Ireland, Vaughan Williams, Schubert, Fauré, et al: Bryn Terfel, bass baritone; Malcolm Martineau, piano. Presented by Cal Performances at Zellerbach Hall, University of California at Berkeley, 17.4.2008 (HS)


Not many vocal recitalists can hold a capacity crowd of 2,000 in rapt silence with a stage presence so casual as Bryn Terfel did Thursday night in Berkeley. He was so easy-going and friendly he might have been getting up from a dinner party to sing a few tunes to while away the evening. If there is a more relaxed performer in the sometimes stultifying world of classical recitals, it's hard to think of who it might be.

As an opera singer, Terfel is best known for inhabiting his oversized stage roles, such as Verdi's Falstaff, Mozart's Figaro or Stravinsky's Nick Shadow, thoroughly and naturally. His resonant bass baritone voice seems to pour out of him without artifice or strain, so easily that sometimes it's dumbfounding to hear. Shouldn't making sounds like that be more difficult than it looks?

Despite this apparent nonchalance, it was the level of detail that made Terfel's singing so compelling in this recital. In song after song, he brought out telling nuances in the words or the vocal line. His diction in English, Italian, German—it didn't seem to matter what language he sang—was impeccable. A hesitation here or a change of tone there, enriching the sound on one phrase and floating velvety soft lines on others, made the songs come to life and feel fresh. Pianist Malcolm Martineau seemed to be breathing with Terfel, not surprising as they have collaborated in recitals for years.

Peppering his program with casual asides and the occasional anecdote, all in his lilting Welsh accent, Terfel created a warm atmosphere that set the stage well for an eclectic program. The first half focused on English songs, mostly from the early years of the 20th century when composers such as John Ireland, Peter Warlock and Ralph Vaughan Williams followed in the wake of Edward Elgar to create melodic and distinctively English music. The second half touched on Handel, Mozart, Schubert and Fauré before returning to Britain for a set of traditional Celtic songs, arranged by Chris Hazell.

There's no denying the heartfelt passion Terfel feels for the English songs. He was especially captivating on two early Vaughan Williams pieces. "The Roadside Fire" ends with a final phrase he sang barely above the level of audibility, yet neither crooned nor falsetto-ed. Even better were the songs that required a sense of humour, such as Warlock's "Captain Stratton's Fancy," a virtual hornpipe in praise of shipboard drinking, and Frederick Keel's "Mother Carey," a patter song taken at breakneck tempo, that warns of the title character's dangerous wiles. To me, these songs lacked the musical riches of other English songs from the same period, and certainly fell short of the material in the second half.

Handel's baritone aria, "Sì, tra i ceppi" from Berenice, gave Terfel an chance to show off some florid coloratura, but the best part of the aria was the way he sketched the character's resoluteness in the face of personal tragedy. Mozart's gentle concert aria, "Io ti lascio, o cara, addio," had a bittersweet quality as the legato flowed evenly.

The best music on the program came next, with a set of Schubert gems. Terfel's approach to Schubert has an endearing naturalness, and the capacity of the voice to reach high notes and low notes without apparent strain lets the music flow and allows him play with character. In "Liebesbotschaft," from Schwanengesang, he was a jilted lover trying to be stalwart. In "Heidenröslein," he portrayed a pre-adolescent with a puppy-love crush. "Litanei auf das Fest Aller Seelen" found him in a reflective mood, floating out amazingly long and seamless musical lines. In "An Silvia" he clearly felt the lady in question was not quite what she was cracked up to be. In the following set of yearning Fauré songs, the highlight was the stormy "Fleur Jetée."

To finish the program, Terfel turned to a tour of Celtic Britain, Scotland for "Loch Lomond" (which he sang andante, reminding the audience it was about two of Bonnie Prince Charlie's soldiers, one of whom was executed), Ireland for "Danny Boy" and "Molly Malone," and his home Wales for "Ar hyd y nôs" (All through the night). His singing was notable for its simplicity and purity of tone, but the chief delight was that he got the audience to hum the Welsh tune behind with own singing, which created a lovely effect (especially because everyone actually hummed in tune). He got everyone on their feet to sing the lusty chorus in "Molly Malone" as a finale.

For encores, he jumped into the audience for Mozart's "Deh, vieni alla finestra" from Don Giovanni. Appropriately enough (for the womanizing Don), he delivered portions of the serenade to four different women in the course of its two minutes. He finished with a song made famous by another deep voice, the American contralto Mahalia Jackson, "If I Can Help Somebody." The Alma Bazel Androzzo song's chorus says, "If I can help somebody/with a word or song...then my living shall not be in vain." Not a bad motto for a singer with Terfel's talent and generosity.

Harvey Steiman


Back to Top                                                    Cumulative Index Page