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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
20 of 20 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
Opera and the Flying Fickle Finger of Fate,
This review is from: American Aria: From Farm Boy to Opera Star (Hardcover)
For about two-thirds of its length, this biography is neither better nor worse that most books of its ilk: so-so writing, episodic organization, lots of anecdotes (what we opera lovers really read these books for), a generous treatment of most colleagues, and a sympathetic portrait of the author. What sets this book apart, and what makes it truly compelling, is the searing honesty of the chapters dealing with Milnes' vocal crisis in the early 1980's. I don't recall another operatic biography that conveys so vividly the panic, confusion and fear of a singer confronted with the sudden loss of The Voice. No doubt every opera singer's worst nightmare is to wake up one morning - or worse yet, to be in the middle of a performance - and find that The Voice has simply gone. This is exactly what happened to Milnes, at the peak of his career as the finest Verdi baritone of his generation, the successor to Tibbett, Warren and Merrill. Milnes takes us through the entire traumatic experience: the sudden onset of vocal problems, the initial confusion and panic, the search for explanation and diagnosis (a recurring hemmorhagic capillary on the underside of the vocal cords), and the long and arduous process of recovery. Milnes also shows the insidious operation of the operatic rumor mill, which in his case included reports that he had throat cancer and was being treated for it at Sloan-Kettering. (I remember hearing this rumor back in 1981, when I was working at the Dallas Opera.) Milnes' book shows how fragile is the career of even the most established and renowned of singers. As a result of his vocal crisis, Milnes had to cancel numerous performances. This, combined with the false rumors being spread about his condition, quickly led to a reputation in the profession for unreliabilty and a consequent falling-off of engagements and recordings. This, in turn, led to fewer opportunities to show that he could still sing well and magnified "off" nights into major mishaps. His relationship with the Metropolitan Opera, once so solid, was damaged and never really recovered. One of the most painful chapters in the book chronicles the deterioration of his relationship with the Met. To many outside the profession, it seems incredible that in the space of just a few years, a singer can go from being an established star of the Met to persona non grata in that same house, unable to secure even token engagements. The callousness with which Milnes appears to have been treated by the Met management is infuriating, especially in light of the fact that there was not exactly a long line of outstanding Verdi baritones to replace him. But it reflects a reality of the opera business, which is frequently unsentimental, unkind and ruthless. A singer is only as good as his last few performances. In the end, one comes away from this book with a deeper appreciation of those who give us opera lovers so many memorable evenings of great singing, but whose fame and career depend entirely on (as Marilyn Horne put it) a tiny piece of gristle in the throat. No wonder some of them sometimes act a bit crazy. It could all vanish overnight, thanks to the Flying Fickle Finger of Fate.
7 of 7 people found the following review helpful:
3.0 out of 5 stars
Not quite what it could have been,
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This review is from: American Aria: From Farm Boy to Opera Star (Hardcover)
Now that Sherrill Milnes' career is winding down after four decades, it appears that the long line of twentieth-century American baritones with the vocal amplitude and stamina to tackle the great Verdi roles (Lawrence Tibbett, Robert Merrill, Leonard Warren et al.) is indeed coming to an end. Opera singer memoirs are a literary breed unto themselves. This one has many points of interest, especially early on. Milnes' recounting of his ancestry, youth, family and upbringing gives a fascinating picture of how a great operatic voice arose out of the farm town of Downers Grove, IL. His early tales of life as a student musician, itinerant opera singer and band member make funny and sometimes harrowing reading. There are many of the usual backstage anecdotes, some very funny, with names discreetly veiled at appropriate moments. Milnes courageously tackles the issue of the vocal crisis that began in 1981 and dogged him for much of the succeeding decade head-on in a separate chapter, the best in the book. His recounting of the terror that overtakes a performer who sees his entire artistic life and livelihood endangered pierces the reader's heart. These pages are written with an honesty and a willingness to put aside ego that is absent elsewhere in this volume. The reader who picks up _American Aria_ hoping for any penetrating self-analysis or significant thoughts from Milnes about the music and operatic roles he sang so well will ultimately be disappointed. About the callous termination of his long and distinguished Met career in 1997 he is justifiably indignant; still, one wishes for some sense that perhaps his abilities had changed and that it was necessary to turn his career in a new direction. Though it is fashionable to denigrate ghostwritten autobiographies, a perceptive co-writer or interviewer in this case might have drawn more insights and revelations from Milnes than he appears willing to give of his own volition.
6 of 6 people found the following review helpful:
3.0 out of 5 stars
Straightforward, non-operatic look at an operatic life,
By
This review is from: American Aria: From Farm Boy to Opera Star (Hardcover)
As a bass-baritone singer, I came to this book wanting to learn from it as much as I have learned from his Met performances and Master classes at Juilliard. And the book does not let you down in that regard at all. In many ways it can be seen being even more exclusive in its readership solicitation than one would expect; written for the professional singer even more than just the opera buff. The anecdotes and informative stories about the perils and joys of a career on the rise, the things a singer must know but can't learn in the studio, the sacrifices made for a lasting art, the joy of being in a safe, supportive place to learn your craft, and of course the funny stories about the legends of the business, keep you turning the page.Unfortunately there are times where I felt as if I am reading a story so specifically designed to highlight certain areas of his life- or to put his life in its entirety in a narrow, safe-for-discussion context- that he wrote it with the same preconceptions of a professor writing a college textbook. It's as if he made a point of not making it literary or dramatically potent to prove a point and to be honest when, as an opera singer, he knows that more often than not in drama is where the real spiritual truths are. At first I figured it is simply his personality to be so deadpan in print when I read some of what he glossed over like a journalist writing headlines, combined with having no intention of being a professional writer of novels or anything else; just wanting to tell his story. But so many fascinating and illuminating events in his life- and the corresponding psychology of the man that had to produce most of them- were summed up in sentences and paragraphs, where they could have and probably should have bloomed into pages and chapters. Again, as a singer I couldn't stop reading about his perception of various operatic roles and his performances of them, and how events in his life were put to use by him in them. But as a man, who has had failed relationships before for reasons both related and unrelated to being a performing artist, he had to tell me more than he just grew apart from both of his wives over time to keep me interested. (I have to admit though, the story of his young son seeing him do an ELIJAH with symphony orchestra soon after he and his wife's divorce, and the child, overwhelmed with pride, love and grief over his absence yelled to him, "Why won't you come home?", broke my heart.) In other words, one of the overarching themes of the book, along with his love of music, his love of women that is not out of control but is almost as powerful, and the obvious subtitle of his rise out of the farm to the houses of Paris, La Scala, Covent Garden, Vienna, and of course the Met, is one that seems to be unstated but equally there. And that for me was unsettling: his unwillingness in life still to subject himself completely to the revealing of the actual architecture of his soul, in both its beauty and ugliness, to gain a greater wisdom and understanding of who he has been and still, with the same voice he had in 1975 or not, singularly is. To some degree he hides his truest self behind the music and career that has revealed him. God only knows what roles he took early on in his career and the perofmance and rehearsal habits that over many years could have built up and contributed to his unexpected vocal trauma in the eighties. We'll never know. God only knows what kind of husband he must have been during the traumatic times he talks about, and during his rise to success beforehand, and if there were any affairs with any of the many great sopranos and mezzos he has workes with. We'll really- unless his ex-wives, God help us, decide to write tell-all books- never know. And God only knows what other personalities within each of his wives he had to contend with before the divorces, as very often women without a recognizable talent that their families would support (or the world would forgive their strange issues for) are attracted to men with similiar issues but an unkillable talent and spirit to match, and find themselves overtaken with envy instead of unconditional love when the honeymoon is over. God only knows which of all his many operatic roles performed he secretly relates to the most. The effect the above forces alone can have on an artist's self-expression, and his emotional/spiritual/professional life, is the stuff of legend. And regardless of what National Enquirer thinking may lead us to believe about their validity, they are extremely important parts of an artist's life story, if it is to be told. He in large part left them out, in such a way as to say to me that they and their implications are known by him implicitly, but left out purposely. Sherrill I'm sure tried his best to keep it from sounding like a tell-all, Hollywood dish-the-dirt biography that wouldn't be worth a damn. AMERICAN ARIA doesn't devolve into that at any time, as far as I'm concerned. But he took too much of his Verdian baritone personality out of it, and played it too safe when speaking of his personal emotional issues the difficult and unexpectedly joyous moments in his development and professional life, and the dramas they- as they do to all of us- made out of his existence. And of course, how he overcame them all to create, WITH them (and his craftsmanship), as opposed to vice versa, the superstardom and honorable life he has lived...
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