By some divine coincidence, Lyric Opera has brought us not one but two Argentinian tenors this season: First, José Cura in "Samson et Dalila" and now Marcelo Alvarez in "Lucia di Lammermoor."

And the two share more than a homeland. Each was born in 1962, in "the provinces," away from the center of Argentinian musical culture, Buenos Aires. Both came late to opera; Cura sang his first role at age 29; Alvarez, 30. Both were relegated to the chorus at Argentina's Teatro Colon (largely because "they came from the provinces"). But after such early career discouragements, each found himself bolstered by a famous operatic mentor -- for Alvarez, Giuseppe di Stefano, and Cura, Carlo Bergonzi.

Were these two perhaps separated at birth? Alvarez and Cura, who are longtime friends, laugh at the suggestion. "Anything is possible," Cura said with a wide smile.

We caught up with them backstage at Lyric, before a recent performance. The talk, in English and Spanish, turned to many themes, including favorite roles and opera houses, and industry trends. Especially the latter. In recent years, classical music labels have been ravaged by drastic cutbacks. The only growth area seems to be classical crossover, projects featuring pop-based talents such as Andrea Bocelli, Charlotte Church and Russell Watson.

Though neither Alvarez nor Cura would stoop to such crowd-pleasing tactics, both stressed the importance of bringing opera to a wider audience, an objective that frequently brings into play the often-maligned concept of "crossover."

Last year, along with fellow tenor and Sony labelmate Salvatore Licitra, Alvarez recorded "Duetto," which featured pop-style adaptations of classics by Faure, Rachimaninoff and Bizet. In 2000, Alvarez recorded the songs of tango master Carlos Gardel. In a similar vein, Cura released "Anhelo" (1997) and "Boleros" (2002), both featuring Latin music. And Alvarez and Cura hope to record a disc together in the future.

On the subject of "crossover":

Alvarez: People think that opera is some kind of elite thing, boring, but I thought with "Duetto," we could make them understand that opera is something easy, beautiful, relaxing. If we don't open the market with projects like "Duetto," opera will die.

When I was singing "Duetto" in concert, some young man asked me where "La donna e mobile" [the famous tenor aria from Verdi's "Rigoletto"] is from, where can he see this. So questions like this [indicate that] we have to find a new way to approach people in the area of classical music.

Cura: The elite of pop music is much more closed, strongly, than classical music. But personally for me, crossover is a very wrong word. As long as we have something to cross, we need bridges. We are not together.

The voice of a professional singer is like having a Steinway. You can play Bach, play Beethoven, you can play John Lennon. The Steinway is always a Steinway. When you play John Lennon, it sounds rich, because the instrument is great. And the singer is the same thing. Your voice is rich, you pull the pedal back a bit, because you cannot push it all the way, as in classical music. But all the warmth, the harmonics of the trained instrument, are behind it. That's why when you have pop music done by the opera singer, you still have this aura of harmonics around it.

On their joint recording plans for the future:

Alvarez: It is very difficult. I have signed with Sony for two more crossover discs, but I don't know if I will use it [the option]. We [Licitra and I] have been asked to do another "Duetto" disc, but I really want to try different things. Like when I did the tango album, I enjoyed that very much. Maybe a jazz album or songs in English. I have to try to attract more people.

Cura: Marcelo and I have some projects in mind, but it can be very tricky. We have had a project in works for two or three years. It is ready, we have to find the sponsorships and things.

Alvarez: We are Argentinians and we are artists. We are trying to do something together that links the sounds of our country.

Cura: [Laughing] If we do something together, it is not going to be "Duetto 2: The Return."

Were one to compare Cura’s muscular voice, which was only discovered on second take in Puccini’s small first opera ‘Le Villi’, with the true giants, the truly great voices, say by way of the much talked about contest of the century, then the studied choir master/conductor, whom the newsmagazine ‘Spiegel’ labeled-somewhat stupidly-as ‘heir to Pavarotti and Domingo’, would not come out badly-even today already. Indeed, he shares-thanks to his timbre-the erotic drive of the delivery with his somewhat lighter lirico-spinto colleague Luciano Pavarotti, also with Bergonzi and Tagliavini, two legendary and monumental figures. And the somber, dark brown coloring/shading of the voce oscura is really not too far at all from the legendary and-according to Puccini- god-sent cello sound of Caruso. To be sure, Cura lacks the boundless ease in the top notes of a Giovanni Martinelli or also of Franco Bonisolli, who-sad to say-recently met with an untimely death, and in the producing of ‘squillo’ metal sounds, Giacomo Lauri-Volpi has the edge. But such an animal as an all-round, universally ideal tenor has simply never existed. Summasummarum, everything considered, Cura also holds his own with bravura, as far as the century perspectives go. At the moment perhaps, indeed only Roberto Alagna and the vocally lighter and higher situated fellow Argentine Marcelo Alvarez are fairly noteworthy adversaries.

No, altogether the work of liars, rogues and scoundrels it is not, that talk and ado about the tenor of the new century. Opting against Cura of late were for the most part only smart alecs, know-it-alls and fake purists masquerading as connoisseurs- and yet, they do have somewhat of a point, too. Less because of the one man entertainment spectacles that were presented a bit much like a show by the brawny bundle in the course of a nationwide promotion of his latest CD releases; more rather because of his simultaneous singing and conducting. Most significantly, they have a point in that the now 42-year-old could learn new things, stylistically speaking, with respect to his serious Verdi singing-perhaps from maestro Carlo Bergonzi. Cura’s CD anthology of Verdi arias is on average 7 to 23% less thought provoking and stimulating than those previously released CDs with Puccini and Verismo evergreens-but also some exquisite rarities! With ‘Niun mi tema’ at the end of ‘Otello’, most doubts definitely fade away, even for the most purist of ears ‘languisce il cor’. But why has Cura nonetheless almost from the start and up to now rather persistently caught his share of tales about Rambo and Macho to which really Franco Bonisolli is somewhat more justifiably entitled? On stage, the Argentine is anything but macho and narcissistic and a womanizer and busy showing out and sloppy. On the contrary, the carefully thought-through minimal nuances and action sequences weigh in, come into play time and again, for example in the usually trite and washed-out roles of Don José and Andrea Chénier. And what about picking an argument with an anti-claque set to cause a disturbance, as he has done on occasion in Madrid? He was right in doing so! It appears-no is certain-that Cura in all sorts of ways skidded into the strange dilemma of the modern consumer-driven/demand-oriented opera media mill. His complaints about it are plausible. He says that if he sings ‘E lucevan le stelle’ as Puccini desired ‘sostenuto/restrained’, ‘with deep, genuine feeling/con intimo sentimento’ and ‘morendo/dying away’, then he meets with an icy, cold reception, also on the part of the presumed know-it-alls, the would-be-wise-guys at the Vienna State Opera. If he, on the other hand, screams the extremely melancholy melody, this farewell from life, like a stuck pig, then in turn the full wave of pedant, petit-bourgeois enthusiasm comes screaming, crashing back at him.

Also, his visually plausible image as Latin Lover has hurt him more than helped him. According to Richard Wagner, the rather unenlightened taste for art and artistic sense of women no doubt created a sort of nonsensical projection early on in the ranks of critics. It goes something like this: Whoever is that good-looking cannot possibly also sing enchantingly beautiful. And to wrench the nonsense spiral up another turn: From FAZ to Berlin’s ‘Daily Mirror’, oddities in reviews of Cura’s CDs were repeated several times over. They blamed the singer-mostly without reason-for the very thing that they themselves intended quite shamelessly with their own headlines and selection of agency photos (Cura writhing passionately on the floor), and that is to attract with such kitsch and crap the perhaps also mentally rather weak sex. In the face of such a ‘circulus abstrusus mediensis’ (an abstruse circle created by the media), even an angelically sung high B is rather powerless. (It is a rare occasion on which Cura like Caruso, like Bergonzi, like Domingo, offers up the high C.)

In Cura’s case, the phonotechnical document department still has a pleasantly clear structure-quite in contrast to Domingo’s and Pavarotti’s. Besides the aforementioned anthologies, complete versions of ‘Samson et Dalila’ and ‘Manon Lescaut’ are available on CD, as well as a live recording of ‘Le Villi’-the one in which a tenor draws attention to his already very beautiful, yet not mature voice for the first time. More frequently in recent years, there have been DVDs-life recordings-of opera performances and concerts, most notably the Verdi Galas in Parma and London, celebrations held on the occasion of the 100-year anniversary of his death in 2001. Cura as champion of the folklore of his homeland can be heard moreover on a CD of dreamy ‘Anhelos’. While the tenor takes back/reduces his voice potential for the most part by some 50 to 80% in a truly humble, Christian manner in this recording, the monumental, defining work, where Cura would have to give fully 100% flat out, is on the other hand still missing for the time being. There is no reason or excuse not to record ‘Otello’-long awaited by fans-in a CD/DVD combination if at all possible, even in these times of crisis in the classical music industry.


Translator’s note: The author of the article (published in the April issue of the ‘New Music Magazine’ (Das Neue Musik Magazin) is a very well-known German  writer , satirist and humorist who has published several books, among them the ‘Trilogy of On-going Idiocy’.

You’ve been described as the “Fourth Tenor”. Is it difficult to always hit the high notes? Tenors are alluring. I think it’s because the tenor is the voice that sings on the edge of danger. It’s the least natural of all the voices and there is a risk. When you hit the high notes it’s like you are scoring a goal. And if you crack, you know you’ve missed.

How fit does an opera singer have to be? These days you can’t get away with being unfit on stage. When I was younger, I was a semi-professional body-builder and I also trained as a kung fu fighter. But when I was 24 I gave it all up as I had a vision of what I might become. I couldn’t even touch the back of my head because my arms were so massive. Now I just work out on machines at the gym in my home in Madrid and when I am traveling I try to stay in hotels with gyms.

Did you aspire to be the next Arnold Schwarzenegger? He was the hero for us all; him and Lou “Incredible Hulk” Ferrigno. Of course they look like babies compared with today’s bodybuilders.

You’re also a composer and a conductor. Do you ever worry about trying to do too much? When you have two or three talents, you have to decide whether to just use one and hide the others. The music world is fond of labeling people, but at the end of your life you will have to explain to that being who gave you your talents why you were so cowardly as to not use them all.

Ah, the famous ego. Some critics have had a bit of a field day at your expense. I used to care what the critics said. I used to suffer, especially when the criticism was suspiciously bad. But I would rather not talk about it except to say that people always criticise eclecticism.

As an opera singer do you have to stick to a strict regime? Because I was a semi-professional athelete for many years I learnt how to eat well. Before a show I have a big plate of pasta, for energy. What with make-up and singing, then all the after-show business, you can be working for five hours at a stretch.

Ever tuck into the steaks? I was a vegetarian for about five years in my twenties, then one day I woke up and thought it wasn’t too smart to lose my barbecue. But when I was a vegetarian I weighed 20kg (44lb) less.

Champagne or sparkling water? I don’t drink. Well, I have a finger of wine when I eat meat, but I can’t handle any more than that. If I do, I start talking nonsense.

I guess the smokes are out of the question? Actually I smoke a pipe when I’m at home. It’s not something I can’t do without, but it’s pleasant. I never smoke in London. The air is polluted enough already here.

You are quite physical on stage. Have you ever suffered for your art? No, but in the past I’ve had many injuries, particularly to my back and knees because of all my weight training. Yet thanks to all those years in the gym I have a miraculous cardiovascular system. My heartbeat is 52 to 54 at rest. When I go on stage it reaches only 80 beats, which is akin to resting for other people. It gives me a huge advantage — I am never out of breath.

Do you pop any pills? Now that I’m in my forties I take supplements including vitamin E for hair and nails and vitamin C in winter.

How do you cope with the nerves? When you cross the stage for the first time each night you need to be a little nervous. That’s normal and good and it helps to break the ice with the audience.

Naturally good looking or do you attack the make-up? I’m a Neanderthal man as far as my face is concerned, but all that heavy make-up that I have to wear when I am on stage does it no good. Every so often my wife insists that I go to a spa and have a facial.

Do you sleep well at night? Now I am 41 I have achieved mental peace. I don’t worry about what people think. I have found audiences are ready to take the love I give them on stage. And I try to live my life as intensely as I can, knowing that it’s the only one I have.

What spurs you on? The goal is always the same, to be a Renaissance man. If I were only a singer, I’d be more relaxed. I’d go to the movies on my days off. But I’ve decided to complicate my life with conducting and a recording company and composing. I’m also a keen photographer and I’m going to publish some of my photographs in a book.

Who is he?

The masked television character who rode a horse called Silver. His mission was to avenge wrongs throughout the Old West. This was the beginning of Westerns on television in the early 1950s (it ran from 1949 to 1957). The best-known Lone Ranger was Clayton Moore (1949-52 and 1954-57). He also played the role in two feature films made in the late 1950s. John Hart played The Lone Ranger for a few seasons (1952-54). The theme tune was Rossini's William Tell Overture. The Lone Ranger was created by George W Trendle and Fran Striker as a local radio show in 1933 before being brought to television in a series of half-hour episodes made in Hollywood.

What did he do?

He never killed anyone, but there was always lots of action. He rode with his faithful friend, Tonto, and fired a gun with silver bullets. He never accepted payment for his good deeds but lived off the income from a silver mine that he discovered. There he would stock up on silver bullets and with a hearty, "Hi, ho, Silver, away!", he would gallop off to set the record straight. The creed of the Lone Ranger, according to the original writer Fran Striker, was: "I believe that to have a friend, a man must be one. That all men are created equal and that everyone has within himself the power to make this a better world."

Why do I admire him?

I always admire those who work quietly behind the scenes, behind the mask. I came back to the Royal Opera House to sing in Samson et Dalila and as I walked through the corridors and saw all the make-up artists, the dressers, the stage managers, assistants and so on, I came to the conclusion of how little we know about these people behind the curtain. I felt these were my forgotten heroes because I can't be on stage without them. But how do I put this group of people in one person? The Lone Ranger is symbolic of all the people not in the limelight, doing a lot but whom you may never know.

“To be honest, Mr. Lalas, just a few things have …NOT changed!”

“Same wife, three kids. These are among the few things that didn’t change. But we moved out of France to Madrid, we created our own recording label, we produce discs and DVD’s, we make our own productions, while, at the same time, we are managing my career, as well as the career of other artists. We have become, in a way, a ‘thorn’ in the flesh of the existing, established companies performing artistic management, who prefer the water not to be agitated by initiatives like ours”.

“When an artist proves that he is able to make a good career without giving in to the managers of the companies that are often not so capable, it is a fact proving something not so favorable for them. It is setting an example for imitation and then some people will lose their jobs. So, this is how we started and we have succeeded. The honest companies – because, for all that, there are some that are not “pirates”- are collaborating with us and we co-produce. The companies that are not so good get a bit nervous with this situation and I know that some weeks ago an important international meeting took place in a specific town, where among other topics they discussed about ‘what are we doing with Cura and his company’. This made me glad. If they are concerned and are paying attention to us, this means we exist. It needs great courage to do what we do and it’s a great risk. I have got many ‘kicks’ these last years. But every kick that leaves me a bruise on the backside gets me at the same time several meters ahead! So, if they keep on kicking me from behind, they will certainly help me get very much ahead!”

“This is a possibility. Another one is the fact that it is very easy to write and talk about classical music, to claim that ‘the good way to make art is dying’, and I don’t refer just to opera but also to the other forms of art. It is so easy to say that, but also so destructive! It just needs you to take a pen, to put this as the title on your article and the chief-editor will print it right away, because it is going to have a great impact. But all this is bullshit! We have never before had such a coming of audience, so many new orchestras born every day, new artists, new talents! So, where is the problem? The matter is simple. If you want to perform in the 21^st century in the same way that one used to perform in the 19^th century, then of course you’ll be out of job. Sarah Bernard was a legend in her time. If she was living today and performing in the way she was doing in the 19^th century, she would be boring. Today we are here in Portugal, shortly before the final between Portugal and Greece for the Euro Cup. The players of today don’t play as 50 years ago. If someone like Di Stefano or Pelé was getting into the field tomorrow, he could hardly make it for five minutes. Accordingly, the cinema adjusts, pop music adjusts. Everything and everybody adjust to today. Why, then, don’t we at the opera and in classical music have to adjust? Why do we have to dress like penguins to get on stage?”

“However, it doesn’t have to do with the performance of the music. There is only one way to make good music: To do it right! As there is only one way to kick the ball. You put up your foot and you kick the ball. Isn’t it so? What matters is if your whole conduct can attract the public or not. I go back to the example of Sarah Bernard. If she performed today a theatrical play the indolent way she did in the 19^th century, she would seem to us funny, at the best of times. The part is the same. So, it isn’t that which makes us disrespectful of the musical work or the writing, but the way you approach the work. If, instead of getting on stage dressed like a penguin or as if you were going to a funeral sending out at the same time the message that you see what you do as sad and boring, you get on stage dressed normally but elegant and with a smile, tanned and in a positive mood, the audience will get the message. They will think that this man on stage enjoys what he’s doing and likes it! And because he enjoys it he will make us enjoy it too. In countries like England I have been criticized with characterizations that you certainly wouldn’t expect to be written by a journalist – such as: ‘Cura has to understand that performing on stage is not for his own pleasure. He doesn’t have to have fun with the music.’. When I read that I said: ‘Something is sick here. And certainly it is not me!’. How can you transmit joy if you yourself don’t enjoy it? There is a notorious quote of Maradona of Zidane. If Zidane gets upset, explain to him that I simply repeated it! Maradona said: ‘Zidane may be the best master of the ball today, but his play is sad!’ ”

“Have you heard yesterday, in the rehearsals, the two “boleros” I sang? Did you see how my whole attitude and mood changed? You can’t say even for a moment that ‘this is an opera tenor who sings boleros’. I suddenly became a pop singer. Because I have the music in my soul. And this is my real soul. Because also as a musician I am curious to try new experiences in all fields. For three years I was doing renaissance music – Palestrina, Gregorian chant. And this has nothing to do with my personality or my voice. But everything enriches my musical existence. The same thing happens with opera. I enjoy singing but if someone would come today and would tell me that starting today I couldn’t sing opera anymore, I won’t die of sorrow. For me, opera is another musical experience that I will be doing for as long as I can, the way I believe it has to be done:  with good acting and by giving it my all when I’m on stage”.

“No. I don’t like ruptures. They are too drastic. And let’s not forget that when something breaks, someone always suffers. Those kinds of revolutions are usually the social ones, where suddenly one day people revolt and cut heads. In art, the revolution is made by doing your job by letting your own art slowly imbue the environment intoxicatingly. Maybe two people get imbued by it and transmit this intoxication to two others. And these two to another two. And this develops into a chain reaction. It is not possible [for an artist] to wake up one morning and say: ‘Stop, from now on you paint this way!’. It is both impossible and wrong. I personally learn, change and adjust as time passes. The good thing in this kind of revolution is that people can get the idea and develop its positive elements. In this case it is something more than a revolution. It is a vaccine. You do the vaccination and you expect the body to reproduce the antibodies”.

“No, no! I think that if the managers of a company are clever, they will understand an anti-conformist artist. And the leader of a company who has risen to the top because of his abilities - and not because a finger has put him in the chair – is certainly very clever. It’s rare, of course, for someone to get very high only with his personal skills, but it happens. Let’s say then that this man is very clever. The clever ones recognize right away the artist who is also clever, who has talent and who’s going to make the difference. This is not the problem, i.e. to be recognized. The problem is to be supported. Because if you, the avant-garde artist, you say to the manager of the company: ‘This is the new way and this is how we will save the company, and this way we will refresh our identity as a company, and this way we will sell again millions of discs’, immediately you declare that everything else in the company is out-of-date, old-fashioned. Put now yourself in the manager’s place. What is he doing? For supporting you, the new people, he is actually putting his career at stake, and this demands guts, big guts. Maybe this is where the problem lies. And maybe the solution is one: that there are managers only with big… guts! I suppose …”.

“I give you an example. If you manage to get to the top of a high mountain after preparing your muscles for you entire life, then you climbed the mountain by using your own hands, by leaving your blood on the rocks … When you get to the top, you are so strong that you can fight almost everything. If it was a helicopter that brought you down to the top of the mountain, the next day you are again at its feet!

I started to climb at the age of 12 and today I’m 42. I have been climbing for 30 years now! Believe me, I have very strong muscles!” 

“I don’t think he should be an egoist, but he has to be vain”.

“Once or twice, but I was very tough. I have been very tough since I was a kid, as my mother says. I’ve gone through a lot but I had the intelligence to know which people I needed to have around me. It’s like when you put a stick by the little tree you have planted in a pot to support it. Finding those sticks is often the secret for the development of your talent.  Success also depends on the quality of the “hedge” that these sticks form around you. This “hedge” should be strong enough to protect you but also open enough to let the sun and the air in. If you have this recipe, then go ahead. I discovered this recently, in my 40’s. When I started I wasn’t like this. Do you remember the way I was promoted by the companies? With all those cheap slogans: “the sex symbol”, “the erotic tenor”, “the fourth tenor”, “the tenor of the 21^st century” and other similar bullshit that were putting me in great danger. Then suddenly one day I woke up and made the decision to cut my links to all that. So I created my own company for driving my life with my own driving license and not with someone else’s. However, I lived through three years of nightmare because suddenly I found myself cut from everything …”.

“The last two years everything has started to get better. However since 1999 till 2002, everybody tried to make clear to me in every way that, if I wanted to continue by myself, I would be cut-off. So then, no more cover stories, just one or two interviews, and the critics systematically ruining my works, I was called ‘the setting star!’ and other of this kind. I lived three years fighting the wind and the adversities, until I finally managed to get back on the scene and to be on covers again, with people writing about me, my label has already done three productions with significant sales - something that is a great achievement for a label with no distribution network or any advertisement! And now everybody says: ‘Here is an amazing tenor. He performs with any orchestra and they start to play divinely! He sings and the people rave with the spectacle he creates!’… You see how things change? Now I have also assumed the position of the artistic manager in a new theater that is going to open in Madrid very soon, two or three orchestras in the world are offering me positions as their musical director, two motion pictures companies are in talks with my company for incidental music for their films, while the managing team of a French company is trying to convince me to be the main theme of an international festival that would include music and cinema. All this is not bad at all for ‘the setting star’… What do you think?”

“Look, even though they have tried to cut my legs many times, I feel them deeply rooted in the ground. And something more: I never compromise. I have never bribed a journalist or a newspaper for writing about me, I have never greased somebody’s palm for being hired. I am happy with my wife and my family. I am a normal man! For dealing with a case like me you have to invent lies – but, as the maxim says ‘lies have short feet’ -, which, sooner or later will be revealed. So, they were saying I am ‘an arrogant bastard’. Mr. Lalas, I’m not an arrogant bastard. I am someone who suffered and struggled a lot, who resisted and managed to get to the top of the mountain through the storm – and I am proud of all that! If being proud of all I’ve done in my life after 25 years of hard work is arrogance, then I am arrogant! However, I don’t think this is right or fair!”

“Let’s say I am one of the few that exist who represents the ideal of the Greek civilization: ‘Nous iyiis en somati iyii (Healthy mind in a healthy body)’. This was the ideal at the time of the first Olympic Games. It is said that at the time of the first Olympic Games, Pythagoras was one of the athletes as was his son-in-law, Milon the Krotonian, who was a mathematician and a musician at the same time! Consider me too, then, as a descendant of Pythagoras. A Pythagorean!”

“Me too”

Lion in winter: Jose Cura weathers the critical storms

January 4, 2004

BY LAURA EMERICK
Chicago Sun Times

Opera at its essence exists on an exaggerated scale. Think of those massive sets, palatial venues and often oversized talents. In a tasteful understatement, critic Stephen Brook once wrote: "The power of opera is that its range of emotion is larger than life; its nature is excess."

So in an artform that worships excess in all its many guises, Jose Cura, now starring in the Lyric Opera production of Saint-Saëns' "Samson et Dalila," should fit right in. The Argentinian-born tenor can rightfully boast of being a jack-of-all-trades, and contrary to the expression, becoming the master of every last one: singer, conductor, composer, arranger, instrumentalist (guitar, piano, winds, strings), rugby player, photographer and businessman.

But instead of receiving unqualified encouragement for his artistic reach, Cura often finds himself criticized for his craven ambitions. (Not unlike Saint-Saëns himself, a child prodigy whose interests ranged from butterflies to botany.)

When he made his London recital debut, conducting his own arias, critics called his dual role indulgent. The Independent ripped him with the headline "the ego has landed." It really got petty when critics accused him of being eccentric because his opening aria of Verdi's "Otello," one of the most thrilling and demanding of all tenor parts, was too powerful. That role begins with the triumphant cry, against a gale-force orchestra: "Esultate! ... Nostra e del ciel e gloria..." ("Rejoice! Ours and heaven's is the glory...")

If you can't be eccentric at the moment of victory, however, then what's the point?

 

Cura a specialist in many styles, but especially Latin music Along with his operatic work, Jose Cura has found himself equally at home in the folk music of Latin America. "Anhelo" (1998) focused on primarily guitar-based songs of his native Argentina, while "Boleros" (2002) showcased the classic ballad style born in the Caribbean. Though many classical artists often founder in such pop or crossover projects, Cura skillfully manages to scale back his voice when required. "In my case, I started out as a pop singer, so I'm at ease at lowering down [vocal] gears," he said. "It's important to strive for the simplicity of the pop singer and the richness of an operatic singer. It's a less muscular sound, like playing the Beatles on a Steinway." But as in opera, technique needs to be uppermost. "It's not pop dropped from the corner of your mouth," he said. "It's very tricky technically, especially boleros. You have to have proper technique, as in jazz." For "Boleros," Cura performed several songs brought back into vogue by Latin pop star Luis Miguel, such as "Voy a Apagar La Luz," "Somos Novios" and "Contigo Aprendi." While Luismi favors a heavily produced, synthesizer-based sound, Cura prefers to keep his bolero arrangements truer to the original style. "The bolero format allows you to take it simple or do a great symphonic thing. You can do whatever, but personally I prefer to keep it simple. With overproduction, things start to degenerate." Though most Americans associate Argentina with tango music, Cura points out that the tango is only one of many folkoric genres there. And certainly not the most important. "Tango is not the music of the whole country," he said. "It's music from the city, primarily Buenos Aires, where Italian and Spanish immigrants settled at the turn of the century." Unlike some of his fellow countrymen, such as CSO music director Daniel Barenboim, Cura does not see himself undertaking a tango project. "I don't feel that I have the authority to go over it," he said, smiling. "I'd have to do a lot of studying." Laura Emerick

But Cura, in an interview conducted at his home for the run of "Samson," takes the critical brickbats in stride. "When you are blessed with many talents, and you go for them, it [upsets the established order]," he said, speaking fluently in English inflected with the musicality of his native Spanish. "You become viewed as not being easy to control. They say, 'Let's put on him the label of arrogance.' No one's been able to explain this to me. It's just arrogance when you decide that you will not shut up. In this world, courage is viewed as a sign of arrogance. But the real arrogance is not being prepared to be who they really are."

On this December day, less than a week before Christmas, when he would return home to Madrid and his family for a brief holiday respite, Cura appears relaxed and at peace with himself. With his easy, open manner, he seems anything but arrogant.

At 41, still in the upward trajectory of his career, he remains philosophical. "It can be a curse to be a renaissance man. It equals arrogance. In ancient times, that was the goal of a person. To hide [my talents] and show only one, that would be a regret. I would rather show them all and deal with the envy of people. So you have to decide which negative situation you want to deal with. It is a fight every day. Then again, if someone is loved all the time, then that person is not being an original."

Of course, some of the backlash can be attributed to his rapid rise on the opera scene. Often touted as the potential Fourth Tenor (a label that he insists "means nothing"), Cura has been welcome in the world's greatest houses since the mid-'90s, with more than 25 roles at the Metropolitan Opera, Covent Garden, La Scala.  With his rich baritonal coloring, Cura also has been hailed as a successor to the great dramatic tenors of an earlier era, Mario Del Monaco and Franco Corelli.

Of Corelli, the Met mainstay who died Oct. 29 at age 82, Cura said, "I'm a big fan of his style of vocal production. Corelli, Del Monaco, Carlo Bergonzi -- those were amazing organs. I don't think now you could sing like that anymore."

To some critics, those three tenors represented the loud, fast and sometimes out of control school of vocalism. "If you sang that way now, you would be booed," Cura said. "Or again labeled as arrogant. Caruso couldn't sing today the way he sang. Whether this is good or bad, I don't know."

But even more so than to Corelli or Caruso, Cura often finds himself compared to a contemporary dramatic tenor, Placido Domingo. Like Cura, he performs many roles -- singer, conductor, administrator. Cura also shares with the Spanish supertenor an unusually wide repertoire, ranging from Italian bel canto (Bellini's "Norma"); Verdi and Puccini ("Aida," "La Forza del Destino," "La Traviata" and "Manon Lescaut," "Tosca"); French opera (Massenet's "Werther" and "Herodiade"); Italian verismo (Mascagni's "Cavalleria Rusticana" and Giordano's "Andrea Chenier"), and even 20th century works (Janacek's "The Makropulos Case"). And Cura made his American debut in 1994 at Lyric Opera, replacing Domingo as Loris in Giordano's "Fedora."

In addition to a similar repertory, they share other bonds. Cura won first prize in Domingo's annual Operalia competition in 1994, and Domingo conducted the orchestra for Cura's first recital disc, "Puccini Arias," in 1997.

Despite the connections, Cura waves aside all comparisons to Domingo. "It's a good shortcut for a lazy press," he said. "I started to conduct at age 15. I never followed his life calendar. Maestro Domingo mostly conducts operas and not symphonic works. In both cases, it's the reverse of my situation.

"Again, these are shortcuts. No one brings to the surface the true story. If you are a dramatic tenor, you are regarded as a Domingo clone."

And don't even broach the subject of the Three Tenors, the opera phenomenon, with Domingo as its linchpin, that continues to sell out stadiums worldwide. "All this talk about the Three Tenors, and now the search for the Fourth Tenor -- all this is press shortcuts," he said. "It can be useful to attract readers.

"But I have my own company with 20 employees. I am watching this whole thing 24 hours a day. Meanwhile, I am studying new scores," and pointed to a bound edition of Verdi's "Un Ballo in Maschera" on a nearby table. "It's a question of temperament. I have the capacity of absorbing many challenges. It's the way I am."

As part of his all-embracing temperament, he refuses to limit himself to classical music. Along with his operatic recital discs, Cura has released several collections of Latin ballads and folk songs, beginning with "Anhelo" (1998), "Boleros" (2002) and "Aurora" (2003). Issued on the London-based independent label Avie, "Aurora" features Argentinian music along with opera arias.

He attributes his wide-ranging musical tastes to his mother. "I enjoy any type of singing, save for rock 'n' roll. I don't feel comfortable in it. But I began to love all types of music beause my mother was wise enough to introduce me to them, almost like a DJ. She made me understand that there is only good and bad music in the world. All other labels are immaterial. She moved from Beethoven to Frank Sinatra without remorse."

Nowadays, with the consolidation of the music industry, especially radio, it's not exactly easy to segue from the longhairs to Ol' Blue Eyes. At several points, Cura bemoans the influence of "marketing forces." As part of assorted promotional campaigns, Cura finds himself lumped in along with other Latin operatic talents such as Marcelo Alvarez, Juan Diego Florez and Ramon Vargas.

But Cura dismisses the Latin connection as more marketing nonsense. "People see only the tip of the iceberg. There's much, much more. Florez, Alvarez, Vargas, all have been working for years, they're not just overnight sensations. They are very accomplished professionals. That they are Latin is only a coincidence."

Then again, talk of a Latin connection hints at the bias that opera should remain a European domain.

"Some people mistakenly think that the so-called Third World is not supposed to produce a first-class classical music product. In any case, 99 percent of Latin America has something to do with European roots. It's 100 percent Mediterranean."

As for another kind of 100 percent, Cura hopes to remain at full strength vocally for many more years. "It depends on the organ," he said. Referring to the supertenor, who turns 62 in January, he added, "Domingo is the exception. He is an amazing example of longevity, considering his especially heavy artistic life. I want to pray I will last as long as he has."

With longevity of course comes a better understanding and interpretation of roles, especially in operas like "Samson et Dalila," which favor orchestral color over characterization and drama.

"I feel that I am a better Samson now, in part due to maturity," Cura said. "'Samson' cannot be performed if you only produce the music. If you put in the extra ingredient, the spiritual component, then you have a great evening. The French repertoire, in the first approach [music only], maybe is kitsch. You have to go beyond the sugar to see the real message.

"It's a big challenge also with 'Werther,' 'Herodiade.' When I first studied the scores, I thought it was pure sugar, but then I find the inspiration of modern life."

"Samson" has turned into one of his signature roles, along with "Otello," which unfortunately he has not yet recorded.

And it seems unlikely to happen given the state of the classical music recording industry. "When you record a whole opera, you almost never break even, except as a live [concert] performance," he said. "Production costs are enormous."

In 1999, when Time-Warner closed the Erato label, Cura along with many other classical artists, found himself without a home. "The times when singers were signed to an exclusive recording contract are finished," he said. "We're all in a period of transition, trying not to die, but also not to overdo.

"The problem with the market now is that it's not interested in real things. Without last-minute inventions, they think the buyers are lost."

Meaning Italian tenor Salvatore Licitra, who stepped in for an ailing Luciano Pavarotti at the Met in 2002 and rapidly gained press acclaim as opera's newest star?

Ever the diplomat, Cura quickly added, "No, you said that. Not me."

Referring again to the hype machine, he said, "It used to be like that for me, too. But I got fed up with it. I did not study for 20 years to become a marketing clown.

"Serious music needs time to be serious about its art. So maybe it's not bad luck that Erato closed down. All of sudden I was alone in the desert. Now I am slowly recovering my position as a serious musician. The events of four years ago have led to a reversal of bad fortune."

Kick In the Pants

Facts: Mr. Cura, you are a singer, musician, conductor, composer, and photographer. Do you still have the overview? Can you still keep track of everything?

José Cura: My management (team) takes care of that. But there are actually people who think of me as a ‘pain in the ass’, as a thorn in the flesh, because of it.

Facts: How is that?

José Cura: Because among purists it’s considered unconventional to be successful in more than one area, in more than one thing.

Facts: Which doesn’t seem to bother you.

José Cura: A thorn hurts, causes distress, but Oscar Wilde says it is better to remain a painful memory than none at all.

Facts: How do you want your audience to remember you down the line?

José Cura: Each of us is replaceable. But I would like to be remembered as an honest, sincere human being, as someone who remained true to himself and did not swim with the current.

Facts: Your- as far as the classical music scene is concerned- unconventional way is precisely what entices young people to go to the opera.

José Cura: Indeed, young people often come up to me and tell me that they came to a concert because of me. Naturally, it is nice to have it said about me that I present classical music in a modern way. But I would rather people would see as many artists as at all possible. That’s the only way they can form and cultivate an opinion of their own.

Facts: You also do not dread popular music. You recorded a duet with Sarah Brightman and a CD with South American love songs. Not all friends of things classical approve of this crossover.

José Cura: It is said about the classical (music) audience that it would not go to pop concerts because it considers pop music to be ‘cheap’, superficial. But it has been my experience that elitist thinking is much more widespread in the pop scene than in the classical. One cannot throw all artists into the same pot, i.e. lump them all together, according to the principle that Pop is easy and slightly grungy and that classical artists are arrogant and elitist. There is ‘cheap’ Pop and then there is very high quality Pop, just as there are very, very many second-rate classical artists. Many pop musicians are extremely professional and have profound musical knowledge; others are nine days’ wonders, ‘flashes’ so to speak. Just think of the Spice Girls! Heavens! That was the mother of all booms all over the world. After two years they went bust. The same phenomenon exists in the classical arena also. People get hyped up because they have a pretty voice or a nice appearance-- and after two years, they are gone from the window, from public view. A pretty voice is not enough to make a career; it takes significantly more for that.

Facts: You have been in the business for 25 years. But a tenor cannot sing forever. A conductor, on the other hand, can stand at the lectern until he’s way up in years. Is conducting a kind of pension insurance for you?

José Cura: No. You know, I was conducting to begin with and started singing only later. But it is true, a conductor works as long as he can stand on his feet and hold a baton. In fact, he actually gets better with time- given that he does not suffer prematurely from senile dementia. On the other hand, singing is a lottery. The legendary Franco Corelli, for example, stopped at age 50. Compare that to Alfredo Kraus, who sang until his death. He was 78 at that time.

Facts: How long do you give yourself?

José Cura: I’ll sing at least as long as I have to pay the mortgage on my house—well, that’s about 20 years.

Facts: When you conduct, you have the say over which way the wind is blowing. When you sing, you are guided, i.e. someone else runs the show.  Which do you like better?

José Cura: The dividing line is not as precisely drawn as it appears to the outsider. The conductor has the overall responsibility. But ideally, one makes music together, in partnership, in concert. For example, when the clarinet has a pretty good solo, I’ll go over and ask: What’s your take on this? What’s your feeling about it? Then he’ll play his conceptual version, his take on it for me, and if it is persuasive and convinces me, we’ll follow along. It’s human beings that make music together, and not machines. A competent authority figure (at the helm) knows to share, knows how to involve.

Facts: In other aspects of life, do you also like to set the tone, determine the beat?

José Cura: Naturally, I do like to run things, to take charge. But sometimes that is very tiring. That’s why I so relish working with people who know more than I do, who have more experience. If I have faith in a person, I let him have the scepter ever so readily. I do like to put myself into the hands of great conductors and great directors such as Cesare Lievi, Colin Davis, and Nello Santi.

Facts: What do you think of female conductors?

José Cura: I have a woman as an assistant. She is very good. But a woman should not imitate the gestures of a man; that looks ridiculous, especially if she believes she has to wear tails on top of that. A female conductor has to find her own way, her own style as a woman. Such a woman, i.e. one who stands by what she is and is true to herself on the podium, will make a more effective, lasting impression on her orchestra than many a man.

Facts: Nevertheless, women have a more difficult time in the conducting profession.

José Cura: Unfortunately. However, there are all the time more, and all the time better ones. The Hamburg Opera for one now has a female artistic director. These things change slowly. But it is in fact still a profession that by virtue of tradition remains associated with testosterone.

Facts: Was there a discussion on the classical music scene about equal rights and equal pay?

José Cura: Not really. True stars have about the same fees, no matter whether man or woman. Naturally, voices that are not so common, like for instance tenors, get a little more. Also, if an opera house wants a specific star for a specific production, they’ll pay more. But that does not depend on gender. If there are a hundred good sopranos to choose from, the price is naturally lower than for dramatic sopranos, of which there are only about four worldwide. It’s simply a question of the market place’s supply and demand.

Facts: Does portraying the hero on stage night after night have an impact?

José Cura: Not really. The role is sustained, until the curtain falls; then one goes home. The audience more likely has a tendency to identify one with the character whom one depicts on stage. It’s like with actors. Someone constantly plays a bastard and people come to believe that he is in fact one, when he’s really just an actor who gets paid to play a bastard.

Facts: Like you as Otello?

José Cura: …and Samson and Pagliaccio: self-assured, self-confident, arrogant characters all. In 1997, for example, I sang Pagliaccio, an old, wretched man, who is completely finished, at the end of his rope. That’s why his wife leaves him. She has enough of his cold attitude and has to look for affection elsewhere. It would have been ridiculous had I portrayed an old, ugly guy. I simply don’t look like that. So I interpreted him differently: as an aggressive, violent type. Promptly, I received many letters in which I was asked not to play that Pagliaccio again. The role supposedly had ruined my disposition. A nice, flattering compliment.

Facts: For years, you have been a regular at the Opera House in Zurich. What do you think of the Swiss audience?

José Cura: The relationship between artist and audience is like a love affair. The members of this audience are different from certain others in that they are willing to enter into a long-term relationship. In a loving relationship, one is more inclined to forgive bad days, to understand that, granted, one is not in top form today, but nevertheless has given one’s best.

Facts: That is not the case everywhere?

José Cura: There are countries in which one is not even allowed one weak second.

Facts: How can one tell that an Opera House has an audience that is capable of connecting in such a sympathetic way?

José Cura: One can tell it by the fact that 70-year-old singers are still performing there. Granted, they are no longer as good as they were in their prime, but still above average. Everybody gets older- if you have someone at your side, a partner or as it were the audience, you grow old happily. Is there anything more beautiful than an audience that doesn’t throw you out with a swift kick in the rear because you have turned gray?  But it is on the condition that as an artist you stand by your age and do not pretend to be the dashing young man of years past. You must recognize the moment when the time has come to change roles, to play the father instead of the lover. Then all goes well.

Author: Interview: Ruth Brüderlin/translation by Monica B.

 

 José Cura defends the honor of tenors in visit to Indiana University

THE TENOR WITH THE BATON

(translated by Monica)

To his Mom he ought to say thank you not only for the head of “wild” hair, but also for the brain that’s inside: a brain well nourished and powerfully energetic, the synaptic connectors highly trained. Of course, José Cura is a man of extraordinary intelligence, an obvious gift, too evident to take a backseat to the success of his voice or to hide behind a physicality made for the stage. Cura has the quick mind of a Ulysses-like musician; he flies high but keeps an eye on reality with the readiness of a gull. He passes over (a target), spots it, descends in a nose dive and strikes. He is experienced at life and certainly shrewd, but also “true, genuine”—that is to say, not without anxiety—in confronting new things that attract him. It’s impossible to settle him down with a “That doesn’t interest me”. Cura has charisma: he nails you to attention.

 

As has been anticipated for a long time, the Argentine tenor will take part this evening (10/10/2004) in the second edition of the “Happy Birthday, Maestro Verdi” gala with which the Teatro Regio of Parma celebrates the genius from Busseto on the occasion of his 191st birthday. After having turned down the renewal of his contract as the Sinfonia Varsovia’s “principal guest conductor”, José Cura is just back from a celebrated tour in Hungary, where he conducted the Hungarian National Philharmonic Orchestra and pianist Zoltan Kocsis. Months earlier, at the PiacenzaExpo, he had conducted “Un ballo in maschera” in an innovative production of the Toscanini Foundation directed by Pier Luigi Pizzi. After several concerts and CD of symphonic music, it had been Cura’s debut conducting an opera [full length]. It still does make sense to say that José Cura is a tenor who ventures into conducting --or can we take his professionalism at conducting to be acquired? You may think about this as you wish. However when one reads the response of the one involved, he maintains “I was born to conduct. I started to sing 13 years ago; I’ve been conducting for 26. Does it surprise people that I would pick up the baton? Well, then it ought to sink in that mine has been above all the education, training and career of a conductor; later on, I got into singing. Anyhow, this is not really a problem: I have proven myself, have passed the test with prestigious orchestras, and whereas someone might question my quality as tenor, I hope that at least there aren’t any doubts about my being an “artist!”. He laughs in the meantime: José Cura is undoubtedly an artist in deed. Among the few with a capital “A”! In spite of the most commonplace, the banal with capital “B”.

 

This tenor, who has drawn crowds throughout the world, has never sung an opera at Parma’s Teatro Regio, but he might really like it, perhaps even repeat the success of the splendid concert with which he made his debut, alongside Bruson at the city’s temple to melodrama. Waiting to meet him in Piacenza, where in May he was the protagonist in ‘Pagliacci’ and later conducted Puccini’s ‘Messa in gloria’ and Rossini’s ‘Stabat Mater’, I saw this announcement in the preview: José Cura is about to make his debut as director. “That’s actually a plan–as he himself refers to it- connected to an important anniversary in a foreign theater.” In the program ‘Don Carlo’, ‘Trittico’, and ‘Madame Butterfly’ appear with the subscript/credit of conductor of all the operas and director of the last two.”  In the meantime, José Cura has been appointed artistic director of the “Coliseo de las Tres Culturas”, about to be built in Madrid, a huge facility with three theatres, orchestras, ballet companies, conservatory, concert halls, plus production and recording studios. The opening is set for 2007. This calls for courage.

To Give Wings to the Universe

 By Andreas Láng / Translated by Monica B

 November 2004

“Comic roles would really be interesting and add variety. Sadly, there is nothing like that for me in my specialized area!” Nevertheless, José Cura is far removed from having to complain about one-sidedly limited offerings as far as roles are concerned. His obviously insatiable curiosity, to slip into as many different personality types as possible, is being satisfied by ever so many opera house directors—to the delight of audiences. At the Vienna State Opera alone, the Argentinean tenor can be heard within the span of a few weeks in three separate, totally different works: as Canio, consumed by jealousy, in the Verismo classic “Pagliacci”; as Andrea Chénier, romantic revolutionary, in Giordano’s opera by the same name; and--for the first time ever in Vienna—as Stiffelio, fanatical preacher and leader of a sect, in Verdi’s rather unknown “Stiffelio”. He portrayed the latter just a few weeks ago in Zurich for the first time and in doing so made a definite contribution to saving the honor of this so unjustly neglected piece. “I surprised many a one who had expected a heroic Cura. But this guy, Stiffelio, is no hero; rather, he is a charismatic fundamentalist with hypocritical tendencies. Basically a strange mixture of Calvin and Rasputin—and that’s how I want to portray him here in Vienna also.”

 

That he–on principle-does not blindly take up and follow the going (traditions in) interpretation in the creation (the shaping, fleshing out) of a role is something Cura gave proof of a year ago in his Vienna role debut as Andrea Chénier. The character his audience got to see and hear there was less of a revolutionary fighter and more of a sensitive romantic; someone, who seeks to change the world through his heroic poetry, i.e. his art, and who in so doing gets between political camps. “Andrea Chénier is not a brutal anarchist or revolutionary; he is an entirely different person from, for example, Samson in “Samson and Dalila”. He (Samson) is comparable to a suicide bomber or a kamikaze assassin, a terrorist, who takes others into the abyss along with himself over an idea. Andrea Chénier fights for his ideals on a much nobler level, and because of that he- naïve as he is-is much more deserving of love.”

 

And how does a practicing artist keep up his idealism today? In José Cura’s view most of all through the preservation of a very special capacity, which is primarily peculiar to children: the readiness to identify with the person who is being portrayed at the moment. “When children stick a feather in their hair, their imagination tells them they are Indians. With a hood comes the metamorphosis into Batman. A singer must be able to do the very same thing the moment he steps out onto the stage; he must be able to be another person. I paint my face black, for example, and I am Otello—with every fiber (of my being). But that’s exactly what’s so much fun. If you loose the child-like heart and with it the love for play and make belief, it won’t be long before you’ll run into difficulties as an artist.” To be sure, the heart of child can only be the basis on which the professionalism of a singer rests, a professionalism, which-according to Cura-is much more difficult to achieve than for someone (involved) in spoken theater.  Due to the fact that opera as art form speaks to the audience in a much more complex way than does mere drama/play, the demands on the ‘actorsinger’ are correspondingly high. “Since a much stronger focusing on emotions is possible in opera, they can be communicated much more easily. Yet, in spite of that, we’re dealing with Music Theater, which means that it calls for a credible performance equally in singing and acting. Very often, opera performances come close to that critical point at which they are in danger of tilting into the ridiculous. The one who has a beautiful voice and can sing well but comes across on stage as unbelievable does not fulfill the challenge put in front of him. Whoever acts well but sings poorly doesn’t do so any more; that goes without saying.”

 

José Cura’s versatility is, however, by no means limited to the depiction of distinctly different characters, but-as is well known-affects his entire range of activities as an artist. In numerous musical centers-including Vienna-the tenor is also known as a conductor whose repertoire extends beyond opera to include the realm of the symphonic. This double function makes quite incidentally a constant ‘self-fertilization’ possible, a give and take between conductor Cura and singer Cura. “As conductor, I try to approach matters with a feeling for drama, for the emotions of a singer. On the other hand, when I sing, I want to transfer the same discipline, clarity and attention to structure which I need at the rostrum. Because of this, I-and of course the audience (by extension)- benefit tremendously in both areas.”

 

As if that were not enough, there is the possibility of an additional proposition knocking on his door. In the not so distant future, he can perhaps draw up performance schedules for the season, i.e. select works himself. Not everywhere is the knife put to the throat of artistic endeavors placed quite the way it is in Germany, where countless theaters and orchestras have to fear for their existence and survival. In Madrid, for example, a new “Coliseum of Liberal Arts’ is going up, whose artistic and musical director could be someone by the name of José Cura. “At this time, we are in contract negotiations. For the present moment, everything is open, unsolved. A no can come of it as well as a yes.”

 

He is even successful in a sector, which is clearly experiencing strong headwind worldwide. Meanwhile, the catalog for his new CD label CVP, short for Cuibar Phono Video, sports three titles. Besides Rachmaninov’s 2^nd Symphony and Dvorak’s 9^th, opera arias as well as art songs can be found here. The name of both the conductor and the tenor is naturally José Cura. CPV certainly doesn’t appear to be aware of the worldwide collapse of CD sales. “We are an independent label and therefore can produce what we want; what’s more, we can do that with very low expenditures. Even though we don’t sell everywhere, we have-by virtue of this exclusivity-very good sales. We are like a small private movie theater with its own regular audience. I hope we continue to be as successful in the future.”

 

He finds the time constraints due to so many activities somewhat regrettable since in addition to the conductor (the re-creator) and the singer (the interpreter) there is also the composer (the creator) Cura. With his own compositions can be found, among other things, a Requiem, which he had already brought out in 1982 in memory of the victims of the Falklands War. Even if two decades have passed since then and this war has long since become history, the topic is more timely today than ever before and has persuaded Cura to pick up the piece again and to come up with a revised version. Because to him, music and art in general have a twofold mission and cannot serve merely as superficial entertainment. They must bring about a catharsis and thus a cleansing, a revitalization of the emotions for the individual. And secondly, as a living conscience, they must be able to provide answers, serve as a guide, pointing the way. It is therefore no coincidence that a quote by Plato is displayed on José Cura’s website, according to which music is moral law which gives a soul to the universe and wings to the spirit.

 

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