In his Schwabacher Debut Recital Sunday, March 20, at the Diane B. Wilsey Center for Opera’s Taube Atrium Theater, baritone Efraín Solís was a one-man United Nations. Singing first in German, in a set of three Schubert songs, he moved on to French (Ravel) and English (Korngold), before venturing into the Russian of three different composers and the Spanish of two. Scanning the program in advance was enough to mark this as an impressive linguistic feat.
The musical results proved to be both fascinating and somewhat surprising. While this appealing Mexican-American singer found the expected cozy comfort level with heart-on-the-sleeve Spanish songs by María Grever and Carlos Gardel that closed the show, it was in the preceding Russian selections, presumably the farthest language reach, that he shone most brightly. A voice that had sounded a little tight in German and too cautious in the anthropomorphic animal sketches of Ravel’s Histoires Naturelles came warmly, expressively alive in Georgy Sviridov’s brief but ardent “Russian Song,” Anton Rubenstein’s rhapsodic “Swirling Waves” and Rachmaninoff’s moody “In the Silence of the Night.”
Solís found, in the mouth-filling Russian, a wider expressive range, more natural phrasing and suppler dynamic command than he had displayed earlier. He evoked Sviridov’s riverside maidens with moments of pillowy softness and a raw, almost lustful edge to his normally handsome, burnished tone. Rubenstein’s setting of Mizra Shafi Vazeh’s text made the Kura River, a red Kakhetian wine and “the raging river of my love” flow liquidly together, capped off by a weightlessly lofted high note. Rachmaninoff’s “Silence” unfurled as a murmurous, unbroken meditation.
All that seemed worlds away from the Schubert songs that opened the late afternoon performance. Aside from an attentive reading of the repeated line summoning his “lady sweet” to arise, the opening “Serenade” on a Shakespeare text remained rigidly unimagined. The singer’s fine vocal vibrato was on ample display in “Du bist die Ruh" (You are rest), but, like a big crescendo and several register shifts, it felt rather mechanically executed. “Ganymede” needed more heat and light. It didn’t help matters that accompanist Robert Mollicone added little in the way of poetry or playfulness from the keyboard.
Ravel’s comic bestiary, aptly described by Solís as “quirky” in his brief remarks, occupied the longest segment of the program. A sexually frustrated peacock is followed in turn by a micro-managing cricket, semi-delusional swan, fleeting kingfisher and an alienated guinea-fowl. Neither the animals nor Ravel’s Histoires are especially lovable. The singer’s challenge is to make these variously thorny animals come to life.
Solís, who played a spry if somewhat tentative Papageno in San Francisco Opera’s The Magic Flute last year, would seem to have the comedic chops for the task. His mobile face, quizzical expressions, and round, dark eyes are natural assets. So are his compact frame and physical sense of ease. Dressed in a three-piece, charcoal gray suit and open-necked, striped shirt, Solís looked ready to take on these all-too-human creatures.
To be sure, the singer had his moments. The peacock got a glorious mock swoon on several lines and heaved a mighty, tragicomic sigh. The swan’s indolent wings were curtly clipped by a brisk final line. The guinea fowl sulked and pouted. But Solís missed opportunities to both seem and sound more animalistic. His vocal and physical demeanor remained too disciplined and polite. Maybe the French of Jules Renard’s texts had him tamed from the start.
Korngold’s Five Songs, which opened the second half of the 90-minute recital, offered a better showcase for this singer’s strengths. While he may not consistently illuminate the faceted details of a song, Solís can grasp and deliver its overall shape. There was a brisk momentum to Korngold’s “Old Spanish Song” and a pure-hearted, almost boyish conviction in “I Wish You Bliss.” The final turn in the closing couplet of Shakespeare’s “My Mistress’ Eyes” made that song’s sonnet form explicit. The stage was set for the Russian treasures that followed.
Solís, whose smile and appealing manner makes a natural connection with an audience, had his work cut out for him in the Taube. With the seats flat on the floor, the barrel-like Atrium felt larger and less engaging than it did with the riser configuration for the recent, multimedia Winterreise. On the other hand, the acoustical tuning of the hall felt more natural, if slightly dry, for this recital. The Taube is an evolving work in progress.
None of that mattered when Solís was at his best, in the Russian and Spanish numbers. “She quiets my wounds,” he sang with suave, tender assurance in Gardel’s “El día me quieras (The day you love me).” “Everything is forgiven!”
And so it was.