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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?
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."
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
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 because 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."
Last Updated: Thursday, November 15, 2007
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