Is lyric tenor Alek Shrader a “Young Master”? That was the question of the evening when the Merola and Adler Fellow alum-made-good returned to San Francisco to present a San Francisco Performances Young Master recital in the San Francisco Conservatory of Music Concert Hall. Ably supported by Keun-A Lee, who breezed through any number of thousand notes-per-second accompaniments, Shrader’s program of Italian bel canto (Rossini, Bellini, and Mercadante), French (Fauré), German (Richard Strauss), Spanish (Turina and Soler), and English-language (Iain Bell, Thomson, and Ethelbert Nevin) repertoire was seemingly designed to demonstrate his mastery in all genres. There was even a world premiere by Bell, about whom neither the program notes nor Shrader offered an iota of information.
Most convincing when he either sang in his own language or launched into Italian and Spanish repertoire, the handsome Shrader, 31, showed himself gifted with a still youthful, energetic personality, and an emotional fire that burns passionately in music from Italy and Spain. His opening number, Rossini’s well-worn “La danza” (The Dance), had him gesticulating, bounding back and forth, and virtually dancing around in a most engaging manner as he hurled out words and melody at breakneck speed. The accent sounded authentic, and the voice darker and more mature than in 2008, when his stunning string of high Cs helped him win the Metropolitan Opera National Council Auditions (captured in the movie Audition).
As we would expect from a tenor engaged to sing in San Francisco Opera’s Barber of Seville next season, the seamless legato at the heart of Bellini’s “La ricordanza” (The remembrance), whose melody is similar to that of the exquisite “Qui la voce” from I Puritani, came naturally to him. At song’s end, he also demonstrated that he retains much of the vocal sweetness that endeared him to millions in Audition. But as impressive as was the drama he brought to Mercadante’s “La serenata del marinaro” (The Serenade of the Mariner), Shrader seemed unable to produce the swell in volume that the song’s conclusion demands.
In the Spanish set, after Lee’s passionate solo, “Dedicatoria” (Dedication), Shrader launched into Turina’s four Poema en forma de canciones (Poem in the Form of Songs). His vocalism in “Nunca olvida …” (Never forget …) was the most beautiful of the evening, and the sweet ending especially lovely. The best known of the songs, “Cantares” (Songs), saw him breezing through Turina’s classic Spanish coloratura, and the two remaining songs found him a superb conveyor of Latin passion. Lee was right with him, her lyricism in “Los dos miedos” gorgeous. But a warning note was struck when, just as in his 2009 joint Salon at the Rex, he cut the final song’s high ending short.
Out of his Element
That Shrader has coached long and hard in languages became clear in the somewhat self-conscious manner he enunciated his French and German. Perhaps that self-consciousness was due to the fact that he was out of his element. Lacking the vocal elegance and refinement that might have put his Fauré over the top, he also failed to capture the emotional heart of the songs. Not only didn’t he sound transported in “Lydia” or filled with sadness and mourning in “Spleen” (Melancholy), but his invocation of love’s mysteries “Après un rêve” (After a Dream) sounded far more like Nemorino serenading his love with naïve directness.
In Strauss’ “Ruhe, meine Seele” (Rest, my Soul), as beautiful as was Shrader’s sweet rise to the word “Sonnenschein” (Sunshine), his inability to swell on top and his consistent clipping of high notes were a major letdown in “Cäcille” (Cecilia) and “Heimliche Aufforderung” (Secret Invitation). Anyone who cannot muster the oomph and glorious highs that these songs’ climaxes demand had best choose other repertoire. And if they can neither begin the great “Morgen!” (Tomorrow!) in a voice that seems to rise out of the extended piano prelude, sing it slowly enough and with enough flexibility to provide the sense of heartfelt rumination that the song demands, or make their emotional affect seem genuine, they have no business singing it. Has Shrader never studied recordings by Elisabeth Schumann and Janet Baker, two of the most exquisite on record and, in Schumann’s case, virtually definitive, or is this music simply not in his blood? Certainly, judging by her intro and conclusion, it was far more in Lee’s.
Back to Home Turf
As disappointing as was Shrader’s silence about Bell, whose music he will sing in Carnegie Hall’s Weill Recital Hall, he sang the world premiere of The Undying Splendour quite well. The first of the three songs, “A lark above the trenches,” was quite beautiful, even if Shrader failed to capture the haunted sorrow of surprisingly old-fashioned songs about the horrible human toll of war.
Ideally suited to the cleverness and melodic simplicity of Virgil Thomson’s oeuvre, Shrader had a field day with “Was this fair face the cause,” “Love Song,” and “English Usage.” The performances were fabulous. But the choice to conclude with one piano solo and three more old fashioned songs by Nevin was a curious one. “Buone Notte (Good Night)” started off sounding like The Kate Smith Hour, and “Nocturne” was as inconsequential as it is silly. Nonetheless, the songs gave Shrader multiple opportunities to sweeten when appropriate, and certainly left the audience wanting more.
The duo returned with Stephen Foster’s silly “If You’ve Only Got a Moustache.” The moustache shtick was delightful, the performance affirming of both artists’ gifts. But when the audience clamored for still more, Shrader played the leave them hungry card. With Lee gathering up her music to audible signs of disappointment, the duo departed … without saying a single word.