Phyllis Curtin: An American Soprano

Phyllis Curtin: An American Soprano

The summer before my first year at Boston University I attended BUTI, the university’s Tanglewood Institute. During my in-person audition for BU, the head of the classical voice program at the time, Phyllis Hoffman, invited me to be a part of the training program at BUTI. I hadn’t explored any summer classical musical program prior to this audition, but I was convinced that it would be a great opportunity and a beautiful place to be for the summer.

I will save the details of that program for another article, but needless to say, it was a magical experience. I met some of my future teachers at BU, and it was there that I met the glorious Phyllis Curtin for the first time. Not only was she a magnificent performer in her prime, but she poured her heart and soul into her teaching, which was abundantly clear to all of us.

Curtin was born in Clarksburg, West Virginia in 1921 and trained at Wellesley College and then at the New England Conservatory. She started her performing career with the New England Opera Theater before her debut with the New York City Opera in 1953. During her time there, she played leading roles in The Tales of Hoffmann, Cosi fan tutte, La Traviata and Don Pasquale. However, she sang in two premieres with that company, notably in the title role of Susannah, and in Wuthering Heights.

In the 1950s she continued her performances with a U.S. Tour with the NBC Opera Company singing the role of Countess Almaviva in The Marriage of Figaro. Following that she had engagements in Buenos Aires, the Aspen Music Festival, the New York Philharmonic, and the Philadelphia Orchestra. Her Metropolitan Opera debut was singing Fiordiligi in 1961. Curtin had her last performance with the MET in 1973, singing the title role in Tosca.

I never had the chance to see Curtin sing in a live performance. However, she taught master classes regularly at Boston University, and even the summer I was at BUTI: the moments when she would demonstrate a particular technique to a student were still stunning, even well into her 70s. The thing that I found most remarkable about her teaching was how she was able to make her students feel at ease on one hand but was able to guide them on how to sing with their whole body to support a fuller and more emotional sound. It was that hands-on approach that really made her teaching clear to her students. She spent the years from 1974 to 1983 as a professor of voice at Yale, and dean of Boston University’s College of Fine Arts program from 1983 to 1991 before founding the Opera Institute at BU in 1987.

One of her greatest achievements, though, was teaching at Tanglewood. She taught there for 51 years, working with future stars such as Dawn Upshaw, Cheryl Studer and Simon Estes.  I cannot begin to name all my friends who worked with Curtin over the years, either at Boston University or at Tanglewood. She was perhaps one of the most beloved voice teachers of her generation.

Curtin should have had a much larger career than she did. She was stunning on stage and off and sang with brilliant technique. However, in 1966 when she was supposed to sing the role of Cleopatra in Julius Caesar at New York City Opera, the soon-to-be-star Beverly Sills demanded the role for herself and Curtin was not to sing it after all. It was a huge heartbreak for her and certainly affected the trajectory of her career.  She was still a favorite of some of the most prominent composers in America, including Ned Rorem, Aaron Copland, Elliott Carter and Lee Hoiby, and premiered many works by them.

Curtin left a substantial legacy with her performances and as an instructor of voice. Her recording of “The Trees on the Mountain” from Susannah is perfection. It is a deceivingly difficult song to sing, requiring both power and incredible control. Her recordings of Ned Rorem and David Ward-Steinman songs are also beautifully and emotionally sung. Her music and teaching touches countless people and I am grateful that I had the opportunity to watch and learn from her myself.