Hello All,
These are two
of the 4 things that must be mastered in order for your Italian to begin to
sound idiomatic; singing correctly, consistent vowels, observing double
consonants, proper formation of Italianate consonants and rhythm of
language. By way of these first two
ideas I have two videos for you. First,
Ferruccio Furlanetto singing La Calunnia from Rossini’s “The Barber of Seville”
and Aldo Protti singing the prologue ‘Si, puo?’ from Leoncavallo’s opera “I
Pagliacci.” Furlanetto was born in
Salice in northeastern Italy in the area of Friuli-Venezia Giulia and Aldo
Protti was born not far away in Cremona in the northern Italy in the state of
Lombardy. Protti died in 1995 but
Furlanetto is still very much on the scene and sings in this country a good
bit.
As you listen
to these two singers and follow the scores what do you notice about their
vowels and doubles? One thing to notice
is that the 5 vowels and 2 variations ([o] and [e]) are absolutely pure. As we’ve talked about, this is hard for us
Americans (and especially for us southerners) to do successfully. Your first job is to recognize what you’re
hearing – then we can work on your recognizing what you’re doing!
These are two
virtuoso arias and both of these low voices are pushed to their upper
limits. Do you recognize how these two
men deal with the singing of their vowels differently? Do they sound the same in terms of diction
(also some to do with their approach to their vocalism)?
Do you catch
either not doubling a doubled consonant or rolling a flipped ‘r’ or flipping a
rolled ‘r’?
Si puo - Aldo
Protti
La Calunnia -
Ferruccio Furlanetto
Si puo score
Starts on page 13
La calunnia
score
Translation
Si può? Si può?
Signore!
Signori!
Scusatemi se da
sol mi presento.
Io sono il
Prologo:May I? May I?
Poichè in
iscena ancor le antiche maschere mette l'autore,
in parte ei
vuol riprendere le vecchie usanze,
e a voi di
nuovo inviami.
Ma non per
dirvi come pria:
"Le
lacrime che noi versiam son false!
Degli spasimi e
de' nostri martir non allarmatevi!
" No!
L'autore ha cercato invece pingervi uno squarcio di vita.
Egli ha per
massima sol che l'artista è un uom
e che per gli
uomini scrivere ei deve.
Ed al vero
ispiravasi.
Un nido di
memorie in fondo a l'anima cantava un giorno,
ed ei con vere
lacrime scrisse,
e i singhiozzi
il tempo gli battevano!
Dunque, vedrete
amar sì come s'amano gli esseri umani;
vedrete de'
l'odio i tristi frutti.
Del dolor gli
spasimi, urli di rabbia udrete, e risa ciniche!
E voi,
piuttosto che le nostre povere gabbane d'istrioni,
le nostr'anime
considerate,
poichè siam
uomini di carne ed ossa,
e che di
quest'orfano mondo al pari di voi spiriamo l'aere!
Il concetto vi
dissi . . .
Or ascoltate
com'egli è svolto.
Andiam! Incominciate!
May I? May I?
Ladies!
Gentlemen!
Forgive me if I
present myself alone.
I am the
Prologue:
Since the
author once again puts the ancient masks on stage,
he wishes to
resume the old customs in part,
and he sends me
to you anew.
But not to tell
you, as formerly:
"The tears
which we shed are false!
" No! Do
not be alarmed at our agony and suffering!
The author has
sought instead to paint a piece of life for you.
He has for his
maxim only that the artist is human
and he ought to
write for human beings.
And he took his
inspiration from the truth.
A nest of
memories was singing one day in the depths of his soul,
and he wrote
with real tears,
and his sobs
beat time for him!
Well then, you
will see human beings loving as they love;
you will see
the grim fruits of hatred.
You will hear
the pangs of grief, cries of fury, and ironic laughter!
And you, rather
than our poor costumes as actors,
consider our
souls,
since we are
men of flesh and blood,
and that we
breathe the air of this orphan world just like you!
I have told you
the concept . . .
Now listen to
how it unfolds.
Let's go!
Begin!
Translation
La
calunnia
La calunnia è
un venticello
un’auretta assai gentile
che insensibile, sottile,
leggermente, dolcemente,
incomincia a sussurrar.
Piano piano, terra terra,
sotto voce, sibillando,
va scorrendo, va ronzando;
nelle orecchie della gente
s’introduce destramente,
e le teste ed i cervelli
fa stordire e fa gonfiar.
Dalla bocca fuori uscendo,
lo schiamazzo va crescendo:
prende forza a poco a poco,
vola già di loco in loco.
Sembra il tuono, la tempesta
che nel sen della foresta,
va fischiando, brontolando,
e ti fa d’orror gelar.
Alla fin trabocca e scoppia,
si propaga, si raddoppia
e produce un’esplosione
come un colpo di cannone,
un tremuoto, un temporale,
[un tumulto generale]
che fa l’aria rimbombar.
E il meschino calunniato,
avvilito, calpestato,
sotto il pubblico flagello
per gran sorte va a crepar.
un’auretta assai gentile
che insensibile, sottile,
leggermente, dolcemente,
incomincia a sussurrar.
Piano piano, terra terra,
sotto voce, sibillando,
va scorrendo, va ronzando;
nelle orecchie della gente
s’introduce destramente,
e le teste ed i cervelli
fa stordire e fa gonfiar.
Dalla bocca fuori uscendo,
lo schiamazzo va crescendo:
prende forza a poco a poco,
vola già di loco in loco.
Sembra il tuono, la tempesta
che nel sen della foresta,
va fischiando, brontolando,
e ti fa d’orror gelar.
Alla fin trabocca e scoppia,
si propaga, si raddoppia
e produce un’esplosione
come un colpo di cannone,
un tremuoto, un temporale,
[un tumulto generale]
che fa l’aria rimbombar.
E il meschino calunniato,
avvilito, calpestato,
sotto il pubblico flagello
per gran sorte va a crepar.
The
Calumny
The calumny is
a little wind,
a very gentle little breeze
which numbly, softly,
lightly, kindly,
begins to whisper.
Little by little, mildly,
in a low voice, hissing,
it goes flowing, it goes buzzing;
in people's ears
it enters deftly
and makes heads and brains
stun and blow.
Getting out from the mouth
the clamour grows:
it slowly strenghtens,
it already flies from one place to another.
It seems like the thunder, like the storm
that in the depht of the forest
go whistling, grumbling,
and makes your blood run cold.
In the end it spills over and blow up,
it spreads, it doubles
and provokes an explosion
like a cannon shot,
an earthquake, a rain storm,
a general tumult
which makes the air peal.
And the miserable one who is defamed,
degraded, trampled,
scourged by the public opinion
fortunately dies.
a very gentle little breeze
which numbly, softly,
lightly, kindly,
begins to whisper.
Little by little, mildly,
in a low voice, hissing,
it goes flowing, it goes buzzing;
in people's ears
it enters deftly
and makes heads and brains
stun and blow.
Getting out from the mouth
the clamour grows:
it slowly strenghtens,
it already flies from one place to another.
It seems like the thunder, like the storm
that in the depht of the forest
go whistling, grumbling,
and makes your blood run cold.
In the end it spills over and blow up,
it spreads, it doubles
and provokes an explosion
like a cannon shot,
an earthquake, a rain storm,
a general tumult
which makes the air peal.
And the miserable one who is defamed,
degraded, trampled,
scourged by the public opinion
fortunately dies.
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