Nicolai
Gedda (b. 1925) is definitely one of the most recorded singers
in history, possibly only challenged by his exactly contemporaneous
Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau and the somewhat younger Placido Domingo.
All three are/were also among the most versatile of singers.
Gedda, who speaks seven languages fluently and sings in even
more, has made his mark in most genres. In opera he spanned
two centuries, from Gluck to Barber – he was Anatol at the premiere
of Vanessa – even singing Wagner, though on stage this
was limited to one or two performances of Lohengrin in
Stockholm in 1965. I heard the premiere on the radio and even
recorded it on my reel-to-reel recorder, a recording I kept
for many years until it started to deteriorate. His was a marvellous
reading of the role but he realised that frequently singing
such heavy music could seriously damage his vocal cord and wisely
said no to future Wagner singing. Two excerpts from Lohengrin
were however included in a recital with German arias. For
many years, mainly in the 1950s and 1960s, he took part in practically
every operetta recording that Electrola made and he must be
regarded as one of the best tenors in this genre since Tauber.
He sang in oratorios and passions, he recorded arie antiche,
Swedish patriotic songs, he was a great Lieder singer, and was
a near ideal interpreter of French melodies. In Russian
music, both opera and song, he was second to none and his physical
strength paired with high intelligence made him pick and choose
repertoire that suited his voice and allowed him to continue
singing at a very advanced age. I believe he still makes occasional
appearances and as late as 2001 he recorded the part of the
Emperor in the Chandos Turandot. Even later, in 2003,
he sang the High Priest in Idomeneo. In 1992 he celebrated
40 years at the Royal Swedish Opera with a full-length recital,
singing many of the arias one associates with him – the Flower
Song from Carmen among them. No one hearing him then
could guess that this was a 67-year-old singer and not someone
half that age.
The
present all-French recital, recorded during the 1960s and 1970s,
allows many listeners to hear him in partly “new” repertoire.
The songs with piano – at least some of them – were recorded
for French EMI on 1968 with Aldo Ciccolini, but as far as I
have been able to find they don’t seem to be available at present.
Besides Fauré and Debussy he also sang Poulenc and Hahn on that
occasion. I have some of them on one of those compilation albums
that appear from time to time. I hope EMI will reissue all of
them one day. At this concert in 1976 he was still in splendid
shape and everywhere it is a pleasure to hear his care for the
text and his exquisite phrasing. As an opera singer he also,
when he feels it appropriate, invests the songs with drama,
more so than most traditional French or French-oriented singers
who sometimes can be too perfumed for my taste. Of course Gedda’s
superb half voice is exactly right for the intimate pages as
in the third song from Op. 21, Adieu, which is extremely
beautiful. The summer atmosphere of Duparc’s Phidylé
is also memorably depicted, while Fauré’s Fleur jetée
is powerful and generously brilliant. Debussy’s lively Mandoline
is sung with infectious rhythmic vitality. Jan Eyron is as always
the ideal accompanist, pliable and alert.
Berlioz
was no stranger to Gedda. He recorded La damnation de Faust
twice, L’Enfance du Christ, Benvenuto Cellini
and even Roméo et Juliette, but as far as I can remember
his Les nuits d’été was never preserved on commercial
discs. Today we think of these songs as soprano and mezzo-soprano
territory but they were originally intended for several different
voice types and Colin Davis once recorded the cycle that way
as part of his epoch-making Berlioz cycle for Philips back in
the 1960s and 1970s. Looking at the texts it is also obvious
that several of them are from a male perspective. I am not sure
but I think this is the only recording by a tenor. Initially
I even thought it was the first by any male singer but José
Van Dam recorded it around 1990, but then in the original piano
version.
The
opening of the cycle isn’t too inviting. Vilanelle is
outgoing, energetic and not very subtle and Gedda’s tone is
rather hard. The first stanza of Le spectre de la rose
is also rather forceful, but the second stanza is subdued until
the last line J’arrivé du paradis and in the third he
shows his mastery at pianissimo singing. The song that really
makes this a must-have disc is Sur les lagunes where
he is dark-toned. Even without knowing the words one understands
the sorrow: Ma belle amie est morte (My loved one is
dead / I shall weep forever /into the grave she has taken /my
soul and my love). He builds up the stanza with expansive, chilling
intensity only to soften the tone to a gripping, hushed, extremely
concentrated Ah! Sans amour s’en aller sur la mer! (Ah!
to go loveless to sea!). I have to admit that the English translation
I have quoted is sadly lacking in poetry but it gives the gist
of the poet’s sorrow. He is deeply involved in Absence,
contemplative in Au cimetière and sings the concluding
L’île inconnue with a mix of exuberance and poetry. My
favourite recording of this song cycle is since many years Régine
Crespin on Decca, a version that I won’t easily be parted from.
For a quite different approach I will probably return to Gedda’s
now and then. Crespin, by the way, sings songs 3 and 4 in reversed
order.
The
excerpt from Pelléas et Mélisande is sung in Swedish.
It is interesting to hear Elisabeth Söderström in a role she
made very much her own and which she recorded ten years later
with Pierre Boulez, a version that still counts among the top
contenders. She is undoubtedly more youthful here and just as
involved and it seems that both singers inspire each other to
great things. Gedda is certainly one of the most engaging of
Pelléas assumptions but as far as I am aware he never sang the
role on stage. This present recording is from a concert performance
where towards the end of the scene we also hear the sonorous
and likewise involved Kim Borg as Golaud. The orchestra is thinner
than on the Berlioz but it is still more than acceptable. Led
by one of the foremost French conductors the excerpt has the
stamp of authenticity.
There
are no texts but Stig Jacobsson’s liner-notes are informative
on both composers and music. For Gedda admirers this is an essential
buy considering that the Berlioz and Debussy and possibly the
Duparc are new to his discography.
Göran
Forsling
Nicolai Gedda (tenor)
