In the intermission of Hugh Russell's concert today in Old First Church,
James Schwabacher, the man who created and endowed permanently the Debut
Recital Series, appeared briefly on stage.

Marking the 20th anniversary of this San Francisco Opera Center program,
Schwabacher thanked the audience by saying that "without you, I couldn't
have gotten my picture in the paper."

There was enough self-deprecation in that little quip to make up for a lot
of the world's self-aggrandizement.  The only reason for the Schwabacher
Debut Recital Series is to get pictures of young singers in the paper,
after giving them a platform, coaching and encouragement, a performance
opportunity, a chance for local audiences to hear fine young talent long
before the world catches on.

On the "regional lieder circuit" (meaning outside New York and London),
Schwabacher's program created a unique wealth of recital debuts in San
Francisco, providing a springboard - from the top of my head - for Racette,
Patriarco, Patton, Dillard, Relyea, Foland, DiDonato, Gama, Netrebko,
Graham, Voigt, Swenson, Asawa, Hampson, Jenkins, Daza, Zheng, Westman,
Ulrich, and many more.

Russell, 28, fits right in that company.  A good voice, great sense of
the music, excellent stage presence and communication with the audience,
fine diction - the baritone from Manitoba has it all.  Reportedly just
recovering from food poisoning, Russell came through at the concert's
finale with de Fallas' "Siete Canciones Populares Espanolas," singing the
way Sarah Hughes skated last week - with elegance, passion, and "just for
the hell of it."

Russell's voice is like a rich wine, experienced in layers.  First comes a
velvet-like smoothness, then an edge, excessive brightness to the vibrato
(of which there is too much), and last, a good finish, quite without
aftertaste.

That said, performances inconsistent.  A fair-to-middling "Adelaide"
opened the program, followed by a better set of five Schubert songs, the
lyric passages in "An die Leier" sung beautifully, but some of the forte
close to shouting.  "Ganymed" had drops in the line, Russell rushed at
times, a Beckmesser would have scratched the tablet all over, and yet the
whole song came through with "lots of heart" in it.  He sang "Die Gotter
Grechenlands," brief as it is, as one piece of music, sounding as if done
on one breath.

Trouble came in the Debussy set, "Trois Ballades de Francois Villon."
Unlike his English, German and Spanish, Russell's French needs more work.
There was uncertainty, technical faults, iffy intonation and, worse,
virtually nothing idiomatic in presenting the three songs.

 From worse to best, Russell sang gloriously the next selection, John
Greer's "Sing Me at Midnight" cycle.  I suppose Canadians (Olympic hockey
champs and music lovers alike) will never forgive me, but Russell's
fellow-Manitoban (now 48, and teaching at the Eastman School) is new to me
- beyond a vague memory of his children's opera, "The Snow Queen." These
songs, to text by Wilfred Owen, are quite remarkable.  Russell sang them
with feeling and commitment - "How do I love thee?," "Three rompers,"
"Anthem for doomed youth," "Maundy Thursday" and the stunning "Song of
Songs."

Even though he sang the concluding de Falla songs very much "in the zone,"
Russell had a tough job shifting attention from the great, persistent
impact of the Greer-Owen cycle.

The accompanist, a last-minute replacement, was Bryndon Hassman, a veteran
of eight Schwabacher recitals.  It's hard to say in the piano-killer
barn-acoustics of dear Old First, but what I heard through the echo was
supportive, fine accompaniment - although from other spots in the hall, it
might have sounded quite different.

Janos Gereben/SF
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