Birgit Nilsson

1 6 3 R M U S I C I N R E V I E W D E W E Y F A U L K N E R The world of opera, both in its plots and in its singers’ personal histories, is filled with tales of women oppressed and exploited by men. ‘‘Vissi d’arte, vissi d’amore’’ (Thus to art, thus to love), as Tosca despairingly sings in Puccini’s great aria. Nor does this su√ering end with narratives, as many operatic divas have lived similar lives: Francesca Cuzzoni in Handel’s day, California supersoprano Sibyl Sanderson, the glorious Claudia Muzio, and, above all in our time, the legendary Maria Callas. Most lived out sad tales of attempting to return too late to their profession after disastrous encounters with exploitative men, when their improperly trained or long disused voices could no longer support their reputations. Fortunately, there are female singers who are exactly the opposite , although many have had to overcome inept training and overbearing management (and conductors) in order to succeed. At the top of this list must go the legendary heroic soprano Birgit Nilsson, who was born in 1918, died in 2005, and managed to sing for adoring audiences until 1984 – at age sixty-six. The usual age for operatic retirement, if the singer is lucky, is sixty; most never get there, especially in Nilsson’s repertoire. 1 6 4 F A U L K N E R Y Nilsson said of her voice, ‘‘I had good material.’’ It was evenly produced from bottom to top, well supported (you can hear her breathe only on bad days), and enormous, especially in its upper register, where it opened out in house-filling volumes, either loud or soft. If she aimed for a note, any note, she hit it, dead on, invariably on pitch. Then too she had dramatic intelligence and was able, especially with usable input from a few stage directors, to improve and refine her insights into the women she portrayed, especially those in works by Richard Wagner and Richard Strauss. She also had intelligence about her career, undertaking roles only after she had first tried them out in the Royal Swedish Opera in Stockholm and felt comfortable with them. Some she dropped after a time, but she learned others, often rapidly. With a photographic memory and perfect pitch this was possible. ‘‘Good material ’’ indeed. She did have drawbacks. Her voice could be impersonal and lack warmth at times. She was not conventionally beautiful, a characteristic she overcame (with coaching) by thinking herself beautiful. When she felt unappreciated she had diva tantrums, although her husband, who remained in the background, talked her out of many – and a fee increase would usually take care of the rest. (Rudolf Bing, the manager of the Metropolitan Opera, infamously remarked that Nilsson was easy to deal with: one simply put money in and beautiful music came out.) The sizes of her fees, which increased over the years, were Nilsson’s measure of how well she was respected, although audience adoration also counted for a lot, which explains the mutual love she and her New York audience shared for many seasons. (She begins her memoir, La Nilsson: My Life in Opera, with an account of her rapturous Met debut in Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde in 1959.) Her main acknowledged weakness was for auctions, at which she obtained the fine rugs and dazzling jewelry that she prized. Yet at heart she was basically a frugal Swedish woman raised on a farm, and she left enough money to create a museum on her family farm at Båstad and endow both scholarships for young singers and a milliondollar prize in her name, awarded every few years. She was doubtless proud that it is the largest prize in the history of classical music. (She is also depicted on Sweden’s 500 kronor bill, which would have amused her.) M U S I C I N R E V I E W 1 6 5 R Like all performers, Nilsson had numerous obstacles to overcome , usually male. Her main vocal teacher in Stockholm, the tenor Joseph Hislop, did not understand...