San Francisco Classical Voice

Preceded by much hype, a thick press kit, and a growing international reputation, British tenor Ian Bostridge returned to the Bay Area for a solo recital on Sunday in UC Berkeley's Hertz Hall. The event was a fascinating combination of superb singing, imaginative programming, and some rather bizarre details.

Bostridge is sometimes referred to as the heir to the reputation of Sir Peter Pears: He is a sensitive tenor who really understands how to bring complex music to life. And in the current atmosphere of superstar sopranos, mezzos, and baritones, a new and intelligent tenor on the horizon is a welcome sight indeed. Bostridge is certainly the flavor of the month in the concert world, and he's quickly branching out into operatic repertory. Critics have sometimes written about him condescendingly, implicitly damning him with faint praise of his "small voice." Bostridge's voice is light, lyric, but not really that small. It's an ideal instrument for an art song recital, a medium that thrives on the clarity, elegance, and subtle nuance Bostridge brings to all the music he sings.

Sunday's program was all German: 12 songs by Franz Schubert and 11 by Hugo Wolf. The Schubert songs were a wonderful assortment, grouped around the poetry of von Collin, Goethe, and Bruchman. Unlike many recitalists, who take the first few minutes to "warm up" the voice in a robust or easier song, Bostridge began with the difficult and intensely lyrical "Wehmut" ("Melancholy"). We were immediately presented with the singer's stunningly exquisite control of dynamics and phrasing. His use of messa di voce and head voice was superb. This was followed by "Der Zwerg" ("The Dwarf"), whose darkness was a wonderful contrast. Bostridge handled the grotesqueness of the poetry and the low range of the song with aplomb.

The ten other songs in the Schubert group were presented with consistent artistry, and Bostridge's singing was lovely and nuanced throughout. Only in the drama of "Erlkönig" was the lightness of Bostridge's voice sometimes submerged in the musical texture.

The second half of the program comprised 11 songs from Hugo Wolf's Mörike Lieder, including a delightfully spry and mischievous performance of "Nimmersatte Liebe" ("Never-sated Love"), "Peregrina I and II", and a humorous reading of "Storchenbotschaft." Bostridge's first-class accompanist was the always-impressive Julius Drake. No singer could wish for a finer collaborator.

Bostridge has a great sense of shaping and structure. He clearly knows what he's singing about and is obviously a highly intelligent and sensitive singer. Perhaps it is that very sensitivity that gets in his way. The impenetrably dark shadows cast by the awkward and severe lighting in Hertz Hall made it impossible to see Bostridge's eyes. But I am convinced that he was never looking at us. He seemed uninterested the audience, singing sometimes to the wings, sometimes to the floor, sometimes to the piano lid. After the final line of one song, he turned his back to us while the pianist continued to play. (One friend commented after the recital that it was a bit like peeking at something through a keyhole. Audience as voyeur?) These quirky and off-putting self-indulgences sometimes robbed Bostridge of the vocal energy he needed to bring the songs fully to life.

This was especially evident in the two quietest songs, Schubert's "Nacht und Träume" ("Night and Dreams") and Wolf's "An den Schlaf" ("To Sleep"). Both require utterly exquisite and finely focused pianissimo singing. The smart singer knows that it's not a matter of singing softly but of creating the impression that you are singing softly: a pianissimo vocal sound requires much more energy to produce than a forte. In both songs, however, Bostridge leaned his thin frame limply against the piano, one knee locked, the other bent, his face gazing down at the piano lid, his whole body drooping in a kind of flaccid Romantic melancholy. As a result, his intonation, and the entire presentation of the songs, fell sadly flat.

Nonetheless, at the end of the concert the audience applauded wildly and received a few more Schubert and Wolf songs as encores. The final encore, "Die Götter Griechenlands" ("The Gods of Greece"), with its haunting refrain "Schöne Welt, wo bist du?" ("Fair world, where art thou?") was an example of what Bostridge might be capable of if he stood still and simply focused all his energy on delivering a song to the audience. After the last sung word, he stood motionless, listening to the final measures from the piano. The effect was riveting.

I can only imagine what the result would be if Bostridge took all the energy devoted to these physical contortions and vague wanderings and channeled it directly into the production of vocal energy. He would certainly be easier to watch, and there might also more sound to listen to.

Throughout the evening, visual impressions notwithstanding, Bostridge sang with intelligence, sensitivity, and great imagination. Too bad that most of the time I had to force myself to keep my eyes open. A great singer but a problematic performer.

(David Gordon was a concert and opera singer for 30 years. He is a voice teacher and performance coach in Oakland, CA, and is Education Director and Vocal Coordinator of the Carmel Bach Festival. )

©2000 David Gordon, all rights reserved