You shouldn't watch Opera on TV: you should watch TV in Opera.

I'm not sure about other countries, but impersonators, imitators and impressions in general, to this day constitute, without exaggeration, a good 80% of Italian mainstream TV.

Entire, shows - included many Saturday night ones (traditionally the most popular and watched by families) - have in huge part been based on imitators' stand-up numbers, since the very beginnings of Italian television history.

I am not sure why it is so.

But, for sure, and quite intuitively, this was an Italian trend way before TV was invented: that is, in Opera.

Susanna, disguised as the Countess, in the garden at night, imitates her mistress' speech.

Of course the Countess must have meant to be portraying, at her own time, a flesh and blood character from Mozart's contemporaneity - or else a peculiar speech, an accent, a cadenza (word we also use for regional accent).

Opera composers did not (just) think of posterity as an alien civilisation from outer space(-time), to send Bach's and The Beatles' recordings to: they (also) genuinely loved to make jokes, to have fun amongst themselves, as well as with their audiences, by portraying their own present tense and its characters (while sometimes sending each other encoded messages, of both political and artistic, technical nature).

Who knows how many real life people, people from their own same spacetime, our Belcanto prophets meant to immortalize by imitating them in the way they sounded, having the chance to do that through that ideal media - so perfectly tailored to the task - that the operatic score constituted.

Both Rinuccio and Gherardino mention Schicchi's name, before his entrance, in the same way:

that is, in the way Schicchi allegedly used to introduce himself.

When mentioning his own name (while at his own time impersonating Buoso, in the will's dictation),

Schicchi makes the exact same impression of himself, as previously provided by the other characters way before his entrance: same durations, same intervals - confirming the exactness of the impression itself.

We'll hardly ever find out who it was, the flesh-and-blood "Gian-ni-Schic-chi!" from Puccini's contemporaneity,

who spoke in hiccups, and who must have been so popular to be worth an operatic portrayal.

But it doesn't matter: it matters more to be able to see that we are indeed in front of an impression.

One out of many, many, many (in the same work alone, think of the previously identified Guccio, or else of Spinelloccio).

Wait, what? This is, the reason why Opera was invented in the first place, you say?

To imitate people's ways to speak?
 

Jacopo Peri himself says so, in his introduction to the Euridice: "imitar col canto chi parla" and Caccini, too, in his introduction to the Nuove Musiche: "siccome nel parlar comune la eloquenza"?

Federico Fellini, Amarcord (1973): a Riminese boy displaying mastery of the schwa, connaturate vowel in the fast tempi of enunciation of the Rossinian native Romagnolo.

Fellini and Rossini spoke with the exact same cadenza and portrayed in their operas the same acoustic reality:

the movies of the former constitute an excellent testimonial of the mental scenery of the latter.

I've recently met Antonio, the new boyfriend of a girlfriend of mine: he's from a small town in the province of Benevento named Guardia Sanfremondi and he told me this tragically hilarious, real fact of chronicle from his town, which made the news a few years ago: apparently, a guy had skipped naming his first born after his dad (the child's paternal grandfather) and, as a consequence, he had gotten stabbed by his own father. The national TV made a special on the whole story and everybody in town was tremendously excited about making the news.

As if this wasn't hilarious enough, the stabbed guy's mom (the child's paternal grandmother) was interviewed and, apparently, she kept repeating nothing but "Ch' mmortfcazzon'!" (What a mortification!), of course referring not to the stabbing, but to her grandson not getting named after her husband.

And of course, that "Ch' mmortfcazzon'!" remained as some sort of national anthem, for Antonio and his local friends: had he been an Opera composer, he would have sneaked it in somebody's lines.

Does your mom have a similar catchphrase?

Guardia Sanfremondi: the septennial ritual of the Battenti, in honor of the Madonna Assunta,

which will fall tomorrow - Sunday the 25th of August!

A month from now, my first ever Cantare Italiano training course will begin, in Italian and, separately, in English as well.

It will be held in the Fall-Winter-Spring seasons 2024-2025, in 15 sessions of 2 hours each, for groups of maximum 4 participants who will first learn by me and then will train each other under my supervision.

It will have a total cost €999 for each participant.

You're welcome to reply to this email if you are interested in joining it.

The first homework I am going to give you for the course will be transcribing, translating into written music a vocal note from someone who, in your opinion, has an iconic way to speak (doesn't have to be your mom). There is going to be a lot of music writing, in this training.

Also, to welcome this Virgo season of bleeding offers to the Great Mother for a good harvest, here's a discount of -15% on the PORTAMENTO plan (one, 70' long, individual session), of -10% on the STACCATO (bundle of two, 60' long, individual sessions) and finally one of -5% on the LEGATO (bundle of four, 60' long, individual sessions).

All available till Sunday, September 1st, by typing respectively the coupon codes VIRGO15 (for the PORTAMENTO), VIRGO10 (for the STACCATO) an VIRGO5 (for the LEGATO) at the checkout on my website (credit cards only) or else by replying to this email (PayPal/bank transfers).

So... what does/did your mom sound like? Can you write it down for me, please?

Let's make Opera.

La Maestra

extremely good at this (Graham Vick)

a fantastic coach, extremely helpful for young singers as well as experienced ones (Barbara Hannigan)

lingual and linguistic genius, almighty for vowel purity (Peter Tantsits)

bringing the language, the music and the characters to life; results of the very highes quality (Paul Nilon)

the foundation of a role, doesn't go on stage if she hasn't worked with me on it (Jennifer Rowley)

magic keystone of vocal technique, musical interpretation and building of the character: a radical rethink of the act of singing (Anna Piroli)

her incredible breadth of knowledge makes me feel entirely prepared (Heather Lowe)

opened up my voice, and a world before my eyes; every Conservatory should benefit of her teachings (Giulia Zaniboni)

a 180° turn in my work with the singers (Theophilos Lambrianidis)

like four professionals in one: taking all those elements and conveying them into one single intention (Yiselle Blum)

invaluable to make a role really succeed on stage (Ariadne Greif)

thoroughly prepared and professional (Marie Kuijken)

her work favours deep understanding, which makes the phrasing and vocal line.

she is entirely devoted to the art of Opera singing, and her students (Ida Falk Winland)

incredibly informed, consistent, knowledgeable Maestro (Michael Corvino)

a lifeboat; carrying the torch of finest Italian Opera (Nathaniel Kondrat)

a cure and a respect of the Music and the words’ musicality

that can be learnt so deeply nowhere else in the world (Matilde Bianchi)

an unconventional guardian angel (Giulia Ferraldeschi)