I don't know if this exposition will help, but I'll explain how I came to develop a fondness for operatic sopranos.
Wind the clock back to when my mother was alive, whenever an operatic soprano appeared on the TV, she would call across to me, with words to the effect "turn that down, will you, I can't stand all that bloody screeching!"
For some reason, that she never once revealed, my mother
hated female opera singers with the same level of visceral venom that Julius Streicher reserved for the Jews. I never understood this, and since she never bothered to explain
why she harboured this frankly bizarre hatred, I probably never will. But, once my mother had died, and the dust had settled from the funeral, I one day tuned the radio to Classic FM, and started listening to the music on offer, some of which included various performances by operatic sopranos. I heard, amongst others,
O mio babbino caro performed by Dame Kiri Te Kanawa, and
Die Holle Rache Kocht In Meinem Herzem (otherwise known as the Queen of the Night aria from
Die Zauberflote) performed by Diana Damrau (more on her in a moment), and the late Hildegard Behrens' epic performance of Brunnhilde in Wagner's
Das Ring der Nibelungen.
I was reminded, upon hearing these frankly
stellar talents at work, what makes or breaks a singer vocally, courtesy of some interesting classes in, of all subjects, physics. If you connect a microphone to an oscilloscope, and produce a trace of the output when someone sings into the microphone, one feature you will notice
immediately is that bad singers have oscilloscope traces that are 'spiky', with abrupt transitions in amplitude. Good singers, on the other hand, produce much smoother sinusoidal curves on the oscilloscope trace, and maintain that smoothness of graph even when they are moving into high amplitude output, or notes at the extreme of the pitch range. To the ear, there is an audible difference - the abrupt transitions result in a screech-like sound increasingly being noticeable in the singer's output, whilst the smooth, sinusoidal transitions result in a bell-like quality to the voice. It's possible that my mother was completely unable to discriminate this, and never told me, but I'll never know this now. On the other hand, I
can discriminate this, and it makes a
huge difference to my appreciation of a singer's output.
What makes or breaks a soprano, is whether or not she can hold that sinusoidal curve, whilst pushing the aural envelope, so to speak. The very finest, those at the pinnacle of internationally renowned careers, can maintain that sinusoidal smoothness, even when called upon to deliver power combined with rapid pitch changes. The most adept at this build careers as what are known as "coloratura" sopranos, who take on roles aimed at emphasising that vocal dexterity. The musical devices that appear in such roles, such as trills, are in effect a celebration of that dexterity, they're provided to give the performer a chance to shine with brilliance upon the stage, and composers have been assiduous in making use of these devices for dramatic and emotional effect too. So, for example, we have lyric coloratura pieces, which are light and airy, emphasise the use of sequences of trills, and which are deployed to represent what might be called "floral" emotions - gentle moments of amusement, light romance, etc, and which are often associated with the term
bel canto. Then we have dramatic coloratura pieces, resounding with power and soaring ascendancy into what seems at first to be impossibly high notes, intended to convey raw, elemental passions, frequently of the sort that are referred to in the musical world as
Sturm und Drang, referring to the manner in which sometimes violent emotions appear in the works of 19th century exponents of literary Romanticism. Possibly the classic example of lyric coloratura work is Proch's Variations, a little-known but technically convoluted piece that truly puts the command of trills to the test, and you will be hard placed to find a better rendition of this piece than that provided by Beverly Hoch, whose album
The Art Of The Coloratura is an excellent educational introduction to the whole business of coloratura. Meanwhile, the Queen of the Night Aria constitutes practically the definition of dramatic coloratura, and amongst the best recent performances of this have emanated from Diana Damrau, who has made this aria almost her signature piece, and who combines a truly frightening level of raw power with consummate pitch control.
Then you have those truly exceptional individuals (Callas was one) who are true sfogato coloraturas, with the seemingly impossible dynamic range and breadth of tessitura to command both lyric and dramatic roles with equal ease. To be able to move from Proch's Variations to Queen of the Night and bakk again, takes an exceptional voice, and in her day, Callas was one of those
incandescently talented coloraturas who could move from one to the other, with an ease that was almost mocking in its contempt for the divisions. In her day, Beverly Hoch was surprisingly flexible too, and has a creditable Queen of the Night aria performance in her own repertoire, though the contrast with a dedicated performer such as Diana Damrau is immediately apparent if you listen to them back to back. Hoch still exhibits some lyric coloratura features even when performing that dramatic piece, whilst Damrau gives the impression not so much of being a singer, rather of being an elemental force levelling mountain ranges in its path. The late Hildegard Behrens was called upon to deliver thunder and lightning a-plenty as Brunnhilde during a long and illustrious career specialising in Wagner, and but for the choice of composer, Damrau can be thought of as being heir to Behrens' mastery of the power delivery.
Then, you alight upon voices that pretty much defy standard categorisation, but which are striking for their application of coloratura principles and practice to crossover music, Filippa Giordano and her faerie-like soaring into the rarefied reaches of the musical atmosphere, springs to mind at this juncture.
Once again, I emphasise that the best way to appreciate something, is to study it. Take time out to become familiar with the foundational concepts, and discover how unweaving the rainbow makes the colours
more intense.
