Giuseppe Verdi, the composer of classic operas like “La Traviata,” didn’t write with traditional ideas of how a singer should sound. He ended up creating specific voice types, and one is known as the Verdi baritone: an artist who can channel profound sonority and smooth, sustained breath control into the dramatically complex music of flawed kings and sensitive fathers.
To hear this sung right, watch a few performances by Quinn Kelsey, one of the most brilliant Verdi baritones of our time.
Kelsey, 48, is onstage now in the title role of “Macbeth” in a new production at the Metropolitan Opera that will be broadcast live to cinemas on Saturday. In the last act, his tragic character is sent off with the aria “Pietà, rispetto, amore” (“Mercy, respect, love”): an accounting of all that he has surrendered to his blood-soaked ambition. Neither an apology nor a pity party, it is a moment to reflect on harsh truths as the end nears.
That’s a subtle emotional state to capture, and to weave through the challengingly long melodic lines of Verdi’s writing. Kelsey sings the aria with capacious resonance and regal composure, as if trying to grant himself a kind of honor in dishonor. His restraint is remarkable, almost resigned, yet complicated by the disarming warmth of his tone and the occasional fragility in his breath. It’s a musical soliloquy worthy of Shakespeare.
On a technical level, Kelsey has absolute control over melody, whether tracing a phrase with balletic agility or elegantly shaping a broad legato. He seems to come with his own acoustic; no matter the stage, his voice has the sound of a cathedral. But he is also intensely, captivatingly human. He carries himself and contorts his face as operatically as he sings, and his timbre of darkly shaded honey is an endless source of sympathy.
At the Met, where Kelsey has been singing since 2008 with a steadily rising profile, he has had success after success in Verdi roles and has stood out even in smaller parts like Amonasro, the father of Aida. His sensibility is ideally suited to the Act III set piece “Rivedrai le foreste imbalsamate,” which begins with Amonasro sweetly but cunningly evoking his daughter’s homeland.
There’s an irresistible charm to his lyrical beauty. And when Aida tries to reject his appeals, he turns monstrous and growls, “You are not my daughter!” As he booms, “You are the pharaohs’ slave,” his sound takes on a towering presence that descends into a frightening snarl. The best opera singers get a little ugly for the sake of theater; Kelsey gives you genuine music drama.
Kelsey excels in Verdi’s father roles. He artfully undercuts his natural authority with regret, never more heartbreakingly than in the title role of “Rigoletto.”
In the opera’s first act, Kelsey’s Rigoletto is a brutal jester and a tender parent. When his daughter is taken by the duke, he becomes both at once. The aria “Cortigiani, vil razza dannata” (“Courtiers, vile, damned race”) is an outpouring of emotion: fury at the scoundrels who wronged him, and fear for the safety of his child, leading to a desperate plea for help.
This is a classic Kelsey interpretation. The line is wonderfully crafted, even as it contains pauses that risk interrupting the tension. His tone achieves a balance of plush weight and pathetic meekness. Rigoletto as a character, in all his depth, is fully brought to life.
Kelsey first sang Rigoletto at the Met several years ago, and in an interview at the time, he said, “I know it will just get better.” He was referring to his take on that role, but he could as easily have been describing his prime as a Verdi baritone. Macbeth is his latest triumph, but it probably won’t be his last.
