'RAHSHUN Elvees Presley," remarked the young, red-haired
Russian alto standing among the American choristers assembled in
the huge Moscow rehearsal hall.
She nodded toward the dashing figure striding toward the center
stage. He smiled, spread his arms wide in welcome, and greeted us
in barely accented English.
That was our initial introduction to Dmitri Hvorostovsky, the
great Siberian-born baritone who, despite his premature white
hair, has become the opera world's masculine sex symbol.
A familiar presence for more than a decade in the Bay Area, he
has showcased the rich, golden warmth of his voice in numerous
roles with the San Francisco Opera and in solos with the San
Francisco Symphony. He will return to sing the role of Germont in
the San Francisco Opera's "La Traviata" production in
2004.
My husband, Warner, and I were among 100 members of the Yale
University Alumni Chorus in Moscow to participate as
"back-up" singers for Hvorostovsky in a special concert
at the 6,500-seat Hall of Congresses in the Kremlin, near
Moscow's Red Square.
The concert, a commemoration of the end of World War II (called
"the Great Patriotic War" by many in Russia), took
place before a nearly full house last week and will be aired on
Russian national television May 9, when VE (Victory in Europe)
Day is celebrated in Russia.
The Yale Alumni Chorus, or, YAC, is composed of former members of
one or another of Yale's many singing groups, along with a
smattering of spouses.
Hailing from all parts of the United States, YAC assembles to
rehearse together only a short time before each concert. YAC
previously sang in Moscow in 2001 as part of a European tour. For
this concert we were required to sing in Russian from memory, and
the music was sent to us months in advance. By the time we
finally gathered on the Yale campus April 2 for the first
rehearsals, most of us were stuttering and muttering the
tongue-twisting Russian words in our sleep.
Robert Blocker, the Dean of Yale's School of Music, abetted by a
number of Russian language experts and a dedicated corps of
volunteer handlers, whipped things into shape, and we departed
for the 10-plus hours of airplane travel to Moscow's Sheremetyevo
Airport.
After a series of intense rehearsals under the baton of Maestro
Constantine Orbelian, conductor of the Moscow Chamber Orchestra
and conductor-designate of the Moscow Philharmonic Orchestra, we
were all revved up for the big event. Joining us in this
ambitious endeavor were more than 40 members of Moscow's
Spiritual Revival Choir and a terrific ensemble composed of a
couple of balalaikas, an accordion, and other Russian folk
instruments, called the Style of Five.
Even America's ambassador to Russia, Alexander Vershbow, Yale'74,
joined our baritone section during the concert's second half.
The first half of the program was dedicated to opera and included
baritone and choral selections from Russian and
Italian operas. The post-intermission half, "Where Are You,
My Brothers?" was devoted to music popular during World War
II.
And what achingly beautiful music and poetry it was! Cast in dark
minor keys, plush harmonies and poignant melodic lines, it honed
in on the heart strings. Consider such lines as, "Soldiers
are coming/Crossing the scorched steppe/In a low voice they sing
a song/About birch trees and maples/About a quiet orchard/And a
weeping willow/About native woods/And wide fields."
Another song, "Roads," included the words, "Dust
rises under boots through the steppes and fields/ Dust and
fog,/Cold, anxiety and dry steppe weeds/A shot will ring out/A
raven circles above -- Your friend is lying dead in the dry
steppe weeds -- And the earth is smoking/The alien earth."
While we certainly contributed fervor to the music of our
war-time Russian allies, the artistry of Hvorostovsky commanded
audience tears and cheers. He has one of the great baritone
voices of our time.
Behind its tonal beauty, however, is an astoundingly canny sense
of drama and musicianship. He knows just when to summon a
pleading falsetto or to shout out a sharp declamatory phrase.
At times he sounded like a sentimentally soliloquizing soldier, a
lamenting cabaret singer or an angry patriot. He was able to
merge his tone right into the texture of the chorus or cast it
out like a volley of fireworks to blaze throughout the hall.
The audience repeatedly broke into a standing ovation, and then,
as is the custom in Russia, into rhythmic unison clapping, which
eventually even involved the performers on the stage. More than a
dozen audience members dashed up to the stage to present bouquets
of flowers to Hvorostovsky. Gallantly, he distributed most of his
flowers to the female members of the orchestra.
The final encore, "Moya Moskva," or, "My
Moscow," brought down the house. "This is a patriotic
orgasm," Hvorovstovsky noted to the YAC singers.
A chorus member responded, "Who needs three tenors when you
have a baritone like this!"