Customer Reviews

The Twilight of Belcanto: Including an Interview with Virginia Zeani

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This book appears to be self-published. I applaud such efforts, but I think that it's a shame when an author presents himself as poorly as does Mr. Ciampa. This book is nothing more than a disorganized collection of anecdotes (mostly other people's), received wisdom, lists of famous singers, paeans to favorite singers, catty remarks about disliked singers (as well as certain conductors, producers, and other critics), and a few not very helpful, informative, or specific remarks about "technique". Despite the title, I still have no real idea what the author means by "belcanto". There are bits and snatches of insight (for example, an interesting discussion of the various "e" vowels, and a bit about "bocca rotonda"), but these are poorly organized and Mr. Ciampa usually fails to provide singer-specific examples of such matters. If there is another edition, it would be helpful if, for example, Pertile (a favorite singer) and others were used to illustrate the more general points that Mr. Ciampa tries (and fails) to make.

Mr. Ciampa would appear to have a pretty good idea of what constitutes good singing - at least, his opinion and mine coincide well over 90% of the time. His choices for "essential listening", sprinkled throughout the book, are generally sound. The problem, among others, is that he does a very poor job of explaining those opinions. If he likes a singer, then that singer is good, AND is an exemplar of "belcanto". If he dislikes a singer, then that singers is bad, AND is not an exemplar of belcanto. For example, he is a great admirer of Heppner (as am I), but Mr. Ciampa does little to explain what there is about Heppner's singing that he likes. Instead, the opinion would appear to be based upon Heppner's repertoire choices, which include a lot of Tosti, one of Mr. Ciampa's favorites.

Other material simply doesn't belong here. There's a retelling of the Bjoerling/Solti/Culshaw/Ballo story with a very obvious bias. Eight or so pages are devoted to Roald Reitan's version of Warren's onstage death. Does anyone really care exactly which line was Warren's last before he collapsed, particularly when Mr. Ciampa repeats the old conclusion that Warren died of a cerebrovascular accident (this is absolute conjecture, since no one actually knows whether it was a CVA or a sudden cardiac death, and most opinions favor the latter)? I'm always happy to see such matters discussed on an Internet opera forum, but what are they doing in a book entitled "The Twilight of Belcanto".

Among the other egregious problems with this book is Mr. Ciampa's choice of "experts", and his method of research. It would appear that Mr. Ciampa waits around for people (but only people he considers trustworthy) to tell him which singers he should hear, rather than seek them out for himself and form his own opinions.

"The Twilight of Belcanto" is not entirely without its moments; there are occasional good lines, such as (about Mario del Monaco) "Everything he sang was like a hungry stray dog ripping apart a slab of raw meat." And some of the stories about little-known divos and divas are entertaining. But such moments are poor compensation for the endless pages of tedium.

From the get-go, Mr. Ciampa removes the myth of "What IS the Belcanto technique?" He defines it, clearly and succinctly, in the Preface, before even embarking on Chapter 1. At the same time Mr. Ciampa shows that he is anything but a xenophobic Italian who likes only Italian singers. For whose is the first name he mentions among archetypes of Belcanto? Melchior! The choice took me aback at first, but then I thought about it and said, "Oh yeah, he's right."
It's very obvious, as one proceeds into Chapter 1, that this is a partly autobiographical, partly historical journey. Anyone who is expecting one or the other might be bitterly disappointed, I suppose. However if you can get past what you think the book SHOULD be, you will appreciate what it IS: personal, intelligent, insightful, informative, entertaining. A grand and impressive achievement, shedding a light on the true Belcanto that is unique in the literature.
And an unexpected and quite extraordinary bonus, Mr. Ciampa includes a whole chapter on technique. This I did not expect: for Mr. Ciampa is not only a historian/commentator/critic/whathaveyou of old time singers, but apparently he understands how they sang from a technical point of view. And through it all, through the sarcasm and disappointment towards the "canbelto" singers of today, Mr. Ciampa seems to imply that it is, indeed, still possible to sing in the Belcanto way. It is this that the author most passionately desires.
Really an unexpected and quite extraordinary book, quite worthy of anyone's permanent coffee table collection.

Writing (and publishing) a stupid and ill-conceived book intended as a libellum against voice teachers and singers, but that comes out as a pedantic claim of "I-know-it-all-and-if-you-have-never-heard-this-and-that-obscure-singer-that-I-just-discovered-two-months-ago-you-are-an-imbecile-and-must-learn-from-me".

Notwithstanding the premise of the book is true i.e. the great tradition and the great singing is absent even at the called top level of the profession, this book stands as a HUUUUGE misake and a bad attempt to support the author's claims.

First of all, it's based merely on personal impressions put in a very, very arrogant manner and even disrespectul one towards the reader. It seems this guy has some mental disturb as he is convinced that he holds the key to the "singing paradise" because he (thinks he) knows the secrets of the masters of the past. The truth is he bases his statements on HIS sound conceptions of who sounds as a bel canto singer and who does not. There was very little research on his part to base such claims. He could acknowledge that he is only passionate about singing and let great singers, such as Zeani, speak about the things he has not a deep understanding. Even Virginia Zeani, whom he interviewed, contradicted for example his cynical and between-the-lines claim that Pavarotti and Domingo were not great technicians.

Moreover, we learn from the "great guru" that Corelli knew nothing about Bel Canto and was not a great technician, that Pavarotti and Domingo were sucessful only because they had powerful media support, that Kraus had a perfect technique and sang above the passagio covering (even if Kraus himself declared the contrary and as if the deterioration of his timbre through the years were not evidence of it), that Bartoli is not a superb vocalist, that Callas did not had a solid and great technique, that Florez needs to learn (take notice of his "brilliant" insights) how one does the passagio properly because he sings his vowels open...well, I could go on with the rubbish this man wrote, based on the weeping common to certain melomans, eternal widows and mourners of deceased singers....but I'll spare you of the many pages of insults and unhappy comments.

On the section he dedicates to technique you only find extracts from others books and singing treatises and some useless commentary that reveals his ignorance on the subject and his wrath towards the singers and voice teachers with whom he has worked. He seems to be in a particular quest to prove that all Boston singers and voice teachers are incompetents and that only HE knows what he is talking about, when he clearly has only some hints of it. For example, he assumes that the simplistic adages (which are much more complex that he can imagine) of the old school can be translated in two simple recomendations: good breathing and proper formation of the vowels. He ignores that many voices of the past were built by the old masters and did not have some of its famous skills from the beggining. He ignores that at least 70% of tenor voices must have their tops built carefully and how difficult it is to sing literally on the edges of the vocal cords. He ignores that ignoring the larynx (as he suggested when agressively bashing one of Coffin's book) was anything but the procedure of the old masters that from the castrato days had in mind how important was to establich a low larynx position. The true appogio of the Italian school, of which he speaks fallaciously, is not based only on the breath, but rather on the relation of the breath and the proper adduction of the folds. That's why a singer like Corelli who displayed a magnificent range of dynamic and a great understanding of what bel canto technique means also could use the more modern approach of the "affondo", typical of post-Caruso singers and thus sing with more power.

To sum up, the author of this crap he calls a book - and is clearly conviced it deserved to be published - exudes poison,arrogance, perfunctory knowledge of the technic of singing (and I'm being generous) and a deep impression of being a frustrated musician as well as a rather un-ethical and unpleaseant colleague to work with. Not to mention the lack of imagination to write. Self-entitlement syndrome? I don't know. What I know for sure is that no serious singer or musician should work with someone who is so little supportive and empathic towards others. As a singer and musician I say I would never work with such jerk.

"The Twilight of Belcanto" is an informative and interesting blend of opera anecdotes, biographies, and critical assessments embedded by Mr. Ciampa with detailed research, wit, and an obvious passion for great singing.

Today, with few exceptions, vocal talent and artistry have all but been abandoned as essential prerequisites for building a major opera career. In their stead, visual appeal and marketability have become the dominant factors - are true opera enthusiasts really all that concerned about whether Deborah Voight can fit into a slender black dress, or are they more interested in her ability to caress the beautiful lines of Strauss' Ariadne? Why is it that the exquisite soprano Luba Orgonasova (reference her recital disc for Naxos), is less known and less recorded than any of the leading divas of the last decade? Certainly not based on relative talent and beauty of singing! Mr. Ciampa is not detracted in his assessments by these red herrings of "PR" when discussing singers. His book is therefore appreciated for its honest and refreshing reflection on the underlying vocal technique and artistry of singers past and present, with some foreshadowing of the future. And amongst this cast of characters, he does not limit his focus to those artists whose reputations live on - he also shines light on those artists whom operatic history seems to have forgotten. How validating it was to read the author's assessment of the delightful coloratura soprano Gianna d'Angelo ("warmer in style than both Peters and Sutherland, and equally brilliant"). As if his journey through the great artists of the last century were not enough, Mr. Ciampa stops to include a fascinating interview with the enchanting Virginia Zeani, the definitive Violetta, rich in technique and beauty of the singing line.

Like others who are passionate about opera, the author's journey through great singing has been influenced by recommendations of friends and colleagues. What opera lover cannot appreciate and sense the excitement generated by this type of sharing? Indeed, since reading "The Twilight of Belcanto", my own collection of recordings has been enhanced with an aria recital by Margherita Carosio, a soprano whom I had not heard of until I read Mr. Ciampa's praise of her singing.

"The Twilight of Belcanto" is an excellent book that I continue to enjoy and reference and I would highly recommend it is a must read for those interested in great singing.

This is an essential coffee table book for any fan of great singing. Ciampa displays vast knowledge, remarkable insight, and a wealth of anecdotes that are insightful, interesting, and often extremely funny. His wisdom comes from having actually worked with great singers and teachers - he didn't glean a pseudo-understanding from reading a history book or taking an adult ed course. He has lived this.

At the very beginning of the book, Ciampa demystifies and clearly defines "belcanto." No time is wasted: you don't have to read two or three hundred pages to find out what the "belcanto" actually is. His ability to explain the supposedly unexplainable aspects of vocal technique is impressive and incredibly rare among writers.

For serious and intelligent readers, as well as those with a genuine passion, this is a welcome publication.

A truly enjoyable read, this book is sure to please many an opera fan and singer, as well as voice teacher. It is clear that the author is nostalgic of his Italian origins - I can relate to that - and his discoveries of good singing and great voices in Italy is no surprise to me. In this country (Italy) there are many great voices, but the principles of what good singing is and the practice of voice teaching are immersed in empiricism and rivalry, as well as secrecy and confusion. The great natural voices really do not know HOW they do it, if only superficially...For them, it is an instinctive, natural gift which they have improved with study. Hence, I must disagree with him in regards to vocal science. It is thanks to research and the study of vocal anatomy and function that we have come to understand much more about the voice and singing, and have therefore discarded many of the false statements and confusion carried on from the past. Such vocal authorities as Richard Miller and various others affiliated with NATS have done amazing research and have clearly improved the level and accuracy of voice teaching and singing. This book is therefore somewhat superficial at times, making conclusions without any proof or valid explanations. The author is NOT a singer, but has accompanied many singers and voice lessons, and is apparently an accomplished musician, active in America today.
It was a true pleasure, however, to read his conclusion on vowel modification: an honest, determined but amusingly ingenuous approach to finding the answer.
I of course disagree with his criticism that Marilyn Horne is a bel canto singer without the bel canto technique. If you can sing the repertoire so well, you MUST have the technique. Listen to Horne singing "Mura felici". She has an exquisite legato, as well as exemplary fioritura . Her timbre may not always be pleasing and her low notes may be ,at times, guttural, but the technique is definitely there!
His interview with Virgina Zeani leaves much to be desired. I personally felt that it was more of a "dinner" for Zeani. I truly wished for more discussion on technique - which was just vaguely touched upon.
The clarification of Kraus's discussion of vowels deserves merit. This is an example of the confusion and various contradictions within the field of vocal techinique. Sometimes there is insistence on a theory which requires more research and information, such as "rounding the mouth". It is not that simple! His discussion of the "E" vowel is admirable. But to say that all you require to sing well is perfect vowel formation is truly a generalization and oversimplification! How do you pronounce vowels correctly? It is a long and hard road for most of us!
His suggestions on required listening are at times very interesting and at others, perplexing, such as his admiration for Maria Chiara. A trained ear can hear that hers is certainly not an example of belcanto singing! Not to mention Araiza who used to sing well, but what happened to his voice? And he does not even mention one of the foremost examples of bel canto singing today: Mariella Devia.
His affection and esteem for voice teachers he has worked with can be understood and even related to his Italian origin (Iride Pilla), and the comparison of Vittorio Marciano's spontaneity to Mary Davenport's reserved professionalism is so culturally true and amusing at the same time.
As the first reviewer has clearly stated, this book contains many contradictions, but it does open a door to reflection upon the good and bad of singing.
If you are interested in the subject, I would certainly recommend this book.

The Three Tenors. Renee Fleming. Bocelli. That is NOT what this book is about. What a PLEASURE to read the colorful interview with Virginia Zeani, and to read about the careers of Leyla Gencer, Jan Kiepura, Tagliabue, ALL of the great, grand singers who didn't happen to make a "name" quite as big as Lucianissimo's.

But by far the most unexpected and interesting part of the book is an entire section where Mr. Ciampa, with surprising convinction and persuasion, makes a direct connection between the Italian Belcanto and Minhag Ashkenaz. As an opera lover who happens to be Jewish, I don't see how one could not read this chapter. I don't recall that anyone else has ever covered it, or even thought about it.

One of the truly great opera books in my library.

An Amazon reviewer, writing on 11/30/2005 under the pen-name "La Figlia del Reggimento", states: "No one said that the Three Tenors were the three greatest tenors of all time, or even of their time."

Alas! Quite the contrary. Many an opera buff with a long performance memory and many a collector of historical vocal recordings experienced near-apoplexy when a commercial for one of Luciano Pavarotti's fawning PBS "specials" advertised him as "the most important tenor of our time, perhaps of all time." And a survey of CDs that pop up in an Amazon search under the heading "great tenors" illustrates how publicists have been asserting the preeminence of the Three Tenors for the past twenty-five years (there's actually a "great tenors" CD that features only four individuals, the Three Tenors plus Caruso). It's no wonder that an entire generation of opera fans who haven't heard so much as a single note sung by a pre-LP tenor considers Luciano Pavarotti the greatest tenor of all time.

Ciampa's highly tendentious book, THE TWILIGHT OF BEL CANTO, comes across as a sort of CRI DE COEUR, lamenting how operatic practice is in pitiable decline because contemporary singers are manifestly less BEL CANTO-ish than their predecessors. Ciampa's argument is pretty slipshod, however.

"Bel canto"'s literal translation as "beautiful singing" doesn't come close to conveying how the expression is understood by vocal historians. Anybody who's interested in the topic is referred to Henry Pleasants, THE GREAT SINGERS (Simon & Schuster, 1981). Pleasants makes it clear that BEL CANTO, strictly regarded, had its roots in the Seventeenth Century conviction that the human voice is essentially a wind instrument and therefore should be employed in emulation of an instrumental virtuoso's technical proficiency (during the Seventeenth Century operatic performances sometimes featured out-and-out "duels" in which singers competed openly with solo flautists or trumpet players). The BEL CANTO style declined steadily after Gluck, as audiences (and composers) began favoring singers whose performances, rather than instancing primarily instrumental values, were dramatically and emotionally expressive. By the mid-Nineteenth Century, BEL CANTO was already regarded as old-fashioned, and it soon became almost exclusively the preserve of coloratura sopranos (note how many so-called "bel canto" operas of the mid-Nineteenth Century contain "mad scenes" in which the soprano heroine "imitates" bird sounds represented by the playing of a flute). By the early Twentieth Century, "bel canto" had become a phrase of retrospection: it was used to contrast "old-school" instrumental-style singing with the new-fangled VERISMO style that favored expressivity ueber alles.

Now, anybody can play games with semantics, tricking out a definition of "bel canto" that will support a given historical thesis or will include/exclude a given singer. Ciampa's own definition is clearly at odds with historical precedent, however. He insists that discussion of BEL CANTO must distinguish between STYLE and TECHNIQUE, as if the strictly-conceived historical notion somehow failed to do so. Then without the slightest concession to what vocal historians have been saying for the past one hundred years, he arbitrarily pins his own notion of BEL CANTO on technique to the exclusion of style, thus skewing his argumentation in all the wrong directions. Ciampa claims on page 20, for example: "If you look at the TECHNIQUE OF Gigli and Pertile, you find an almost unfathomable command of the vocal apparatus and every aspect of it." Ciampa's facile generalizations, though, can easily be tested by auditing singers' recordings. Case in point: the ability to sing a trill is a matter of technique, not of style. Neither Gigli nor Pertile can do it; but Placido Domingo can.

Ciampa can gripe all he wants, in fact, about how the Three Tenors don't measure up to earlier tenors BEL CANTO-wise, but a straightforward technical face-off between, say, Beniamino Gigli (1890 - 1957) and any of the three tenors in selections from the BEL CANTO repertoire will often favor the latter. Take, for instance, "Il mio tesoro" from Mozart's DON GIOVANNI, Act II, scene xiii: compare Gigli's recording (Victor 15601, 5/1939) with Placido Domingo's (RCA Victor LSC-3083, 9/1968). There's no question but that Domingo's performance comes closer than Gigli's to the BEL CANTO ideal.

I too am a fan of Beniamino Gigli and Aureliano Pertile (1885 - 1952), but, sorry: neither of them is a BEL CANTO singer. True, Gigli had a beautiful voice, and he often sang beautifully. However, as a performer, Gigli was VERISMO all the way. Neither his expressive devices nor his vocalism as such conformed to BEL CANTO values. As already remarked, he lacked a trill; also, his divisions were often smudged and aspirated. Nor would a BEL CANTO singer be caught dead snatching a breath in mid-word the way Gigli did while singing the Act II, scene ii, aria "No! Pagliaccio non son!" in his complete recording of Leoncavallo's I PAGLIACCI (Victor LM-249, 7/2-5/1934).

And yet...and yet...and yet..., not every BEL CANTO death-match will be won by the Three Tenors. Compare Giacomo Lauri-Volpi's (1894 - 1979) electrical recording of "A te, O cara" from Act I of Bellini's I PURITANI (Victor 7226, 1/16/1928) with either of Luciano Pavarotti's commercial recordings, one from his second recital disc (London OS 26192, 1970) and one from his recording of the complete opera (London OSA 13111, 1974). Arturo, the opera's leading tenor role, was composed for Giovanni Battista Rubini (1795 - 1854), the very archetype of the BEL CANTO tenor. Lauri-Volpi, like Gigli and the legendary Jean DeReszke (1850 - 1925), a pupil of Antonio Cotogni (1831 - 1918), made his 1919 operatic debut as Arturo in I PURITANI, singing under the stage-name "Rubini": in his electrical recording, he delivers "A te, O cara" with exceptional tonal shading and the utmost interpretive delicacy. Pavarotti, by contrast, comes off as the proverbial bull-in-a-china-shop, delivering the aria in unrelenting full voice without a trace of Lauri-Volpi's technical facility or stylistic sensitivity.

Ciampa's book makes for interesting reading, and its verdicts about singers are sometimes insightful. But forensically, the book is a mess. If there's one lesson to be gleaned from reading lots of critical reviews, it's that a consensus about opera singers is hard to come by. It's a commonplace that a great artist may also be extremely controversial. Many singers achieve historical prominence despite having salient vocal, technical, or stylistic flaws. Take Maria Callas, for example. Or Beniamino Gigli and Aureliano Pertile, for that matter. Anyway, taste in operatic performance, as in so many other things, is a highly personal matter. One listener will adore the great Nineteenth Century tenor Fernando DeLucia (1860 - 1925), routinely held up as a paragon of BEL CANTO; another can't stand him. Ciampa's judgments are likewise all over the place. This singer he likes; that one he doesn't. So what? The same singer can perform brilliantly in one selection and abysmally in another. What does this tell us about BEL CANTO?

Ciampa's TWILIGHT OF BEL CANTO is entertaining, but as serious criticism, it needs to be taken with the proverbial grain of salt.

This book is truly terrible.... I can't believe I bought it...

Really Crazy stuff, especially the advice on singing which is il-conceived crap... not from Zeani at all. Just don't waste your money!!!!!

You thought you knew about opera and singers? NOT! Revisionist is an understatement. Ciampa -- who is this guy? where did he come from? -- takes centuries of opera history and opera techniques and sets them all straight. All is written with a style that can only be called "infectious." You pick up the book and before you know it, you're on page 200.

Wow, this book is really going to make the MET take notice. I'll bet Opera News does their best to ignore the book altogether. If they can. If I can give this book one word, it's "unignorable." A staple of opera literature.