Bravo Cura
Celebrating José Cura--Singer, Conductor, Director
Articles and Interviews (1)
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Lion in winter: Jose Cura weathers the critical storms Chicago Sun Times Laura Emerick January 4, 2004 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."
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."
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Un Ballo in maschera Libertà (Piacenza) Oliviero Marchesi / translated by Cicci 19 Feb 2004
Libertà: As conductor, how do you approach a score like that of ‘Un ballo in maschera’? Let me start by saying that as a conductor, I prefer the symphonic repertoire—Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, Bruckner, Dvorak, Respighi—also because I already do a lot of opera as a singer. However, the score of ‘Ballo in maschera’, a masterpiece by the mature Verdi, fascinates me because of its perfection. I am enthusiastic about the group of singers who will perform at the PiacenzaExpo: they should be on CD, at LaScala! Being a singer myself, I look to accompany my colleagues with the greatest possible degree of insight and understanding of their needs. I am also enthusiastic about the sensitivity of the Orchestra Toscanini. But it’s a pity that in a place that is as vast and (filled) with microphones, many nuances aren’t going to reach everyone in the audience. Libertà: You are very sensitive to the demand, the need for giving new, fresh theatrical vigor and vitality to opera, but in a recent interview you have put (people) on guard against the idea that it is sufficient to be thought of as unconventional in order to win new spectators for the opera. “Charisma attracts an audience”, you said. But the plan calls for this particular ‘Ballo’ to be performed in an exhibition hall, something that obviously has captivated you, which appeals to you. That’s correct, even if one must be aware of one thing: Just as in the theater the experienced audience knows that it cannot expect the perfection of a CD, likewise this opera at the PiacenzaExpo involves margins of risk, of adventure, of imperfections greater than those of a performance staged in a traditional theater. Libertà: And so, why are you doing this here? Why are you performing in this venue? Because I like the idea of carrying art to places that are not normally built for it. It is like celebrating Mass in a square rather than in a church. A few of the faithful might feel ill at ease and say, “I cannot manage to pray in a square”, (but) the square comes out enriched, sanctified. Libertà: Other singers have tried orchestral conducting, but none with your kind of success. What is the secret to your versatile talent? If I said that it is God’s special favor, that those are God-given talents, people would say, “Who does he think he is?” Therefore I prefer answering in this way: the secret, the key consists of a lot of hard work and a lot of sacrifices over many years. It’s made up of curiosity, of a passion for art that brought me on stage for the very first time at the age of 12 as an actor, then at 13 as a guitarist and at 15 as a conductor-and has brought me to study many instruments: the violin, the flute and the trombone. Libertà: Let’s play a game: try to tell me, percentage-wise, where you come down as singer and as conductor; to what degree you feel like one or the other. At the expense of upsetting my fans, I’d like to mention that I started to conduct long before I began to sing. It was my teacher Carlos Gantus who advised me to study singing; not in order to embark on a new career but to become a better conductor. Libertà: "As a tenor, you have reaped world-wide success performing in operas—in ‘Otello’, ‘Samson et Dalila’, ‘Pagliacci’ and ‘Turandot’—traditionally considered well performed only by ‘dramatic tenors’, a vocal classification whose progressive extinction dyed in the wool lovers of music have been lamenting for a long time now. Do you identify with this label? If we understand the expression ‘dramatic tenor’ to mean what it did in the 1950s, when it denoted a voice that was constantly above a certain number of decibels, well, then I am not a dramatic tenor. In ‘Otello’ for example, I’ve tried to look for, to come up with new vocal colors instead of pure power. But if by ‘dramatic tenor’ you mean a singer capable of rendering realistically and credibly the dramatic quality, the drama, of a theatrical performance, well then I’d like to think that I am one. Libertà: "You look like a man who is used to realizing his own ambitions; have you ever thought about acting? Besides feeling at home on stage, you can also count on a very noteworthy physical presence, on much appreciated good looks. They have offered that to me many times. They have asked me to perform Tennessee Williams in a theater setting and even to take part in a colossal film about the Roman invasion of Britain. Up to now, I have always said no, because I am convinced that there is a time (and season) for everything. At the moment, I want to concentrate on two or three things that I do well and feel comfortable with, also because I still have many roles to sing. The artistic life of a singer is not without limit as far as time is concerned.
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“The Music Business Has Long Since Turned Into a Circus” 13 February 2004 Peter Jarolin KURIER
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José Cura and Marcelo Alvarez: Friends, tenors, countrymen Chicago Sun-Times
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'Every Audience is a Good One' José Cura, Argentinian singer and conductor, talks with Katarzyna Gardzina Interview by Originally published in “ŻYCIE WARSZAWY” [Computer-assisted Translation]
José Cura: As I am a conductor for the Sinfonia Varsovia, it is natural that I be invited to lead them in this concert. It was lucky I had the time to undertake it. It is usually not so easy because I am very busy but I had exactly the right number of days free. KG: We understand you will be performing Beethoven’s 9th for the Concert for Europe. Have you conducted this work before or will this be the first time? It has been recorded by Sinfonia Varsovia by the great Yehudi Menuhin. Do you not fear comparison? JC: Yes, this is the first time I have conducted this work and no, I don’t fear comparisons. Why should I? Yehudi Menuhin was a legend. I am only a young conductor. Anyone who compares a young musician with a legend is being silly. And if it is silly, I don’t waste time worrying about it. KG: In the concert, in addition to Sinfonia Varsovia you will be working with Polish singers as soloists and choir. What can you tell us about working with them? JC: My experience working with Polish singers has been very short—only two or three days. That’s not enough time to know enough to say much. However, I can say that here in Poland there are many talented singers and musicians. This country is rich in musical talent. You are lucky. KG: You recorded a Rachmaninov CD last year with Sinfonia Varsorvia. When will it appear? Do you plan to record the Beethoven as well? JC: We will record the concert but I do not know when it will be issued. Probably within a year or two but I don’t know. But we will record it and then see what happens. The recording will be live, in a studio and not during the Monday concert. The Rachmaninov #2 disc will appear in England next week. The rest of the world will have to wait until spring. KG: Let’s turn for a minute to your recent performance in Otello at the National Theater. What are your thoughts about the opera? JC: I have to admit I had some problems with the direction initially but after two days of rehearsals we were able to compromise on a professional level and see good results. I’m happy to be going to Japan with the National Opera to perform Otello. KG: But as you evaluate the audience in Poland after several performances, can you compare our audiences with those of other countries yet? JC: Every audience can be a good audience. The reaction of the house does not depend on the audience but on the artist. If you give them something, the audience will respond. If you don’t, they won’t. For example, in my Warsaw Otello, I was very ill. I coughed all the time. Any other artist would have cancelled. I didn’t, because I knew that my performance was an important part of the evening, not only for myself but for the theater and the people who were attending. So I coughed. The audience understood and accepted what I offered and all were happy. The audience knew I was ill but also that I was still trying to give them a memorable performance. The problem came with the reviews. The critics wrote without knowledge and expressed themselves poorly, perhaps as a way of promoting themselves. What can I say? KG: But can you evaluate audiences after several projects in Poland with those is other countries yet? You have sung and Poland and conducted Sinfonia Varsovia. Have you had lots of invitations to take on other conducting jobs? JC: Enough. More than I have time for. I have worked sometimes with London Symphony. I had a concert in Taiwan and with the Moscow Symphonic Orchestra in Moscow. But I haven’t done a lot because I don’t have time. If I have time to conduct, it makes sense that I would do it with my orchestra first. KG: Where will you be performing operas next? JC: Oh, in too many places to remember right now. You can check my calendar on my web page. KG: What would you like to say to music lovers who did not manage to get to Otello? JC: The message would be a good one. Soon I will be meeting with Jacek Kaspszykiem and we will be talking about future plans—me and the Teatrze Wielkim—so maybe I will have good news after the meeting for everyone.
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Tenor José Cura, beguiling and enchanting, is defended against both admirers and critics April 2004 Eckhard Henscheid / translation by Monica B New Music Magazine
It may indeed have been some seven years ago that José Cura let himself be hailed with much fanfare as ‘tenor of the 21st century’; on the other hand, he has had to fight for an uncontested good reputation almost the entire time--especially since the beginning of this century. On the one side, the marketing of this gem of a tenor, who was in that respect almost futuristic, was indeed rather dreadfully high-pitched, gloating and, ultimately, more damaging than anything else, arousing aggression; on the other side, given the considerable competition in the field at present, the marketing claims aren’t entirely false either: no less a person than Waltraut Meier, Cura’s ‘Cavalleria’ partner, eager to find superlatives, authoritatively confirms the Argentine to be the first, and at the moment the only one since Plácido Domingo, to sings so beautifully on stage that Santuzza has difficulty fighting back tears and continuing as composed and cool as possible. Cura has never shied away from the most demanding and taxing of Verdi, Puccini and Verismo materials, nor from roles such as Des Grieux (from ‘Manon Lescaut’) that are normally considered beyond his heroic-dark range with their extremely high tessituras--a point in which he differs from the otherwise comparable Cecilia Bartoli, a colleague of his generation who, after more than a decade, continues to be extolled as everybody’s darling by a public apparently gone crazy--as long as she merely keeps on chirping (or if need be barking) a string of inferior Vivaldi and Rossini and late Salieri vulgaria, and who in so doing probably controls the better part of 51% of the Classic CD market. It is also a point that Bartoli, unlike Cura, has never really mastered a truly significant role from Mozart to Verdi and Puccini. Yet with it all, Cura has failed to awaken only sympathies as has the buxom mezzosoprano, with whom, for some strange reason, he invites identification. Rather, in addition to the highest expectations (of the kind that can cause heart palpitations) and to frequent displays of enthusiasm, he has also had to suffer all manner of strange resistance, yes, even at times real hostility. And this too is somewhat paradoxical: His concurrent, continual and standard festival presence in German-speaking areas (predominantly in Vienna, Zurich and Munich) not withstanding, José Cura has mustered something like ten significant roles since about 1995: Verdi’s ‘Otello’--persistently triumphant; ‘Don Carlo’--not quite so convincing; Bizet’s namesake from ‘Carmen’; the protagonists from ‘Pagliacci’ and ‘Cavalleria’; ‘Andrea Chénier’--likewise in Verismo style; and finally, at the end of April something to look forward to: his role debut as the heroic bandit Ramerrez in Puccini’s ‘Fanciulla’, which ought to suit his voice and temperament especially well and which should counter the practically uninterrupted string of Cavaradossis (‘Tosca’). At all three opera houses mentioned above, the tenor has sung that role repeatedly, as well as the one in which he is no doubt worldwide the most enlightened: Verdi’s ‘Otello’. Cura could, if he wanted to and if he were very foolish, no doubt sing the part of the hero of the ‘chocolate project’ (Verdi) all across the globe, 365 days per year and for top pay, even though in the strictest sense he-like Domingo-isn’t the right type of singer for Otello at all. His smooth, baritonally-grounded spinto tenor is hardly ‘eroico’ or ‘robusto’, something that is quasi-demanded by the notations in the score. In the last half-century no doubt only the Chilean Ramon Vinay and Mario del Monaco excelled, covering the demands of the role totally. To be sure, Francesco Tamagno, Verdi’s original, inaugural tenor, who in his vocal heavy weight reminds of Wagner-style singing, was hardly satisfying in the role of the Moor. Yet on good days, Cura-like his sometime mentor Plácido Domingo- is nevertheless sure to enchant and captivate as Otello. His ‘Esultate’ rendition is of such stupendous power discharge that critics perversely-and not always entirely without reason-find fault with his ‘exaggeration’ (Neue Zürcher) and also- as far as the development in differentiation and intensification of the character is concerned-with a ‘monochromatic’ interpretation. But when he-Cura/Otello-voices his yearning desire for Desdemona soulfully with ‘Gia nella notte densa--Venere splende!’, often in a half reclining position, then this well-nigh athletic provocation of his tenor rivals in combination with the natural voice of this ‘brawny bundle from Argentina’ (FAZ)- a voice genuinely large, substantial and almost always nobly employed- oftentimes indeed does have that certain power to excite, to arouse. That in turn makes not just women here-even now still willing to erupt emotionally-to glow; it actually bowls them over totally right there on the quiet in the middle of the opera house. But up to now, one only keeps hearing that ‘the man whom women love’ (Kulturmagazin Rondo) and who hails from the provincial capital of Rosario, is happily married to a French [sic] woman in a quiet sort of way, even if he on occasion, and in front of the author of these lines, deigns to use a magic marker to draw a mysterious long black line (‘reserved’?) on the forearm of female admirers-their hearts aflutter. On this occasion, he happened to mark my wife. 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’.
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M&T: You just sang Verdi's Stiffelio, an unknown but fascinating character, here in Zurich. José Cura: It is actually a very unique figure, not only with Verdi, but in the entire repertoire. The other characters fit the standards of the Verdi baritones and sopranos. Stiffelio, on the other hand, is a very shady figure from my point of view, a kind of mixture of Calvin and Rasputin. Misogynistic and fanatical like Calvin, but sexually driven like Rasputin. Gray and rigid, but passion burns just beneath the surface. He looks good but has no control over his hormones. And this mixture makes a bomb out of the man. It's not about religion, his fanaticism is a way of blocking his sensuality. And finally he explodes. A dark, black figure, of which there are few in opera. Because most of them find redemption or forgiveness in the end. Stiffelio doesn’t: he pretends to forgive, but he doesn't really. I love this character. M&T: Even though Verdi didn't give him an aria? José Cura: That's exactly why: Stiffelio doesn't have music just for the sake of music. With the soprano and baritone, we have moments when the action stops and the music stands on its own, but not with the tenor: everything he sings has a dramatic reason. And for me it is of course wonderful, because every time I go on stage I fight against the cliché of the tenor who just stands and roars. I hate that. M&T: So do we! José Cura: But by no means everyone, believe me. There are many, many people who don't want to see or hear anything else. M&T: If you have such strong ideas about a character, how does the collaboration with a director work? José Cura: Cesare Lievi came without an advance concept. Many of the things you see on stage were my ideas that came up during rehearsals. And I'm proud of that. During rehearsals, I made suggestions on how something could be represented. And Lievi developed those suggestions further and brought them together with the other characters. All good directors work like that. Even those who have very specific ideas or want to provoke, which I think is okay: they set the big lines. But how the characters act in detail is worked out with the singers, and it is up to the actor to develop that. Like in film. A director says: This and that happened, now show me how this character feels in this situation and how he reacts. And anyway there are directors in the opera who leave this task entirely to the singers and work almost exclusively on the big picture. M&T: The Otello production by Sven-Eric Bechtolf was quite controversial. How did you experience her? José Cura: I have to say, we discussed it a lot. I am quite happy with the result, as far as the characters and their acting are concerned, but in general I didn't like the production. I found it lacked something and was sometimes a little ridiculous. But I realized that this staging helped the audience to pay particular attention to the singers, and that gave us great opportunities. When you have productions like that and bad actors on top of it, then things go wrong. But I think Bechtolf could also afford it because he had singers like Raimondi, Dessi and me, with whom he felt the charisma of stage personalities.
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"I'm not a great artist" Berner Zeitung Sabine Lüthi 17 December 2004 [Computer-assisted Translation] He made his conducting debut at 15. On Tuesday, Argentinean José Cura will sing and conduct in Bern for the first time. At 42, he is considered the new star of the opera stage; he considers himself a "star in the opera sky". BZ: You will perform in Bern on December 21st. What do you know about this city? José Cura: Nothing. In Switzerland I have only performed at the Zurich Opera House. BZ: The Zurich Opera House now shows the text in German above the stage. What do you think of this development? José Cura: A very good idea. There is nothing more disappointing than being on stage and knowing that the audience has no idea what is being played, which is often the case. It is important for both the audience and the singers to understand the story. That's one of the reasons why I don't sing in German. I don't know this language. BZ: Do you recognize the opera goers in the front row? José Cura: Not all of them, of course, but some faces you see again and again. After each performance, I mingle with the audience and sign autographs. You get to know one or the other. Some also bring gifts, Some also bring presents, which makes me especially happy. BZ: Will you surprise the Bernese audience with one of your unusual actions? José Cura: I can't change the program anymore, so there will probably be no surprises. It is true that I like to communicate with the audience. Five minutes on stage and I know how the rest of the evening will go. At that moment, At that moment I decide if it will be a classical evening or if there will be some improvisations. BZ: So maybe you will pick up the guitar and start Yesterday in front of an audience. José Cura: You may think of that as Spanish, but I have actually done so before. There is nothing funny about it, if the moment is right. The song was a perfect match for Bizet. The orchestra began to improvise and joined in with my singing. We put together an incredible theater moment that I even have on video. A magical moment. BZ: You were national champion in bodybuilding in Argentina. Your strength should be enough for many positions on stage. José Cura: You wouldn't believe the impossible positions I have sung in. For example, lying on my back. Even in an opera you have to react to situations in such a way that it looks natural. I don't always feel comfortable in these positions, but the most important thing is that it looks real. When I'm in bed with a woman on stage because we just made love, I would never get up to sing, so I stay in bed, put my hand on her breast and continue singing. That's the only way to look credible. BZ: Are you afraid of not appearing authentic? José Cura: That's my personal horror scenario. I hate looking ridiculous on stage. BZ: Murder, deceit, love. The plot of an opera is limited in content. Does it ever bore you? José Cura: You get used to it After a while you get into a routine. You press a button and rewind Scheme X. At the end you press the stop button and turn off the machine. Otherwise you would be debilitated if you had as many performances per year as I do. BZ: Has the audience become less demanding? José Cura: Not necessarily, but it's true that almost everything sells, regardless of quality. It took me a big part of my career to be recognized for my qualities and not just for my looks. Being considered attractive can be a major handicap. BZ: What is it like to be called the new star of the opera? José Cura: I don't think about it at all, so I don't know what it's like. I'm not a great artist yet, I'm working on becoming one. I may be a star in the opera sky. BZ: That seems very modest. José Cura: But it is not. When you're a great artist at 40, you have nothing to do for the next 40 years. It is better to die as a ripe fruit without spoiling it first. BZ: You have been a conductor for 25 years. Do you still take seriously the conductor who sets the pace for you as a singer? José Cura: Even when I sing, I conduct in spirit. But delegating is a good thing. It is easy on the nerves, which prolongs life. Because I know one thing, I don't want to die yet. BZ: Do you feel guilty about your family because you travel so often? José Cura: No, I never have. I am well organized, which means that I am never away from home for more than a week. BZ: At 26 you became a father. José Cura: Yes, and that's a good thing. I don't know why you Europeans wait so long to have children. BZ: Do you sing with your family at Christmas? José Cura: No, my family doesn't sing at Christmas. But I have a musical son who sings and plays the guitar. He's about to do the same stupid thing I did when I was young: he is choosing music.
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How the fit and fabulous stay that way: José Cura, 41
Times Online Rosie Millard March 20, 2004 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. José Cura is performing at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden (020-7304 4000), in Samson et Dalila until March 25
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Forgotten Heroes by José Cura (interview with Charlotte Cripps)
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." 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.
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I’m Not An “Arrogant Bastard” The famous tenor José Cura talks to Thanasis Lalas (translated by Erato)
TO VIMA 11 July 2004
Lisbon. On the eve of the Euro 2004 final with Portugal. This is the second time that I meet José Cura. The first time was in England, in 1999. He was at the time “the Fourth Tenor”, “the Handsome Tenor”, “the Big Talent”. Then he broke with the recording industry, he created his own independent label, he fought and was fought he became 'the setting star'--obviously a tough period intervened, during which he had to struggle hard. In our second meeting I found him completely different. Mature. A man who shows that through hardship he found himself, a man proud of surviving through the isolation, a man strong and self-confident. My colleagues and I spent 48 magic hours with him, watching him rehearse for the recital he is going to give at Oinousses next Thursday and we set a new appointment to take place there. And before I let you read the “new José Cura”, I’d like to especially thank Mr. Yiannis Lemos. president of the I.D.Lemos Foundation of Oinousses, who gave me the chance to meet José Cura again. Our second conversation, five years after the first one, was, at least, very constructive. I hope you enjoy it.
Thanasis Lalas
-Has anything changed since we last met? “To be honest, Mr. Lalas, just a few things have …NOT changed!” - What has not changed? Same wife… “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”. - Why did you change attitude towards the recording industry? “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!” - Might it be that people are making everything in such a way that they ensure security? “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 21st century in the same way that one used to perform in the 19th 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 19th 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?” - So you are telling me that what we call interpretation of a work is actually the interpretation of a period of time? “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 19th 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!’ ” - How did you choose this kind of music? “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”. - Revolution is to see the same thing from a different point of view or to make a rupture?
- Why do artists like you do bother the companies? Might it be that the companies want artists that think less? “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 …”. - To get success you need brain and soul. So, how come people who get to the top often burn themselves? “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!” - Should an artist be an egoist? “I don’t think he should be an egoist, but he has to be vain”. - Why? “You can’t be a public person without having a healthy streak of vanity – which is an important ingredient of the human being anyway. Because if you don’t enjoy being looked at, why are you a public person? And you, Mr. Lalas, you are vain, look at yourself… you wore a shirt fitting with your glasses and your pants! This is vanity. Vanity. Healthy vanity that’s not used for hurting but for showing the most pleasant possibilities while we are with other people. So, does an artist have to be an egoist or not? Of course not. If you are an egoist, you are finished. But yes, you should find your ‘ego’, you should cultivate it, so that it is so healthy that, when you project it, others enjoy it and become richer from it. It’s a different thing to be an ‘egoist’, which means you have a big ‘ego’ just for yourself”. - Were you ever in danger of loosing your talent? “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 21st 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 …”. - And what has ultimately happened? “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?” - How were you feeling when you had to face all those obstacles? “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!” - For closing, I’d like to ask you how did a tenor become a torchbearer for the Athens Olympic Games? “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!” - Thank you very much! “Me too”
José Cura – Interview
Kick In the Pants
Sent by Dana Translated by Monica B.
THE TENOR WITH THE BATON (translated by Monica)
To Give Wings to the Universe By Andreas Láng / Translated by Monica B November 2004
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2003
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“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”.
He’s
been thrilling audiences for years as a dramatic tenor, but
now José Cura is determined to match his singing success with
his passion for the podium. He tells Carenza Hugh-Jones
about his plans for the future - - both as singer and conductor
- - and his own record label
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.
ertion--on
being asked whether the tenor, the conductor or the producer was
the prima donna today- that the critics themselves are the real
prima donnas, one becomes aware of a definite resentment toward
the confrontations of the critics right in the middle of an otherwise
very relaxed conversation.
NM--
When the orchestra increased the number of performances conducted
by José Cura, does the performance itself change too?
"Very
hot heart and very cold mind!"
This
is true - but only partly. I also moved to Europe
because of the substantial economic crisis we were experiencing
already at that time in Argentina. Of course, as a tenor
- lyrico-spinto - it was much easier for me to get into
the business. I abandoned conducting for 6 or 7 years
and have only slowly taken it up again since 1998.
It increased in 2001 when I was appointed Principal Guest
Conductor of Sinfonia Varsovia. 
It
was, in fact, a very pragmatic solution that allows
me to do both - singing and conducting - in the
same evening. 
I
think it important during rehearsal to bring out all the
emotions that will later be interpreted vocally and musically.
In some cases [it's important] even to exaggerate the emotions,
to force extremes to know how far one can go. During the
performance, the art is not to cross that border but stop
just at the limit. When I conduct, I have already
given so much of my physical energy during rehearsals that
the orchestra understands my intentions. During the
concert, my gestures are noticeably less. The formula is
then "very hot heart and very cold mind."
This
orchestra does not have a principal conductor.
It is a free-lance orchestra. It also has no "season,"
no regular concert series, etc... So it would not make
sense to have a principal conductor. As the "Principal
Guest Conductor" I am holding the highest conducting
function and am conducting concerts as they are scheduled.
If they had a fixed season, it would be impossible for
me to act as principal conductor - my tight schedule
would not allow it. 
The
year 2003 was extraordinarily kind to the fans of José Cura who
visited Prague twice in his double role as conductor and tenor.
Both concerts took place at the Smetana Hall of the Municipal House,
the first at the end of January with the accompaniment of the Prague
Symphony Orchestra, the second on 23 October with the Prague Philharmonia.
The concerts were organized by Panart agency and our hotels became
the official partners. It is no longer a secret, that during
his second time in Prague, José Cura spent most of his time in the
recording studio with the pianist Irina Kondratenko, recording Dvorak’s
“Love Songs”. Despite his busy schedule, José Cura found some
time to answer few of our questions. 
I
think so. I know what I like and dislike when I work with
other conductors. I try to speak from my experience.
First of all, I try to be a partner, not a commander for my musicians.
Argentine
tenor Jose Cura has earned some gratifying nicknames during his
25-year career in opera. In 1997 he was labeled “The new Domingo”
after recording the Puccini Arias, previously interpreted most famously
by Placido Domingo. Soon after, he was deemed the successor to the
trio of Domingo, Luciano Pavarotti and Jose Carreras and hailed
as “the fourth tenor.” 
You
are a world famous tenor. You sing in the best opera houses. Why
did you become interested in Poland?
I
will not answer this question.
No.
I'm too busy. When I finish my work, I usually meet with journalists...(
laughter) 
On
the international music scene, Argentine-born José Cura is considered
to be one of the finest and most versatile artists of his generation
and, as such, the unrivalled successor to the tenor trio of Placido
Domingo, José Carreras and Luciano Pavarotti. Today, his beautiful
voice, attractive appearance, innate talent, broad musical education
and exceptional diligence have made him a star of the first order.
Originally studying conducting and composition, he had long rejected
a career as a singer despite his evident talent. In the end,
however, he succumbed to the magic of singing and now has sung a
number of lead roles on some of the world’s most prestigious stages.
José Cura is also permanent principal guest conductor of the Sinfonia
Warsovia and has led a great number of world’s renowned symphony
orchestras. José Cura will perform with the Prague Symphony
Orchestra on Friday 31 January in Smetana Hall of Municipal House
at 7:30 p.m. under the baton of his countryman, Tulio Gagliardo.
At
last a modern artist who knows how to make the audience
get to like music! At last a good-looking opera singer who
is able to make credible Cavaradossi’s revolutionary impulse,
Samson’s energy, Alfredo’s fiery love, Otello’s insane jealousy.
That by chance he happens to have the appearance of a Latin
lover is a gift of God as is his rich velvety voice, artistic
originality, his being of exuberant vitality, and his suggestive
stage acting.
Just
like every artist with a brilliant career Cura could also
not evade gossip. According to certain biographies he became
famous as a bodybuilding champion in Argentina. According
to him the only truth in this is that he likes sports, bodybuilding,
kung fu, football, horse riding and rugby. And as every
great artist he has learnt the lessons of life. He was born
in Rosario, the second biggest city of Argentina. He began
to play the piano, the guitar and sing by the age of twelve.
Pop music, jazz and spirituals were included in his initial
repertory just as opera arias. “There is no need to mysticize
too much. In his time Mozart was the first bar pianist,”
he said with the ease characteristic of him when his versatility,
musical erudition was praised. He composes with pleasure
today as well, and lifts the baton between two arias. He
has mainly dedicated the present year to the conducting
of symphonic concerts from Sydney to Vienna, from Brahms
to Beethoven. 
Why
do you include the "Song of the Flag" on your new CD?
At
the end of the new CD, you include a track illustrating what goes
on behind the scenes, which humanizes your work a lot.
Besides
the guitar, you play various instruments...
Aneta
Swider: What gives you more pleasure: singing or conducting?
Dorota
Szwarcman: You work with Polish artists such as
D.
S.: That's just your style. 
José
Cura reckons he's got the measure of journalists. As one of opera's
biggest and most glamorous stars, he's met hundreds in his time
and thinks they're only interested in one thing - giving him a label.
So as the man who's been variously dubbed The Fourth Tenor, opera's
Superman, The New Domingo, Argentinian beefcake and sex object,
he's ready to help out with one or two of his own. 
Though
not as close as the mentor-protégé relationship some have portrayed,
it's been a connection that has been useful to Cura, not least in
planting the idea of the conducting tenor. But while Domingo was
in his 30s when he first picked up the baton, Cura was appointed
principal guest conductor last year, at just 38, of the Polish Sinfonia
Varsovia - inaugurated by the Rachmaninov performance. It thrusts
him into a serious second career in parallel with his singing, at
an age where conductors are still deemed to be in first gear, while
tenors should be in overdrive. But he's now clearing his diary of
singing dates to make way for the conducting, aiming for a 50:50
balance. Far from harming his singing, he says this dilution will
be all for the good. 
‘I
jumped on the stage when I was 12 years old. That
was 25 years ago. I’ve worked on the lighting, on
every job you can do, cleaning the stage, conducting, singing.
What I can do, what I cannot do, I have learned.’
Please,
would the real José Cura stand up? Is he a tenor? A folk
song composer? A conductor? An orchestral arranger? He certainly
thinks that the press do not take his conducting career
seriously and he would like that aspect to be better known.
His appointment with the SV in Poland is very important
to him: "People think tenors cannot be good musicians
or conductors, but I started studying composition then later
I discovered that I had a voice." Is there a complex there?
Is there image trying to get out? Does it matter now when
his tenorial career has taken off? 
JA:
We start now with a question from Kira Carlton (way to
go, Kira!) What Kira is interested to know is
how you remember all the lyrics in an opera. How do you
manage not to get confused? Have you ever forgotten where
you are and what opera you’re in and what you’re supposed to
sing next? If it does happen what do you do?
JA:
Would you like to conduct a live opera performance?
The
first time I saw José Cura was last November, in Washington.
A new production of Samson et Dalila at Washington
Opera had begun with the chorus lying flat on the raked
stage, then turning over in unison (like bacon self-turning
in the frying pan), standing up and sitting down again.
When they sat, there he was -- a towering vision
in white, stunningly handsome, with a build like a Colossus,
and exuding that quality so rare on the opera stage today
-- charisma.
