The history of singing dogs goes back
to the mid-1950s and older readers
may well remember a record that was
released in 1955 with among other
songs a howling version of Jingle
Bells.[sample]
This was however a different
kind of singing dogs than Nimbus are
now proud to be able to present to
the record buying public. The man
behind that venture was the legendary
Danish ornithologist Carl Weismann
who had been specialising in recording
bird singing for the Danish Radio.
His problem was that the recordings
were often disturbed by barking dogs
and he spent hours and hours cutting
out the cries, which in those days
had to be done manually with a pair
of scissors. Mr Weismann ended up
with an enormous amount of tape snippets
with barking and instead of throwing
them away he cut them together to
form Jingle Bells – just for
fun and for possible use in a radio
show for children. The tape ended
up as an RCA record in USA, selling
several hundred thousand copies, in
the UK it was released by Pye-Nixa
and in Sweden the Metronome label
issued it. It was often heard on the
radio at Christmas time when I grew
up and I especially remember the family
cat sitting fixed before the radio
receiver, listening with awe and disgust
– even joining in and, of course,
in the wrong key.
What we have on the
present Nimbus disc, the first in
a planned series, is the outcome of
the discovery of the New Guinea Singing
Dogs (NGSD), which was a sensation
in 1957, when a pair of the species
was brought to a zoo in Sydney, Australia.
They were regarded as a subspecies
of the domestic dog – probably derived
from the standard poodle but also
closely related to the Australian
dingo. By interbreeding these two
species the German musicologist and
zoologist Wolf Schäfer has been
able to beget individuals with a special
sense for pitch and after many years
in Australia he brought a group of
six particularly musical female dogs
to UK in 2001. He has tried to train
some males too but their tendency
to cock their legs against microphone
stands during performances was a major
disadvantage. In his exhaustive liner
notes for this issue Schäfer
describes in detail the training programme
and the many hours, weeks, months
and eventually years, where he hovered
between hope and despair. As recently
as September 2007 he had a major breakthrough
and the recording sessions soon followed.
Assessing this disc
is no easy task, since it involves
a quite new attitude to the art of
singing and, at least partly, a new
set of criteria. The sound of singing
dogs, whether in ensemble or as soloists,
is probably an acquired taste and
I won’t pretend that I have fully
digested the new sound world.
The repertoire might
seem a bit odd with a number of hackneyed
pieces from the Central European classical
music, while I would have believed
that music with a South East Asian
or Australian origin would have been
more these singers’ cup of tea – or
rather afternoon treat. However, all
learning, whether by human beings
or dogs, is a matter of conditioning
and reward, and being himself steeped
in the European tradition, Dr. Schäfer
maintains that these dogs have become
so domesticated through his assiduous
work that Verdi and Strauss are today
second nature to them. Still I think
that they have retained a certain
roughness in their voice production
and also a rhythmic freedom that seems
wholly appropriate in solo passages
but in their consorted singing there
is a certain lack of discipline and
as a consequence some of the members
can occasionally be slightly behind
the beat, while others tend to press
on, resulting in less than unanimous
music making. Intonation is another
problem. I am not quite sure whether
it is the singers’ natural talent
or Dr. Schäfer’s intentions that
make them frequently employ quite
heavy portamentos – a way of producing
legato through sliding from one note
to the next. This was quite common
a couple of generations ago: Fritz
Kreisler, Elisabeth Schumann and further
back in time Nellie Melba did so,
and sometimes it works quite well.
Rachmaninov’s Vocalise is rather
beautifully vocalised, even though
the scooping creates a slight feeling
of seasickness. This is more obvious
in An der schönen blauen Donau,
where the waves of the Danube a couple
of times seem to sweep the singers
ashore.
The quartet from
Rigoletto poses another problem.
Here are four distinct characters
whose individual reactions to the
situation are clearly depicted by
Verdi but the lack of true enunciation
of the text, pared with a certain
unwillingness to listen, leaves the
listener in a vacuum – we never get
really involved. Still it is quite
remarkable that they have been able
to study this notoriously difficult
piece.
These are all more
or less concerted pieces, and so are
the 12 Studies by Wolf Schäfer.
He points out in the liner notes that
they are no musical masterpiece –
and on this point I wholeheartedly
agree with Dr. Schäfer – but
he composed them for the basic training
of the dogs and the conditioning and
reward led to their full acceptance
and now they love this music more
than anything else. As studies they
are intended for practicing specific
skills, such as terrace dynamics,
breath control and crescendo – diminuendo
and it is certainly a pleasure to
hear the enthusiasm from the singers.
The Cat Duet by Rossini
is of course a hilariously funny piece
of music and many readers may remember
the live recording with Elisabeth
Schwarzkopf and Victoria de los Angeles
from Royal Festival Hall, who both
lived their respective cats to the
manner born. I can’t believe that
the soprano and mezzo dogs on this
recording have the same affinity for
the feline family and they feel bland
by comparison. It was also a mistake
to include the Queen of the Night
aria with its extremely high-lying
tessitura and the difficult coloratura.
The soloist here has an agreeable
voice but her sense of pitch leaves
a lot to be desired. Even though she
isn’t quite as wayward as Florence
Foster Jenkins on her historical recording
it doesn’t give much pleasure.
To end on a happy
note, however, I have to say that
the bonus track, Moonlight Serenade,
is the ideal encore. It is sung a
cappella at a fair distance from
the microphones and the arrangement
is quite daring with complex chords
and clusters. The feeling of four
werewolves howling at a full moon
isn’t far away.
The piano accompaniments
are more than worthy of the situation
and the recording is almost too realistic.
Even though I have presented some
objections concerning details I am
convinced that this is a seminal recording
that should be in every decent collection
of curio. I urge tone-deaf readers
and cat-haters to invest in the disc
without delay. Others may wish to
wait for future issues, which I understand
will be on DVD.
Göran
Forsling