| Jussi Björling! I remember all the
times I heard the young tenor in the 1930s: he was the impecunious, enamoured Rodolfo in La bohème;
the cynical Duke of Mantua in Rigoletto; Cavaradossi, the fighter for liberty in Tosca; Manon
Lescaut’s noble des Grieux; the lyrical Roméo or Faust; the despairing Canio. The voice was always
the same—warm, healthy, beautiful. Dramatically speaking, there was not all that much difference
between the various characters. It was the young Jussi, unaffected, a little awkward, not
strikingly gifted as an actor. But he made his way out into the world and returned. I went to hear
him again—the same golden voice, a little darker and more expansive with the years, the same
sovereign artistry in which everything sounded so easy; but dramatically, the performance was each
time more free, more nuanced, more smilingly assured—though never cocksure. It was an impressive,
interesting development which demonstrated what success, properly used, can deliver from a latent
talent. His last performances at the Stockholm Opera—I’m thinking here chiefly of Rodolfo and des
Grieux—were unforgettable. In these the beautiful voice of the early years was joined by the depth
and warmth of mature experience. Jussi in private: I can’t say that I knew him very well. We would
meet in the street or in Dr. Bertil Kågén’s rooms as we waited to have our vocal cords checked. He
was always friendly —a nice, decent chap. The admiring words I always felt a pleasure in being able
to say to him in appreciation of the most recent performance were received with modest gratitude:
“Really, do you think so—well, it wasn’t so bad. I felt in good form.” No self-dissection, no
boasting. In his simple, good-hearted manner he had authority, and one felt that one had met a real
personality. There would sometimes be something searching in his look, an appeal in a tone of voice
which hinted that he was not the uncomplicated man which first impressions indicated. It is not the
tangible things alone that create a great artist. And this evening, the 9th October 1960, I have
heard that warm, brilliant voice again on the radio. But sadly, cruelly, above the singer’s name in
the newspaper were printed the words “Memorial programme.” |
