E La Solita Storia Del Pastore Lyrics

[Reginald Hanfy]

la solita storia del pastore" , also known as "Lamento di Federico", is an aria from act 2 of the opera L'arlesiana (1897) by Francesco Cilea. It is sung by Federico (tenor), who is deeply in love with a girl from Arles, the Arlesiana of the title, but his family has arranged his marriage with Vivetta. Vivetta has always loved Federico since childhood and is disappointed to know of his love for l'Arlesiana. When he has been left alone, Federico reads the letters of l'Arlesiana (which prove she has another lover) and ponders them with his broken heart.[1]

The Lamento was obviously a favourite of Mario's, since he began many

of his concerts with the aria, blithely unconcerned about the high B

natural near the end - a potentially dangerous note for a recitalist's

first number. This tells us how comfortable he was vocally, as it's

fairly standard practice for singers to warm up their voices in

recital with a few undemanding pieces before tackling something this

difficult.Of course, many tenors choose not to sing the high B - Carreras is one

of them - and we can hardly blame them for avoiding a killer note that

isn't even in Cilea's score. (Though if you've got the note, then why

not flaunt it? :-)) It was Gigli who started the tradition of

interpolating the note, as he explains in an interesting section of

his autobiography:"Some critics [...] reproached me for introducing into the concluding

phrase of the aria a B natural which they could not find in the score.

I did it with Cilea's full consent. Federico is expressing all the

pent-up sorrow of his life; I felt convinced this this called for a

dramatic crescendo at the end of the aria, not a lyrical fading-away.

'Mi fai tanto male - ahime!' No, I could *not* let my voice trail off

on that 'ahime'! I had to sing a B natural if I was to sing it at all.

Cilea not only came around to my point of view; he told me that he

liked it much better than what he had written himself. The audience

seemed to like it too, for they invariably demanded an encore."I think Gigli's right: it's something of a letdown when singers omit

the B, and I for one *need* that "dramatic crescendo". But it's

interesting that Cilea ended up agreeing with Gigli about its

emotional validity. Gigli, incidentally, is quite frank in his book in

his assessment of Cilea the man and the composer:"[Cilea] was a man of stern moral and artistic integrity, a little

old-fashioned and perhaps not greatly inspired. The thing about him

that appealed to me most was his innocence. There is not very much to

be said about his music. It is gently idyllic, lacking in vitality,

derivative. Here it recalls Verdi, there Ponchielli, in another place

Boito, and throughout, inescapably, Alfredo Catalani. But it has a

lyric beauty and melodic elegance of its own with which I feel a

certain affinity."Gigli was certainly right about the melodic lyricism of Cilea's music

(Adriana Lecouvreur - his most well-known opera - overflows with it).

And this is especially true of the Lamento, which is also one of the

most hauntingly melancholic arias in the tenor repertoire.That is, of course, if it's sung in the style that its composer

intended. Of Lanza's four complete versions, for instance, only one of

them - his 1948 Toronto performance - is sung lyrically (and in the

appropriately lyric voice). On his 1955 and 1958 versions, Mario sings

the aria as though were a dramatic aria. And yet it works! The Albert

Hall rendition, in particular - sung in a voice that's even darker

than it was in Serenade three years earlier - is a very long way

indeed from what Cilea intended, yet it's a supremely exciting piece

of singing. In fact, the audience probably didn't know quite what had

hit it - which might explain their somewhat restrained response to

this, the opening number.But certainly the words of the aria do nothing to discourage a

dramatic approach, e.g., "I will never find peace! / Why must I suffer

so much pain? / She, always she, talks to my heart! / Fateful vision,

go away! Ah! You hurt me so much! Alas!", etc. Who can therefore blame

the tenor who interprets such sentiments with Mediterranean passion

rather than with dignified restraint?(Interestingly, Nicolai Gedda, who was present at Lanza's first Albert

Hall concert, adopts a similarly dramatic approach to that of Mario in

one of his concert performances of this aria.)Is there a perfect Lanza rendition of this aria? Probably not - though

I've yet to hear a version by anyone else that's more compelling than

either the Albert Hall or Serenade versions or as touching as the

Toronto performance. The Toronto version would almost certainly be the

purist's choice of Lanza's renditions, notwithstanding the fact that

Mario makes up an entire line :-) (He sings, "La pace solta e' solo a

me" - a line that makes no sense - instead of "La pace sol cercando io

vo'", but what a recovery he makes!)Usually, I find it easy to identify my favourite Lanza rendition of a

particular song or aria, but not in this instance. For years, it was

the 1955 Serenade soundtrack version. In fact, I didn't even know that

an earlier live performance existed until a decade or so ago. Now I

play the Toronto version at least as often as I do the Serenade

rendition - if not more. But listening to the intense Albert Hall

version while writing this post today, I was again reminded of the

fact that, putting aside its stylistic and musical deviations, it's

one heck of a performance as well.So which of Lanza's four versions do you like best - and why? Are

there renditions by other tenors that you prefer to Lanza's? (I

imagine that the Gigli, Di Stefano and Carreras devotees among us will

have plenty to say about these tenors' recordings.) And if you haven't

heard all of Lanza's renditions, then you'll find the Toronto

performance in its best reproduction so far (with its previously

wayward pitch now corrected by our resourceful Vince di Placido) at

the bottom of our files section on this site, and the 1952 1955, and

1958 renditions here: (Files don't stay long at the above site, so be quick!)And for some very interesting technical comments from Armando on

Lanza's four recordings of the Lamento, you may also want to renew

your acquaintance with his post of a few weeks back here: _thread/thread/caa102f4d39a22e1/e790513cfc8c7b26?lnk=gst&q=lamento#e790513cfc8c7b26Finally, here are the words and their English translation: la solita storia del pastore.

Il povero ragazzo voleva raccontarla,

e s'addorm.C' nel sonno l'oblio.

Come l'invidio!Anch'io vorrei dormir cos,

nel sonno almen l'oblio trovar!

La pace sol cercando io vo',

vorrei poter tutto scordar!

Pur ogni sforzo vano,

davanti ho sempre di lei

il dolce sembiante!

La pace tolta sempre a me!

Perch degg'io tanto penar?

Lei, sempre lei mi parla al cor!

Fatale vision, mi lascia! Ah!

Mi fai tanto male! Ahim!It's the oft-told story of the shepherd.

The poor boy wanted to tell it

but he fell asleep.In sleep there is oblivion.

How I envy him!If only I could sleep like that,

and find oblivion at least in sleep!

I'm only looking for some peace,

I wish I could forget everything!

But every effort is in vain,

before me I always see

her sweet face!

I will never find peace!

Why must I suffer so much pain?

She, always she, talks to my heart!

Fateful vision, go away! Ah!

You hurt me so much! Alas!

Of course, the 1955 Serenade version is a wonderful piece of singing

too, and I do prefer the way Mario sings both the opening lines

(especially "Come l'invidio...") here and that astonishing high B at

the end. But the lyric quality in his voice on the 1948 performance,

coupled with the incredible sensitivity of his singing here, gives

this earlier performance the edge, I feel. Mario's also just a little

too histrionic (or "sobby", as Mike would say) in a couple of places

on his Serenade version in a way that doesn't bother me on his equally

thrilling Albert Hall rendition.But we definitely agree on the fourth placing for the poor old

over-the-top Coke Show version! As I wrote in my Amazon review,

Mario's almost hysterical in his anguish here. I partly blame

Callinicos, though: the tempo's much too fast. If the Coke Show

producers could set aside four and a half minutes to Roses of Picardy

or They Didn't Believe Me on these shows, then they certainly could

have given the Lamento a bit more time to breathe. The Coke Che Gelida

Manina's even worse in this respect: they gallop through it!

Mannering's brief for this operatic compendium was to choose an

outstanding Lanza performance that was shorter than four minutes.

Sadly, that ruled out things like the Otello Monologue, the

Improvviso, and Che Gelida Manina.I would have chosen M'Appari' to represent Mario rather than, say, the

1958 Vesti (which doesn't have good sound) or E Lucevan le Stelle.

It's a virtually flawless piece of singing, Lanza's in terrific vocal

shape, and it's the best version I've ever heard by anyone - including

even that of Fritz Wunderlich. The critics would have had a hard time

faulting him on this one - and the public would have loved it.

That it's not Lamento di Federico doesn't take away from the photo, though. Tony describes so clearly how Lanza seems to step away from himself, immersed in the world of the music and lyrics as he sings and it is a wonderful moment that this photo captures.

As another aside, I also ran across something I'd never seen when I was on another research track: the complete October program of Shower of Stars that Vince provided clips of on mariolanzatenor.com and that you write about in Confounding the Enemy. (The press certainly took hold of that earlier lip-synching Shower of Stars, didn't they--see the third and fourth rows of clippings, in the Concert and Operatic Performance Press section, also on the website.)

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