DAVID DANIELS occupies a rarefied category of classical singer: the countertenor, a male range above tenor that corresponds to a mezzo-soprano range. Widely regarded as the leading countertenor of our time, Daniels sings a repertoire that includes both classical opera—where he sings many of the old castrato roles—and an extensive recital repertoire, including song literature of the 19th and 20th centuries. He has appeared with many of the world’s major opera companies and on the main concert and recital stages, making history last season as the first countertenor to give a solo recital in the main auditorium of Carnegie Hall.
In addition to breaking new ground with his unusual voice range, Daniels is virtually the only major opera singer to be openly gay. This is perhaps surprising in light of opera’s traditional popularity among gay men, but for whatever reason opera has long been a bastion of male heterosexuality. In this respect, too, Daniels is a pioneer.
Born and raised in Spartanburg, South Carolina, Daniels was the son of two singing teachers. He began to sing as a boy soprano, moving to tenor as his voice matured. After getting his BA from the Cincinnati College Conservatory of Music, he continued with graduate studies at the University of Michigan, where he studied with George Shirley. It was there that he decided to make the daring switch from the tenor to the countertenor range.
Opera roles that Daniels has performed include a substantial list of Handel’s heroes: the title role in Julius Caesar; Arsace in the comedy Partenope; the title role in Tamerlano; Arsamene in Xerxes; David in Saul; the title role in Rinaldo; and Nerone in Monteverdi’s Coronation of Poppea. Branching out from his baroque roles, Daniels performed as Oberon in Britten’s Midsummer Night’s Dream at the Metropolitan Opera, and as Orfeo in Glück’s Orfeo ed Euridice at Covent Garden.
Last summer, Daniels came out with a CD entitled A Quiet Thing (released by Virgin Classics) featuring yet another repertoire, that of traditional and contemporary songs. These he performed in a number of prominent venues, including Lincoln Center during New York’s Mostly Mozart Festival and Tanglewood, accompanied by guitarist Craig Ogden. It was at Tanglewood that I met with David Daniels on the morning after his debut performance there.
— Larry Phillips
Larry Phillips: I suppose you’re tired of answering this question, but for the sake of our readers, how did you develop the voice that you have? David Daniels: I developed it by just singing constantly in this voice, from a boy soprano, when the voice changed, by continuing to sing in this way—head sound, “head voice,” I call it. Even though I attempted to be a tenor through the last two years of high school and all of my college work, I never really stopped singing in the countertenor. Around the house, in the shower, in the car—it was always the voice I sang with, because it was my most comfortable voice. So it wasn’t until March of 1992 that I decided to stop struggling with this voice that didn’t feel natural to me and sing the way that I felt my voice was meant to sing. LP: Do people specialize in this in terms of training, or did you develop it on your own? DD: I developed it on my own for the most part. I was fortunate to grow up with singing teachers for parents. My mother worked with me at a young age, with breathing and with placement of the voice and that type of thing. LP: You grew up in Spartanburg, South Carolina. What was that like, ultimately being gay? Not to dredge up stereotypes about the South— DD: I think the stereotypes about the South are there for a reason. I was fortunate to come from an artistic environment, so the words that were used for the gay community were always very positive. That didn’t make coming out any easier. It was still a horrible situation, as it is for most people. LP: And how about the opera world with respect to this issue—not the fans, but the singers, the managers, the conductors? DD: On a certain side of the opera world it’s very gay, on the other side it’s not. Among the administrators, the managers, the general directors, even to the point of some of the conductors, many are homosexuals, more so than the singers themselves. You just don’t find that many singers. LP: You’ve been very open about being gay. Has that ever been a problem? DD: I don’t know how they feel about my openness. I’ve gotten no negative comments about my openness from opera companies and people like that. Some of the negative comments I’ve read have come from other homosexual men, not in the business, who are put off by someone who has to “flaunt” his sexuality. LP: What do they mean by “flaunt”? DD: Acting as if the music’s not the most important thing, that I’ve become the “gay singer” and not the artist they thought I was supposed to be. People who know me know that the music, and the words, and the communication, and the honesty, and the realness of my performance is always going to be the most important thing to me, above all. It was a decision I made a long time ago—way before I made the decision to be open about my sexuality. LP: Did singing in your range create any surprises for you or for your audience in the initial years, or do you think people are pretty much used to countertenor sound these days? In other words, is there a precedent for singing in your style, or are you really breaking new ground? DD: I can’t say that I’m the first to do what I’m doing, because that’s not true. I am the first to take this voice type to major venues both in the recital repertoire and in the orchestral roles with orchestral repertoire, and to take it to major opera houses in this country on a regular basis, with the Metropolitan and Chicago and San Francisco. This will be my fifth recital in Alice Tully. So, to be a countertenor and to be a singer who’s invited back to those types of places is always a good sign that something right’s going on. But I think also something different is that I’ve been fortunate to have an exclusive recording contract. These days classical music is suffering from lack of interest and financially. To be one of the handful of singers left that are actually putting out discs is really not normal, has not been normal for a long time. LP: Do you suspect there’s even been a countertenor on television before? DD: I know Bejun Mehta had a spot on 60 Minutes 2 about a year ago. But I don’t know of someone who’s on a national, live morning show. And it’s not just a countertenor, I don’t know of operatic singers, period, that have done that—with the exception of Luciano [Pavarotti] and Placido [Domingo] years ago. LP: Another area of interest is your audience. We all know that a fairly large proportion of the audience for opera is gay men. Would you agree? DD: It’s a large audience. LP: Do we know why that is? Any theories as to why gay men are attracted to opera? DD: I don’t know the answer, do you? LP: I have my theories. I just think the characters are so preposterous that gay men can relate to it. Why there’s this enormous fascination with sopranos is beyond me. I don’t know what that’s all about, except that they always end up in mad scenes, and they’re tearing their hair out, and they commit suicide at the end. DD: They all want it to be their mamas. LL: It’s a real following. DD: I’ve always said that no matter how my career progresses and grows, I will never be able to grow to a fan base like a soprano. You just can’t compete. For some reason, the gay community has a fixation on sopranos. It’s always been that way. LP: Many of the operatic parts you sing are the traditional castrato roles. Is that a soprano range? DD: Mezzo. There are some castrato roles that are more soprano range, but I stay away from those. I do the alto castrato roles, as Senesino did [in Handel’s time], and whoever else. LP: Mostly Handel? DD: Mostly Handel. I couldn’t get through them all in a career, because there are so many. I think Mozart was the last composer to write for the castrati—early Mozart. Supposedly there’s a Meyerbeer opera that has a castrato role in it. Who would have thought, in the late 1800’s? LP: There’s no shortage of material that’s written for your voice. And a lot of it is old music. DD: I sing a lot of old music—primarily old music on the opera stage. But on the recital stage I sing very little old music. LP: Is there any part that you’re really dying to do? DD: Well, I’ve done a concert version of Glück’s Orfeo ed Euridice. I would love to do a stage version of that. And just keep learning different Handel roles, because they’re all so fantastic, and each one I do I think, this is my favorite. LP: You have a terrific guitarist in Craig Ogden. DD: He’s good, isn’t he? He’s an excellent player. So I was very fortunate. LP: Did he make those arrangements? DD: Most of them. From piano stuff. It was tough, especially the American songs, which are all piano pieces. He says it’s tough, because with the guitar it’s as if you’re playing the piano with one hand. LP: Did you learn an instrument when you were growing up? DD: I played cello for eight years, and I played piano for ten years. LP: Was that helpful? Were you able to accompany yourself? DD: Now it’s helpful. No, I don’t accompany myself. I don’t sight-read well enough. I’m glad that I took both. It has made learning music and singing music much easier, no question. LP: Any other work coming along? DD: Operas, symphonic repertoires. Right now I’m in the process of discussing an orchestral piece with Jonathan Dove, who wrote Flight, the opera. That’s being commissioned by the BBC. To have a complete opera would be fantastic, it really would be wonderful.
Larry Phillips is a Boston-based keyboard player.
