Francisco Viñas
was born a Catalan near Barcelona in 1863 but he’s probably better known from the name
on his Italian-made recordings; Vignas. His Barcelona debut was in 1888
in Lohengrin, a performance given very soon after his student
years had concluded, and his career advanced with distinction
until his final appearance in 1918. He died in his home city
in 1933.
Inevitably he sang in a wide variety of roles - Lohengrin, Cavelleria
rusticana and Carmen in La Scala, and all over Italy, especially in San Carlo in Naples which
was a favourite house of his. He sang frequently in Madrid and
in Lisbon. By 1891 he was giving the London premiere of Cavelleria rusticana and
success at Covent Garden was soon followed by an invitation
to the Met in New York though he was not frequently heard there
– illness, dislike of sea voyages and the sheer weight of numbers
of fellow singers all playing their part. He sang alongside
Albani, Calvé, Nordica, Plançon and Melba.
Viñas’s training in the old
Italian School makes itself apparent at every turn. His breath control,
mastery of passaggio, and powerful open tone attest to his particular
excellence. His diction is clear, vowels open, and dynamic nuances
eloquently presented. It’s bel canto singing of a rarefied kind
with legato and portamento prominent components of his expressive
arsenal.
Probably his greatest
claim on historical memory is as a pioneering Wagnerian. Lohengrin
was his most famous role, one he sang repeatedly and one fortunately
that he recorded. There’s a mellifluous Italianate ring to his
1903 Milan G & T of In fernem Land which sweeps to
the end on a lovingly lascivious portamento. Similarly the second
part of Mein lieber Schwan! (which was all that would
fit) – this, like the other examples, sung in Italian of course
– is sung with affectionate delicacy, the tonal quality of the
voice capable of the subtlest inflexions running from a gentle
floating of the tone to more hardened steel but with never a
bark or incipient crudity of projection. The voice was very
much as free and flexible in the long series of Fonotipias made
between 1905 and 1913. Atmest du nicht mit mir was another
example of his Lohengrin, in which he sings with an appealing
grace and elegance with fine production but not forcing of the
voice. New to his discography at this point was the first half
of Mein lieber Schwan! dispatched with expressive diminuendi,
fulsome portamenti and a compelling lyricism.
The steadiness of
his tone can be heard in Ma se m’è forza perderti from
Un Ballo in Maschera. In Ora e per sempre, recorded on
the same day when he took in Donizetti, Bizet, Guetary as well
as Verdi, we have the multi-variegated nature of his emotive
responses to the Italian repertoire. It’s perhaps only in the
extract from Carmen that one finds these lavish devices to be
somewhat too cloying but this is very much a matter of degree.
In November 1908 Fonotipia embarked on a series of recordings
with orchestral forces of pieces that Viñas had previously made
with piano accompaniment. This series doesn’t catch the voice
with quite such detail and immediacy but is still instructive
in the opportunities it offers for comparison and contrast.
Incidentally I might note at this point that such remakes are
common throughout the three CD set; we can hear his Celeste
Aida twice, for instance, and note a peculiarity - how in the
1905 Fonotipia we can hear rather better than in the 1903 G
& T Viñas inserting a stretched terminal consonant at the
end of the phrase – so that it becomes in effect “Celeste Aida-am.”
There are altogether
far too many points of interest in this set to itemise them
all – and that includes the three sides from Tannhäuser – but
it would be remiss indeed to ignore the four 1912 sides of music
from Parsifal, which wasn’t to come into the public domain until
December 1913. Of course Viñas made these persuasive recordings
before he sang the role on stage and they include an interpolated
high A flat in the final side. And one should also mention the
numerous Italian and Spanish songs by such as Gaztambide, Álvarez,
Guetary, Cotò, Chapí and others. They all possess an ineffable
charm and assurance, and remain an important part of his discography.
Marston can always
be relied upon to provide superb documentation with excellently
produced photographic reproductions. The transfers are very forward,
in house style, and the voice is therefore at the centre of the
soundscape, to its benefit. Finally I ought to add an addendum.
Marston has announced since the publication of this set that two
missing Viñas sides have now been located and will be issued by
them in a Spanish Tenors set. And he has also drawn attention
to some pitching concerns, the main one of which relates to CD
1 track 4 – an aria from Die Walküre. He suggests variable speed
play for those who have it to see whether it’s sung at score pitch
or has been transposed. For what it’s worth I tend to agree with
Marston on the latter theory.
Jonathan Woolf
Francisco Viñas
(tenor) 
