Opera: The Devils and Reardon

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Famous prima donnas are apt to regard a bout with contemporary opera as roughly equivalent to a gargle with sulphuric acid. Modern composers, singers say, don't know how to write. They ruin voices by demanding odd and un-vocal sounds. Though this attitude is widespread, there is evidence that it is less a matter of fact than fashion. Birgit Nilsson, though she sings no contemporary opera at all, points out that composers are usually ahead of performers. Wagner's Tristan und Isolde, she observes, was abandoned as un-performable, "yet nowadays no dramatic soprano can be considered accomplished if she is incapable of singing an Isolde." Beverly Sills, who sang many modern roles before going on to fame in Italian bel canto operas, endorses Nilsson's and Reardon's sensible attitudes. "Contemporary opera kills your voice," she says flatly, "only if your voice is sick to begin with."

Chirps and Grunts. Reardon's voice, at any rate, shows no sign of decay, even though his repertory comprises 90 roles, 30 of them contemporary and 18 of them recerit premieres. In some ways, this versatility is as much a triumph of brain as of voice. "When word gets around that you can read something other than a C-major scale," he says, "people seem to pigeonhole you. I enjoy it, though. I'd go out of my mind if I sang nothing but Tosca and Traviata." Reardon pragmatically divides compositions into only two categories: music and nonmusic. "Some things I won't do," he says. "I once heard Martina Arroyo do a work called Momente by a composer I have forgotten.* She was called upon to make all kinds of sounds, including bird chirps and grunts. Now that I would refuse. You're not singing anything, so why not just get someone who can make noises?"

Composers, directors and conductors from Santa Fe to New York are consistent Reardon admirers—which is fairly remarkable for a Manhattan-born boy who started out to be a bank president. After studying business administration in college for three days, Reardon switched to music, "because those kids were much more fun. I tried to be a pianist," he recalls, "but my hands sweat when I'm nervous, and when your hands sweat as a pianist, forget it. It's like Niagara Falls." He also experimented with composition, but was swiftly urged by his teacher to take up singing instead.

Reardon's good looks and versatile voice might well have doomed him to a career as a Broadway leading man. Beginning in 1952, he moved between Broadway, summer stock and grand opera with bewildering frequency. At one point, he alternated between the New York City Opera and Broadway (including, at various times, New Faces of '56 and Do Re Mi) before finally joining the Metropolitan Opera in 1965 as a principal artist. Now 39, he finds his voice deepening and growing bigger. Two years ago he began to work with former Met Soprano Margaret Harshaw, focusing and darkening his voice.