Like a prison

Peter Brooks, a freelance writer based in the Hudson Valley, talks to Maltese tenor Joseph Calleja. Calleja tells him how he lives, breathes and sleeps opera. From Opera News Online:

At twenty-eight, young Maltese tenor Joseph Calleja has been thrust into the spotlight, expected to take the world by storm when all he has at his disposal are his charm, which is considerable, and his talent, which is also substantial. His warm, honey-toned voice is an impressive instrument, but is he really the next Pavarotti? In Internet chat rooms and blogs, fans and detractors dissect his abilities, throwing around terms such as "squillo," "ping" and "spinto." Some have quibbled about the "bleating" quality of his quick vibrato. Others wax rhapsodic over its "old-fashioned appeal," calling it an affecting "flutter." Riccardo Chailly, who collaborated with Calleja on his first album, Tenor Arias (2004), has stated, "For some time I have not heard such a talent at this young age, with a sound harking back to a quality I thought we had long lost." His second solo aria album, The Golden Voice, led by Carlo Rizzi, was released by Decca last spring..

Speaking with Calleja this past summer by telephone in Malta, where he was born and raised and still lives, I encounter a man who appears to have his priorities absolutely straight, but who evidently needs a break from the hectic pace of his burgeoning career. "I've been taking my first vacation in thirteen years," Calleja tells me, in fluent English. "It was time for it. I finally had the space in my calendar." Actually, Calleja had just given one of the biggest concerts in his life, an evening recital in Malta's capital in a popular outdoor theater. It was completely sold out, and the audience demanded several encores. But that is quite natural, as the Maltese, according to Calleja, have a special affinity for music. "We have one of the most beautiful Baroque theaters in the world, the Manoel in Valletta. And throughout its history Malta has been influenced musically by Italy, Spain, Portugal and France. We have a strong European tradition of opera here. The Royal Opera House, built in the 1860s, was world-renowned, but it was destroyed during the Second World War." Asked if his voice has a Maltese flavor, Calleja replies, "Malta is too small to have a flavor of its own."...

Calleja grew up listening more to Iron Maiden than to Madama Butterfly. "My teen years are not far behind me," he laughs. "I like rock, heavy metal. But at the age of thirteen or fourteen, I also discovered classical music. I was visiting my uncle's house, and he gave me a videocassette of The Great Caruso, starring Mario Lanza. From the moment I heard Lanza sing those first three notes in the restaurant, I was hooked. His voice and the way he used it were pretty phenomenal." Calleja, like many a green tenor, immediately began attempting the big operatic arias himself. "I sang 'Nessun dorma' but had no guidance," he recalls. "Thank God I met my voice teacher soon after." That teacher was noted Maltese tenor Paul Asciak, whom Calleja met at age sixteen through a piano instructor..

Despite his early successes, Calleja's decision, as a teenager, to become a professional opera singer was cause for some parental anxiety. The family ran a supermarket chain, and it was expected that Calleja would join in the business. "I worked there in the summers as a stevedore, lifting big boxes, fifty to 100 pounds each." Since Calleja stands at six feet, two inches, that is not hard to believe. When he was younger, Calleja was a jock. "I played on the basketball team," he says, "and did track and field — the shot put and javelin." Over the years, perhaps because of his former athleticism, his weight has fluctuated..

He finds that life on the road can be stressful and lonely. "Many singers do not have the same interests. I live, breathe and sleep opera, but I also need to recharge my batteries. When on the road, there is no time to see friends." After performances or rehearsals, he tends to stay in his hotel room. "I tell young singers that if they can think of any other job they would like to do, then they must do it. The competition in opera is intense. They must have the desire, be passionate and dedicated. For six months they have to be willing to not go out socially. At all. They go from the apartment to the opera house and back to the apartment. It is like prison, a cloister...

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