The voice of Isobel Baillie

Purcell, Arne, Bach, Handel, Haydn; Isobel Baillie; Heritage Records Reviewed by Robert Hugill on Sep 10 2014
Star rating: 5.0
Welcome survey of recordings by the great soprano, recorded in the 1940's

When I was a student in Manchester in the 1970's I heard performances of Had I but Jubal's lyre from Handel's Joshua sung by two major singers of the 20th century, Dame Isobel Baillie and Dame Janet Baker. Baker was, of course, in her prime whilst Baillie, then in her late 70's was well past conventional retirement age. In fact the two performances compared favourably. Baillie's performance, given as part of a lecture recital celebrating the release of her autobiography Never sing louder than lovely, were testament to her stupendous technique. This new disc from Heritage Records enables a new generation of listeners to become familiar with Isobel Baillie's clear, silvery voice with a selection of items by Purcell, Arne, Bach, Handel and Haydn.

Whilst Baillie's voice might be described as silvery, there was a strength to it as well which perhaps went with her strong character. She made her debut with the Halle Orchestra at the age of 26, but by then had already had a 10 year career singing solos in recitals and oratorios in the various churches and chapels in and around her native Manchester. This was a period when virtually everyone seemed to put on an annual Messiah. Such performances probably required a singer to develop far greater reserves of strength than we would expect nowadays. Speeds were slower, orchestras far larger; when Kathleen Ferrier sang Messiah with Barbirolli and the Halle she complained how tiring one of the movements was and Barbirolli realised that she had never sung it in Handel's original orchestration, only ever with the additional instruments.

The influence of recordings.

Maria Calla as Norma in 1954

Before the invention of the recording, the only way to experience an artist performing was to go to hear or see them. Just imagine what it would be like only ever knowing an artist like Maria Callas by reputation. We are so used to living with recordings that we forget about what might be the effect on performers. A singer nowadays might not learn a new piece by listening to other singers, but they cannot help but be aware of them and of the way that they performed in a way which would be alien to a 19th century performer.

Pierre Lacotte's reconstruction of La Sylphide
photo Christian Leiber

One thing that we have lost, with our culture of complete and eternal record, is the extraordinary complexity of our memories. Humans are capable of remarkable feats and in an age without recording equipment, people would be able to remember in far greater detail. An example of this from the parallel world of ballet is Pierre Lacotte's reconstruction in 1972 of Filippo Taglioni's ballet La Sylphide from the Paris Opera of 1832. On approaching older ballet dancers Lacotte found many remarkable repertoires of steps in their memories, taught them by their teachers. These were dancers from an age when recording ballet was impossible and a dancer could rely solely on their memory.

In such circumstances teachers become highly important, repositories for knowledge which is then passed on to pupils. The 19th century in particular can be traced through families of teachers so-and-so was a pupil of Tausig who was a pupil of Liszt. And whilst Liszt's pupils were a diverse bunch (there are recordings from 21 of them), the pupils of a teacher like Clara Schumann form quite a coherent group (we have recordings from five of them including Fanny Davies's recording of the Schumann piano concerto).

Manual Garcia the Younger
by John Singer Sargent

Liszt and Clara Schumann were teachers because they were famous performers, but a vocal teacher like Manuel Garcia the Younger (1805 - 1906), who was responsible for influencing whole generations of 19th century singers, was a teacher because of his great pedagogical skills. He was taught by his father, Manuel Garcia senior, and his sisters were the singers Maria Malibran and Pauline Viardot. Some of Manuel Garcia the Younger's pupils became teachers. Mathilde Marchesi for instance went on to teach Nellie Melba, Emma Calve, Sibyl Sanderson and Emma Eames. And Jenny Lind, Christina Nilsson and Henry Wood were among Garcia's important pupils, in fact Wood became his accompanist. Again though, if we try to gain an insight into his methods by listening to surviving recordings they are so diverse that it is difficult to gain any firm impression.

But such lineages would have been important not only for pedagogy, but for information about other performers both past and present. An example of this is the soprano Adelina Patti. Born 1843, she came out of retirement in 1905 to make recordings, so that we can hear for ourselves what a late 19th century diva sounded like. Patti was managed from a young age by her sister's husband, Maurice Strakosch who was a pupil of Giuditta Pasta and also her accompanist. Strakosch trained Patti the way he had learned from Pasta. And Patti had created roles for Donizetti and Bellini, and had sung Zerlina in London within 25 years of Mozart's death. Now, we can make too much of such links, especially as Patti's recordings are of a style and freedom which is alien to today's performers. But it is well worth bearing in mind. (You can hear hear slightly alarming Casta Diva from Norma on YouTube, and her performance of Voi che sapete from Mozart Le nozze di Figaro is below).

I got much of the above information from John Potter and Neil Sorrell's invaluable book, A History of Singing, and they also illuminate another point. The way recordings themselves have changed the way we sing. For much of the 19th century, despite the rise in the amount of control composers had, performers retained a rather flexible attitude to the notes themselves. In a society without a fixed record, aural transmission was important which brings us back to the chains of information through teachers. Only in the 20th century was it possible to put on a recording and hear how so-and-so performed the music. This has had the effect of rather fixing the music. Notes have become settled and singers less inclined to sing with a freedom.

But whilst notes have become fixed, performing styles have I suspect rather widened. If a performer can hear a wide variety of other performers, then there is greater freedom to choose. Perhaps this isn't a big point but it seems one which might benefit from further research, are the performers of today more or less diverse in style than those 150 years ago?


Elsewhere on this blog:

• Summer Listening: Craig Ogden's Summer Guitar - CD review
• Prom 47: Britten's War Requiem - concert review
• Chamber intensity: Werther at Grimeborn - opera reveiw
• Princely splendour: Sacred music from 18th century Rome - CD review
• The Rite as you've never heard it: Rite of Spring from Les Siecles - CD review
• Don't you know who I am: Preventing attacks of Grumpy Critic - feature article
• My beloved's voice: Sacred songs of Love from Jesus College - CD review
• Prom 37: Steve Reich - concert review
• Home

Walter Widdop, a forgotten heldentenor

Walter Widdop

If you put on any of Walter Widdop's Wagner recordings made in the late 1920's and early 1930's you hear a vibrant, evenly produced voice with perhaps a degree of tightness at the top. The clarity of production, evenness and firmness of tone impress, and his diction is superb. Whilst Widdop may not quite stand up to his greates contemporaries such as Lauritz Melchior, his existing recordings are highly impressive yet nowadays his name is barely known. In fact Walter Widdop (1892 - 1949) was one of the few English singers between the war to have a significant International career.

Born in 1892 in a village near Halifax, Widdop was the son of a stone dresser. At the age of 12 he spent half his time working in a local mill, attending school in the afternoon. He went on to work at a dye works. Widdop seems to have been a man about whom stories gathered. There are tales of him annoying co-workers with his singing, when working in a Bradford dyehouse, reputedly a burly navvy who heard him singing remarked: ‘If I’d thy voice and my brains I’d mak some brass.’ Encouraged by a local choir master he started singing in a choir. At the age of 21 he started lessons with Arthur Hinchcliffe

Always keen to better himself, music must have seemed a possible way out of the mill for the 21 year old. His first few lessons were paid for by work mates and then Widdop took paid singing engagements. His teacher, Arthur Hinchcliffe, came from a distinguished pedigree; he had learned with Charles Santley who had studied with the great Manuel Garcia jnr.  Widdop started to win competitions and he was in the Entertainment Corps during World War I.

Ancient Voices - Dame Isobel Baillie

If you mention Isobel Baillie's name nowadays, it would probably call to mind the 1938 recording of RVW's Serenade to Music in which she sang the top soprano part, or perhaps her recording of Elijah. But for much of her professional life (and it was a long one) Baillie was one of the most famous British sopranos. In the 1950's the top line-up for an oratorio would include her, Kathleen Ferrier and Heddle Nash. Her highly focussed tones are extremely distinctive, once heard never forgotten. And she preserved her voice into old age, I heard her perform at a lecture recital when she was in her mid 70's and the results would have shamed many far younger singers.

Isobel Baillie (1895 - 1983) had a career which is representative of a style of music making which has almost disappeared. She didn't go to music college and much of her early career was based in small concerts and oratorios in chapels, churches and halls around her native Manchester. And her career was a long one, she started singing when she was in her mid teens and was still singing in her 60's. In a sense she never stopped as I heard her in her late 70's still performing, still with that same superb technique (you can hear 1974 recording of Hamilton Harty's The Stranger's Grave on YouTube..

In 1921 at the age of 26 Isobel Baillie wrote to Hamilton Harty, then newly appointed director of music at the Halle in Manchester. She detailed her experience and requested an audition; Harty granted her an interview but to her surprise he did not audition her as he had already heard her. Baillie had sung in a concert for her singing teacher's son, Eric Fogg, and Harty had been there. Harty gave Baillie an engagement and it was the start of a long and profitable association. Baillie would be much associated with the Halle for the remainder of her career.