Patrick is away this week and next, teaching a Copyright Termination practicum at The University of Michigan Law School. It's a sweet little gig, but it means he's in Ann Arbor and I'm here in Cold Spring, a thousand lonely miles apart.
Patrick has a rich, dark tenor voice, and his singing transports me. There is nothing better than hearing his voice raised in song, from The Beatles to Gershwin to hymns. His voice is hands down my favorite sound in the world.
But he's not here right now, and I have to console myself somehow. And when it comes to singers other than Patrick, I favor the lower registers. Here are four of my very favorites, arranged from high to low, and coincidentally from folk rock to classical.
Great Big Sea's Alan Doyle. That smoky, rough tone gets me every time. For me, there is no more appealing male pop voice. I've seen GBS in concert twice now, and there is no end in sight to my groupie-ness.
His voice is like hot caramel. I got to see him years ago on Broadway in Ragtime. Bliss.
Bryn Terfel. He's from Wales, which is a bonus. For one thing, it means that his diction is pristine. Ah, his full-throated vigor. He's brilliant at everything from Mozart to Vaughan Williams to folk songs. He's the only one of these four I haven't heard live. I would die to see him in Don Giovanni or The Magic Flute--or just singing straight out of the phone book.
Thomas Quasthoff. He would be remarkable even if he weren't a thalidomide baby. Glorious resonance, exquisite emotional shading, and amazing flexibility pour forth out of that small body--it's a miracle. He always inspires me. He is the bass in my favorite recording of Handel's Messiah. We heard him sing the Brahms Requiem at Lincoln Center a few years ago; I wept throughout. His jazz standards are fantastic, too.
These men will suffer heavy rotation on my stereo system until my man comes home to me safe and sound. Give them a listen and see what you think.