Tuning Up New Tenors

By TERRY TEACHOUT

What makes opera run? In recent years, much of the horsepower has come from the mighty two-cylinder engine of Placido Domingo and Luciano Pavarotti, whose "Three Tenors" concerts with Jose Carreras are the most profitable road show in the modern history of classical music. It has been more than a decade since the Metropolitan Opera gave an opening-night performance without one or the other performing. But few tenors sing past 60, and both men are fast approaching the inevitable end of their dual tenure at the top of the operatic heap.

Pavarotti, 63, celebrated the 30th anniversary of his Met debut last month with a gala performance that showed him to be physically unsteady (he underwent hip- and knee-replacement surgery earlier this year) and vocally worn. As for Domingo, 57, who celebrated his 30th year at the Met in September, his exit strategy has never been a secret: he is gradually kicking himself upstairs. Already in charge of the Washington Opera, he will also be taking over as artistic director and co-manager of the L.A. Opera in 2000.

Several young singers have been touted as possible successors to the first two tenors, but so far they have had about as much luck as Joan Rivers had in giving Johnny Carson the push. Roberto Alagna, 34, was heavily promoted by EMI as "the tenor of our generation" (a not so subtle dig at the advanced ages of Pavarotti and Domingo), but he had a rocky Met debut three seasons ago and is looking increasingly like an also-ran. Andrea Bocelli, 40, the hugely popular blind Italian tenor, is unlikely to parlay the success of his best-selling CDs into a serious stage career; aside from the practical problems caused by his blindness, it is widely thought that his voice is too small to fill major houses.

Many vocal connoisseurs regard Ben Heppner, 42, as the real tenor of his generation. A beefy, shambling Canadian whom conductor James Levine rightly calls a "phenomenon," Heppner is the first singer in years who has the vocal heft needed for the massive Wagnerian roles that were once owned by Lauritz Melchior. No operatic appearances in 1998 were as eagerly awaited as Heppner's Lohengrin at the Met and Tristan und Isolde at the Seattle Opera, and the critical verdict was passionately positive. Small wonder: the Wagner excerpts included on his latest CD, Ben Heppner Sings German Romantic Opera (RCA Victor Red Seal), are by turns warmly lyrical and resplendently powerful.

Wagnerian heldentenors have rarely stirred the hearts of more than a minority of opera buffs, though, which is where Jose Cura and Marcelo Alvarez come in. Alvarez, 36, is a light lyric tenor whose high notes are fresh sounding and secure; Cura, 36, is a weightier lirico-spinto with an impressive touch of baritonal muscle. Alvarez made his Met debut last month in Franco Zeffirelli's bloated new production of La Traviata, in which his engaging singing was overshadowed by the spectacularly vivid Violetta of Patricia Racette. Cura's turn comes with next season's opening night, when he will be sharing a double bill with his mentor, Domingo (Cura stars in Cavalleria Rusticana, Domingo in Pagliacci). But even though Cura and Alvarez definitely have the potential to make it big, neither is quite ready to fill the king-size shoes of the Old Guard. Bel Canto (Sony Classical), Alvarez's first CD, is promising but not yet the work of a mature artist, while Cura can be heard in Puccini: Arias (Erato), a handsomely sung recital conducted by Domingo that reveals Cura's blind spot: his high-octane voice is oddly charmless.

It is possible, of course, that the next really big male opera singer may not be a tenor. Ask Joseph Volpe, the Met's general manager, what he is planning to do when Pavarotti and Domingo are no longer available to open the season, and the first name he mentions is that of Welsh bass-baritone Bryn Terfel. "At some point," he confides, "we're going to open with a Don Giovanni starring Bryn." No, Terfel can't sing a high C, but Volpe is betting that won't matter. "Bryn's the one who has all of the goods," he says. "He's the natural successor." A charismatic actor with a voice of bronze, Terfel, 33, also has the popular touch without which no classical singer can become a full-fledged superstar; at his 1996 Carnegie Hall recital debut, he actually led the delighted audience in a sing-along version of Flanders and Swann's Hippopotamus Song.

With flair like that, who needs Nessun dorma?