Dead man singing

This is convoluted, as things usually are in my life. Somehow I got onto the topic of Timothy Treadwell, the naturalist who spent years living with the grizzlies in Alaska before being eaten. Supposedly an audio tape of the attack exists (as his video camera still had the lens cap on, heh-heh), but that could be just a grisly myth promoted by Werner Hertzog, the legendary filmmaker who did a very, very strange documentary on Treadwell several years back. After seeing it, I'm not sure the whole thing isn't a hoax. It just has that strange Waiting for Guffman/Best in Show/A Mighty Wind satirical quality, and you expect Eugene Levy to amble on camera any time wearing a lumberjacket.

I did find the so-called Treadwell audiotape, on YouTube in fact, and I'm pretty sure it's a fake. I didn't post it here, just as I didn't post the 9-1-1 call from the World Trade Centre tower on September 11. But I bumbled onto a site of top 10 lists (called Top 10 Lists) that had the Top 10 List of Eerie Recordings of All Time. Or some time. Things like voices from Jupiter 'n such, and the sound of a cosmonaut stranded in space from the early '60s (which may even be true - and I can't listen to that one either). And along with all that, this.

This guy, this Klaus Nomi, I don't know where he came from, and he has been dead for years and years, just like that early music genius I stumbled on to recently (but I am afraid I've forgotten his name. David Munrow?). So now, 30 years after his death from AIDS, I find this very-eerie-indeed recording. Though Nomi specialized in ultra-weird pop, he definitely had a voice, and I was shocked to hear its purity in the countertenor range. Really, he was more of a male soprano a la Michael Maniaci. His range was enormous in fact, without a break, reaching down into an easy baritone. In the middle, he sounded a bit like Joel Grey in his pop numbers, with the same Broadway inflections and trumpet-like vibrato.

He's wraithlike here, like a consumptive Elizabethan, not wrapped in his usual clear vinyl tuxedo or other outlandish garb. I wonder if he chose this piece because it lacks sustained phrases: when one is dying, one must save one's breath. To be honest, I don't want to go very far down this road because I have a migraine today that should have its own postal code. The worst I've had in ten years. I'm only doing this to distract myself, now that I can sit up without puking.

http://margaretgunnng.blogspot.com/2012/01/synopsis-glass-character-novel-by.html

http://members.shaw.ca/margaret_gunning/betterthanlife.htm

Radu Marian, Handel "Lascia Ch'io Pianga"

Philippe Jaroussky "Lascia ch'io pianga" Rinaldo

High attitude

Whew. How can it be Monday already? Anyway, I don't think I've ever had as much trouble as I did with yesterday's post, and it had nothing to do with the content. Every time I try to cut n' paste, I either lose my formatting or end up with little tiny type, so finally I had to throw in the towel and leave it the way it was.

My exploration of the castrati, emasculated superstar singers of the 18th century, was fascinating beyond words. Way led on to way, as it always does, and I discovered several contemporary artists who described themselves as "male sopranos".

This is a whole 'nother thing than "countertenor", a technique I have always described as "bargain-counter tenor" for its strident tone, which can be nasal and downright irritating. These guys, however they do it, sing in soprano range with eerie beauty. It's not true that they "sing like women", for if you listen closely a male sensibility underlies the vocal pyrotechnics.

The first one I stumbled on was Michael Maniaci. On hearing him sing, I began to cry in about one second. I was blown back: this was artistry. Never mind that his voice sounds neither male nor female, and is impossible to compare to anyone else's (creating, at least on first listening, a strange disorientation). It isn't so much the voice as the delivery. He feels this, feels it in his soul, and he knows how to get it across.

Maniaci had to deal with a lot of abuse in his youth. He never quite went through puberty: at least, his larynx didn't, remaining pretty close to that of a boy's. Add to that a partial facial paralysis (which should have made serious singing impossible: just study the faces of opera singers and see how engaged all the muscles of the face are), and you have a recipe for teasing and ostracism. The man doesn't even have an Adam's apple, but he does have a good set of operatic lungs.

Did the castrati sound like this? Perhaps. In descriptions of castrati from the era, which may well have been overblown by fans, agents, etc., they were endowed with huge voices that could soar unnaturally high, hold notes seemingly forever, and brilliantly accomplish trills and arpeggios and all that sopranic singy-singy stuff (perhaps because their tiny thin vocal cords were flexible enough to get around it all).

I also stumbled upon Phillipe Jaroussky, whom some critics prefer over Maniaci for his authentic baroque sound, less operatic and generous of spirit but more ethereal and pure. But for real harum-scarum stuff, just give a listen to Radu Marian, a man who isn't a even man in the usual sense. Like Maniaci, he never fully went through puberty, resulting in the voice of a highly-trained, musically brilliant 15-year-old girl.

God, these guys! Marian is married, apparently. I guess we all wonder about "other" things, about sexual capability and stuff like that, as if it's any of our business. Which it isn't. I kept finding references to the awesome sexual capacity of castrati, which seemed pretty impossible to me, unless they meant highly-developed technique in bestowing pleasure upon females. Which is an entirely different thing from conventional "potency". There's more than one way to skin a cat, or please a lover.

I'll be posting some actual recordings here if I can get them, including Radu Marian and Philippe Jaroussky singing the same aria in two different keys. I guarantee you their voices will raise chills, and sound a little disturbing. However they do it, these men boldly sing where no man has sung before.