12-030
PRESENTING THE
METROPOLITAN OPERA’S RENATA TREBLE!
In my childhood (my first),
my musician mother dutifully dragged me to our local “Artist Series” recitals.
Living in a lower tier market (96th out of 100) meant the artists
were on their way up or out. Mother cried regardless, but especially when
once-greats like the Met’s (the non-baseball one) Renata Treble, then in her 66th
season, performed (fresh from recent appearance on The Smothers Brothers
Comedy Hour), attempted high C, and only her accompanist hit it.
Some of the selections even
sounded promising:
“I’ll now sing, Chi Vuol
La Zingerella?,” Renata gushed, “or Who Desires the Gypsy Girl?”
(I’d’ve said about the whole village, especially on dollar shot night). Then,
Renata sang ¾ in French.
Fortunately, I was prepared
because the sheet music lay (grammar award!) in the piano bench at home. On
each was printed: “For high voice, medium voice, low voice, no voice” (my
range) with arrow pointing to the one purchased. The title might be German,
while inside, the lyrics appeared in several other languages, including
English. Those English lyrics would make the Pope pop Valium.
“Here’s a lovely art song,”
Renata declaimed, handkerchief waving hypnotically from her wrist, “Ruf vom
ein Lachend Bach or, Call from a Laughing Brook, music by Wolfgang
Amadeus
O’Toole, English lyrics by
Wayne Garnge.” Good. Program notes avoided.
Were I a laughing brook
Curled in a cozy nook
I’d laugh’n sing’n babble
some
Till mine be the path thou
took.
Verse:
Fa la la-la la-la la la-la.
Fa la-la la la-la la.
Were I a large oak tree
Hanging over thee,
I’d wrap my limbs around
thine own
And cling eternally.
Were I a tiny stone
Lying on thy path alone,
I’d await yon plaintive cue
To enter thy footwear zone.
Mother’s tears resumed when
350lb. Renata next rendered Si mi chiamano Mimi (Mimi? Howzabout
Moomoo?) with enough rrrrrrrrolled r’s to make a Scotsman proud and with
tremolo that made Butterfly McQueen sound tame. Tears became sobs right through
Renata’s encore (though none was requested):
“I’d like to end on a high
note.”
Might as well. She hadn’t hit one yet.
“I get many requests for The
Zoo Song, by Roland Vespus, my favorite children’s song since first I sang
it in 1894.”
The turtle is a wondrous
beast
Tho’ he’s so awfully slow.
But you’d be less than fast
yourself
If you had your house to tow.
The rabbit hops about all day
Through weather good and
rotten.
He hasn’t any clothes to wear
But sports a tail of cotton.
The zebra is a sort of horse
Who’s never, ever pale.
With his stripes of black and
white
He looks like he’s in jail.
By animal nineteen
(star-nosed mole), Mother whispered, “Remind me to toss that one out
when I get home.”
Renata entombed her last
note, a very flat D sharp; Mother sobbed, “Once great,
now stinky”; I pictured
Renata’s 67th season in Flumk, Wyoming, and home we went.