In my last post, I alluded to the difficulty of getting a good tune out of your head, and ever since selecting my next piece, I have fallen victim to just that! But this is entirely natural: I happened to stumble upon a quotation by the conductor Sir Thomas Beecham (1879-1961) the other day, who said, perhaps rather grandly, in a BBC broadcast in 1953 that, “Good music is that which penetrates the ear with facility and quits the memory with difficulty.” Well, he’s right enough on this one. It’s also a good way to end the day.
One of Donizetti’s (1797-1848) most famous and widely performed operas, ‘L’elisir d’amore’ (‘The Elixir of Love’) had its first performance in 1832. I don’t think we need trouble ourselves too much on a lengthy synopsis, but setting the context very briefly for today’s choice is helpful. Nemorino, a peasant, is madly in love with Adina; who, being well-off and well-read, is, frankly, also well out of his league. This doesn’t dissuade him from trying, to no avail, to win her over – indeed she initially accepts the proposal of someone else. But the arrival of a quack doctor comes to his aid. Having overheard Adina reading about a magic potion which Tristan used to capture the heart of Isolde, Nemorino asks the doctor to sell him some. What he downs in one is, in fact, cheap plonk, but it has the effect of giving him Dutch courage, for he is confident he will soon be irresistible to Adina; so much so, that his flirting with other girls upsets Adina, and she realises she loves him after all. (The fact that he unexpedetly inherits a fortune from an uncle comes as a late bonus.)
On noticing a tear in her eye, Nemorino sings one of opera’s most tender romances ‘Una furtiva lagrima’, here performed by the Peruvian tenor, Juan Diego Florez. It starts in the minor key, perhaps to suggest his regret at Adina’s apparent sadness, but listen to how Donizetti opens it up into the major key when Nemorino affirms his knowledge that Adina loves him – it is a statement of pure happiness. The melody is repeated, but this time unfolding with even more confidence. It is measured, rather than overtly ecstatic, but the message is clear. There are few things in life better than to know we are loved, especially by those we love ourselves; and there are few better examples in music of that feeling being conveyed.
One last observation. I don’t want to diss the bassoon, but the reality is that its sound is not the most instantly appealing. Although many of you will know it as the instrument which Prokofiev chooses to represent the curmudgeonly grandfather in ‘Peter and the Wolf’, its solo repertoire is not all that extensive. And yet, inspirationally, it is the bassoon, with a little harp backing, which Donizetti uses to introduce this most romantic of arias. Once heard, you really can’t imagine it being achieved with anything better. Genius choice.
I’m conscious that my first vocal piece was also a tenor, so I shall redress the balance next time, but in the meantime I hope Beecham’s words ring true…