Interview with Piotr Beczala about his first verismo explorations, the corona quarantine and productions that just fill you up.
Piotr Beczala is known as a shining, noble stylist. But that's going to be a little different now. In the coming season, the Polish star will sing his first Radames in an “Aida” at the New York Met. And the 53-year-old also wants to take small trips to the heavier, otherwise, in the dark rooms of the tenor repertoire. All of this is documented on his new CD “Vincero!”.
Just at the New York Met, now in the idyllic Polish house in the forced break. How did that happen?
Beczala:It was a bit adventurous. I became unemployed the day before the dress rehearsal for “Werther”. Since my wife and I had a slight cold, we were not allowed to fly. When we were reasonably okay, all flights were gone. Suddenly it was said that there was a connection from Chicago. So we went head over heels, sat at the airport for almost eleven hours, then went to Warsaw and almost 400 kilometers by taxi to our Polish house. In New York we were in voluntary quarantine, in Poland two weeks in mandatory quarantine. The police came every day to check that we were home. I find it questionable, not only in Poland, that constitutional rights are overridden through the back door. And what still bothers me, not only in Poland: there are experts who are appointed by the government, and everyone else with different opinions should shut up.
What is your forecast?
Beczala: Our profession has a big question mark. I am in a privileged situation. But I know that about 90 percent of the singers fight for their existence. Now bills have to be paid even though there is no income left. I am aware that there are worse fates. Bankruptcies, people who lose their jobs and face nothing - a terrible situation.
About your new album: What does Verismo actually mean to you? Is that a term as flexible as Belcanto?
Beczala: For me, Verismo has to do with honest, direct, more expressive, not artificial art and emotion. Almost the opposite of Belcanto, which is neat, structured, clear. Verismo operas often include performance instructions in the score, such as "con dolore" or "con fuoco". For me, this is not a change of subject, but an expansion of the repertoire.
You once said that you overused your voice at the beginning of your career. Is this now the return to beloved roles, but technically secured?
Beczala: Yes and no . At the age of 20 I gave up my professor Sena Jurinac's advice on Puccinis Cavaradossi and started with Mozart's Tamino. I sang Cavaradossi's arias, even with success with my colleagues, but not the whole lot. With Tamino, I would not have left this impression on the women ... It is difficult to tell whether you are doing it right with Verismo. Thank goodness I have my wife as a critical listener. With Verismo, the tone doesn't have to be beautiful for yourself. There is something robust, primitive, animalistic about it. Only when the sound is projected into the hall does it gain quality and beauty after a few meters. The voice seems to roll from left to right in a kind of free space.
Are there any verismo games that do not suit you, apart from the voice? The bandit Dick Johnson in Puccini's "La fanciulla del West"? Piotr Beczala in cowboy outfit?
Beczala: The whole opera is bizarre (laughs). There is nothing royale in verismo, nothing noble of the kind that I usually deal with. If so, then the blue flowers are the bad, broken. The noble gives the voice beauty, roundness, also the perfumed. But I could sing everything that I recorded here on stage. Cowboy hat or a Sicilian hat in "Cavalleria rusticana" is problematic for me for other reasons: I am not a fan of headgear. Incidentally, this also applies to cylinders.
They often express themselves about excesses of the so-called director's theater. Do you feel safer in Italian than at Wagner, where more experiments are common?
Beczala: I don't know. I haven't had that much experience with Wagner yet. Perhaps it is even worse in Italian because some operas are performed so often that the directors put themselves under artificial pressure. That's why I sing so often in the United States. There the danger is not so great that you have to stand on stage in a terrible production. If you split the engagements across Europe and America, you can deal with directing quite well.
Are you recovering from Europe in America?
Beczala: I have no problems even with the weirdest productions. But that has to stay in the right frame. You can compare it to food. Everything tastes the same in America, there are large portions, but few refinements. It's fun for a while. In Europe you get into haute cuisine, which can be very interesting, but otherwise ... Modern directing is almost like molecular cuisine. Mini steaks taste like cucumbers and vice versa, there are salmon trout balls and so on. Now and then as an adventure, that's okay. But you cannot feed on it every day. You either go crazy or starve.
What do you miss most right now?
Beczala: The audience! In the beginning it was like a holiday mood. I can really relax after decades. I don't have to have anything. I now work a little bit on “Aida” every two days, on songs - but without coercion. I enjoy that. But you can't be lazy, I have to stay in training. I also like to be in the kitchen. I just baked a corona cake. There were a few rotten bananas and kiwis - and I thought: Just make something of it. I improvised. It is not a verismo cake, rather something light from the Belcanto.
The interview was conducted by Markus Thiel.