In the last decade, Thomas Allen has become a popular figure with Lyric Opera audiences, having made two acclaimed stands in one of his signature roles, as Figaro, the wily title barber of Rossini’s opera. Yet the English baritone’s visits to Chicago have otherwise been oddly infrequent–Allen hasn’t appeared at Orchestra Hall since a 1980 performance of Berlioz’s “L’enfance du Christ,” and, even more inexplicable, has never appeared locally in recital.
The long wait reaped rich musical rewards at Ravinia Thursday night.
Rescheduled from a canceled Ravinia date three years ago, Allen made his long overdue area recital debut at the Ravinia Festival’s Martin Theatre. And to judge by the extraordinary evening of music that poured forth from Allen and pianist Christoph Eschenbach Thursday night, it won’t be very long before Allen is invited back.
While Allen’s baritone is not particularly imposing in size or striking in timbre, the singer uses his refined, firmly focused instrument with consummate skill, aided by a subtle theatrical flair and an unusually attentive textual response. Combine that with a relaxed, natural ease in performing suited to the intimate setting, and you have all the ingredients for the memorable evening of song presented by the two artists.
Love–largely unrequited, saddened by distances apart, and distances within, formed the thematic motif for the wide-ranging, intelligently conceived program of German, French and English songs Allen presented. Allen sounded a little dry-voiced in his opening selection of German lieder, but quickly warmed up. Those used to a more flamboyant style of some modern Schubert interpreters may have found his understated style a little cool, but Allen served the composer’s music with superb advocacy. “Fruhlingsglaube” was a model of intelligent word-painting and the beautifully rendered “Standchen,” D.957, was neatly matched by Allen’s irresistible verve in “Der Musensohn.” Allen was just as convincing in the Brahms settings, from the ardent lover’s plea in “Sonntag” to a vivid “Wie bist du, meine Konigen” where the darkening of his tone in the minor-key middle section provided the requisite contrast.
Allen and Eschenbach spun such a sustained mood of evanescent, finely filigreed languor in four Duparc settings that any interruption by the overly enthusiastic audience would have broken the fragile glow. Deeper voices are not always well suited to these diaphanous settings, yet Allen’s gentle, quiet singing was wholly idiomatic. The hazy sensuality of “L’invitation au voyage” and “Soupir” were magnificently evocative, the latter’s final “Toujours!” gently floated like a barely audible sigh.
In the final set of English pieces Allen’s theatrical flair told in the offbeat operatic ballad excerpt from Britten’s “Billy Budd,” notable for the dramatic pace and concentration brought to this ruminative music. Lighter in form, but no less winning, were the four British folksongs arranged by Britten. Allen’s dedication and eloquence made a small masterpiece out of “O Waly, Waly” and finished his program with a flourish with the tongue-twisting nursery patter of “Oliver Cromwell.”
