Word: sopranoes
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Opera singers, like athletes, are nuts for conditioning-only nuttier. Where Mickey Mantle may shag a few fly balls, Baritone Robert Merrill stands on his head. Where Mickey Wright will hit a few off the practice tee, Mezzo-Soprano Rosalind Elias gargles champagne and does a belly dance. And for a preperformance pick-me-up, singers will have none of that sissy business of pep talks. They eat garlic...
...Coca-Cola and follows it with burping exercises, Gwyneth Jones takes hot and cold showers and yawns a lot. The rage for eating raw garlic is so popular among German tenors (a cashew-sized sliver two hours before performing is supposed to strengthen the heart) that one indignant Italian soprano recently went onstage with an aerosol can of deodorant. Tenor Franco Corelli thoughtfully combines his raw-meat and garlic diet with nibbles on a bouquet of parsley between scenes...
Sneaky Beer. Many singers continue their eating and drinking while performing, following the tradition of Soprano Giulia Grisi, who, whenever she had to fall onstage, always landed near a trap door so that a stagehand could sneak her a glass of beer. In the Metropolitan Opera's current production of Electra, Birgit Nilsson's search for Agamemnon's ax is really a quest for a ginger ale stashed under a rock...
...bestseller charts, as did their next release, Monday, Monday. Papa John Phillips, 25, an Annapolis dropout, is the group's songsmith, and what his lyrics lack in depth his melodies make up in lilting appeal. Phillips' wife Michelle, a willowy ex-model, is the spiraling soprano; Denny Doherty, 24, sings a secure tenor. Anchor girl is rotund (200 lbs.) Cass Elliot, 23, whose ringing contralto gives the quartet its oomph. Together they build a buoyant vocal blend that floats easily through intricate harmonic shifts, toying with rhythms that are as fresh and bracing as ocean breezes. The quartet...
...billows, backdrops quaver with psychedelic patterns, a sword springs from nowhere, an orange fountain gushes from center stage, a tenor flies into the flies. The singing, which requires a display of vocal acrobatics that few performers can successfully negotiate, was excellent. Loudest bravas went to Christa Ludwig, whose lusty soprano and hip-swinging histrionics had bite and conviction...