While out walking last night---appropriately enough, along a romantically lit river---I listened to Mario's recording of "Love Me Tonight" from The Vagabond King on my ipod. As so often happens when I haven't played a cherished piece of singing in a long time, I fell in love with this rendition all over again. In fact, it took me back to the first time I heard the recording. I was in my late teens, and, happily, it was on a particularly well-reproduced Reader's Digest 6-LP collection I'd bought at a secondhand store. (I say "happily" because, as I later discovered, the sound quality was much poorer on the original RCA Vagabond King album.)
On this occasion, I'd rushed over to the house of a friend of mine---a vibrant older woman who had recently discovered Lanza and who was as mad about him as I was---and we were both heard "Love Me Tonight" for the first time together. We were spellbound, especially since we'd both previously come to the erroneous conclusion that the qualities that had made Mario such a great romantic singer were largely absent from his final records. In fact, this recording revealed a sensuous, earthy quality that we hadn't heard before from him. (I should add that neither of us had discovered the "Mario!" album at this point.) And those effortlessly produced, soaring high As! The first one took us completely by surprise. "He still had it!" my friend exclaimed. And indeed he did.
In theory, this recording shouldn't really work. For a start, it's meant to be a duet between the characters of Katherine and the rascally Villon (a baritone, incidentally, in Friml's score). In fact, I wonder if it was originally intended as a duet on Mario's version, given that Judith Raskin sings with him on several other songs on the
Vagabond King album. When she recorded her contributions a year after his death, Raskin could easily have been brought in to sing the first half of the song, as she does on "Some Day"---or sung along with him at some point. After all, it doesn't really make sense for Lanza to repeat the same verse on his own (reminding us of his similar "transgressions" on his Coke recording of "Santa Lucia" and his live performances of "Marechiare"). Then there's the dated operetta it comes from---a work that produced some beautiful songs, but sounds terribly old-fashioned in its original form, as
this 1943 recording of "Love Me Tonight" reveals. (It's a lovely duet, but the word "sensuous" never comes to mind. In fact, it's hard to believe it was recorded just sixteen years before Lanza's version.)
Then there's the uncertain intonation and odd wobbly/phlegmy moment in Mario's rendition that under normal circumstances would have warranted a retake. But since either RCA or Lanza himself had made the absurd decision to record the entire album in a single evening, retakes (unless absolutely necessary) probably weren't an option. So what we get is a rendition with the kind of blemishes that one might expect in a live performance---and that's how I prefer to regard it :) Of course, it's hampered by poor engineering---even the best reproductions of the recording can't conceal that. Then there's Mario's physical condition at the time, which was far from ideal, not to mention the fact that the album was recorded during one of the hottest Julys in Rome on record (and I doubt there were any airconditioners running in that Cinecittà studio). Romance was probably the last thing on his mind at the time.
But somehow Mario transcends all of the above, as this supposedly ailing man delivers one of his most impassioned and mature readings of a love song. This rendition doesn't conjure up the earnest "boy" of "A Kiss," "Love Is the Sweetest Thing," and other equally winning earlier renditions of English-language love songs; instead it contains a barely disguised erotic element in its frank intensity. We're a very long way indeed from the highly theatrical singing of Dennis King, who created the role of Villon in 1925, or the lyrical pining of tenor Webster Booth in the 1943 revival, as heard in the link provided above.
What I particularly love about Lanza's rendition is how he alternates between long phrases, as on the thrilling "The hours that we know measure our dream of delight" (all done in one impressive breath the first time round), and short punctuated phrases ("Love me/love me/tonight") that emphasize the urgency of his entreaty. Then there's his heightened intensity on the reprise, which contrasts with his more lyrical, longer-phrased singing in the first half (making us happily overlook that he's repeating the words), and leaves the listener under no illusion as to the singer's passionate intent on "Now while I long for you." Has any operatic tenor ever sounded so frankly sexual? I doubt it!
Anyway, here's
a link to a fine reproduction of the recording, together with the lyrics. I would love to read others' thoughts on "Love Me Tonight"---not forgetting, of course, that Muriella has also written some beautiful words about the recording
here.
Cheers,
Derek