Composer (Komponist) (Strauss: Ariadne auf Naxos). Soprano. (or mez.). Travesti role. Pupil of the Music Master, he has written Ariadne auf Naxos, an opera seria, to be performed after dinner for the guests of one of the richest men in Vienna. The host's Major-Domo announces that the opera will be followed by the commedia dell'arte troupe's entertainment. This horrifies the Music Master — how can serious art be followed by such vulgar buffoonery? The Major-Domo points out that his master is paying for the opera, and will therefore decide how it will be performed. The Composer is already upset — he has learned that the musicians who are to play his music are currently playing for the guests as they dine, so he is unable to talk to them, the Prima Donna refuses to rehearse her role as Ariadne, and the Tenor needs to have it drummed into him that Bacchus is a god, not a ‘conceited clown’. He sees Zerbinetta, leader of the comedians, and finds her most attractive — until he is told that her act will follow his opera. He is shocked when the Dancing Master suggests that as parts of the opera are dull and boring, his troupe will liven things up and keep the audience awake. The Composer's instinct is to withdraw his opera altogether, but he is convinced by his teacher that it is better to have it produced, albeit mutilated, than not performed at all. So he sets about cutting his masterpiece, prompted by the Tenor and the Prima Donna, each suggesting that the other's part is the one which needs reducing. Zerbinetta, overhearing the Composer discussing how Ariadne, deserted by her lover, will welcome death, explains to him that women are not like that — not even Ariadne. She will convince her that life must be lived, and if deserted by one lover, the answer is to find another. But for the Composer, music is a holy art and, as the entertainment is about to begin, he leaves the stage in despair, wishing he had not allowed his opera to be used in this way. Arias: Du, Venus' Sohn (‘You, Venus-son’); Musik ist eine heilige Kunst (‘Music is a holy art’). In the 1st version of the opera, the Composer (spoken) appears only briefly in the linking-scene. In the 2nd vers., ‘he’ is on the stage for about 40 minutes, and singing for only half that time, but this role has nevertheless become a favourite with Strauss sopranos. Created (1916) by Lotte Lehmann (who later graduated to Ariadne), and sung memorably by Irmgard Seefried, Christa Ludwig, Sena Jurinac, Trudeliese Schmidt, Tatyana Troyanos, Ann Murray, and Maria Ewing.
THE COMPOSER
(Ariadne auf Naxos (1916 vers.) - Strauss)
by Sena Jurinac
The Composer, in Strauss's second version of Ariadne auf Naxos, is different from his other soprano roles in that the character appears only in the Prologue and there are barely 20 minutes of singing. So why do sopranos so much like to perform it?
Well — it is wonderfully satisfying to sing and act. Like the Rosenkavalier Marschallin, in a different way, the character gives something to the singer on the stage due to the wonderful words which Hofmannsthal provided. It gives scope for a vast range of emotions. I think of him as a young Schubert, an idealist, rather than a young Mozart, who was totally practical and knew what would sell and make him a living. The Composer knows no middle-path — he is either fully up or fully down, in heaven or in hell, one might say. When he first appears, he is full of enthusiasm — he is writing an opera (Ariadne auf Naxos) to entertain the guests of one of the richest men in Vienna. When he is told his opera and the entertainment by the commedia dell'arte troupe will have to be given simultaneously so as not to interfere with the fireworks which are to follow, and that he must reduce the length of his opera, he is immediately downcast. The Music Master tries to explain to him that in art, as in life, one must make compromises if one is to survive. When the Composer meets Zerbinetta, leader of the commedia dell'arte players, he initially dislikes her, but gradually he forgets his dislike and falls in love with her, so all is happy again. But when he meets the singers who are to take part in his opera, he falls to pieces and wants to be turned to stone. The beauty of music and love make him leave the world; when he comes down to earth again he is unhappy. This can be quite humorous — one can smile at this young man, but always in a sympathetic way. He is not a ridiculous character and one must feel sorry for him as well as amused.
I first sang the Composer in Vienna in 1947 under Josef Krips, being given the opportunity of taking over, with no orchestral rehearsal, from Irmgard Seefried (for whom I was the understudy). Seefried remained, for me, the supreme interpreter of the part. She gave every role everything she had — she didn't worry about using too much energy on stage, her only concern was to get it right. I last sang it, again in Vienna, in 1980, a span of 33 years. Between those occasions the role took me all over Europe and to America, and I particularly remember the performances at Glyndebourne in 1953 and 1954, in Salzburg in 1964 and 1965 and in my home town, Zagreb, in 1970. I was lucky enough to sing opposite some excellent Music Masters and Zerbinettas, who are the main two characters to whom the Composer relates and responds, and to work with great conductors and producers. They worked differently, but all strived to interpret the action through the music, so my interpretation of the Composer did not need to vary greatly for different productions, although the producers and conductors had different ways of working. This wouldn't do today, the producers wouldn't like it! I think they make up their minds about a role in their brain disconnected from the music and the composer's intentions. Carl Ebert, at Glyndebourne, was able to show one exactly how he wanted it done. Günther Rennert, in Salzburg, ‘organized’ me — I could alter my interpretation from rehearsal to rehearsal and he would then make up his mind which way he wanted it. Tempi varied with the conductor, and a singer had to be able to sing at all tempos — sometimes faster, sometimes slower.
It is, of course, a trousers-role, and for that one has to learn how to move on a stage. There is a great difference between playing the Composer or Cherubino (Le nozze di Figaro), who are ‘boys’, and playing Fidelio, who is a woman disguised as a boy. One has to acquire the technique — the walk, the straight back, the definite and firmer movements of a young man. Vocally, there are pitfalls. I know the Composer is sometimes sung today by mezzo-sopranos, but it really does require a good high register. The singer must feel the music as in Strauss Lieder: the words and music are so well combined that even though there are often difficult words on high notes, the rhythms and the beat are such that it is possible to sing it as Strauss intended. I only liked to sing parts where I could identify with the character. This was always one of my favourite roles.
