To Hell and Back with Jessye - varied performances of Jessye Norman

National Review, April 2, 2001 by Jay Nordlinger

Jessye Norman is one of the most important singers of our times, a star of every stage for some thirty years now. She is also something of a public figure, even beyond music. Norman-the pride of Augusta, Georgia- has garnered practically every honor there is to garner, both in this country and in Europe. In 1985, she sang at President Reagan's inauguration (a fact, curiously, omitted from her official biography, which includes many other signal moments). More recently, she lent her voice-in both senses-to President Clinton's anti-impeachment effort. This lady has been around.

As a singer, Norman boasts many virtues, beginning with one of the most extraordinary voices anyone has ever heard: It is large yet flexible; both dark and light; wide and thin. It has frequently been described as "organ-like" or "cathedral-like." It covers a vast range, too, from contralto depths to soprano heights. Very few singers-male or female- have had at their disposal so many notes.

The Norman repertory is similarly vast, in both opera and song. She sings Haydn well, in addition to Berlioz, Strauss, and the others for whom she is more famous. Her album of spirituals, which came out in 1987, is possibly the best such album of the hundreds made. Lately, she has taken to dabbling in jazz, singing Duke Ellington and recording with Michel Legrand. (Where is Andre Previn?)

Here is a singer who is extraordinary in every way, including in her unevenness: Hardly any other musician is capable of such wild swings. Some of the best vocal recitals in memory have been given by Norman: musical, insightful, exemplary. Some of the worst vocal recitals in memory have been given by her: mannered, self-indulgent, musically nutty. She has been both model and anti-model (though more often the former). She does best when she allows her audience to forget Jessye Norman a little and hear the composers and their music.

At 55, Norman should have a good many singing years left in her; but she is flirting with collapse, allowing her technique to erode and her interpretations to become ever stranger. At the end of February and the beginning of March, she gave three recitals at Carnegie Hall, in something called "The Songbook Series." Her accompanist was her longtime collaborator and friend James Levine, of the Metropolitan Opera. It is a rare honor to be permitted a recital series at Carnegie; in 1961, the pianist Arthur Rubinstein gave a series of ten in the space of six weeks. Obviously, the Hall intended the Norman/Levine evenings to be a Major Event.

Carnegie prepared and distributed a program that must have set a record of sorts: It was tall, wide, and very heavy. Eighty pages long, it was stuffed with photos and essays and song lyrics (making up "The Songbook"). On the cover was a drawing-specially commissioned-by David Hockney ("Flower Resting on a Programme"). Inside were two watercolor portraits of Norman and Levine-also freshly commissioned-by Francesco Clemente. Norman wrote a valentine to Levine; Levine wrote a valentine to Norman. We were made to think that this Major Event celebrated a Major Partnership. There was also a whiff of valediction in the air, something that should disquiet Norman's millions of fans.

The Event came with a gimmick or two: Singer and pianist were not to determine an evening's offerings-from "The Songbook"-until that same day; this was supposed to lend freshness and spontaneity to the performance. And the audience was asked to vote, through Carnegie Hall's website, on the encores to be performed, from a long list of Norman favorites. These gimmicks were pleasant enough; but, in retrospect, they did not bode well. True musical performance can do without such tricks.

The first recital, February 24, began with Beethoven's Gellert Lieder, which Norman and Levine have performed many times, as well as recorded. Norman is well suited to Beethoven, having the right solidity and nobility. At Carnegie, she did adequately, but had trouble finding her pitch on the upper notes. Also, she seemed to be leaning forward more than usual, and doing other distracting things with her body. Norman has ruined many a performance with tics, both musical and extra- musical; the Beethoven escaped, but barely.

Wagner, in his Wesendonck Lieder, was not so lucky. Norman has performed these songs marvelously in the past, but here she was coarse and disjointed. All of her mannerisms were to the fore: a pouncing on notes, an excess of rubato, a reluctance to let the music speak for itself, to breathe. She was repeatedly flat on high notes, and even medium-high ones. The Wesendonck Lieder should be transporting, but Norman did not give them a chance, failing to hold them together, even within themselves, individually, to say nothing of the cycle as a whole. The beloved "Traume" was especially poor-sung phrase by phrase, without flow or logic. This was hardly Wagner at all, but Norman at her most self-parodic.

After intermission, she fared better in Ravel's Sheherazade, another familiar set for her. She has always been an interesting French singer; she can lighten her voice for this repertory, while retaining a somewhat operatic strength, which is refreshing. In the Ravel, she conveyed an Oriental mystery, and a cool sensuality. But there was far too much sliding around, vocally-way beyond customary and acceptable portamento. And the upper notes were not only flat but frayed.