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Hiroshi Miyashita / Yomiuri Shimbun    

Argentine tenor José Cura is unanimously regarded by music lovers as the leading figure of the post-Three Tenors generation.

He is popular in Japan, too, partly for his prominence as an entertainer. His recital at Tokyo's Suntory Hall last October was a case in point. The concert started abruptly with a solo from a harpist who played onstage without a conductor, after which Cura began a dramatic offstage solo Romanza from Act I of Verdi's Il Trovatore. Then after coming on stage through a door, Cura ended the number with his hand on the harpist's shoulder. He then said, "Minasan, konnichiwa" (Hello, everyone).

"I make a rough plan for the staging (of a recital)," Cura said in a recent interview. "But the details depend on the reaction of the audience, which is my partner. When you tell your wife you love her, you don't always think about what you will do next, do you? It's the same."

Some purists frown at his stage manner, which often sees him wandering about or sitting down while singing. But Cura disregards such criticism.

"To me, the important thing is communicating with my audience," he said.

Born in 1962, Cura made his professional debut as a choir conductor at age 15. In 1991, he left his homeland for Europe, where he started studying singing seriously the following year. It was not long before he had built up a reputation at the major opera houses in Europe and the United States.

His robust and velveteen voice makes him one of the most gifted lyrico spinto singers of his generation. In addition to a powerful voice, Cura's dramatic interpretations of opera roles has lent might to many a performance.

In 1998, he offered a new interpretation of the role of Radames in Verdi's Aida, performed at New National Theater Tokyo soon after its opening.

"I like to express the background and breadth of the heroic characters I sing. So my Radames is not merely a romantic man, but someone with political ambitions who wants both love and status. He isn't just a noble hero," Cura explained.

Cura is scheduled to visit Japan again in June, this time with the Bologna Opera. He will sing Cavaradossi in Puccini's Tosca. "This opera has a political message related to the French Revolution. Essentially, it is a drama between two men at odds over freedom and oppression, and Tosca, the diva, is in a way like a beautifully prepared salad beside beef steak," he said.

In recent years, Cura has increased the number of his conducting engagements. Last year, he was appointed principal conductor of Sinfonia Varsovia of Poland.

"I started my musical career as a conductor. It's such a joy to conduct an orchestra," he said.

He intends to do more conducting in the future. He has also released several CDs on his own label.

"The less I sing, the longer I will be able to be a singer. The more I conduct, the more I'm able to meet my audience," he said, apparently unconcerned by criticism that he is wasting his talent as a singer by conducting.

But Cura does not intend to stop singing. "My operatic repertory is 32 at the moment. In 2006, I will sing my first Calaf in Puccini's Turandot at Zurich Opera because by then my time to sing the role will have come. I also want to sing the title role of Britten's Peter Grimes," he said.

Avie Signs Agreement With Cuibar Phono Video

Two New CDs Feature José Cura

5 November 2002, London - Cuibar Phono Video (CPV), the recording label of Cuibar Productions SL, has signed an agreement with Music Company (London) Ltd. / Avie Records to issue the latest recordings by José Cura. A joint venture between the two companies will result in two new releases by the artist: Aurora, a collection of opera arias never before recorded in studio by Cura; and Cura's symphonic conducting debut on disc, Rachminov's Symphony No. 2. Both recordings are with the Warsaw-based Sinfonia Varsovia. The two CDs will be released in the UK in December 2002, and in the coming months throughout the world.

Of the signing, Cura said, "I am very pleased that after long negotiations, my own recording label, Cuibar Phono Video, has found in Avie Records a perfect partner for the international marketing and distribution of its first CD releases. I look forward to an exciting joint venture which I firmly believe will create a dynamic and pioneering way forward for the sale of classical CDs".

Music Company Managing Director Melanne Mueller said, "José is a thrilling artist and we are delighted to be working with him and Cuibar. It is a sign of the times that an artist of José's stature and his company embrace the ideals of Avie, which will result in a true partnership in the marketing and promotion of José's superb recordings worldwide".

The 12 tracks on Aurora feature mostly 19th-century Italian operatic fare, including scenes and arias from Norma, Il Corsaro, Luisa Miller, L'Africana, Mefistofele, La Gioconda, L'amico Fritz, and Giordano's Siberia. The CD takes its name from the 1907 opera by Argentinian composer Héctor Panizza, and opens with La Canción a la Bandera from that work. So instantly popular was the aria that it became the official song to the Argentine flag, and, by government decree, a compulsory song in primary and secondary schools throughout Argentina. Aurora also includes a bonus track of outtakes from the recording sessions.

Cura was named Principal Guest Conductor of Sinfonia Varsovia in 2001, and he makes his symphonic conducting debut on disc with the orchestra, performing the complete version of Rachmaninov's Symphony No. 2. Cura's vocal intuition informs his interpretation of the venerable work. His instinctive sense of phrasing creates a naturally romantic, but not overly sentimental, shape to the music.

Aurora and Rachmaninov Symphony No. 2 will be released simultaneously in the UK in December, in anticipation of Cura's appearances on 15, 17 and 19 December with the London Symphony Orchestra and Sir Colin Davis, in a concert version of Saint-Saëns' Samson and Delilah. Cura will also be performing Aurora on Lesley Garrett's BBC television special, to be aired during the week of Christmas 2002.

Aurora and Rachmaninov Symphony No. 2 will be supported by a major retail and media campaign encompassing both classical and popular markets.

Taboo’s downed: José Cura’s ambition to conduct

René Seghers

Luister - March 2002

Translated by Sander

 His name sounds as fresh as dew, but José Cura, visiting the Netherlands on March 15^th, already has arrived in the second, if not in the third stage of his career.

 Besides expanding his repertoire in the direction of the spinto roles, he has added conducting to his list of priorities. As if that is not enough, his CV also mentions his other professions of composer and photographer.

José Cura politely laughs away the two latest additions. “Twenty years ago I composed some songs. Even a Requiem, but it has never been performed. At the moment that is impossible because it’s not the right time for large new projects. With the need of an orchestra of 150 members, a double choir and a children's choir this project cannot be financed. That is why my compositions will only be performed in my bathroom.”

Cura plans to stick to singing and conducting but the tenor is on his guard concerning his ambitions in front of an orchestra. “People want to put everything in compartments. You’re either this or that and I became known as a singer so I have to continue being a singer. In reality I went to the conservatory to conduct. Starting as a conductor is much harder because you are not just handed an orchestra. You much sooner draw attention as a singer.”

Though Cura does not have to complain about his flourishing career, the situation in the world today is concerning him. This is intensified by his Argentinian citizenship. Nowhere in the world has the economic crisis taken its toll as much as in his homeland. In a fine legato-bow he describes the direct connection between the distress in the world and performing practice in the opera. 

“Opera demands long term planning. Not only in booking and contracts but also in sponsoring. There are no risks being taken and that affects new projects especially. The market for classical CDs has decreased. So new CD releases are postponed. Concerning myself, in the last two years two opera films were cancelled due to international political influences: Too expensive! Erato had to close its doors, Warner Music was decimated and other parts of the industry are changing, too. I did a Puccini, a Verdi and a Verismo album. In the Italian repertoire there is nothing more for me, so I have to look to the French repertoire but from the popular French operas, only Carmen and Samson are suited for my voice.” 

On the question of whether the CDs need to be popular, Cura’s answer is crystal clear: “If you do not sell 50,000 copies you’re no longer interesting." 

Horizontal conducting

The dark clouds do not seem to have much influence on Cura’s success because his career has successfully expanded to the conductor podium. As could be expected, reactions differ not in the least because of his extreme personal ideas about pace and partiture, as can be heard on his self-conducted and sung verismo-recital. Cura: "You can approach the music in different ways. Usually it’s vertical, the normal 1-2-3 according to the metronome. That leaves little room for errors but I find that tensionless. The wonder of music is that it is ultimately mathematical… but then again it’s not! It’s all about the spirit of the music and that is why I have this horizontal scope. The vertical, mathematical is the base, the foundation beneath the horizontal aspects of the partiture.”

According to Cura, the true reason for the rigid conducting practice of the past century is that orchestras have to play a much more varied repertoire: “If you have to play all different kinds of music every day, you cannot do without tight rules. Only if you can deal with a certain style for a long period can you develop your own vision. They have to know each other thoroughly or rehearse for extensive periods.” 

There seem to be more practices that need to be discussed, means Maestro Cura: “There are a lot of beautiful Verdi-operas but there are even more poor Verdi-operas. I can understand why they used to cut his operas. If, right in the middle of ‘Trovatore’ --a innovative work for it’s time--you all of a sudden get to sing the archaic ta-ta-ta cabaletta ‘Di quella pira’ you think 'What’s this all about?'.”

Because of his personal ideas the Sinfonia Varsova from Warsaw, which appointed him as principal guest conductor, came right on time. Cura can develop his vision carefreely, starting with…. Rachmaninov. A strange choice for a tenor with a weak spot for verismo. Cura: “I choose to start with Rachmaninov, because I wanted to start with a symphonic work that had never been performed in Warsaw but that at the same time had to appeal to a large audience. That’s how I came to Rachmaninov's second symphony. I’m very proud of this recording. You can discuss the pace and all the other things, but one thing’s clear: the music goes on and on without ever stopping. It’s a fluid performance with an unstoppable flow of energy without having to be the definitive interpretation. My view on Rachmaninov is not the Pope’s final word.”

 

Opera is like Sport

Cura seems to be as self-aware as a conductor as he is as a tenor. Despite being a people’s favourite and one of the rare star tenors of this time, he is not undisputed on the field of his vocal quality – and he is the first to acknowledge his shortcomings. At the same time he adds that Alfredo Krauss was not undisputed either but nevertheless became to be a legend. “He succeeded to bundle his strength and to cover his weak points or to make those weak points his weapon. It’s not your limitations that matter. It’s what you do with them.

"Opera is like sport.  If you want to succeed, you have to overcome those limits one way or another, despite one’s physical limitations as a fragile human being. It takes a lot of hard work and training and you have to compensate on this side what you lack on the other side. The times that an opera singer only needed a voice are over. We live in a television and CD age. Charisma, energy, acting ability and this ‘je ne sais quoi’ that is appealing to the spectators have become just as important.” 

The conversation returns to the theme of the difficulties in the CD industry: “I sing Pagliacci tonight here at the Vienna State opera. Everyone knows this opera and the people that have sung this role here before and they know all the great singers that recorded the part. As a singer and record company you have to add something to that. It’s a illusion that you can do that by just using your voice.”

Another problem that the Argentinian tenor has to deal with is that he is slowly moving to the heaviest roles in the spinto-repertoire. Cura seems to have chosen this in combination with a drastic reduction of his performances. The Pagliacci cycle is his first performance in a month. “The combination of singing and conducting is ideal. Because I sing less than I used to, my vocal cords are more elastic and fresh than they used to be. I even enjoy singing more than before because I sometimes had to sing on routine. I was tired and lost the magic. Not just the voice but even my head is much clearer now.” No wonder that Cura is full of new plans.

As a conductor, in due time, his ambitions include a Sjostakovitsj and Mahler cycle: “Theatrical music is my preference. The late romantic, early twentieth century repertoire. This year I will sing Trovatore, Tosca and Samson et Dalila.” 

Before that he will visit the Anton Philips Zaal in Hague on March 15^th for a special concert. The concert consists of Verdi and Puccini arias and after the intermission various Argentinian songs, a sort of belated marriage-ode to his fellow Argentinian Máxima, now Princes van Oranje Nassau. Cura: “It's very strange: I became closely attached to the Netherlands, especially after this fantastic Prinsengracht concert. What an audience, what a space and freedom to be yourself. It can only rarely be found and suddenly I learn that a girl from my country is marrying your future king! That is why we planned this program with Argentinian art songs. Emphasising the word art because they are classical songs from my country and that is something completely different from the regular South American music.” 

 Anyone missing the concert can catch up with Cura’s planned new album with Argentinian songs, called ‘Boleros.’ It will be available at the end of March (Warner Classics 8573858212)

The "tenor heart-throb," José Cura. PHOTO COURTESY OF CULTURAL FOUNDATION

Cura's coming

By Bradley Winterton
CONTRIBUTING REPORTER

"Tenor heart-throb!" trumpeted The Times of London -- somewhat anachronistic phrasing, perhaps, but what else, sadly, do you expect from opera reviewers? Besides, José Cura, 40, is exactly that.

In the days when opera was big-time it was the tenors who commanded the largest fees, and as the embodiment of the archetypal young lover frequently had an adoring following to boot. José Cura is a contemporary example of this phenomenon, albeit on a lesser scale following the reduced modern status of the art form.

But he is more than this. He has, for example, moved into conducting, and in unusual places -- Poland and Sweden. In addition he has founded his own record label, Cuibar. He is the embodiment of an informal "from the heart" style, both as a conductor and as a singer. His appearance at the open-air Swedish festival of Dalhalla, in heavy rain and with a cold, has entered operatic folk memory.

He has in addition made 11 CDs on established labels (Erato, Warner Classics), both of opera and of Latin love songs.

His visit to Taipei next week is for two concerts. One is a solo recital on Wednesday, Oct. 16, the other a celebrity concert with the National Symphony Orchestra on Friday, October 18. Both events begin at 7.30pm.

For his solo recital, Cura has come up with a program of 21 items in four languages. First are three spirituals (in English), followed by a selection of early 20th century art songs (in French or Italian) by Faure, Duparc and Respighi. After the interval the program is entirely of songs in his native Spanish (he was born in Argentina). One of them he appears to have written himself.

Next Friday's concert consists of items from Italian opera. For these he will be joined by a Taiwanese soprano whose identity has yet to be announced.

The program begins with Verdi (Il Corsaro, Ernani and Don Carlo) and then moves to Puccini (Le Villi, Madama Butterfly). The first half ends with the 17-minute-long duet Viene la sera which concludes the first act of Butterfly and is the finest love duet Puccini ever wrote.

The second half opens with four items from Leoncavallo I Pagliacci (The Clowns). This is one of the operas in which José Cura made his name and which he sang in Vienna earlier this year. The event concludes with three extracts from Giordano Andrea Chenier, an opera about a poet put to death during the French Revolution.

The National Symphony Orchestra will be conducted by the Charles Peebles, well known in British opera circles and visiting conductor with, among other groups, the London Sinfonietta and London Mozart Players.

There are currently tickets at most prices available for Wednesday's recital, but only mid-priced ones (at around NT$1,500) for Friday's celebrity concert. More information can be obtained by calling (02) 2343-1647.

2002/10/16
Nancy T. Lu

The China Post

"I have been performing on the concert stage for more than 25 years," he declared. "For 15 years, I have made the international panorama. I have made the peak of the mountain in the last five years of my 28-year career. That is only the tip of the iceberg. Just like what is underwater supporting the tip, I had trained a lot throughout the years to become successful."

Cura claimed that he started singing onstage when he was 12. He moved to Europe in 1991. Being partly of Italian descent, he naturally chose to go to Italy. He spent five years in Italy before deciding to move to France. He wanted to learn the French language.

After five years, Cura decided that he did not like the long wet months in France. He eyed sunny Madrid. He has lived there since.

Cura will sing at a chamber recital this evening at the National Concert Hall in Taipei. The program will include a song he composed in August, using lyrics penned by Chilean poet Pablo Neruda. This will be a premiere performance. Actually Cura intends to complete a cycle of sonnets on love and death and record them eventually.

Cura is not only a composer but also a conductor. When the name of Argentine composer Astor Piazzolla came up, he expressed regret not meeting him. But he announced that he will be conducting Piazzolla's "Guitar Concerto" soon.

Cura expressed pride in the fact that Argentinian songs would be in his program tonight. Having lived away from his homeland for many years, he feels very nostalgic about singing classic songs by Argentinian composers, said to be comparable to Schumann and Schubert. He described the touching songs as "soft and beautiful" with "the texts full of great sense."

The tenor will also perform operatic arias by Verdi, Puccini and Leoncavallo with the National Symphony Orchestra at the National Concert Hall on Oct. 18. Sopranos Hsu I-lin, Lin Hui-chen and Tang Hui-ju will take turns sharing the limelight with him.

Cura, here on his first visit, took note of the "strong energy in this city." The NSO brimming with energy also amazed him.

By his own admission, he has been spending increasing time in the region in the last few years. At long last, he is discovering Taipei. His recollection of his earliest brush with Chinese culture had to do with Chinese martial arts in Argentina. He even became a blackbelter, he claimed.

Eros, Mellowness, Metal

 (Neue Zürcher Zeitung am Sonntag, July 7, 2002)

 (The original article can be found at http://www.nzz.ch/2002/07/07/fe/page-article89G3J.html)

(translated by Martina)

Star tenor José Cura divides people. He is currently singing Verdi’s Otello in Zurich. A passionate and critical homage by Eckhard Henscheid

José Cura was proclaimed “tenor of the 21^st century” five years ago; in recent years, however, he has had to fight for his incontestable reputation. On the one hand, the marketing behind the tenor was indeed a bit loud, and was therefore rather harmful, provoking aggressions; on the other hand, the proclamation is not completely wrong – and that despite stiff competition. Cura’s Cavalleria partner Waltraud Meier has affirmed that since Domingo, Cura is the first and currently only tenor who sings so beautifully on stage that it is hard for Santuzza to fight back the tears and continue singing in a cool way.

Cura’s contemporary Cecilia Bartoli is worshipped by an obviously crazy public as “everybody’s darling” even if she barks inferior Vivaldi- and Rossini-vulgarisms. As opposed to Bartoli, who has never really mastered an important part from Mozart to Verdi, Cura hasn’t shied away from the toughest of roles in the Verdi, Puccini, and Verismo repertoire, and in contrast to the mezzo-soprano he hasn’t been met with enthusiasm exclusively. In fact, in addition to highest expectations and passionate responses, he has had to deal with strange opposition and almost hostile reactions – and that despite continuous festival-standard performances.

The most difficult role

In Zurich alone, José Cura has sung five big roles in the last five years: Turiddu, Don José, Andrea Chenier, Don Carlo, and a few days ago again Otello, the role he is probably most in demand for all over the world.

 […] Although Cura, with his baritonal spinto tenor, is not really an Otello in the “eroico” or “robusto” mode of a Mario del Monaco or Ramon Vinay, he can still thrill audiences as the Moor. His “Esultate” is so powerful that critics have sometimes accused him of “eccentricity” (NZZ). But when Cura’s Otello, lying on his back, woos Desdemona in “Già nella notte densa – Venere splende,” it is not only women in the audience who are fascinated and excited in view of so much athleticism combined with a noble, mostly nobly used natural voice. […].

If one compares Cura’s muscular voice with the greatest voices of the century, he fares pretty well already. He shares with the lighter lirico-spinto colleagues Pavarotti, Bergonzi, and Tagliavini the “erotic drive,” owing to his timbre; the darker colors of his voce oscura are reminiscent of the legendary Caruso. Cura lacks the ease of the high notes of a Martinelli, and Lauri-Volpi may have produced more squillo metal, but there has never been a universally ideal tenor. As a matter of fact, Cura stands his ground brilliantly against those comparisons, and right now only Shicoff, Alagna, and his fellow Argentinian Marcelo Alvarez can somewhat measure up to his standards. No, the “tenor of the 21^st century” label is not all wrong: it is mainly wiseacres, smarties, and purists who grumble against Cura – and they are not completely wrong either, less because of his show-like solo concerts, but more for his simultaneous singing and conducting, and maybe for the fact that he could still learn something about the Verdi style, perhaps from Carlo Bergonzi.

 The Latin Lover trap

“Niun mi tema:” by the end of Otello all concerns have usually vanished; even the most purist ear “languisce il cor.” Why has Cura gotten the reputation of a Rambo and macho, which would be so much more appropriately attributed to Bonisolli? On the stage, the Argentinian is least of all macho, narcissist, self-indulgent, and sloppy. In Zurich his extremely carefully chosen gestures and mimic nuances in Chenier and José were most striking. And the fact that he once got aggressive toward a vandalizing anti-claque? He was right.

In a lot of ways Cura has fallen victim to the dilemma of the modern-day opera-media-business, and he rightly complains about it: if he sings “E lucevan le stelle” as intended by Puccini – subdued, tender, morendo – then even the reputed connaisseurs at the Vienna State Opera respond coldly. However, if he shouts the melancholy melody at the top of his lungs, he receives enthusiastic ovations.

It is a fact that Cura’s visually plausible Latin Lover image has hurt him more than helped. Critics have become infected by the nonsensical idea that a person who is so good-looking cannot possibly sing beautifully at the same time. CD reviews from the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung to the Berliner Tagesspiegel display yet another facet of nonsense: repeatedly – and mostly unjustifiably – they accuse the singer of trying to appeal to women by posing in photos; yet they use those very same pictures and headings in their reviews to attract readers.

And even the most wonderfully delivered high B (Cura, like Caruso, Bergonzi, or Domingo rarely sings the high C) is powerless in view of such an abstruse media circus.

 

Original Language:   Eros, Schmelz, Metall Der Star-Tenor José Cura entzweit die Gemüter. Derzeit singt er in Zürich Verdis «Otello». Eine so heftige wie kritische Huldigung von Eckhard Henscheid   7. Juli 2002, 02:10, NZZ am Sonntag

Wohl liess sich José Cura schon vor fünf Jahren lautstark als «Tenor des 21. Jahrhunderts» ausrufen; dennoch hatte er diese letzten Jahre über fast allezeit um seinen unangefochten guten Ruf zu kämpfen. Einerseits war das Marketing des fast futuristischen Solitärtenors tatsächlich ein bisschen arg krähend und also mehr schädlich und Aggressionen weckend; andererseits ist es - bei gar nicht geringer Fachkonkurrenz - trotzdem auch nicht ganz falsch: Keine Geringere als Curas ähnlich Superlative kitzelnde «Cavalleria»-Partnerin Waltraud Meier bestätigt kompetent, seit Placido Domingo sei der Argentinier der Erste und momentan Einzige, der auf der Bühne so schön singe, dass es Santuzza schwerfalle, tränenunterdrückend selber möglichst cool weiterzumachen. Anders als die vielfach vergleichbare Generationsgenossin Cecilia Bartoli, die von einem offensichtlich einfach närrisch gewordenen Publikum als Everybody's Darling auch dann noch behuldigt wird, wenn sie bloss reichlich inferiore Vivaldi- und Rossini-Vulgäria herunterzwitschert und notfalls -bellt -; anders als die Bartoli, die von Mozart bis Verdi so gut wie noch nie eine wirklich bedeutende Partie gemeistert hat, hat Cura im Verdi-, Puccini- und Verismo-Fach Anstrengendstes nicht gescheut - und dabei aber keineswegs wie die mollig-identifikationseinladende Mezzosopranistin nur Sympathien erweckt. Sondern ausser herzklopfender Höchsterwartung und häufig Begeisterung auch allerlei sonderliche Widerstände, ja bisweilen richtiggehende Feindschaften erfahren müssen. Und das bei gleichzeitiger ständiger FestspielstandardGewärtigung. Die schwierigste Rolle Allein in Zürich hat José Cura im letzten Halbjahrzehnt fünf grosse Partien aufgeboten: den Turiddu in «Cavalleria», Don José in Bizets Meisteroper, die Titelrollen von «Andrea Chenier» und «Don Carlo» - und vor einigen Tagen wieder jene Partie, in der er weltweit wohl am begehrtesten ist: den verdischen Otello. Drei Zürcher Vorstellungen stehen noch an. Cura könnte, wenn er wollte und sehr dumm wäre, wohl 365 Tage im Jahr weltweit und höchsttaxiert den Helden des «Schokoladen-Projekts» (Verdi) bestreiten. Dabei ist er, wie Domingo, strengstgenommen gar kein richtiger Otello. Sein sämig baritonal grundierter Spinto-Tenor ist kaum der stilistisch erheischte «eroico» oder «robusto»; ganz rollendeckend exzellierten im letzten Halbjahrhundert aber wohl eh nur der Chilene Ramon Vinay und Mario del Monaco - freilich genügte dem wagnergesangähnlichen Schwerstgewicht auch Verdis Uraufführungstenor Francesco Tamagno kaum. Cura aber, wie sein zeitweiliger Förderer Domingo, kann an guten Tagen als Mohr trotzdem hinreissen, sein «Esultate»-Entrée ist von so stupender Kraftentladung, dass Kritiker umgekehrt nicht immer grundlos «Überspanntheit» (NZZ) und für den Fortgang im Sinne einer figuralen Differenzierung und Steigerung «Monochromie» (ebd.) bemäkelten. Aber wenn er, Cura-Otello, zumeist im halben Liegen darauf seine Desdemona anschmachtet: «Già nella notte densa - Venere splende!» - dann hat diese beinahe athletische Provokation der Tenorrivalen im Verbund mit der genuin generösen, edlen, fast immer auch edel geführten Naturstimme des «Kraftpakets aus Argentinien» («FAZ») oft eben schon jene Erregungsmacht, die nicht allein unsere eruptionswilligen Frauen erglühen lässt und heimlich mitten im Opernhaus umwirft. Bis zuletzt war allerdings immer zu hören, dass der in Rosario geborene «Mann, den die Frauen lieben» («Rondo») mit einer Französin richtiggehend lammfromm verheiratet und ein besonders betulicher Vater ist. Auch wenn er zuweilen, vor den Augen des Autors dieser Zeilen, dann doch herzflimmernden Verehrerinnen mit Filzstift einen mysteriösen Strich («vorgemerkt»?) auf den Unterarm malt. Vermisst man aber Curas erst im zweiten Anlauf mit der kleinen Puccini-Oper «Le Villi» entdeckte Muskelstimme mit den ganz Grossen im Sinne einer Jahrhundertmeisterschaft, dann schneidet der vom «Spiegel» etwas deppert als «Erbe von Pavarotti und Domingo» geführte gelernte Chormeister-Dirigent schon heute nicht schlecht ab. Den timbreverdankten Erotic Drive des Vortrags teilt er tatsächlich mit dem etwas leichtergewichtigen Lirico-Spinto-Kollegen Pavarotti, auch mit den Denkmälern Bergonzi und Tagliavini - die dunkle Braunfärbung der Voce oscura ist dem legendenhaften und laut Puccini gottgesandten Celloklang Carusos gar nicht allzu fern. Zwar fehlt Cura die unendliche Mühelosigkeit der Spitzentöne eines Martinelli, und im Produzieren von «Squillo»-Metall ist ihm zum Beispiel Lauri-Volpi über - aber: Einen Universalidealtenor hat es nie gegeben, summa summarum, im Integral, hält Cura sich auch bei Jahrhundertperspektiven bravourös, und momentan sind ihm wohl nur Shicoff, Alagna und der Landsmann Marcelo Alvarez einigermassen beachtliche Widersacher. Nein, ganz geschwindelt ist das mit dem Tenor des neuen Säkulums nicht - contra Cura optieren zumeist nur als Connaisseure verkleidete Schlaumeier und Besserwisser und Puristen - und haben dabei aber auch nicht immer komplett Unrecht: Weniger wegen der etwas showseligen Solo-Spektakelabende des Kraftpakets; mehr schon wegen des simultanen Singens und Dirigierens; und vor allem darin, dass der einstige und doppelt falsch als Shooting Star geführte Vierzigjährige etwa im gestrengen Verdi- Gesang stilistisch schon noch zulernen könnte; etwa von Carlo Bergonzi. Die Latin-Lover-Falle «Niun mi tema»: Am Ende des «Otello» schwinden allerdings meist alle Bedenken; selbst dem puristischsten Ohre languisce il cor. Warum hat Cura gleichwohl hartnäckig die Fama von Rambo und Macho abgekriegt, die doch berechtigter einem Franco Bonisolli zusteht? Auf der Bühne ist der Argentinier am allerwenigsten Macho und Narziss und Selbstdarsteller und Schlamper - in Zürich fielen immer die besonders bedachtsamen mimischen Nuancierungen als Chenier und José auf und ins Gewicht. Dass er sich in Madrid mal aggressiv mit einer randalierenden Anti-Claque anlegt? Da hatte er Recht. In mancherlei Weise aber ist Cura in die Zwickmühlen des modernen Opern-Medien-Bedarfbetriebs hineingerutscht - und klagt glaubwürdig darüber: Nehme er «E lucevan le stelle» wie von Puccini erwünscht verhalten, innig, morendo - dann schlage ihm auch seitens der vermeintlichen Bescheidwisser der Wiener Staatsoper Eisigkeit entgegen. Brülle er die wehmütige Lebensabschiedsmelodie wie am Spiess, dann komme die volle Spiesserbegeisterung zurückgebrüllt. Genützt hat José Cura auch sein visuell plausibles Imago als Latin Lover weniger als geschadet. Der laut Wagners «Meistersinger» gar unbelehrte Kunstsinn der Frauen schuf wohl eine Art Unsinnsprojektion in die Kritikerschaften hinein, dergestalt: Wer so gut aussieht, der kann unmöglich auch noch betörend schön singen können. Und, noch eine Nonsens-Drehung weitergekurbelt: Von «FAZ» bis «Berliner Tagesspiegel» wiederholte sich mehrfach die Kuriosität von Cura'schen CD- Rezensionen, die dem Sänger meist grundlos genau das zum Vorwurf machen, was ihre eigenen Artikelüberschriften und Bebilderungen mit Agenturfotos (Cura appassioniert am Boden sich windend) bezwecken: mit derlei Kitsch und Krampf die Frauen anzulocken! Und gegen solchen Circulus abstrusus mediensis ist eben selbst ein seraphisch gesungenes hohes B (das C hat Cura wie Caruso, wie Bergonzi, wie Domingo selten im Angebot) ziemlich machtlos.

     His Own Thing
A conversation with José Cura 
BY JAMES INVERNE London

29 April 2002

Argentinian tenor José Cura is an operatic tenor who has been blessed and cursed by the same gift:  the patronage of Placido Domingo. Ever since he won Domingo's singing Operalia competition, in Mexico City, 1994, the supertenor has taken the younger man under his wing. He even conducted Cura's debut CD, Puccini Arias. Since Cura is in the same rare vocal mould as his mentor, a steely heroic tenor capable of singing the most arduous Italian roles, critics and the public around the world have seized upon 'the next Domingo'.

Only with such scrutiny has come much criticism. Cura has been accused of egotism (a charge intensified by a notorious London appearance in which he conducted his own recital), he has been unfavourably compared to the older man, and the New York Times criticised his 'unfinished technique'. Cura tells TIME, he just wants to do his own thing.

TIME: Do you feel under pressure to become one of 'the next Three Tenors'?

Cura: I don't think of myself as in that golden line. Of the other young tenors around, I suppose Roberto Alagna and Marcelo Alvarez might qualify. But I'm different.

TIME: Why?

Cura: It's difficult for me to behave like a tenor. Singing was the last musical discipline that I studied. I've been a composer and conductor for 20 years, and a singer for the last 10 or so. Way back in 1982, at the time of the British-Argentinian Falklands War, I wrote a requiem mass for those who died in the battle. I don't want to be pigeon-holed as just a tenor.

TIME: Does it frustrate you then that your record company (Warner Music) promotes you as the latest supertenor?

Cura: The problem with record companies is that they can distract the public with their heavy marketing campaigns; then music-lovers think that you're just a marketing creation. I'm a serious musician. However, I'm grateful for the attention and I know that Warner have got to sell records, and so I must try to help them. But it's a heavy burden. Some mornings I wake up and wonder if I am doing the right thing for the artist in me, as opposed to the career.

TIME: Does it irritate you that some other tenors like Andrea Bocelli have embraced the pop-style marketing campaigns?

Cura: Bocelli is a different kind of professional. His whole career is handled like a pop star's. But he does not make regular stage appearances, so he can do that. I can't. I'm a stage artist who does more than 70 stage performances a year. Recently Warner asked me to go on Britain's National Lottery TV show, but I was in the middle of a heavy run of operas and had to refuse; even the air-conditioning on the plane can be bad for the voice.

TIME: Has the 'new Domingo' label had any effect on your stage career?

Cura: People like what they have seen before. I'm starting to get a bit bored because opera houses only want me to sing the roles which are traditional for our type of voice-Cavaradossi in Tosca, Samson in Samson et Delila and so on. And these are wonderful parts. But if you want to do something innovative, like a modern opera, you are punished. They won't let you. But I'm planning to keep myself refreshed in other areas.

TIME: Such as?

Cura: I am starting to get invitations from theater directors to do straight theater. Someone has just asked me to act in an adaptation of Gogol's The Diary of an Idiot. And I am going to publish a book of my photography, which has until now just been a hobby. So I hope that what I learn in these areas can keep me stimulated, and also inform my approach to opera.

TIME: Do you think that anything like the Three Tenors phenomenon will ever happen again?

Cura: The Three Tenors are wonderful; what they have built together is like a fabulous castle that everyone has to admire. But they will retire soon, so everyone is looking for the same again from me and my contemporaries. But you can't keep refurbishing the old castle. We need to find our own castle, through our own ways. The Three Tenors was a one-off; but different things will happen. We just need the freedom to be ourselves.

José Cura - Humanizing Classical Music

At the end of the new CD, you include a track illustrating what goes on behind the scenes, which humanizes your work a lot.

Original Language José Cura, humanizando la música clásica     Viernes, 20 de diciembre de 2002

El cantante argentino José Cura, uno de los tenores más prestigiosos de la actualidad, se encuentra en Londres, donde en los últimos días ha interpretado uno de los papeles protagónicos de la ópera "Samson et Dalila" de Camille Saint-Saëns. Carolina Robino y Manuel Toledo de BBC Mundo conversaron con él sobre su nuevo disco, sobre su desempeño paralelo como director de orquesta y sobre uno de sus personajes más controvertidos, Otelo. ¿Por qué incluyes la "Canción de la bandera" en tu nuevo disco? La "Canción de la bandera" es un aria de ópera, de lo que me enteré muy tarde.   José Cura en la BBC.   Después de haberla sufrido durante tantos años, antes de entrar a clases, y tener que cantarla y preguntarnos por qué no cantar otra cosa o subir la bandera en silencio, me enteré, a los 38 años, que era un aria de ópera. Lamentablemente, tan mal estaba nuestro sistema educativo que uno se entera, y de casualidad, tantos años después. El disco está dedicado a Argentina. ¿Hace cuánto te fuiste de allá y qué relación tienes con esta Argentina de ahora? Me fui hace 11 o 12 años y mi relación es solamente la que tengo con mi familia.   El nuevo disco está dedicado a Argentina.   Lamentablemente, las veces que se intentó programar algo no se llegó a concretar nada. Hemos intentado hacer algún concierto de caridad o juntar fondos para los niños y, lamentablemente, siempre hemos encontrado alguna barrera. Yo no voy a cantar gratis, como se me propuso, para determinada gente que está bien. Si voy a hacer un concierto gratis, lo hago para que puedan ir quienes no tengan dinero, en las provincias, en verano, en una cancha de fútbol, y que vengan todos. Al final del nuevo disco, incluyes un tema grabado entre bastidores, que humaniza mucho a tu trabajo... Es que en la música clásica tenemos este mito de que la gente no se entere de todas las cosas que están detrás. No queremos que la gente se dé cuenta de cuando a uno se le rompió la nota o cuando tuvo que toser.     Se olvida que, cuando fue escrita, la música que hoy consideramos clásica era la música popular de su tiempo     Es estúpido porque esa es una de las tantas cosas que deshumaniza a la música clásica y hace que la gente no se quiera acercar. Se olvida que, cuando fue escrita, la música que hoy consideramos clásica era la música popular de su tiempo. Schubert escribía muchas de sus canciones entre sus amigos, bebiendo cerveza y tomando notas en la servilleta del bar, y hoy son clásicas de la canción de cámara. Es muy probable que, dentro de 50 o 60 años, algunas de las grandes canciones de Elton John, John Lennon y demás, lo sean también. ¿Y de esas canciones populares, cuáles cantas tú, por ejemplo, debajo de la ducha? No, debajo de la ducha no canto. Y no porque no me bañe. Lo que pasa es que canto demasiado el resto del día.   "Debajo de la ducha no canto. Y no porque no me bañe".   Pero hay canciones que canto mucho en mis recitales. Por ejemplo, cuando después de haber hecho un concierto de música clásica me piden algo más, suelo cantar "Yesterday". Salgo con la guitarra, me siento en el podio y toco "Yesterday" con la orquesta de cuerdas que me acompaña y la gente se enloquece. Les encanta porque es música maravillosa. Además de la guitarra, tocas varios instrumentos... He estudiado seis instrumentos, como complemento de mi carrera.     No significa que me den un violín ahora y yo lo toque. Probablemente provoque más ruido que un gato     Creo que si uno se para delante de la orquesta, aunque no pueda tocar a la perfección todos los instrumentos, al menos debe conocer su mecánica. Es por eso que estudié dos años de violín y un año de flauta, y un año de trombón y percusión, y piano y todo esto, para poder estar delante de una orquesta con una cierta autoridad, con un cierto auto-respeto. No significa que me den un violín ahora y yo lo toque. Probablemente provoque más ruido que un gato. Pero sé como funciona el instrumento. ¿Cómo compatibilizas todas estas inquietudes? Son complementarias. La gente cree que son cosas completamente dispares, pero tienen muchísimo que ver.     Cantar con la mentalidad de un director y dirigir con la mentalidad de un cantante es un complemento muy bueno     Cantar con la mentalidad de un director y dirigir con la mentalidad de un cantante es un complemento muy bueno. Se beneficia más el director del cantante que el cantante del director. Cuando uno logra, como director o como instrumentista, reproducir la música con la sensibilidad, la espontaneidad, el fraseo natural que tiene el cantante -porque el instrumento es él mismo- todo cambia. Lamentablemente, los pocos cantantes que se han volcado a la dirección de orquesta, salvo raras excepciones, se han convertido en animales sospechosos. Por eso es que mi elección, cuando empecé con la dirección orquestal, fue no dirigir ópera, para que no se me tomara como alguien que dirige óperas porque se las sabe y mueve el palito y la orquesta va adelante. Me tiré a dirigir cosas con las cuales si no eres director, no sobrevives, como Respighi, Kodaly y Rajmáninov, que son dificilísimos. Y esto lo digo con la humildad de uno que ha trabajado muchísimo y muy duro, durante 25 años, y no con arrogancia, de lo que se me suele tildar, sobre todo en mi país, donde se confunde la seguridad con la arrogancia. ¿Y cómo llegaste al canto? Yo siempre canté. No profesionalmente, en el sentido de la técnica del canto, pero siempre he cantado.     Yo siempre canté. No profesionalmente, en el sentido de la técnica del canto, pero siempre he cantado     La cosa profesional se dio porque empecé a cantar semi-profesionalmente en el teatro Colón, con el coro del teatro, para sobrevivir. Algunas personas que me escucharon me recomendaron estudiar y, como suele suceder, pasé por muchas manos, gente que me dejó afónico, y gente que me hizo mucho bien. Hasta que un día empecé a buscar mi propio camino y llegué a donde estoy, para bien o para mal. ¿Cuando preparas a un personaje, por ejemplo a Otelo, qué haces? Mi primera aproximación al personaje es la misma que tengo con la música sinfónica. No es cantar ni escuchar discos, sino ponerme la música delante y leer, de arriba para abajo, de atrás para delante, hasta empaparme de la música sin condicionamiento, sin escuchar como lo hizo otro, sin intentar cantar, sin saber lo que voy a hacer.   "Lo primero es buscarle el significado a todo".   Lo primero es buscarle el significado a todo. Después de la preparación intelectual de la obra, viene la preparación física. Hay que enganchar cada nota en el sistema neuro-muscular, por decirlo de alguna forma. Y luego agregarle tu concepción intelectual a lo que físicamente puedes hacer. Es como el bailarín, que se pasa horas en la barra, haciendo flexiones de pierna, para luego hacer un grand jeté, con elegancia y con finura, haciéndole creer a todo el mundo que la está pasando bárbaro y que el personaje que está interpretando puede volar así. Pero primero tuvo que pasar horas de barra y de músculo y de sudor. Es esta combinación: tratar de ser artístico, filosófico, emocional, paralelamente a tener una precisión musical, afinación, respeto a la partitura. Todo esto, con un elemento que es puramente físico. ¿Por qué crees que tu Otelo fue mal recibido por algunos amantes de la ópera? Porque me alejo completamente de los patrones. Como en todo, en el arte hay dos vías y es necesario elegir. Antes de empezar la carrera, cuando estás en la largada, en la gatera, como decimos en el hipódromo, tienes que decidir.     Cuando se abre la puerta y empiezas a correr, ¿qué vas a hacer? ¿Vas a correr como el caballo de al lado o vas a correr como quieres tú?     Cuando se abre la puerta y empiezas a correr, ¿qué vas a hacer? ¿Vas a correr como el caballo de al lado o vas a correr como quieres tú? Yo elegí correr sin imitar al caballo de al lado. También hay gente que admira a mi Otelo precisamente porque se sale de los cánones. Y de eso se trata al final. Si miras hacia atrás, la gente que recordamos hoy son los que han dividido las aguas y creado polémica. Nadie se acuerda de aquellos que le han dado el gusto a todo el mundo. No es que yo dijera "voy a romper con algo para que se acuerden de mí". Es el resultado. Mi acercamiento a Otelo fue exactamente así. Leí a Shakespeare para tratar de llegar a una conclusión de quién es Otelo realmente.   "Mi Otelo no es heroico, no es noble".   ¿Es el ideal, el cliché que creamos para darle el gusto a las señoras que van por la noche al teatro, antes o después de cenar, o es un personaje con un conflicto enorme? He sido criticado porque mi Otelo no es heroico, porque no es noble. Hay que aceptar de una vez y por todas que Otelo no era ni un héroe, ni un noble, sino un mercenario hijo de puta. Un señor que es contratado para matar es un mercenario, no un héroe. Y hoy, más que nunca, hay ejemplos de esto. Otelo no es contratado para matar a cualquier ser humano, sino a musulmanes, o sea a lo que él era antes de convertirse al cristianismo por conveniencia política y económica.     Encima de mercenario es un traidor, que sabe a dónde ir a golpear para hacer el mayor daño posible     Encima de mercenario es un traidor, que sabe a dónde ir a golpear para hacer el mayor daño posible. Cuando me metí a escarbar todo eso en Otelo, la gente se escandalizó. Tiraba por la borda el cliché del pobre negro al que la rubia le había metido los cuernos, que es una estupidez soberana. Otelo no es esto. Es mucho más complejo. ¿Por qué ve traición en todos lados? Porque él mismo es un traidor. A la gente le molesta horrores que, en el tercer acto, yo haga un personaje vil, pero Otelo era vil.

 

'I love what I do for living'

 

Interview by Aneta Swider 

Originally published in " Muzyka 21" monthly magazine in March 2002

 

English translation: Iwona Pomes

 

 

Aneta Swider: What gives you more pleasure: singing or conducting?

José Cura:  I love spending time with my family the most. (Laughter)

A. S.: O.K., but could we talk about your profession?

J. C.:  Then it depends. They are two different types of activity. Someone could ask me which of my children I love the most. I love them all equally.   I don't give priority to singing over conducting and vice versa.

I've been a conductor for about a quarter of a century so leading an orchestra is less stressful.  Having a score you can conduct from, however, it's not enough for singing. Singing and conducting are quite different from each other. That is why I love them both.

A. S.: What is your favorite sort of music? Do you like singing popular songs?

J. C.: I don't care what sort of music I perform. The only condition is its quality. I go for good tunes only.

A. S.: Who is your favorite composer?

J. C.: It's always the one whose compositions I present during my concert. Don't ask me for examples.

A. S.: You are said to be a composer, too. Is this true?

J. C.: Yes, it is. I used to write music when I was younger. I have no time for this right now. I had been writing religious music, like "Requiem", "Stabat Mater", "Magnificat". I composed a "Pinocchio" ballet as well as an opera for children that was based on Andersen's fairy-tales. I used to write tunes for guitar, too. My output is quite varied.

A. S.: How is your partnership with Sinfonia Varsovia working?

J. C.: It’s working very well, but it is just starting. I am doing my best to help meet their financial needs. They have neither their own rehearsal room nor a concert hall. They are like Gypsies. I don't understand it. It's the best Polish orchestra. They should have their own place to work. They deserve it.

 I don't know why no one is interested in Sinfonia Varsovia's situation. I have applied to many authorities for help for them. It's not easy for me to do. I'm not a Pole, I don't speak Polish and I don't understand Polish mentality. I will never give up. I'm one who keeps on fighting.

A. S.: Are you a perfectionist as well as a demanding conductor?

J. C.: I demand a lot from myself. I work fifteen or sixteen hours a day. I fully commit myself to my work. I expect others to do the same.

I do not require other persons to work harder than I do but if you want to do something with good results, your involvement must be mutual. That's what we call a partnership.

A. S.: Do you read your concerts' reviews?

J. C.: I read them all. What's more, I remember every one. I do not believe it when some artist says that he or she doesn't read reviews. All artists do it.

A. S.: Do you fret over criticism?

J. C.: No, I don't. I just read the reviews. I always check where they were written. Sometimes I accept them. Other times they amuse me.

It irritates me when a reviewer is non-professional as well as ignorant. A good critic cannot be like that. He or she must be well prepared before going to a concert. That's the story of a mankind. Critics must give the readers a credible opinion of a performance. Reviewers should inform people what happens in the world of music. A good critic will always find the “golden mean” of one's statement. One should avoid criticizing something good and vice versa, because it can make a scandal.

I'm not afraid of bad reviews. I distance myself from them. I would rather worry about the opinion of the people who listen to the music I create or perform. One day you could go to a concert and have a nice evening. You'd be filled with positive energy. On the following day you buy a newspaper and read an article that says that the performance was hopeless. How would you feel then?

A. S.: I always try to rely on my own opinion.

J. C.: Exactly. All critics should know that the audience has its own opinion. All my Polish reviews have been good. Polish reviewers are objective. I feel that Poles like me. I love it.

There is one more thing I would like to say.  Every artist does his best to make each concert as good as possible. Despite our best intentions, we don't always succeed. I don't have a grievance with those critics whose reviews are bad then. That's fair play. 

Journalistic honesty is a very important thing. You can become an authority if you are impartial and honest. Every journalist has to decide whether to find people's approval or to become a hyena.

A. S.: Aren't you tired of being a world famous artist? Are you proud of yourself?

J. C.: There was a time when my career was growing rapidly. Although I felt tired then, it was necessary for me to become who I am now. My life is balanced now. I'm really satisfied with it.

A. S.: Do you like interviews?

J. C.: I love being interviewed by intelligent and non-ignorant people. If I like a journalist, the interview can last a long time. Sometimes I invite him or her to a dinner. Being interviewed is part of my job in general.

A. S.: You work a dozen of hours a day. Have you got a special method that allows you to keep fit?

J. C.: There is no such method. I'm in good health. I eat healthy food. I neither drink alcohol nor smoke cigarettes. I go to sleep as early as possible. I take care of my health.

A. S.: When does your typical day begin?

J. C.: At home?

A. S.: Yes.

J. C.: When I am at home, I get up at 7.30 a. m. I have breakfast with my children. Then I drive them to school. I go to my office after that. I work with my assistant as well as my personal secretary. We plan my concerts, recordings, etc. I pick my kids up from school in the afternoon and try to spend a lot of time with my family. However, I don't forget about singing and preparing new repertoire.

A. S.: What is your day like when you have a concert?

J. C.: Usually, I'm away from home. I'm in a hotel somewhere in the world. I sleep as long as I can. When journalists want to speak with me, we meet during lunchtime.

A. S.: Before the concert?

J. C.: I usually get ready for my concert in the afternoon.  One interview before a performance is not a problem

A. S.: What do you do in your spare time?

J. C.: Please, let it be my secret.

A. S.: Why?

J. C.: Just because I would no longer be able to spend it in private.

A. S.: What would you tell me about your personal life?

J. C.: I live with my family in Madrid. I have three children. On February 1^st my wife and I celebrated our 17^th wedding anniversary. I'm a happy person. I live ordinary life.

A. S.: What are your plans for the future? What are you going to do in twenty years' time?

J. C.: What am I going to do in twenty years time? I don't know. Only God knows it. I try to plan my life systematically. I sing and conduct, because I love it. However, I don't forget that it's just a profession. I'm responsible for my family. My kids are growing up. I have to think about their future. I don't want them to have any problems when they start living on their own.

A. S.: Is there anything that you would like to say to Poles?

J. C.: Yes, there is. They shouldn't idolize foreign artists. They should give talented Polish musicians a chance to become famous. Every gifted person needs help. If there is someone talented in Poland, this person should be persuaded not to leave the country. In other way, you can loose a good artist. I left my country, because I couldn't find a job there. Now I am who I am. I give concerts everywhere except Argentina. It hurts me a lot.

A. S.: Do you help young and promising musicians?

J. C.: Yes, of course. I do whatever I can to help them. I understand their situation. My challenge is to lead my orchestra to the top.

A. S.: Thank you for your conversation. I wish you all the best.

ELIS KISS

Kathimerini

26 July 2002

Argentinean tenor sensation José Cura brought his commanding voice and vivacious personality to the Herod Atticus Theater on Wednesday night, accompanied by mezzo-soprano Giuseppina Trotta and the Athens State Orchestra, and conducted by Woldemar Nelsson. Part of the Athens Festival events, the concert was one of the season’s most exciting evenings. It was the flamboyant artist’s second appearance in Greece — having interpreted Radames in Verdi’s “Aida” at the Athens Concert Hall last year. A great connoisseur of Greek history, the tenor broke with traditional operatic style, and came to the ancient theater with a bouquet of fresh ideas. Were you looking for the tenor onstage? Look again, for there he was on the upper level, singing to a full house, before slowly making his way down onto the stage once more. Gone were the ubiquitous tuxedos, in their place were layers of linen and cotton — for both Cura and Nelsson.

Beginning with arias from Verdi’s “Il Corsaro” and “Il Trovatore,” Cura led his smitten audience all the way to Ettore Panizza’s “Intermezzo Epico,” from the opera “Aurora” (his homeland’s national anthem, rarely performed outside Argentina), to Saint-Saens’s “Samson and Dalila” (Samson being one of the tenor’s signature roles) and ending with Bizet’s familiar “Carmen.” The encores brought Cura on stage again and again, culminating in a powerful rendition of “Nessun Dorma” from Puccini’s “Turandot” — reminiscent of past, great finales by Luciano Pavarotti. Next to Cura, Trotta seemed unable to release the full gamut of her emotions, while a joyful Nelsson led a highly professional Athens State Orchestra with brio.

While music critics acknowledge Cura’s tremendous vocal abilities and gifts of interpretation (he is also an accomplished conductor and composer), which secure him a seat in today’s pantheon of opera stars, they would like to see the 40-year-old artist develop his art and skills even further. For the rest of us, Wednesday’s performance came as a welcome reminder of just how powerful song can be. As the music filled the night sky, accompanied by the light evening breeze, Cura demonstrated that his world — for many an impenetrable universe — is as accessible as any other form of musical expression, provided that it comes straight from the soul.

 

José Cura is best known as one of the world’s leading tenors, but his career as a conductor is progressing from strength to strength and he has recently launched his own record label.

Opera Now (excerpt)

Sept-Oct 2002

Ashutosh Khandekar  

 

It’s not easy being multi-talented in today’s music world.   José Cura admits that his first forays into conducting were something of a trial by fire.  He was the victim of some very unkind jibes from critics who felt disorientated by the sight of a singer performing and conducting simultaneously.  Cura, however, is determined to resist being pigeonholed in a world that is quick to slap labels on artists: ‘The problem of categorizing people doesn’t come from artists, but from the press,’ he says.  ‘I’ve never said I’m the “new Domingo” or I’m “the tenor that talks,” as one critic puts it.  It tends to be other people, and journalists in particular, who say, well if he’s a tenor, he can’t be a conductor, too.  I don’t take that limited outlook on life.’

Determined to prove his detractors wrong, Cura has accepted the post of Principal Guest Conductor with the Sinfonia Varsovia, based in Warsaw, and is about to release his first CD on his own label, featuring Rachmaninov’s Second Symphony.

Cura has always enjoyed working in eastern Europe – it’s an area of the world which, he says, still has a respect for artistic integrity which has been eroded elsewhere: ‘It gives me a lot of pleasure to work in places like Hungary, Poland, Russia and the Czech Republic.  They don’t usually have really high-profile events because of the lack of money, but they do have a genuine love, a genuine energy for music, and an enormous thirst for culture.’

He first encountered Sinfonia Varsovia in 2000, during a concert tour in Poland.  ‘I conducted a couple of operatic numbers, and it seems that the orchestra really like my way of making music.  Six months later, I was asked to be their conductor.  Of course my reaction was to say I couldn’t do it: my opera schedules are just too crazy for that sort of commitment.  But I’ve agreed to do 10 to 15 concerts a year, and it’s going well.’

****

By choosing Rachmaninov’s Second Symphony for his debut recording with the Sinfonia Varsovia, Cura is putting his neck on the line:  comparisons are bound to be made with the dozens of other recordings available of this work.  But he thrives on this kind of risk-taking:  “I think it’s important to get even the standard works on to record on a regular basis.  If you stop recording a work because it’s already available on disc, then it’s dead.  You have to keep reinventing, and new recordings full of new ideas are a way of keeping the repertoire alive.’

Cura’s new record label was born in order to provide a vehicle for this sort of ‘reinvention.’  ‘It would be impossible for me to persuade one of the majors to record another Rachmaninov Second,’ he says.  'It doesn’t make commercial sense.  But I really wanted to leave a trace of my encounter with my new orchestra, and the only way is to do the recording under our own steam.  I wanted to do a Slavic version of Rachmaninov, rather than taking what I call a “French” approach.  Yes, Rachmaninov is a Romantic composer, but he’s not sentimental.  The melodies should just flow, and you shouldn’t over-indulge yourself or the phrases become cloying.  I do in my conducting what I try to do in my singing:  I try to be as modern as I can.   Now you can accept it or not, but that’s the point I’m trying to make.  Sometimes in trying to be so modern, I’m on the verge of being dry.  That’s a risk I take.  I like pushing things as far as things they can go in one direction, then step back to find a balance.  How do you know what your limits are otherwise?'

Cura’s second recording, a recital of opera arias, is due for release before the end of the year.  It focuses on 19^th-century opera, mainly Italian, but its title ‘Aurora’, is taken from a work by Hector Panizza, a composer fro his native Argentina, who also features on the disc.

Beyond that, he hopes in future to perform and record a mixture of symphonic and vocal music with the Sinfonia Varsovia, drawing mainly on the late-Romantic and early 20^th-century repertoire. ‘I’m a fan of Shostakovich, Rachmaninov, Respighi, Kodaly, the late Mahler—those are the symphonies I would love to do.  Of course, they are the most expensive to perform because of the scale of things!’

Cura is under no illusions that the recordings will be definitive versions of these works but, he says, the spirit in which they are made will be unique:  ‘There’s a long way to go before Sinfonia Varsovia becomes a spotless orchestra—they’ve only just expanded from chamber size to symphonic.  But when they play, there is an energy in the room which comes from people making music together in an atmosphere of love and mutual respect.  They work together through good and bad.  It’s not just another transaction:  “You play for me, I sing for you, take the cheque and go home” – which is fair enough, it’s part of the business of being a musician in today’s world.  But when you can take the time to build relationships and to work intensely, it changes the whole picture of a recording.  And I’m very proud of what we’ve achieved.’

 

For further information about José Cura’s recordings with the Sinfonia Varsovia, including the imminent release of his new recital disc Aurora, visit his website at www.josecura.com

TENOR AND MAESTRO IN ONE PERSON

 José Cura. The Argentinian tenor and conductor sings Italian and French arias and conducts Rachmaninov’s Second Symphony at the Konzerthaus. 

by

Derek Weber  

 Bühne /November 2002, p. 52)

(translated by Martina)

The Argentinian tenor José Cura is offering a concert of a very special kind at the Konzerthaus in Vienna: in the first half of the evening he will sing arias by Ponchielli, Verdi, Boito, Giordano, and Meyerbeer; after the interval he will conduct Sinfonia Varsovia, whose Principal Guest Conductor he has been for a year now. He will lead the orchestra in Rachmaninov’s Second Symphony, “not for the first time,” he states. “I have also recorded the piece and am going to present the CD in Vienna.”

 His own label

The presentation will be all the easier for him, since he is also his own producer and boss of his own record label. He plans to record Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony in November. “Come mai?” – one asks oneself and him – how come he has founded his own label? “It has become increasingly difficult to produce and release CDs on the big labels. So I left my old record label and founded my own company.” 

Power and emotion

Right now he is not really considering the option of signing other artists, “but who knows what the future holds,” he adds. And he isn’t complaining about the fact that his generation is at a disadvantage compared to the one before. “It is a problem of the system,” he states dryly. “The generation before us recorded everything for release on CD when the LP died. This boom is over. We are now paying for the crisis. I have so far recorded five recitals and one opera only, plus a few live recordings.” But according to Cura, live recordings have their own charm and advantage: power and emotion – qualities a studio version cannot offer. And as his own record label boss he adds, “They are cheaper, too.”

 Cura, the conductor, keeps silent. Maybe because he is thinking about a second career? “No,” is his answer, “I am only returning to where I left off in Argentina 20 years ago.” He concentrated on singing only when he moved to Italy in 1991, looking for relatives of his Italian grandmother. “I had already sung in Argentina, but I wasn’t a professional singer,” he relates. “In Italy I realized that I would be able to succeed as a singer rather than a conductor.”

 

 Signature role Otello

Things developed rapidly for the tenor. First performances of Henze’s Pollicino at Verona’s Teatro Filarmonico and of Janacek’s The Makropolos Case in Triest and Turin were followed by parts in the Italian repertoire, culminating in Verdi’s Otello under Abbado in 1994 [sic]. Wasn’t he very young for the role? “I was 34. Of course I knew I was taking a risk, but I said to myself, ‘with Abbado you’re in very good hands, you’ll do the two performances, sing the part very lyrically, and then wait another five years [sic].’ If I hadn’t done that, I would be dead as a singer now.” On January 27, 2001, the 100^th anniversary of Verdi’s death, Cura sang the role very successfully at the Wiener Staatsoper.

 

Prolongation of career

Cura’s conducting also has rational reasons. “I have sung almost too much in recent years. Now I will sing less and conduct a little more instead. This way I will prolong my career as a singer.” Cura will perform at the Wiener Staatsoper every year until 2007.

Trouble on the high Cs
(Filed: 18/04/2002)
 

The 'fourth tenor' José Cura will shout back if you boo his singing. Michael White finds there is more to opera's Latin lover than sex and ego
 

WHETHER or not José Cura is the Fourth Tenor, the Sexiest Tenor or the Most Arrogant Tenor - and he's had to deal with all those propositions at one time or another - he is certainly the Tenor who Talks: the one who speaks his mind and damns the consequences. Which may well explain the slight suggestion of anxiety in the Royal Opera's preparations for Il Trovatore (strictly no press at rehearsals) opening next week with Cura in the lead role of Manrico.

When the show - which is new to London but not to the world - first played in Madrid a year or so ago, it was booed. With vigour. But instead of biting his lip as singers are supposed to in such circumstances, Cura hit back with a lecture from the stage.

"I'm here to sing for people who love opera," he proclaimed, "not people whose behaviour stinks."

Result: a minor riot.

Sitting down with him last week I couldn't help asking if he had prepared a few words for the Covent Garden audience - should the need arise.

"Please God it won't. Madrid is a special situation, with a small group of people who boo everything. It's pathetic. So I had to say something: why not? And you know, when I spoke, 90 per cent of the audience applauded. The other 10 per cent? They continued to boo. Too bad."

One of the criticisms of the 10 per cent - and to be fair, they did indeed boo everything about the show - was that Cura faked some top notes which, in Trovatore, are an issue. There are lots, and people count.

By designation Cura has the voice for them: he's a "dramatic" tenor in a line of succession that stretches from stars of the past such as Mario del Monaco to the Pavarottis and Domingos of our own day. But the voice is slightly darker, slightly heavier than many tenors of his type and age (39), which is why he already sings the role of Otello that tends to get left until later. A voice geared down to sing Otello doesn't easily gear up to high Cs. So how, I wonder, is he managing?

"I don't approach the Cs with nonchalance - they're not my everyday thing - but they're possible. Why not? I've never been too concerned with these labels - dramatic tenor, whatever - that limit what you're supposed to sing. I don't like to feel confined."

More broadly, though, he does confine himself to Italian repertory. Apart from the odd booking for Bizet or Saint-Saens, he sticks to Verdi, Puccini and lesser verismo composers such as Giordano and Mascagni. Strong, emotional, straight-to-the-heart scores. Nothing cerebral like Wagner.

"That's because I don't speak German and avoid singing in languages I haven't mastered. I don't sing in English either, although one day I hope I have the courage for Peter Grimes: a fantastic piece but, my God, terrifying. I look at the score and I piss my pants it's so hard.

"But who says Italian music isn't cerebral? That's only how it gets interpreted. If you're a second-rate musician you're OK with Mascagni because he helps you so much you can get by on banality. Wagner doesn't let you be banal. This doesn't make Mascagni bad. Just the performance."

Cura's defence of his repertoire is all you would expect from the Tenor who Talks. In a profession where success or failure hangs more on the dimension of the lungs than of the brain, he stands out as an articulate, intelligent, all-round musician. At university he studied composition and conducting, and he's recently been made Principal Guest Conductor of the Sinfonia Varsovia, the Polish orchestra that used to appear under Yehudi Menuhin. He may not be, as yet, the greatest maestro; but there are some very famous tenors who can barely read a score.

The paradox of Cura's fame, though, is that to a large degree it rests on sex and ego. From the time he came to international attention he's been typecast as the Latin lover of the opera world - to the apparent joy of women's magazines but not of critics, who were quick to welcome him as a potential Tenor No 4 but similarly quick to damn his stage performances as posturing and arrogant. When he started to appear in concerts singing and conducting at the same time (an ungainly novelty for which he stood, back to the orchestra, and flapped his arms together like a duck in take-off) it did nothing for his credibility. The memory still hurts.

"If there's one thing I don't do it's posturing, and London is the only place on Earth where they claim I do; but let's not talk about that. It's passed. And so is the Fourth Tenor business, thank God. It was useful for my career to be linked with Pavarotti and the others, but also dangerous - when they had so much more experience - to make me the d'Artagnan to complete the group. Unfair to me, unfair to them."

And the sex?

"That was dangerous too, for obvious reasons. Calling me the sex symbol of opera was easy journalism, and maybe now I'm nearly 40 this is over. Not long ago I was conducting a concert and produced my spectacles: I need them these days to read. The audience laughed. I said: well, there's a time for everything, and now I have spectacles maybe you will consider me a serious musician."

It's an understandable response although, as opera colleagues will tell testify, Cura is not insensitive to how he looks. He has a face that changes totally according to the angle of perception. To the side it has a chiselled sharpness. Straight on it's more ordinary, with a Near Eastern heaviness that says something about Cura's background.

Born in 1963 in Argentina, he is Latin to the core. But in the distant past his father's family came from Lebanon: hence "Cura", an originally Arabic name converted into Spanish. His initial interest in music wasn't singing but composition (he still writes but isn't published), and he didn't take his voice particularly seriously until the age of 26.

"I enrolled with the opera school at the Teatro Colon in Buenos Aires but only stayed two months because things didn't work out. They said I wasn't born to sing. But I did carry on in the chorus - from '84 to '89 - simply to earn a living. These were bad times in my country, you did what you could. I never thought of myself as a solo singer: I just wanted to compose."

Eventually he and his wife decided to chance a new life in Europe. "We sold our apartment to pay for the tickets and spent the next six months leading la vie boheme. Very basic. What we got for that apartment was what is now my fee for one evening."

Settling in Italy, he started to get significant work in the early 1990s. The big breaks came in 1994/5 with a competition victory and the tenor lead in Verdi's Stiffelio at Covent Garden. But this was not a sudden stardom.

"And so much the better: I learned my craft, and when things happened it was the right time. I was young enough to be of interest to the world, but old enough to keep things under control. I had a wife, children, responsibilities, and a philosophical perspective on life you don't have in your 20s."

That philosophical perspective may be just as well during the coming months because, bizarrely for a tenor at the top of his profession, his schedule isn't overloaded with high-profile dates and he has no recording work. His record company, Warner, quietly let his contract lapse three months ago - for reasons both sides are at pains to call "amicable", but even so, this is an odd turn of events for the man they called the Fourth Tenor. The Sexy Tenor. More explicable, perhaps, if it's connected with that other label. Arrogant.

During our interview, he doesn't come across that way. He's obviously shrewd, determined, with emphatic business sense (he runs his own production company) and considerable self-belief. But, as he says, why not?

He also knows the value of a spot of controversy. As we part he tells me he is Oscar Wilde's disciple.

"Better to be talked about than not. So talk."

I promise that I will.

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