Noel Tyl Interview with Bruce Duffie . . . . . . . . .

Heldenbariton Noel Tyl

A Conversation with Bruce Duffie

[This photo from 1974, as well as the production photos below, are courtesy of the Seattle Opera]

tyl Noel Jan Tyl (December 31, 1936 – December 31, 2019) was an American humanistic astrologer and writer of many books on the subject. In the 1960s and 70s he was a bass-baritone opera singer who was particularly noted for his Wagnerian roles.

Tyl was born in West Chester, Pennsylvania, and graduated from Harvard University in social relations (psychology, sociology, and anthropology) in 1958. He had studied singing and piano at school, and as a freshman at Harvard joined the Harvard Glee Club. Two years later, he was elected its manager. While at Harvard he also sang in the Harvard Opera Guild’s first production, The Barber of Seville. After graduation he moved to Texas where he worked as the business manager of Houston Grand Opera and continued his voice studies. He then moved to New York City for further voice studies while simultaneously working as a public relations executive. In 1964 Tyl won the Metropolitan Opera National Council Auditions and shortly thereafter commenced a full-time opera career.

Over the next twenty years he appeared in many American opera houses, including New York City Opera, Cincinnati Opera, Lyric Opera of Chicago, Seattle Opera, and Washington Opera, as well as appearing regularly with the Vienna State Opera and the Deutsche Oper am Rhein in Düsseldorf. He initially sang bass roles, but in 1970 expanded into the bass-baritone repertoire and found a particular affinity with Wagnerian roles such as Hans Sachs (Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg), Wotan (Der Ring des Nibelungen), and The Dutchman (The Flying Dutchman). Tyl had retired from the opera stage by the late 1970s and returned to public relations after founding the Washington, D.C.-based firm Tyl Associates. However, he came out of retirement in 1981 to appear in two productions (Madama Butterfly and Semele) with Washington Opera and in 1987 sang in a live German radio broadcast of Kurt Weill’s cantata, Ballad of the Magna Carta. Earlier in 1987, he had given a benefit solo recital for the McLean Choral Society. Among the pieces on the program were two of his own compositions, a setting of Longfellow’s poem "The Children’s Hour" and A Rudhyar Suite: Sunset, Truth, Rebirth, Awareness which was set to texts by the astrologer, composer, and poet Dane Rudhyar.

By the late 1960s, Tyl had developed an interest in astrology and its relationship to human psychology, particularly need theory. Astrology became his parallel profession for many years, and since his retirement from Tyl Associates was his sole profession. His first book, The Horoscope as Identity, was published in 1973 by Llewellyn Publications and began his long association with that publisher. A twelve-volume series The Principles and Practice of Astrology soon followed and over the years he became the company’s most published author. His Synthesis and Counseling In Astrology, a 1000-page professional manual on the use of astrology in counseling, was published in 1994. That same year, he moved to Fountain Hills, Arizona, where he continued to work as a consulting astrologer as well as teaching, lecturing and writing on the subject. At the 1998 United Astrology Congress, the world convention for astrology, he received the Regulus Award for "establishing and maintaining a professional image in the field." His 2001 Solar Arcs: Astrology’s Most Successful Predictive System contains autobiographical material in relation to his own horoscope.

Noel Tyl sang with Lyric Opera of Chicago in two seasons. First, in December of 1975, there were four performances of Orest in Elektra. Ursula Schroeder-Feinen sang the title role, Carol Neblett was Chrysothemis, Mignon Dunn was Klytemnestra, and Frank Little was Aegisth. Bruno Bartoletti conducted the production from La Scala. Then, in the fall of 1980, Tyl returned for eight performances (including Opening Night) as Rangoni in Boris Godunov, featuring Nicolai Ghiaurov as the Tsar, Hans Sotin as Pimen, Wiesław Ochman as Grigory, Ruža Baldani as Marina, Jacque Trussel as Shuisky, Hilda Harris as Fyodor, David Gordon as the Simpleton, Dimiter Petkov as Varlaam, Florindo Andreolli as Missail, Lili Chookasian as the Hostess of the Inn, J. Patrick Raftery as Tchelkalov, Gregory Kunde as a Boyar, and Terry Cook as Mitiukh. Bartoletti conducted, August Everding directed the Met production, and the ballet was done by Maria Tallchief. [Throughout this page, names which are links refer to my interviews elsewhere on my website.]

It was between performances of Boris that Tyl graciously came to the studios of WNIB, Classical 97 for a conversation. I knew that he had sung Wotan in the Ring production in Seattle, so a portion of the chat was published later that month in Wagner News, the magazine of the Wagner Society of America. Now [2024] I am pleased to present the entire interview.

Being in radio, I asked about the pronunciation of his name and he said it was ‘till’, “as in ‘put your money in the’”. [Those are his words!] He also said his first name was no-ELL, not NO-uhl.

We spent more than an hour discussing roles and musical ideas, and several times he would sing the lines to illustrate his points. Among the serious thoughts there was much laughter, and at the end he paid me a huge compliment.

To begin, I asked about his vocal category . . . . .

Noel Tyl: I am a Heldenbariton, specializing in Wagner, the bigger-than-life roles. It’s a hybrid type of voice that has an upper extension, and a color to it that is trombone- or trumpet-like. I began as a bass with high notes.

Bruce Duffie: Did you always want to sing Wotan?

Tyl: You dream about this when you’re starting out as a singer. I can remember back in 1964, my first audition was the American Opera Auditions. I was wanting to go to Italy as my reward to sing Don Basilio in The Barber of Seville. I remember Gibner King, coach for Ezio Pinza. He was also associated with Margaret Harshaw, Gladys Swarthout, and others from that great era. He took out the score to Die Walküre and played Wotan’s Farewell, and even now, on a cold day in Chicago, I have gooseflesh remembering that day. He sang it in his way, like a sprechstimme, and I was deeply moved by the beauty of the piece. I could not cope with the whole scope of it, the maturity of it, the demands of it, the orchestration and the color heard on the nine-foot Steinway piano. He looked at me and said, “Some day, Noel...” I went out and bought the score and wrote in it, ‘Some day...’ That day came eight years later. I sang my first Walküre Wotan, which is the most difficult of the three, for the first time when Seattle was starting their Ring. I got a telegram from Glynn Ross, the very astute and live promoter and producer. He remembered me when he directed me in roles like Colline and Basilio. [Photo of Tyl towering over Ross in a dressing room is shown farther down on this webpage.] I was becoming a dramatic baritone in Dusseldorf, and the Deutsche Oper am Rhein, and the Wiener Staatsoper in Austria, singing Scarpia and really getting into the high register. I got this telegram in the middle of the summer asking if I could sing Wotan in Die Walküre. I telegrammed back that I was on my way, and I’d see him in six months. I got off the plane and there was George London to direct me! [Laughs] Talk about heart failure! George and I became extremely close friends. I’ve done 25 or 30 performances of this in Seattle.

BD: Did you do it in both German and English?

Tyl: I’m the only person crazy and wounded enough to have done two Ring cycles in ten days in two languages twice! [Laughs] [The program from the 1976 cycles is shown below.] It takes the marrow out of your bones. But that’s the ‘some day’ story, and it’s very important to me. I had learned the role, and when I stepped off the plane in Seattle, to see George London there, I was scared! At the first piano rehearsal, George said, “Noel, you really have it. You can do it. It’s terrific. It’s young, but it’s terrific.” He said they were arranging for a special orchestra rehearsal for me alone. Do you know what an investment that is? I was so flattered. It started at 9 AM, so I got up at 4:30 and tried to get awake. The only people there were George, the conductor Henry Holt, and the orchestra. I was hearing it for the first time. At about 11 o’clock, we came to the Farewell. No singer can deny that it is one of the great thrills of a lifetime to hear that beginning, and as I began to sing it I started to cry. Here I was, eight years later with ‘some day’ fulfilled. [Pauses] It’s a long story, but very important to me.

See my interviews with Geraldine Decker, William Wildermann, Archie Drake, and Lorna Haywood.

BD: Do you prefer singing it in English or German?

Tyl: Singing it in English is like playing tennis with a racket that weighs fifteen pounds! The vowel-placement and the musculature are altered in English. You get more fatigued. I know it well, and even familiarity gets upset with the strain. You lose some contact, but I must say the Porter translation *is* understandable and *is* communicable. However, I can’t really handle it vocally, even with the comfort and the identification of that main stream of lore which comes through the study and preparation of the role. The alliteration is glorious, and that cannot exist in English. [Throughout this, he illustrates by speaking several of the lines in the original German.] Even for a German academician who has studied it for a lifetime, it’s very difficult. But somehow, that alliteration communicates something to the audience that tells you more about the phrase. I’m all for communicating, but I’m also for listeners studying a little bit.
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BD: If Rolf Lieberman in Paris asked you to sing it in French, would you?

Tyl: No.

BD: Will you ever sing it in English again?

Tyl: Yes, but not all at once. [Laughs] I can gear up for one night of Rheingold...

BD: You have published books on astrology. Why don’t you publish books on opera?

Tyl: I’m not necessarily qualified to write them. However, I’ve done a lot of symbolic lecturing on The Ring.

BD: Tell us about Wotan, the figure, the character.

Tyl: I have been asked many times to speak at length about this, and every singer who is at least articulate should have a chance and a responsibility to point out their individual views of his character. So this is a very good question, yet I take a different approach. I try to use another part of my life which is terribly important. I am an astrologer. I have a degree in psychology from Harvard, and I have built a world reputation in the astrology field as a therapist and teacher — serious stuff, not this junk you read in the papers! I’ve written seventeen books in the field which have sold approximately seven hundred thousand copies. It’s a very big and important role in my private life, and it has to do with symbolism. Of course, Wagner was an arch-esoterosis. His stage directions demand that Fricka enter in a chariot drawn by rams, and we must realize that this woman is an Aries, with her flaming red hair. This is ego, thrust, and vitriol twisting the knife in Wotan’s back as she accuses him of forsaking his holy vows. That’s how I look at it, in a very humanistic and symbolic way. I think Wotan is in a position where he is lured for riches in Rheingold, but as we know, in anything in life there has to be a sacrifice for the gain. We all fall before we walk. What is he asked to sacrifice? Love! In Die Walküre, the mature Wotan is reminded of this by Fricka. So I would extend the astrological significance to Wotan, and say he’s a Capricorn. This is a man of austere administrative need, a man with his spine implanted in the Earth he controls. Valhalla is above the Earth, but he’s the man who traffics between the Earth and the sky. He rules in this middle ground, and he is dishonorable to the giants who rule the Earth.

BD: Is there any allusion to this spine and the spear?

Tyl: I think so. [Smiles] You’re very perceptive! The ruling planet, as astrologers say, of Capricorn is Saturn, which is time.

BD: [With a grin] Saturn, with the rings around it???

Tyl: Exactly! So with Saturn is time, and the spine, and discipline, and denial, and eventual ministerial ascendancy and descendancy. Here is Wotan really getting the screws put on him by Fricka. I can remember George London saying to me, “Noel, you’re not to look at Fricka! She’s behind you. Feel those words twisting into your back and your spine.” These reactions to her reminders of his failings are seen in Wotan’s face and his body. A good Wotan will start with a highly poised spear and gradually through the battle with Fricka, it descends until the point is on the ground, and then he asks her what is it that she wants. He agrees, but by giving in to her, there must still be some tension left. He deludes himself into thinking he can still impose his own will. It’s self-delusion. There you have the Aries-Capricorn, which is a ninety-degree-spread in the heavens, and this is the dynamic development of tension in what happens between Fricka and Wotan. It is an angular affair, and carries that thrust. Then Brünnhilde comes in, and she is the sign opposite Capricorn, which is Cancer. This is emotional security and maternal love, as when she takes Sieglinde to her breast, and shows with all of this tearful inquiry to her beloved father, Wotan. In the heavens, Cancer in opposition to where Wotan is, and he is going to sacrifice physically with what he has already sacrificed ethically. Fricka is ninety degrees to the both of them. It’s wonderfully brought out, when Fricka uses the big bone of contention, this incestuous union of Siegmund and Sieglinde as the lever to Wotan, and he asks innocently what was so wrong. It was the Spring which enticed them love. But Spring is Aries.

BD: The idea of Fricka giving it to Wotan in the back... is this why Siegfried must die by being stabbed in the back?

Tyl: Perhaps. These are just personal thoughts, but there was a great deal of thought on Wagner’s part about all of this. This is how I feel about the characters in this very humanistic kind of pattern. Who advises Wotan? It’s Erda, the Earth goddess, and Capricorn is the Cardinal Sign of the Earth family. The third act of Siegfried is the most harrowing passage for a heroic baritone in the literature. It is glorious rhapsodic ideas, but what Wotan is doing is committing psychological suicide. He is triumphant and exuberant while having self-pity during this hurricane.

BD: Does Wotan remember the times he was with Erda, when they created the Valkyries?

Tyl: Oh yes. I think of these characters as human symbols. He also remembers the ironic laughter of Alberich when he is forced to give up the gold. When Alberich is told that he is free, he asks “Am I really free???” [Shown in photo below-left]. That’s when he laughs hysterically, and imposes his curse. Later, Wotan even refers to himself as a light Alberich, as opposed to a black Alberich.

* * * * *

BD: Is there any indication in the libretto as to which eye Wotan has lost?

Tyl: No. One of the Wotans I did had the right eye blinded. They put a little scrim down from the eyebrow to just below the eye, and in some instances I couldn’t see. It was important for me to see in my right eye because of the staging. There were some pictures taken, and people asked why the right eye? I asked why it should be the left, and nobody could answer that. There are literary references, but Wagner doesn’t say. In Rheingold, Wotan tells Fricka, “I’ve given my eye for you.”

BD: We, as observers of The Ring will look at it, and study it for eons, and never come to any definitive conclusion.

Tyl: That’s the whole point of the masterpiece. You learn from it all the time. I want to get away from pontificating about symbolic meaning, and speak about what goes on with singers as human beings under such duress. For instance, the most idiotic, but the most common remark you get from on-lookers in any opera situation — if they’re privileged to see several rehearsals — is that they’ll come up to the performer after the performance, and say, “That was so much better than the rehearsal!” A thinking singer will say, “It was supposed to be!” [Both laugh] Singing is so difficult...

BD: Is the public supposed to be aware of this difficulty?

Tyl: Yes, I think so because it invites empathy. [Aside: You sneak these questions in very nicely!] If you have a colossal lyric baritone, like my dear friend Sherrill Milnes, singing Don Giovanni, I personally feel that an awful lot of tension is lost because it’s too easy.

BD: You would rather it be a deeper sound?

Tyl: Yes. This is why basses have had so much success with it. Siepi has one of the deepest voices that God ever created. He’s very gifted, and he has a different tension-quality. For a bass, a D, or an E-natural above the staff has more tension in it, more evil or romance, if you will. Singers are human beings. When we were doing The Ring in Seattle, I needed everybody to know that because of all the rehearsals of all the operas — piano, piano with clothing, orchestra, then the final dress rehearsal — I was onstage before the opening night for seventeen straight days. In one day with an orchestra rehearsal, where you have to sing out, I sang all of Walküre, and all but the last ten minutes of Rheingold. This is an extraordinary demand, not even counting the nervous apprehension, and the weather, and the dust, and the private lives, and the phone calls from home, or whatever. You get out there and are expected to be on, like turning on a faucet.

BD: Should there be an announcement before each opera saying what all you have gone through?

Tyl: No, I’m not asking for anything ridiculous. I’m just trying to say the audience who watches opera has got to realize they’re watching human beings. Every performance by a singular artist is different, and more exciting. Franco Corelli was one of the most exciting singers of all time. From measure to measure you didn’t quite know what he was going to come up with. Now there’s a middle ground here, but with the laid-back ‘aficionado’ who says, “Gosh, this guy really sings,” I don’t think there is any involvement. Empathy is invited by taking chances with the vocal exigency. I’ll never forget... I was singing Rheingold once, and I was having a poor night. I had nasal drip, my saliva viscosity was off, and I didn’t feel ballsy. I was relying on diction and on high overtones to make the point. There was not enough fatness in my voice, and it hurt my psychology. I’m trying to do things to make it work. I remember once seeing Giorgio Tozzi in Simon Boccanegra. He was so sick that he shouldn’t have been out of his home, and yet he sang this performance with such skill that he communicated magnificently in spite of the difficulties. So here I am, stepping forward to sing the closing of Rheingold, and right in the middle of it I go up to the high F. Those Fs are always there, and I can rely on that high note. At this point, Froh, sung by Dennis Bailey, is to hand me a sword. That means he has to take it out and turn it around to present me the handle, which I felt was kind of dull! I told him to hand it to me blade-first, in a heroic manner. I grabbed the middle of that blade while the music is building up for my high F. I took it handle-down, and threw it up in the air in front of me, turned my wrist inward, grabbed that handle, wrenched it around, and then sang that high F. For the people on stage, their eyes fell out!

BD: Do you use that bit of business every time, or do you keep it in reserve for nights when you need a little extra?

Tyl: Somebody very wisely asked me after that if I could dare take that chance again. Norman Treigle used to take chances. As Escamillo in Carmen, he would grab the cape in his teeth, and throw it out with the force of his head! I am 6' 10", and for my first Scarpia in Germany, they built all the scenery and props in relation to my height. Everything was bigger, even the doorways. The chairs had bigger backs, the windows were bigger, and the drapes were heavier. It was beautiful. Instead of being for a short, fat, white-wigged slob, the tension has to be there for Tosca to reject him. He has to be tolerable enough for her to go to bed with him. After all, she’s a courtesan. There were huge candelabras, and I had a wonderful overcoat on, and a black wig. Everything was big and proper... except my eating. The director said I must eat like an animal. I must say I loved every moment of it. One night I just lifted my hand and warmed my fingers in the candle flames! People loved it! I’m not bragging. I’m just saying that everyone comes up with something special.

BD: Is this one of the traits of a really intelligent singer, to grow in every performance?

Tyl: Most directors will ask intelligent singers what special things they can bring to a role. In the early days of the Seattle Ring, we couldn’t work out how to walk Brünnhilde up to the rock. George London asked me what I thought, and I had no idea. I walked a half-step ahead of her, and extended her arm, and sort of glided up as if I were carrying her whole body weight in her arm. It was a hypnotic thing, and I can do it because of my size. It was as if I was luring her up while she was in a hypnotic state. I’ve done it with many Brünnhildes, and they all loved it. When I am in the audience for a performance, I watch for a singer negotiating something with an extra bit of ‘élan’.
tyl

BD: As a consummate artist, you know what that singer is going through.

Tyl: [Smiles modestly] I’m not a consummate artist. I’m a savvy artist.

BD: But you will be more aware of these things than the person a few seats away.

Tyl: I’ll give everybody a tip... watch singers’ hands. They tell you everything. It’s very hard to stand in front of four thousand people with your hands relaxed at your side. When you do Wagner, you learn to stand alone on a huge stage, and not move for twenty minutes.

BD: But as Wotan, you have contact with the spear.

Tyl: The spear is essential, but there are times when you don’t have the spear.

BD: What does Loge do? He has nothing in his hands [shown in photo at left].

Tyl: That’s very difficult, but he can get away with a lot of motion. For instance, the movement just before the Farewell has to be choreographed. The finest choreography of this that I’ve ever seen was in Cincinnati, directed by Georg Reinhardt from Germany. I was upstage about twenty-five feet from Brünnhilde, who was diagonally downstage at the front. As she turns, that music has definite little episodes that seem to speak of tension in her, and remembrance in me. As those little themes build up to the beginning of the Farewell, I would register the memory by lifting my torso. She would register the agitation through her back with swan-like openings of her arms, and I would register more. Tilts of the head become terribly important in this style. Then, all a sudden, it gets to that feverish pitch in the orchestral interlude. As I was lifting my arms up, I had a smile, one of the few smiles in Wagner. This was when she was racing up to me, and we are hugging. Wotan is terribly poised for this moment. It’s nearly Midnight, and he’s got to sing this beautiful passage, and she’s whispering things like, “Am I holding you too tight? Did I hit you too hard?” My beard might be in her wig, and you feel your hand shaking from tension and fatigue. You’ve lost nine pounds so far that night, but you know that you must finish the wonderful Farewell. So much beauty happens in the orchestral interludes of this final scene.

BD: Wotan sees the future at this point. Does Brünnhilde also see the future, or does she really just see the past?

Tyl: Do you really think he sees the future? Maybe he does. I think he subliminally anticipates the resolution coming out of the purification symbolism of incest. But remember, she requests that no ordinary mortal can awaken her. I think he understands this in the second act, when he tells Fricka that she must learn about mortal ways.

BD: Does Wotan think it will be Siegmund, or must it wait another generation for Siegfied?

Tyl: I think he knows it must await the resolution of the incest, and be Siegfried. [Pauses] This is what makes going to complex operas so rewarding.

BD: Do you find the same complexities, or the same depth, in works by other composers?

Tyl: No... not that it isn’t there, but it isn’t quite there. I must admit that when I sing shorter roles, like Orest or Rangoni, which I’ve sung here at Lyric, I get a little frustrated. I want to get out there and do more and develop the character. For instance, when I did Jochanaan in Salome, I didn’t just come out of the cistern. I was pulled out by men holding ropes that were tied around my wrists. I was dragged out of a cave twenty feet on my chest, and I stood on a big rock. It was effective, but my shoulder had a click in it that lasted for two years! Very few singers would try something like that. Being a heldenbariton rather than a bass, I have OK low notes, but great high notes. [Returning to Walküre] Basses sound great in the monologue in Act II, and while I’m OK, my Farewell, with its high notes, is terrific. The hardest bit to sing is the little cantilena just as he is banishing Brunnhilde in front of all the other Valkyries [shown in photo below-right]. It just hangs there from A to E-flat. The secret is not to labor it. Zubin Mehta told me to trust singing it like Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau. I actually feel in my mind that this small passage is an art song. There are long phrases that I sing very softly, and without taking a breath. I ask the conductor to let me know that I can be heard.

BD: Do you find the conductor waiting for you, and riding with your lines?

Tyl: Good ones, yes. Good ones know when to discipline you, and when to follow. The best conductors for me, and for most singers, are the ones who figuratively sing with you. That makes the evening secure. Henry Holt is just phenomenal. Every word is there, and everything is in his eyes and his mouth.

* * * * *

BD: You sing just one role in three operas of The Ring. What about singers who do two or three different roles, such as a bass who does Fasolt, Hunding, and Hagen?

Tyl: Someday down the road I would like to do Hagen. William Wildermann does a great Hagen. I did Hunding years ago... Every time a singer goes to a performance, he thinks, “What’s in this opera for me?” or, “If there is a disaster, what could I sing that evening?” I get very nervous going to an opera with a part that I know.
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BD: Are you more nervous in the audience, or on stage?

Tyl: I get a little testy in the audience. I’m not good company for whomever I am with that evening. I wonder if I can do what he is doing.

BD: Do you ask yourself if you are better than that other singer?

Tyl: No, I don’t think in qualitative terms. I’m all for every singer.

BD: What if it’s a terrible performance?

Tyl: Then I think it’s just a shame, or why is his reputation so important? So many things happen on the stage that are real exigencies, not just singers having a bad night, or hurting. There are marvelous stories about singers helping each other. For instance, the Erda in the Siegfried scene has a very high note to hit, and she really has to sweat this. Of course she’s usually a contralto...

BD: ...and she has to have a low G.

Tyl: Yes, and it’s quarter to Midnight, and she’s been sitting around a little too long in the dressing room... which is another thing the audience has to know! It’s hard to go out there and sing, and go back, and sit down for an hour and half, and come on expecting to be just as you were when you went off stage. Your body gets cold. It’s like playing tennis. You’re going to go in and sit down in the shower room, and just sit there, and do nothing for an hour and half, and expect to come out, and be up to snuff. It’s very difficult because you have to get all psyched up again.

BD: They talk about this in baseball, when the pitcher has to wait during a rain delay.

Tyl: Exactly. Oh, it’s awful. When Erda comes up there, a singer can tell because exigent vocal moments are set up in the singer’s mind two or three measures ahead, or a phrase ahead. A certain placement is adjusted. He knows if I’m all right here, I’m going to be all right there! You can start to hear that, and you just know they’re not going to make it. Many times as the Wanderer, in a dark blue light in the hurricane, Erda’s going up there, and I’ve known that she’s not going to hit that high note with full authority. Nobody else will know it, but she’ll know it, and the conductor will know it, so he gets her off it faster. As soon as this happens, I will make a big movement with the cape and the spear, and the light man will grab me, and I’ll take the attention and come in with my lines. It’s that type of cooperation which is essential. You can go up to the singer and say, “Coraggio!” or, “Don’t worry, we’re with you!” This happens with the conductor, too. If Holt sees you’re having a little trouble, he gets you through a little faster. Silvio Varviso is also incredibly nice. I made my debut at the Vienna State Opera as the Grand Inquisitor with just one rehearsal. I had never even seen Don Carlo, so the director showed me where to go. Siepi was King Philip. I told the prompter NOT to prompt me because I had to concentrate on myself. I would be in a laser-beam hypnotic state. I came out through a door which had no railing, with about 20 inches of space to stand. There was a man who had been with the house for many years helping me from backstage. Everything was so gentle and indulgent. Afterward, Varviso came to me and took my hand and just wanted to talk. People were waiting for him outside, but he stayed with me and said that I had done a nice job, and that I had this nice sound, and that I should be a dramatic baritone because my future would lie in Wagner. Then I went into the dressing room and Siepi said, “Your future is as a baritone-dramatico.”

BD: When you’re singing Wotan, do you prefer faster, more brisk tempos, or would you rather have Reginald Goodall [who uses notoriously slow tempi] in the pit?

Tyl: I’m all for elongation and broadening. It’s not really what you prefer, but what is meaningful. The most exciting Tosca I ever witnessed or was part of, I was singing Scarpia with Horst Stein conducting. He led many performances at Bayreuth, and was the GMD [General Music Director] at Hamburg. He’s about 5' 2", with a huge head. I’m not saying this to disparage him, but it’s a little bit discomforting. He’s also a bit of a personally uncomfortable man, but he is a consummate conductor. So when I entered for this Tosca, the whole thing slowed down and became like the fifth opera of The Ring! [Laughs] After that second act, I went into his dressing room and thanked him for a great learning experience. I told him I had a whole new insight into the piece. He said, “It was a very good performance, and you can sing Wotan in Walküre.” I said no, and he said, “Yes you can.” Things like that are re-vitalizing memories when you’re a little bit down, or have a little bit of trouble. On the other extreme, Giuseppe Patane takes such a fast tempo that you can’t get all the words out, and you feel the difference.

BD: Which do you prefer — slow or fast?

Tyl: It’s not so much what you prefer, but what is meaningful. Sometimes the evening has something to do with it. The audience is all-important. It’s an exchange of awareness. You can walk out on the stage and feel the audience even though you’ve not heard a sound from them. You know that a Friday night audience is different from a Sunday afternoon. Here in Chicago, you know that Opening Night is different from the following Tuesday. You know these differences, and it’s a bit of a labor. The audience somehow has that magical enthusiasm, and a singer feels it and thrives on it. Backstage you ask a colleague who has just come off, “How’s the public,” and even though there hasn’t been any applause yet, there is an answer. You get a vibe.
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BD: Do you do something to try and bring them along if they’re a bit down?

Tyl: No, you just get a little more mechanical, or a bit more involved with your colleagues.

BD: Is that the night you try something you don’t know will work?

Tyl: [Laughs] Yes.

BD: Earlier, you started to say something about a person who died...

Tyl: Oh yes... in the second act of Tosca, I was sitting at the desk waiting for the curtain to go up, checking to see that all the props were placed correctly — all the glasses of wine, etc. I have to give the stage manager the cue that I’m ready, and he then cues the conductor to go into the pit. All of a sudden, there was this huge crash just on the other side of the scenery. I heard all these people screaming. What had happened was that something from overhead came down and hit someone. They took him to the hospital, and he was dead when he arrived. The act was delayed about 25 minutes with no explanation. You sit there and think, “That could have been me.” Another time, before a performance in Dusseldorf, the stage manager had a heart attack, and I was worried about him throughout the performance. Backstage crews are so important. Here in Chicago, the backstage people are the most courteous, helpful, attentive, warm, loving people I have ever seen in the theater. They are all so perceptive about how to help you... even the elevator operator! I keep talking about kindness and grace, and it means a lot to me. It’s a human challenge not only to understand, but to try to communicate that understanding, and to perform for the public, which we need desperately.

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BD: [With a wink] Let me ask a very easy question. Where is opera going today?

Tyl: [Laughing] I think it’s going into the arms and hearts and minds of young people who are trying to embrace it with a re-born excitement. For the last 10 to 15 years, all of the grants to arts organizations have specified that Youth Programs had to be developed in order to qualify for the grant. These Youth Programs have trained people, and it grows on them. Stations like yours constantly give that fare over the air, and it all helps a younger generation that is looking for individual new values in art and culture. The university students and young executives who are seeking rewarding experiences are finding moments from the past that have been momentarily forgotten.

BD: Do the radio and TV stations, and all the records help this?

Tyl: Oh yes. The exploitation of Pavarotti has done so much. I was getting a shoeshine the other day, and the guy asked what I did. When I said I’m an opera singer, he said he sure did like this Pavarotti guy. [Both laugh] I love that. I take lots of cab rides, and if I say I’m a singer, the cabbies will often say they have been meaning to get tickets to the opera, and ask what’s a good one to see.

BD: So, what is a good ‘first’ opera?

Tyl: Boris Godunov is a very easy opera to understand. But there’s no doubt that Bohème, Carmen, and Faust are very good first operas. I think Madame Butterfly is NOT a good first opera. Tosca is a very good one because the characters are fun and immediately assimilable. To spend your first time with Nabucco or Meistersinger or Dutchman is enough to knock you out of the box forever! Meistersinger is one of the great masterpieces of the world, but it takes study.

BD: What if someone comes to you immediately before Rheingold to ask if he will enjoy it?

Tyl: I wouldn’t speak to him because it gets the muscles in the wrong place.

BD: OK, what if he asks you about it the day before?

Tyl: I would say, “Great. Have you done any reading on it? Who are the good guys and who are the bad guys?”

BD: [In a mildly gruff voice] “I hear there are giants. Are they taller than you?”

Tyl: [Laughs] “No, but what do you think they’re upset about?” If you get one idea about a relationship, then you begin to understand things.

BD: What other Wagner do you sing besides The Ring?

Tyl: The Dutchman and Hans Sachs. Also, Amfortas.

BD: Would you ever do Klingsor?

Tyl: No. George London and I agreed many times that Amfortas would be my fulfillment.
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BD: I remember reading that Hermann Uhde sang both Amfortas and Klingsor in the same performance [ at the Metropolitan Opera, April 19, 1957].

Tyl: Uhde was a fascinating man, who proved the adage that if you fulfill your potential, you have greatness. Uhde was not a beautifully lush gorgeous singer, but he did as much as he possibly could with what he had. He was a yogi, and was profound in his metaphysical orientation. He used to put spells on people with the intensity and completeness of doing a holistic presentation of himself with every role. Nothing was left out. He was totally engaged to present a burning focus of who he was in that character.

BD: Do you prefer doing the Dutchman in one piece or three?

Tyl: I’ve never done it without an intermission. I’d like to, because I don’t like intermissions. When I’m hot I want to keep going. I don’t like to stop. That last scene, though, is pretty taxing, but I’d like to give it a try once. I’d learn something. I’d be forced to recover quicker for that last scene. It’s so loud and so high and so angular. I have never sung that last scene full-out in any rehearsal, because you’d just kill yourself. The next morning my throat would hurt. I can’t ‘mark’ very well. I can’t sing halfway. [Illustrates a few lines, singing them in English]

BD: Have you sung that role in both German and English?

Tyl: I’ve done it more in German, but the most recent one I did was in English. Years ago I did about 120 performances of Basilio in The Barber of Seville in 7 countries in 3 languages. [Illustrates his entrance phrases in Italian, English, and German.] The opera takes about 15 minutes longer in German... [Much laughter]

BD: Do comic operas work better in translation than The Ring?

Tyl: Sure, I think the comic operas are perfect, but I don’t sing those operas, so I can’t really talk about them.

BD: When you are in the audience, do you have a preference of language?

Tyl: It would have to be something special to pull me in... steel workers don’t go the mill at night. I will be going to Lohengrin here, because I don’t know that opera very well. [The cast included William Johns, Eva Marton, Janis Martin, Leif Roar, and Hans Sotin, conducted by Marek Janowski.] I’ve always shied away from thinking I could do Telramund. It’s a very difficult part. It’s jagged, and angular, and ungrateful. I also find it very ungrateful to sing Pizzaro in Fidelio, so I don’t sing it any more. Otherwise, it’s one of my favorite operas. It’s also a good ‘first’ opera. What should happen is that Pizzaro should be shot at the end, or at least taken away. You also have to yell a bit, and I don’t like to yell for effect.

BD: Do you often refuse parts?

Tyl: I have been offered Sarastro many times because my sound can be extremely bass-y. But my temperament won’t allow me to do it, despite the fact that my size makes people think of me in that role.

BD: Do you enjoy the parts you sing?

Tyl: Oh yes.

BD: Is there ever a time you wish you were a tenor and could sing Siegfried... or Tamino?

Tyl: I’ve often thought of trying that. [Laughs] There are times that I can really get an upper extension that would sound like a dramatic tenor. But sure, I envy every time Pavarotti sings ‘Nessun Dorma’. I would give up sex for a week to do that.

BD: But not for a month?

Tyl: When you hear George London as Amfortas in the 1950s, you’d give it up for a year. To hear him do that is one of the greatest vocal experiences a human being can have. There is also something to be said for operas like Don Quichotte of Massenet, which I’ve had the privilege to sing 40 times in German and half a dozen times in French. It’s a very sensitive piece. I did it in Boston with Sarah Caldwell in French. This is one where, if you don’t get involved with the audience, there’s something wrong with you! It’s episodic, gentle, a lovely fairy-tale, and I adore it. There is marvelous interplay with Sancho, and I’ve done it with Marius Rintzler, who is a superb bass, one of the great basses of this world.

BD: He’s a great Alberich.

Tyl: Probably the greatest Alberich in the world today. But he is capable of singing with such lush amplitude that it is subjectively devastating. It is such a joy. I’ve also done it with Donald Gramm. He is one of the great performers onstage, with a voice entirely different than Rintzler. Rintzler is the lush marshmallow at the bottom of the Volga, while Gramm is a keenly-honed platinum band of sound from Tiffany’s. They’re totally different, but each is very effective. This is why people should go to the same operas more often to see different people doing these roles. That’s what’s fun.

BD: Is this a problem with recordings, hearing the same voices over and over, which puts up some kind of impossible standard?

Tyl: You ask deep questions! I would say the Metropolitan is not the only church in town, and Mr. Pavarotti is not the only tenor alive. There are a lot of people singing very well all over. Pavarotti aside, some of the most famous people singing today could not get a job if their reputations were not established. It’s an embarrassment, and you see it all the time. I have no rancor about this, but I’m just saying there but for the sake of what do you go. Why don’t you listen to yourself and see how you’re underachieving? Why create politics and intrigue around your position? If that’s where it’s at, I’ll just go on to something else.

BD: Thank you for coming in today to speak with me.

Tyl: Thank you for the opportunity. I’ve never been able to speak so freely or so comfortably. I’m just another guy trying to do his best with the gifts he has. We’re all here for something that’s bigger than all of us, and that is to understand, and to grow.

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This conversation was recorded in the studios of WNIB, Classical 97 in Chicago on October 6, 1980. A large portion was published in Wagner News later that month. This full transcription was made in 2024, and posted on this website at that time. My thanks to British soprano Una Barry for her help in preparing this website presentation.

To see a full list (with links) of interviews which have been transcribed and posted on this website, click here. To read my thoughts on editing these interviews for print, as well as a few other interesting observations, click here.

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Award - winning broadcaster Bruce Duffie was with WNIB, Classical 97 in Chicago from 1975 until its final moment as a classical station in February of 2001. His interviews have also appeared in various magazines and journals since 1980, and he now continues his broadcast series on WNUR-FM, as well as on Contemporary Classical Internet Radio.

You are invited to visit his website for more information about his work, including selected transcripts of other interviews, plus a full list of his guests. He would also like to call your attention to the photos and information about his grandfather, who was a pioneer in the automotive field more than a century ago. You may also send him E-Mail with comments, questions and suggestions.