once the gloomy prelude and recitative is over. Sutherland’s
recording from the superb Paris-made 1959 album has always been
the touchstone, and Ms Mitchell doesn’t quite belong in this
league – but who does? Still she has fluency and the high notes
and in the cabaletta she has a good trill and negotiates the
runs and roulades with convincing ease.
Playing time is
short – 45:12 according to the booklet, 44:53 according to my
display. However this is what Decca had in their archives and
at the asking price there is no reason to complain. The Nat
Phil, regular recording orchestra in those days, play immaculately
as always and the sound quality is OK. It is analogue although
by 1980 Decca were already employing the new digital technique
for other projects. The booklet has a short appreciation about
Leona Mitchell by Cyrus Meher-Homji but no notes on the music
and no texts.
After listening
through this recital I am convinced that Leona Mitchell would
have been a valuable member of the cast on many complete recordings
in the 1980s. It is to be regretted that this was to be her
only solo album. Readers who own the original LP should take
the opportunity to upgrade to CD, and those unfamiliar with
this impressive singer should run to the store or place an order
at once.
Göran Forsling
Leona Mitchell (soprano)
