It’s too early to faint in the aisles, and I’m gun shy since Rolando Villazon–the most interesting tenor to appear in 10 years–seems to have developed permanent vocal problems; but let’s face it, Vittorio Grigolo has a gorgeous voice and sounds like the real thing. By now, the publicity machine has been working overtime and Grigolo himself thinks he is the greatest thing since sliced bread. But on the basis of this recording–I have not heard him live–he is precisely what we used to think of as an “Italian tenor”, nationality notwithstanding: a voice of power and sweetness, with a “ping” in the top notes, and a style that includes natural, easy phrasing and portamento, impeccable diction, and a certain morbidezza (softness).
He is a lyric tenor (he describes himself as a “full lyric” rather than “leggiero” or “grazie”; he is far from a “spinto” or “eroico”)–think early di Stefano, Gigli, Pavarotti, etc., and you’re on the right track. And it’s a wonderful track–light, bright, and youthful. He has been a “popera” performer for years (not “crossover”, mind you) and in fact sang the role of the Shepherd Boy opposite Pavarotti’s Cavaradossi years ago, when the late tenor dubbed him “il Pavarottino”. Enough about that.
Certain of these roles are too heavy for him now and may always be: Manrico, Des Grieux, Cavaradossi. Others, sung properly on stage (Riccardo in Ballo, Rodolfo in Luisa Miller), could be brilliant. The CD opens with the Luisa aria and it is sung beautifully, with the occasional Gigli-like hitch in the voice, but mostly spotlessly and with great nuance and dynamic shading. Once or twice Grigolo over-extends himself vocally, but he seems incapable of a thoughtless run-through. His “Una furtiva lagrima” is lovely–winsome and gentle; “Parmi veder” and “Possente amor” both have a sexy urgency, but he ends the latter with a big high D that sounds torn from his tightened throat. In fact, high Cs, though plentiful, tend to be a bit squeezed; perhaps the microphone exaggerates it.
Rinuccio’s little arietta from Schicchi is sung so brilliantly, with such expression and ardor, that you’ll want to hear it again immediately; his “Che gelida manina”, taken at a snail’s pace, is utterly beautiful, the area of the voice around f-g-a simply gorgeous. The big C is sensuous and victorious. The aria from Le Villi stretches him to his limit but it’s thrilling; “Ah si ben mio” is caressing and warm.
There’s very little else to say: this CD gives great pleasure, and unless Grigolo decides that he wants to go the route of Cheniers and Josés and Manricos, he may be great for as long as Pavarotti was–a good 25 years. His musical intelligence seems instinctive and he apparently loves to sing. Let’s hope for many more years of success. Orchestral accompaniments are excellent. [10/28/2010]
