Allegro

Allegro (pronounced uh-ley-groh or uh-leg-roh or ahl-le-graw (Italian)).

(1) In music, a tempo mark directing that a passage is to be played in a quick, lively tempo, faster than allegretto but slower than presto.

(2) In music (more traditionally), an expressive mark indicating that a passage is to be played in a lively or happy manner, not necessarily quickly.

(3) In music, a piece or passage to be performed in this manner (an allegro movement).

(4) In printing & typography, as the font Allegro, a serif typeface released in 1936.

1625–1635: From the Italian allegro (lively; happy, cheerful (feminine allegra, masculine plural allegri, feminine plural allegre, superlative allegrissimo)), from the French allègre, from the Latin alacer (nominative alacer) (lively, cheerful, brisk) (from which English later picked up alacrity).  The Italian allegretto (diminutive of allegro) in musical composition is the instruction to be (brisk & sprightly but not so quick as allegro) was coined in 1740 explicitly for its technical purpose in music.

Use as a musical term didn’t actually begin until 1721.  Prior to that, since the early seventeenth century, English had used the word in the sense (brisk, sprightly; cheerful) picked up from Italian and Latin although the original spelling in English was aleger (lively, brisk) from Old French alegre, influenced by the Medieval Latin alacris.  What encouraged the use was the adoption of the word (in its literal sense) by John Milton who in 1632 published the poem L'Allegro".  Apart from the use in musical composition, there’s also allegro speech, a relatively fast manner of speaking, once often used as a stage notation by playwrights although it seems now less common, replaced by terms better known to the young.  As well as the native Italian and the English allegro, composers in many languages use the term including in French allegro (the post-1990 spelling allégro), the Greek αλέγρος (alégros) & αλλέγκρο (allégkro), the Norwegian allegro, the Portuguese allegro (the alternative spelling alegro), the Turkish allegro and the Persian آلگرو.  Allegro is an adjective, adverb & noun, the noun plural being allegros.

Although book burning was associated with the era, much publishing was still done in Germany during the 1930s and the centre of the industry was Frankfurt.  In 1936 the city’s Ludwig & Mayer type foundry released the Allegro typeface, in the tradition of the nineteenth century Didone style but influenced also by the art deco designs which had become popular.  A serif design which relied for its effect on the alternation of thick and thin strokes, it uses breaks in the letter where thin strokes might be expected, hinting at the style of stencils with a touch of the inclination associated with calligraphy.  It was a popular typeface for decorative purposes such as book jackets or headings of musical notation but very much a display font, it works well only above a certain point size and is used almost exclusively for titles.

Aesthetic success & failure: The Alfa-Romeo Alfasud (left) and the Austin Allegro (right).

Often featured (usually with several other products of British Leyland in the 1970s) in lists as among the worst cars ever made, the Austin Allegro was in production between 1973-1982 and actually sold in respectable numbers for most of that time although at only a third the rate of its remarkably popular predecessor (ADO16, the Morris 1100/1300 and its many badge-engineered siblings).  One much criticized aspect of the Allegro was the appearance; it was thought a bloated blob in an era of sharp-edged wedges and the critique does illustrate just how narrow can be the margin between success and failure in the execution of a concept.  The Alfa Romeo Alfasud (1971-1983 (variants of the original produced until 1989)) adopted essentially the same shape and dimensions yet was praised as an elegant and well-balanced design.  Seen in silhouette, the shapes are similar yet in the metal, the detail differences, a mere inch (25 mm) or two here and there or a subtle change in an angle or curve and one emerges lithe and the other ponderous.

Harris Mann’s 1968 conceptual sketch for the Allegro project.

The Allegro’s portly appearance wasn’t the original intent.  Tasked with designing a replacement for ADO16, the stylist Harry Mann (1938-2023) sketched a modernist wedge, designed to accommodate what was at the time an advanced specification which included all-independent hydraulic suspension, front wheel drive, disk brakes and crucially, new, compact engines.  Mann however began the project while employed by Austin’s parent corporation, the British Motor Corporation (BMC) but by the time substantive work on the Allegro began, BMC had been absorbed into the Leyland conglomerate, a sprawling entity of disparate and now competing divisions which, if agonizingly reorganized, might have succeeded but such were the internal & external obstacles to re-structuring that, coupled with political turmoil and the economic shocks of the 1970s, it staggered to failure, something the later nationalization could only briefly disguise.  Thus Mann’s team learned the clean-lined wedge would have to be fattened-up because not only were the old, tall engines to be re-used but the new engines to be offered as options were bulkier still.  Installed at an angle, which would have demanding some re-engineering but would have been possible, that might have been manageable but what was not was the decision to use the corporate heater unit, developed at an apparently extraordinary cost; it could be installed just one way and it was a tall piece of machinery.

1976 Triumph TR7 Coupé.

Mann didn’t forget his 1968 sketch and when the opportunity later came to design a new sports car, his wedge re-appeared as one of the cars which most represented the design ethos of the 1970s: The Triumph TR7 & TR8 (1975-1982) which would have their own troubled history but which sold quite well and, as the TR8 (which used the 3.5 litre (215 cubic inch) River V8), represented something in which the potential of the original was finally realized but it was too late for by then the disaster that was British Leyland had eaten itself.

The Allegro is remembered also for a steering wheel which was neither circular yet not exactly square.  Actually the idea wasn’t novel, dating back decades and had been used on quite a few American cars during the early 1960s but on the Allegro it attracted much derision, something not diminished by Leyland’s explanation that it was optimal for the car and afforded a good view of the instruments.  Leyland also attracted the scorn of mathematicians when they called the shape “quartic” because of it being “a square with rounded corners”.  The nerds pointed out quartic meant “an algebraic equation or function of the fourth degree or a curve describing such an equation or function” and the word Leyland was searching for was "squircle" (in algebraic geometry "a closed quartic curve having properties intermediate between those of a square and a circle").  Leyland ignored them but soon replaced the wheel with a conventional circular design.  Whatever the name, variations of the shape have since become popular with high-end manufacturers, Ferrari, Aston-Martin, Lamborghini and others all pursuing non-circular themes and one is a feature of the latest (C8) mid-engined Chevrolet Corvette.

The fate of many Alfasuds.

The Alfasud name (the construct being Alfa + sud) was an allusion to it being produced in a newly built factory in the Naples region, the decision taken after financial inducements were offered by the government, anxious to do something about the levels of unemployment and lack of economic development in the south of the country.  The Italian sud (south) was from the French sud, from Old English suþ, from Proto-Germanic sunþrą.  As a plan it made sense to politicians and economists but, industrial relations being what they were at the time, the outcome was less than ideal.    

In one aspect, the Allegro and Alfasud were wholly un-alike, the latter infamous for its propensity to rust, a trait shared with many mass-produced Italian cars of the era, the only consolation for Alfasud owners being the contemporary Lancia Beta suffered even more.  The Alfasud's rust-resistance did improve over the years but it remained a problem until the end of production and the industry story has always been that in the barter economy which was sometime conducted between the members of the EEC (European Economic Community, an ancestor organization of the latter-day European Union (EU)) and those of the Warsaw Pact (the alliance between the USSR and its satellite states which essentially duplicated the structure of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO)), Italian manufactured goods were exchanged for Russian steel which was reputedly re-cycled but anyway turned out to be of poor quality and essentially porous.  The story certainly is a good fit for the narrative of maladministration and corruption that was Italy in the 1970s but subsequent research has revealed it to be a myth, the sheet metal used in the Neapolitan factory at Pomigliano d’Arco where Alfasuds were made the same stuff that Alfa Romeo used in the facility at Arese in Milan where the Giulia range was produced and their reputation for resisting rust was good.  The evidence suggests all the steel used by the company's local operations came from the state owned Taranto steel mills.  Intriguingly, the factories south & north all used the same paints and the ovens & paint booths were a decade-odd newer in Naples.

Given all that, the startlingly premature corrosion surprised many within Alfa Romeo and in 1977 a project-team began to investigate the causes and it was afforded some urgency given the reputational damage being suffered by the whole company (ie profits were suffering).  Having determined the core components (paint & steel) weren't to blame, the engineers deconstructed the production process including the system of movement (how the partially completed cars proceeded from start to finish).  What the team found was that while the electrophoresis baths at Pomigliano were state of the art, the inexperienced (and sometimes indifferently-minded) workforce operated them without adequate supervision and quality control, something exacerbated by the chronically bad labor relations, the factory beset by rolling strikes which meant unpainted bodies were often sitting for days.  In the humid climate of the south, condensation gathered, many cars already rusting even before eventually receiving a coat of paint and that the plant was less than 10 miles (16 km) from the coast and the prevailing winds blew from the sea added to the problem, the unpainted Alfasuds often left for days damp with salty moisture.

The team's findings resulted in a change to the production process for the revised Series 2 Alfasuds launched in December 1977.  The critical parts of the bodyshell now used "Zincrometal" (steel coated with a primer which was a mix of chromium, zinc and an organic bonding resin, baked at 160°C (320°F) which was as good as anything used in the industry.  As a added precaution, a polyurethane foam was injected into the body's boxed sections with a flexible plastic sealant applied at the seams to prevent moisture intrusion.  That had the added benefit of reducing noise vibration & harshness (NVH) while adding little extra weight.  Unfortunately, the tests the engineers conducted to prove the design was waterproof relied on perfectly applied sealant at the junctions but the poor quality control continued and many seams were poorly sealed which meant the foam acted as a moisture store, making the problem worse.  By contrast, whatever its other faults, and there were a few, the Allegro resisted rust like few cars built anywhere during the era, the design sound and that 1970s British Leyland paint thick and durable.  In the years that followed, many would criticize the sometimes lurid and even sickly shades but as a protective coating, it did the job.

How to make an Allegro look worse: 1976 Vanden Plas 1500.

In another sign of the times, unlike ADO16, one basic vehicle which was badge-engineered to be sold under six brands (Austin, Morris, Riley, Wolseley, MG & Vanden Plas), the only variation of the Allegro was a luxury version by Vanden Plas, laden with leather, cut-pile carpeting and burl walnut trim including the picnic tables on the back of the seats so beloved of English coachbuilders.  It didn't use the Allegro name and has always elicited condemnation, even from those who admired the Vanden Plas ADO16, presumably because the traditional upright grill attached to the front suited the earlier car's lines whereas the version which had to be flattened to fit the Allegro's pinched, pudgy nose looked just absurd.  Still, there's clearly some appeal because the Vanden Plas cars have the highest survival rate of all the Allegros and now enjoy a niche (one step below the GDR's (the German Democratic Republic; the old East Germany) Trabant) on the bottom rung of the collector car market.

Fastback

Fastback (pronounced fast-bak or fahst-bak)

(1) A form of rearward coachwork for an automobile body consisting classically of a single, unbroken convex curve from the top to the rear bumper line (there are variations of this also called fastbacks).

(2) A car having using such styling (also used as a model name by both car and motorcycle manufacturers).

(3) A type of pig developed from the landrace or large white and bred for lean meat.

(4) In computing, a product-name sometimes used for backup software.

1960–1965: The construct was fast + back.  Fast was from the Middle English fast & fest, from the Old English fæst (firmly fixed, steadfast, constant; secure; enclosed, watertight; strong, fortified), from the Proto-West Germanic fast, from the Proto-Germanic fastu & fastuz (firm) (which was the source also of the Old Frisian fest, the Old Norse fastr, the Dutch vast and the German fest), from the primitive Indo-European root past- (firm, solid), the source for the Sanskrit pastyam (dwelling place).  The original meaning of course persists but the sense development to “rapid, speedy” dates from the 1550s and appears to have happened first in the adverb and then transferred to the adjective.  The original sense of “secure; firm” is now restricted to uses such as “hard & fast” description of track conditions in horse racing but the derived form “fasten” (attach to; make secure) remains common.  Back was from the Middle English bak, from the Old English bæc, from the Proto-West Germanic bak, from the Proto-Germanic bakam & baką which may be related to the primitive Indo-European beg- (to bend).  In other European languages there was also the Middle Low German bak (back), from the Old Saxon bak, the West Frisian bekling (chair back), the Old High German bah and the Swedish and Norwegian bak; there are no documented connections outside the Germanic and in other modern Germanic languages the cognates mostly have been ousted in this sense by words akin to Modern English ridge such as Danish ryg and the German Rücken.  At one time, many Indo-European languages may have distinguished the horizontal back of an animal or geographic formation such as a mountain range from the upright back of a human while in some cases a modern word for "back" may come from a word related to “spine” such as the Italian schiena or Russian spina or “shoulder”, the examples including the Spanish espalda & Polish plecy.  Fastback is a noun; the noun plural is fastbacks.

1935 Chrysler Imperial C2 Airflow (top left), 1936 Cadillac V16 streamliner (top centre), 1936 Mercedes Benz 540K Autobahnkurier (Motorway Cruiser) (top right), 1948 Pontiac Streamliner (bottom left), 1948 Cadillac Series 62 (bottom centre) and 1952 Bentley Continental R (bottom right).

Although it was in the 1960s the fastback became a marketing term as the range of models proliferated, it was then nothing new, the lines appearing on vehicles even before 1920, some of which even used the teardrop shape which wind tunnels would confirm was close to optimal, as least in terms of reducing drag although it would be decades before the science evolved to the point where the importance of the trade-off between drag and down-force was completely understood.  To some extent this was explained by (1) so many of the early examples being drawn from aviation where shapes were rendered to optimize the twin goals of reducing drag & increasing lift and (2) road vehicles generally not being capable of achieving the velocities at which the lack of down-force induced instability to a dangerous extent.  Rapidly that would change but there was quite a death toll as the lessons were learned.  By the 1930s, streamlining had become one of the motifs of the high-performance machinery of the era, something coincidently suited to the art deco moment through which the world was passing and in both Europe and the US there were some remarkable, sleek creations.  There was also market resistance.  Chrysler’s engineers actually built one of their sedans to operate backwards and ran tests which confirmed that in real-world conditions the results reflected exactly what the wind-tunnel had suggested: it was quicker, faster and more economical if driven with the rear bodywork facing the front.  Those findings resulted in the release of the Airflow range (1934-1937) and while the benefits promised were realized, the frontal styling proved to be too radical for the time and commercial failure ensued.  People however seemed to like the fastback approach (then often called “torpedo style”) and manufacturers added many to their ranges during the 1940s and 1950s.

Ford Galaxies, Daytona, 1963 (top), 1966 Dodge Charger (bottom left), 1968 Plymouth Barracuda (bottom centre) and 1971 Ford Torino (bottom right).

Ford in 1962 inadvertently provided a case study of relative specific efficiencies of rooflines. The sleek Starliner roof on the 1961 Galaxies used in NASCAR racing sliced gracefully through the air and while sales were initially strong, demand soon slowed and the marketing department compelled a switch to the “formal roofline” introduced on the Thunderbird; it was a success in the showroom but less than stellar on the circuits, the buffering induced by the steep rear windows reducing both stability and speed.  Not deterred, Ford resorted to the long NASCAR tradition of cheating, fabricating a handful of fibreglass hard-tops which would (for racing purposes) turn a convertible Galaxie into a Starliner.  Unfortunately, to be homologated for competition, such parts had to be produced in at least the hundreds and be available for general sale.  Not fooled by Ford’s mock-up brochure, NASCAR banned the plastic roof and not until 1963 when a “fastback” roofline was added was the car’s competitiveness restored.  Actually, it wasn’t really a fastback at all because full-sized cars like the Galaxie had become so long that even a partial sweep from the windscreen to the rear bumper would create absurd proportion but the simple expedient of a sharply raked rear window turned out to work about as well.  Even on intermediates like the Dodge Charger and Ford Torino the pure fastback didn’t really work, the result just too slab-sided.  The classic implementation was when it was used for the shorter pony cars such as the Plymouth Barracuda and Ford Mustang.

1968 Ford Mustang GT 390 Coupé (top left) & 1967 Shelby Mustang GT500 (top right); 1971 Ford Mustang 351 Coupé (bottom left) & 1971 Ford Mustang Mach 1 429 Super CobraJet SportsRoof.

The fastback for a while even influenced roofs not fast.  The original Mustang coupé (1964) was a classic “notchback” but such was the impact in the market that later in the year a fastback was added, joining the convertible to make a three body-style range.  The fastback’s popularity was bolstered by Carroll Shelby (1923–2012) choosing that style for his Shelby Mustangs which over the course of half a decade would evolve (or devolve depending on one’s view) from racing cars with number plates to Mustangs with bling but it would also influence the shape of the coupé.  By 1971 the fastback Mustangs (by then called “SportRoofs”) had adopted an even more severe angle at the rear which was dramatic to look at but hard to look through if inside, the almost horizontal rear window restricting visibility which made the more upright coupé (marketed as “Hardtop”) a more practical (and safer) choice.  However, such was the appeal of the fastback look that the profile was fastbackesque, achieved by the use of small trailing buttresses which made their own contribution to restricting reward visibility although not to the extent of some, like Ferrari’s Dino 246 which in some jurisdictions was banned from sale for just that reason.

1965 Rambler Marlin (top left), 1967 AMC Marlin (top centre), 1968 AMC Javelin (top right), 1969 AMC AMX (bottom left), 1974 AMC Javelin (bottom centre) and Lindsay Lohan in 1974 AMC Javelin (bottom right).

American Motors Corporation was (until the arrival of Tesla), the “last of the independents” (ie not part of General Motors (GM), Ford or Chrysler) and at its most successful when filling utilitarian niches the majors neglected, their problem being their successes were noticed and competition soon flooded the segments they’d profitably created.  As a result, they were compelled to compete across a wider range and while always a struggle, they did for decades survive by being imaginative and offering packages which, on cost breakdown could be compelling (at one point they joined Rolls-Royce as the only company to offer sedans with air-conditioning fitted as standard equipment).  Sometimes though they got it wrong, and that they did with the Marlin, introduced in 1965 as a fastback based on their intermediate Rambler Classic.  Although the fastback was all about style, AMC couldn’t forget their history of putting a premium on practicality an accordingly, the roof-line grafted on to the classic also ensured comfortable headroom for the rear-seat passengers, resulting in a most ungainly shape.  Sales were dismal for two seasons but AMC persisted, in 1967 switching the fastback to the full-sized Ambassador line which all conceded was better though that was damning with faint praise.  More successful was the Javelin (1968), AMC’s venture into the then lucrative pony-car business which the Mustang had first defined and then dominated.  The early Javelins were an accomplished design, almost Italianate in the delicacy of their lines and the fastback was nicely balanced.  Less balanced but more intriguing was the AMX, a two seat “sports car” created in the cheapest way possible: shorten the Javelin’s wheelbase by 12 inches (300 mm) and remove the rear seat.  That certainly solved the problem of rear seat headroom and over three seasons the AMX received a generally positive response from the press but sales never reached expectations, even a pink one being chosen as the car presented to Playboy magazine's 1968 Playmate of the Year not enough to ensure survival and when the Javelin was restyled for 1971, the two seat variant wasn’t continued although AMX was retained as a name for certain models.  The new Javelins lacked the subtlety of line of the original and the fastback part was probably the best part of the package, much of the rest rather overwrought.  The pony car ecosystem declined in the early 1970s and Javelin production ceased in 1974 although it did by a few months outlive what was technically the first pony-car of them all, the Plymouth Barracuda.

1969 Norton Commando Fastback.

The Norton Commando was produced between 1968-1977.  All Commandos initially used the distinctive tail section which, like the fuel tank, was made of fibreglass and the slope of the molding instantly attracted the nickname “fastback”, an allusion to the body-style then becoming popular for sports cars.  It was the first British motorcycle built in volume of “modern” appearance but, apart from the odd clever improvisation, much of the engineering was antiquated and a generation or more behind the coming Japanese onslaught which would doom the local industry.  In 1969, as other models were added to the Commando range, all of which used more conventional rear styling, the factory formally adopted Fastback as a model name for the originals which remained in production, upgraded in 1970 (as the Fastback Mark ll), fitted with much admired upswept exhausts.  With minor changes, after only four months, it was replaced with the Mark III which served until 1972 when the Mark IV was released, the most notable change being the fitting of a front disk brake.

1970 Norton Commando Fastback (with retro-fitted disk brake).

One interesting variant was the Fastback Long Range (LR) which, although in production for almost two years during 1971-1972, only around 400 were built, most apparently exported to Australia where the distance between gas (petrol) stations was often greater than in Europe or the US.  Although there were other detail differences, the main distinguishing feature of the LR was the larger capacity (in the style of the earlier Norton Atlas) petrol tank, a harbinger of the “Commando Interstate” which became a regular production in 1972 and lasted until Commando production ceased in 1977 by which time it constituted the bulk of sales.  Fastback production ended in 1973 and although some were fitted with the doomed 750 “Combat” engine, none ever received the enlarged unit introduced that year in the Commando 850.

1965 Ford GT40 Mark 1 (road specification) (left), 1967 Ford GT40 Mark IV (J-Car prototype) (centre) and 1967 Ford GT40 Mark IV, Sebring, 1967.

Impressed by Ferrari’s “breadvan”, Ford, this time with the help of a wind-tunnel, adopted the concept when seeking to improve the aerodynamics of the GT40.  Testing the J-Car proved the design delivered increased speed but the resultant lack of down-force proved lethal so the by then conventional fastback body was used instead and it proved successful in the single season it was allowed to run before rule changes outlawed the big engines.

1966 Fiat 850 Coupé (top left), 1970 Daf 55 Coupé (top centre), 1974 Skoda 110 R (top right), 1972 Morris Marina Coupé (bottom left), 1972 Ford Granada Fastback (later re-named Coupé) (bottom centre) and 1973 Coleman-Milne Granada Limousine (bottom right).

The Europeans took to the fastback style, not only for Ferraris & Maseratis but also to add some flair (and profit margin) to low-cost economy vehicles.  It produced some rather stubby cars but generally they were aesthetically successful and the Skoda 110 R (from Czechoslovakia and thus the Warsaw Pact’s contribution to the fastback school of thought) lasted from 1973-1980 and as the highly modified 130 RS gained an improbable victory in the 1981 European Touring Car Championship against a star-studded field which included BMW 635s, Ford’s RS Capris & Escorts, Audi GTEs, Chevrolet Camaros and Alfa Romeo GTVs.  It was a shame comrade Stalin didn’t live to see it.  Generally, the Europeans were good at fastbacks but the British had some unfortunate moments.  In fastback form, the appearance of the Morris Marina was from the start compromised by the use of the sedan’s front doors which meant the thing was fundamentally ill-proportioned, something which might have been forgiven if it had offered the practicality of a hatchback instead of a conventional trunk (boot).  A dull and uninspiring machine (albeit one which sold well), the Marina actually looked best as a station wagon, an opinion many hold also of its corporate companion the Austin Allegro although the two frequently contest the title of Britain’s worst car of the 1970s (and it's a crowded field).  Even Ford of England which at the time was selling the well-styled fastback Capri had a misstep when it offered the ungainly fastback Granada, many made to look worse still by the addition of the then fashionable vinyl roof, the mistake not repeated when the range was revised without a fastback model.  Compounding the error on an even grander scale however was coach-builder Coleman-Milne which, bizarrely, grafted the fastback’s rear on to a stretched Granada sedan to create what was at the time the world’s only fastback limousine.  Although not entirely accurate, there are reasons the 1970s came to be called “the decade style forgot”.

Appoggiatura

Appoggiatura (pronounced uh-poj-uh-too-r-uh or uh-poj-uh-tyoo- r-uh or ahp-pawd-jah-too-rah (Italian))

In musical composition, an ornament consisting of a non-harmonic note (short or long) preceding a harmonic one either before or on the stress (a note of embellishment preceding another note and taking a portion of its time).

1745-1755: From the Italian appoggiatura, from appoggiare (to lean; to prop; to support) from the Vulgar Latin appodiāre (present active infinitive of appodiō, from the Classical Latin podium) and related to the French appuyer, the Spanish apoyar and the Portuguese apoiar.  The meaning in music is for the sense of one note “propping up” another.

The Appoggiatura

As in many fields, fashions in music change.  There was a period, during the sixteenth century, when the rules of counterpoint were strict and discords permissible only if they were prepared and resolved in ways used in the previous sections; the only discord normally allowed on the strong beat was the suspension.  There the discord is prepared by the note being tied across from a weak to a strong beat and resolved onto the next weak beat; a type of syncopation.  In the mid-century however, there was a relaxation of the rules of voice leading which included experimentation with unprepared discords, the most important of which was the appoggiatura.  The appoggiatura started as a decorative note which displaced the first part of a note of a melody.  It occurred on the strong beat of the bar and could be either dissonant or consonant but in either case, the appoggiatura resolved (upwards or downwards) onto a consonance but, unlike the suspension, did not require to be prepared or tied from a previous note.  In order to overcome the earlier rule that all discords had to be prepared, the appoggiatura was originally shown as an ornament but later was written out in full.

An ornament: Bach, Orchestral Suite in B minor for flute and strings: Menuet.

That was just a fudge, a composer paying respect to a rule while breaking it because, as played, an appoggiatura is not a short ornament, it takes usually up a full half of the length of the note that it resolves onto and if resolved onto a note three beats long, it takes up a third or two thirds the length.  The appoggiatura is usually connected with the main harmony note by a slur and is normally played with a small degree of emphasis.

Haydn: Sonata in G major XVI:27 Allegro con Brio.

Haydn shows appoggiaturas at *1, *2 and *3, now written out in-full as was normal practice in the classical period. Their identity as elaborating notes is given away by the presence of the slurs.

The two superstars of the 1950s.  Maria Callas and Marilyn Monroe (1926-1962), back-stage after the "Happy Birthday Mr President" performance, Madison Square Garden, New York, 19 May 1962.

December 2 2023 marked the hundredth anniversary of the birth of the singer Maria Callas (1923-1977), the soprano who remains still more famous than any other and the subject of a cult, something attributable certainly to her art but the tempestuous life she led off the stage attracted many; in the very modern sense of the word, Callas was a celebrity.  What Callas is in 2023 is thus a construct, a mix of myth, discography, and public persona although it’s more correct to say she’s a number of constructs; the criteria of trained musicians and critics likely to differ from those who just listen.  She was neither the most technically accomplished nor the most refined singer and yet, as Sir Rudolf Bing (1902–1997; General Manager of the Metropolitan Opera in New York (the Met)) famously noted, “having once heard Callas, it was difficult to listen to anyone else sing the same music”.  That was because whatever the technical flaws or deliberate departures from what had become the accepted techniques of the mid-twentieth century, Callas brought to every performance a thrilling intensity which made the characters come alive in a way even the most virtuosic of her contemporaries couldn’t quite match.

The critics impressed only by technical ecstasy liked to label Callas a “singing actress” and there’s something in that but not in the way they mean; the “acting” wasn’t there to compensate for the voice, it was a part of the voice.  There are several recordings of the “madness” scene in Gaetano Donizetti's (1797–1848) Lucia di Lammermoor (1835) in which, as an exercise in singing, the performances are more accomplished yet it’s the Callas version which is the definitive because only she can send a shiver down the spine.  It was in the interpretation, just as it was when, in Giuseppe Verdi’s (1813–1901) Otello (1886), she played with layers of vocal tones variously to convey feelings of warm nostalgia, paranoia, depression and impending death.  Whatever was in the score to be expressed, it’s there but it wasn’t done with vocal pyrotechnics, indeed Callas, in both studio recordings and live performances often eschewed the cadential trills and appoggiature which, although unwritten, had entered Opera in the seventeenth century and become a signature of sopranos since at least the early nineteenth.  What she did with her voice has been called a kind of “operatic word-painting”, a lending of emotional depth which enabled her, more than any other to transcend the theatrical artificiality of opera and it’s this quality which means even roles for which she seemed an improbable choice (such as Giacomo Puccini’s (1858–1924) Madam Butterfly (1904)) demand attention.