Soon into tenor Brian Thorsett's benefit recital Friday in Calvary Presbyterian Church, I could not help but reflect on the arc of a singer's maturity. Some artists emerge at a young age with voice, technique, and intelligence so fully developed that one can only marvel as they continue to grow and mature. Mezzo-sopranos Cecilia Bartoli and Frederica von Stade are two prime examples from recent times. Others step into the spotlight with tremendous gifts, yet take some time to fill their shoes. The superb lyric tenor Fritz Wunderlich, for example, was early on declared the great Mozart tenor of his generation, though he only emerged as a lieder singer of distinction shortly before his premature death.
Thorsett, now 30, certainly has the vocal goods. After two summers at the Music Academy of the West surrounded by the legacy of Marilyn Horne and Lotte Lehmann, work at Glimmerglass Opera, and a summer in San Francisco Opera's Merola Opera program, he has sung leading roles for any number of regional opera companies. (I reviewed him six times in 18 months.) He was also awarded Grand Prize at the 30th annual Carmel Music Society competition, and become tenor soloist at Calvary Presbyterian Church in San Francisco.
The big question remains, where will he go from here? Although it is still unclear whether the voice has the carrying power for major houses, the quality of Thorsett's instrument is undeniable. Except in the low range, where his production is weak, he is more than capable of producing beautiful tones that vary from caressingly sweet to ardent and masculine.
Music as Service
As part of Calvary Presbyterian's Concert Connect series, which raises money for San Francisco community charities, Thorsett and pianist Charles Worth chose to support Project Read. For a recital daringly if obscurely titled "Who Needs Three? How About One" — an oblique reference to the Three Tenors hoopla — they presented songs by Purcell, Schubert, Lili Boulanger, Joaquin Turina, and Eric Coates, punctuated by two short piano solos by Granados and Debussy.
Although Thorsett excused himself for briefly stumbling over words during one of his spoken introductions, he appeared very much at ease on the concert platform. Faced with a large, overly resonant acoustic all too eager to gobble up his pianissimo phrases, he seemed in command from first note to last. A judicious complement of facial expressions and carefully judged yet never stilted physical movements proclaimed a singer invested in the meaning of his music.
In his two opening songs by Purcell, Thorsett gave notice of what was in store.
Come All Ye Songsters was strong and fluent, with tone darker and more virile than a few years past;
Sweeter than Roses was meltingly sweet in all the right places.
Six songs from Schubert's
Schwanengesang (Swan song) reinforced the impression of Thorsett's mastery. Diction was exemplary, legato near seamless, and tone appropriate to the lyrics. "Am Meer" (By the sea) was light and innocent at its start, with the phrase "und bin auf's Knie gesunken" (and I sank to my knee) especially lovely.
What seemed missing, however, was that extra spark that distinguishes such recent Bay Area favorites as Elza van den Heever, Eugene Brancoveneau, and Lucas Meachem. In all but Schubert's happiest songs, we frequently encounter a mournful foreboding and prescience of death. In "Das Fischermädchen" (The fisher-maiden), for example, the phrase "Mein Herz gleicht ganz dem Meere, hat Sturm und Ebb' und Fluth" (My heart is just like the sea, having storms and ebb and flow) was beautifully sung. But there was nothing that seized the listener with a communicative power so strong that Schubert's love and longing seemed reborn 180 years later.
This may seem unduly harsh. After all, not even Rolando Villazón, our operatic tenor du decade, was able to rise above the ordinary in his Cal Performances recital of Schumann's
Dichterliebe. Only in high-lying Italian songs and arias more in accord with his Latin passion could he stir the house. Yet the reality remains: Without heart-to-heart connection, all the beautiful sound in the world goes only so far.
But for a Hamburg
The cause for some of the disconnect lay with the piano. Schubert's frequent water motifs demand consummate flow from the accompanist. As fine a pianist as Worth may be — his solos were impressive — he was unable to transcend the limitations of an American Steinway whose clinky high range made for choppy seas. I've heard many a "Liebesbotschaft" (Love's message), but none in which the piano's churning sounded like an unbalanced washer bin, nearly submerging Schubert's murmuring brooklet and gentle rocking. A tenor can sing as sweetly as a baby's skin brushed with Johnson & Johnson, but if the piano's tone cannot match, the artistry is compromised.
Boulanger's
Clairières dans le ciel(Openings in the sky) was equally handicapped. Thorsett seemed to sing over the accompaniment rather than with it. Or maybe I was just trying too hard to ignore the piano's distinctly un-Impressionistic sound.
Turina's
Tres poemas, Op. 80, gave the tenor several opportunities to meld strong high notes with throbbing passion. While one high B was a little pushed, other highs were impressively free. Missing, at least on this evening, was the ability to descend from above the stave without momentarily disrupting the legato flow. At such moments, the illusion was shattered.
As Thorsett launched into the four songs of Coates' cycle
The Mill O'Dreams, he allowed his unabashedly sentimental side to come to the fore. Although he resisted laying it on thick, the encore, Guy d'Hardelot's
Because ("Because God Made You Mine!"), provided enough old-fashioned sentiment to levitate 50 nursing homes. Thank goodness, another round of applause did not tempt Thorsett to indulge in
Always.