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RECITAL REVIEW Russian Youth November 24, 2002
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By Stephanie Friedman
A few ringing high C's, boundless energy, a sunny temperament, and a
fresh, vibrant voice, the thrilling immediacy of whose attack was a
constant delight, made for an exciting concert by 25-year-old Russian
tenor Daniil Shtoda Sunday at Hertz Hall. Ably partnered at the piano by
his teacher/mentor, Larissa Gergieva, Shtoda delivered an all-Russian
program of mostly neglected Romantic composers that served mainly as
suitable vehicles for this talented, well-trained singer.
Russian basses and baritones abound; a Russian tenor, especially in
recital, is rarer. Indeed, Shtoda sounds more like an Italian opera
singer and proved his mastery of that repertoire in two encores, including
Cilea's "Lamento di Federico" from L'Arlesienne. His sound is robust
yet pointed, almost narrow. Rather than beautiful, the voice is an agency
for the passion in Russian songs, which for the most part are not light in
spirit; and in song after song, Shtoda was unvaryingly intense. Almost all
were love songs; but even when a Russian lover is assured that his love is
returned, even when the beloved is radiantly present before his eyes, he
is oppressed by sadness and pessimism. This may be the Russian
temperament, but in recital a steady diet of flamboyant, not to say
desperate, emotion is perhaps too much of a muchness.
Nevertheless, there were a few standouts. Tchaikovsky was a wonderful song
composer, and his "Snova, kak prezhde" (I am alone again, as before) was
the epitome of Romantic suffering, with lovely harmonic changes in the
piano, to which Shtoda, a superb musician, sensitively tuned his voice.
His command of the soft dynamic was excellent; his rapid modulations from
loud to soft lost neither focus nor strength. In Tchaikovsky's "Sred
shumnogo bala" (In the midst of the ball), singer and pianist gave the
impression of "thinking while dancing", letting the word rhythms and
underlying emotions drive the waltz beat — now rushing, now hesitant.
If Tchaikovsky was wonderful, Rachmaninoff was a great song composer. In the exquisite "Zdes khorosho" (It is wonderful here), Shtoda sailed into the soaring first line of the song like a trim, sleek craft, sure and confident. The piano went its own way in curlicues of meanderings, and the singer's heavenly high in the last line was no less powerful for its etherealness. Missing in "Ne poy, krasavitsa, pri mne" (Do not sing, my beauty, to me), one of Rachmaninoff's best-known songs, was the aching of the singer's plea. The melisma on the word "oni" (they) in the phrase "Napominayut mne oni" (they remind me) was too forced to sound like a melancholy wail. However, Shtoda sang the repeat of the same phrase softly and hauntingly. César Cui's representation of Pushkin's lovely little poem "The fountain statue at Tsarskoye Selo" is a gem. The opening two lines showed Shtoda's rock-solid middle range, and his messa di voce at the end of the song was, like all his diminuendos, well-nigh perfect. The second half of the program was devoted to almost forgotten composers. Aleksandr Varlamov's "Na zare ty yeyo ni budi" (Do not waken her at dawn) was affecting, and his "O, ne zeluy menya!" (Oh, don't kiss me) galloped by. Ivan Kozlovsky's "Ya vstretil vas" (I met you) was a good song to listen to in a smoke-filled bar, elbows on table, cheek leaning meditatively on the hand, perhaps a tear poised to roll down. The concert ended with the rousing "Troika" by Pyotr Bulakhov. Shtoda gave three encores: an aria from Verdi's "I Lombardi," Arensky's "Raphael," and the aforementioned Cilea aria.
(Stephanie Friedman, mezzo-soprano, has performed in this country and abroad, in opera and recital. She teaches singing at U.C. Davis and Holy Names College.)
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Daniil Shtoda