Customer Reviews

American Aria: From Farm Boy to Opera Star

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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.

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.

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...

In 1965, I was 13. I was dragged kicking and screaming to the opera at the Old Metropolitan Opera House in New York City. Little did I know that evening would change my life. I saw Faust and the debut of two singers - Monserrat Caballe and Sherrill Milnes. Now I have to tell you, I didn't know much about voice at that time, but the young Milnes sure looked good to me! And when he sang Avant de Quitter ces Lieux - well, I was hooked. His voice was a remarkable thing. Terribly American in quality and that was a wonderful thing. Here was a big strapping lad from the Midwest, singing like an American and filling the house with a remarkable sound.

Okay, so this crush I had hasn't dwindled any since '65. I still have an infatuation for the guy. When his biography appeared I ran to the bookstore to buy a copy. I read it from cover to cover and (sigh) it's okay. I think I would rather Milnes wrote about technique or style. He is a wonderful teacher. I have seen several of his master classes and the difference he makes in just a few minutes of coaching is amazing.

Sherrill Milnes brought a sexiness to the opera stage. He gave America its first born and bred baritone (he had no European training). He legitimized the American-sounding voice. These are no minor accomplishments. What this stalwart fan would like is for him to share his knowledge about music. I have seen his Master Class video and the tape he made about Verdi. PBS should snatch him up and have him do a series on opera for young people, teaching singing maybe! That's what I'd love to see.

Sherrill Milnes is indeed a hero of mine. I am in college, and when my voice teacher first mentioned his name to me a few years ago, I have since been enthralled with his talents. I am a young baritone, nothing exceptional, but it was exciting for me to read how Mr. Milnes life progressed from nothing exceptional, as well. In earlier years (i.e. high school and college) he wasn't perceived as the "hot stuff," as he calls it. However, holding onto and trusting the technique of vocal art allowed him to flourish.

Various operatic anecdotes are told throughout the book, and they are quite amusing. Unlike other reviewers, I want to make the comment that I feel this book is not disjunct. Milnes does not jump around; he simply tells his life as it is-- and that is what makes this book so great.

I recently saw Milnes in a master class in New York City. I got my book signed, but I didn't say anything about the book because I didn't read it yet. However, I hope Mr. Milnes is able to read these reviews online, so he is able to know what an inspiration he is. And to all those who are considering buying this book, my only advice is to get it! It is the story of a good work ethic getting you places; it is the story of walking the darkened valley of vocal problems; it is the humorous account of life in the opera world; it is the inspiring story of a distant dream becoming a reality. Such is the life of Sherrill Milnes.

I found this book compelling and very honest. It transcends the normal singer's biography by taking real chances and expressing real opinions. Milnes expertly expresses himself and reveals that he is an ordinary man with and extraordinary gift. Fantastic!!

First, I have to plead some personal bias here. I am a third generation Downers Grove resident, and Sherrill Milnes is one of our more famous native sons. For me the first part of the book, relating Sherrill's childhood in Downers Grove was most rewarding, as it brought back memories of my own. I can still recall many happy Saturday mornings at the Milnes farm learning to ride horseback, and the fieldtrips from school with Sherrill's brother Roe, "The Singing Busdriver". Nostalgia aside, "American Aria" is an entertaining book, very easy reading, and free from the usual "and then I sang..." style of entertainer's biographies. It covers his life from childhood to the present day, the challenges of building a career as an opera star, and the health problems that came close to ending that career. The description of how the Met treated him in recent years, and of the loss of his Met contract is most poignant and disturbing. Mr. Milnes has been, at times, shockingly candid about his personal life, but this serves only to remind us that, though he would seem larger than life, he is just a man like the rest of us -- only with a better voice! You don't really have to know opera to enjoy the book. In many places Sherrill referred to various roles and operas that I had never hear of, but that did not diminish the book, and he was able to make his point even with my limited knowledge of opera. The various "war stories" of performance mistakes and accidents are priceless, perhaps more so because as an amateur "theatre person" of 30 years I have a load of my own war stories and I can relate! Regardless, this story of the "farm boy that makes Good" is a charming story of a wonderful singer and very human performer.

Being an opera singer myself I believe Sherill Milnes gives a very insightful view reguarding the life an opera singer faces. I enjoy the fact that he talks candidly about his vocal problems he had to face and think it informs the non singing public that it is not all glamor and glory, and that it takes work, dedication, and sometimes a lot of stress to achieve the heights of a well respected performer.

Sherrill Milnes is one of the last of a glorious pantheon of great singers who came up and flour- ished during a "golden age" of singing from the immediate post-World War II years into the 1970s. There are many very good and even wonderful sing- ers performing and recording now, but Mr. Milnes and his many famous - and sometimes less well- known colleagues - are a breed apart, in my opin- ion. Read his book for his many stories about them - a couple had me laughing for days! I am very pleased to have heard Mr. Milnes in person several times. He is one of those fortunate art- ists who sound as wonderful live as on his many recordings. Long may he thrive!

I am since a long time (more than 60 years) a passionate of operas and I buy all the books, DVDs or CDs when I can; this book speaks about a very great american baryton (I have many recordings with him); he tells us of his life and it is very interesting.