San Francisco Classical Voice

James Westman

James Schwabacher, founder of the Schwabacher Debut Recitals, told the audience in intermission comments Sunday at Old First Church that when James Westman, currently of the San Francisco Opera Center, becomes a world-famous recitalist. we would remember being at this concert We have every reason to believe him right.

Westman began a program of songs in German, Russian, English and French with Beethoven's song cycle, An die ferne Geliebte. This is a real cycle, progressing without pause from mood to mood as the lover expresses his feelings of separation, longing and hope. Westman's voice is pleasing, powerful when necessary, thoroughly supported by his breath, and nicely adapted to the nuances of various languages. In the Beethoven, he used his face and dynamics with expressive particularity. More use of variety of color and rhythmic bending in the articulation of words might have helped to make the songs feel less calculated and more spontaneous, and the tempo of the opening song made for a slow beginning.

He really came into his own with a set of Russian songs by Rachmaninoff. Here, the voice soared, phrases were elegantly shaped, and vowels were exploited for their color. The second song, "Oh no, I beg you, leave me not," was given a strongly dramatic ending. "In the silence of the night" was invested with deep feeling. Its last line, although it could have been drawn out more slowly, ended in beautiful shimmering sound.

George Butterworth's settings of poems from Houseman's Shropshire Lad ended the first half of the recital. I thought Westman took the first two a little too seriously. Loveliest of trees, with its calculation of how many years the poet has left for enjoying cherry blossoms, isn't a foreshadowing of mortality, but rather a little fun with math and priorities. And When I was one-and-twenty could have been a little more rueful and ironic. The last two songs were gloriously sung-- The lads in their hundreds, with a kind of new light touch that absolutely suited the poem and the music, and Is my team ploughing? with a stunning achievement of dialog between two voices. The audience sat spellbound at the end, unwilling to applaud until released by the singer.

The second half began with a tribute to this Canadian singer's native land: a group of songs recently written by Srul Irving Glick. The poems, South of North, Images of Canada, by Richard Outram, were inspired by seven paintings. The poems were intensely musical in themselves, and the songs didn't always capture the music of the poems. The English language is full of powerful one-syllable words, and either the composer or the singer didn't quite feel this. Perhaps with longer exposure to these new songs, this singer will find ways to improve on them and exploit the music of the words.

I feel generally that the next step in the development of his strong musicality should be more rhythmic freedom. In Congregation at the shoreline, words like "hover" and "pulse" could hover and pulse. In Stripe, the amusing ending could be more spoken and articulated, less sung. But throughout this group of songs, there was much effective word-painting and impressive singing. The last song ended with a corny Handelian Hallelujah Either the whole song needs to be sung more corny, or the composer should reconsider.

In this thoughtfully arranged program, Ravel's Don Quichotte à Dulcinée was the closing group. These songs did not sound as quintessentially French as they should have, and the fast passages at the end were blurred. But they were sung with tenderness and brio. In this group, as in the Rachmaninoff and some of the piano interludes of the Glick, I would have liked the pianist, Mark Morash, to have asserted himself more. There is no danger of overpowering this baritone. But on the whole, the accompaniments served the singer well.

Mr. Westman sang two highly contrasting encores. The first was a character piece, a sort of folk scena involving an unfortunate encounter between a naïve man and a scheming woman, done to a comic turn. The last was Germont's aria from La Traviata, Di Provenza il mar, replete with gorgeous vocalism, a complete command of voice and style.

(Anna Carol Dudley is a singer, teacher, lecturer emerita at San Francisco State University, and director of the San Francisco Early Music Society's Baroque Music Workshop.)

©1999 Anna Carol Dudley, all rights reserved