Feast from the East

2001 Июльжурнал Classic FM

Feast from the East

Fê ted as one of the world's great baritones, Dmitri Hvorostovsky is free to enjoy all the luxuries of the West. But, as he tells Henry Kelly, a part of him still misses his days as a boy in Communist Siberia.

When Dmitri Hvorostovsky was growing up in his home town of Krasnoyarsk in Siberia, in the 'bad old days' of Soviet communism, his life and times were not as those of us in the West would have assumed.

Meeting him for lunch recently in Madrid, where he was Don Carlo at the Teatro Real, we talked of many things - musical, political, social, even family. But it was his reflection upon his early life that struck the biggest chord with me: " I grew up in what to me was a beautiful city with a loving family of parents and grandparents. My mother and father, who are, happily, still alive, were gifted amateur musicians, and when you people in the West were thinking one thing about us, I was actually having a totally different experience of life.

" It wasn't until I came to the West and learned to speak English that I began to realise certain things. To me, I grew up in a civilised city. I was lucky enough to be the youngest soloist at the city's opera house and given every possible opportunity. At 24 I was given my own apartment, free - free! – can you imagine that? In the old Soviet Union! And when I eventually ended up in Moscow, I had another apartment, also given free. I was an Honoured Citizen of the Union, I was being rewarded not because I was an athlete or a politician, but because I was a young singer who had entered competitions and had won most of them. That was what was valued in Siberia when I was young and that is what I remember still. Although.

He pauses - and for the first time in our conversation looks sad - " although it seems to have changed out of recognition. These days I don't think Siberia rewards musicians as they used to.

" Back then, I got all the help I needed. I had a good life and now when I go back to Siberia I am a bit disappointed that, for example, they don't seem to give artists - particularly musicians – the same support. There seem to be hardly any competitions for young singers, and I don't know why. "

It is a far cry from Siberia to the world stage, as one of the great baritones of all time. But that is what Hvorostovsky, now 39, has become. He is now wanted all over the world: in Madrid in Don Carlo; in Houston, Rigoletto; at La Scala he stars in Queen of Spades; in New York, Rome, San Francisco and London he is in demand from the star conductors - Rattle, Haitink, Zubin Mehta, Valery Gergiev…

And yet his earliest childhood memories are as fresh now as ever. " I remember perfectly when I first started performing. I was about three years old and my parents would let me get on a stool or a chair and I would start… well, just start performing - sometimes singing, sometimes reciting poetry. As I grew up it was competitions, competitions, competitions. I started them at home [he won the prestigious USSR National Song Competition in 1987], then there were opportunities to go abroad, and through all of these efforts I was coached and looked after by the first great Soviet star, the legendary Iryna Arkhipova. "

As I sit in a restaurant in Madrid listening to this hugely charismatic, larger-than-life character, I realise that he bridges a gulf of ignorance: our Cold War ignorance of what was going on culturally in the Soviet Union, and his lack of awareness of the world beyond competitions. Tempted to explain to Dmitri that in the West, his honoured coach and mentor is not the household name here that she is in the old USSR, I resist, realizing it would only highlight the gulf between our two societies. Siberian salt mines? Chill winds from the East? Elderly women queuing at empty shop windows? Repression and deprivation? Not for Dmitri, who benefitted spectacularly from the system - as did those other musical Siberians, violin virtuosi Maxim Vengerov and Vadim Repin.

" I was told by my parents, calmly, without fuss, that I had a gift. Actually, they told me I had an incredible gift and then my teachers repeated that. Between them, they persuaded me that I had not just a musical gift - which I probably knew - but I had a chance to have a professional career singing in Russian. But I just wanted to go further. "

His western odyssey started in 1988, storming to success in the Toulouse Singing Prize, capped in 1989 when he beat off local favourite Bryn Terfel to scoop the Cardiff Singer of the World prize. Just 27. he was on a roll and relished the success. Recognised, thanks to his shock of silver-white hair, wherever he went, and lauded back in Moscow as The Greatest Singer in the World, he suddenly found he could do anything he wanted - sing what he wanted, anywhere, It put an enormous pressure on him, he says: " I wanted to become the best, and expected people to love and cherish me. I was young and stupid. "

The years of work and travel have calmed him, though also contributed to the break-up of his first marriage to the mother of his twins. He is what my female friends describe as " drop dead gorgeous", and there is no doubt that heads turn when he enters a room or strolls along a street with his new partner. An engaging lunch guest with strong, but courteous views on world affairs, he is a man who looks to me at ease with himself and his career.

" Now that I have achieved my aim to have an international career, I have come to understand that, in a way, I am a slave to this life - my diary is planned five years ahead. Recently, I tried to look back on what I had done 10 years ago. I could hardly remember a single thing because my life for those last 10 years was like a zoom - I was there, but I didn't experience it much personally.

Eventhe recordings I made are all in the past. I couldn't even speak English when I madesome of them! It is a crazy life, bur it's greatwhen you're busy. "

He has been branching out to new rolesrecently, and is intrigued by the world offilm. He made a movie of Don Giovanni inCanada last year, in which he plays both thelecherous Don and his sidekick Leporello -called Leporello's Revenge, to be shown onChannel 4 in early summer. The story takesthe form of a film within a film, and is set in1930s Hollywood, with Leporello as the star. He admits he'd love to make more moviesbut that diary of his is looking pretty full. But I'd fancy his chances of success: as we'llsee from his screen performance, his hairand good looks are no bar to success!

One final story sums up this man for me. As we were taking our leave, I asked him ifitis true that he was once visited in hisdressing room by the great Armenianbaritone Pavel Litsitsyan, who simply lookedat him, embraced him, kissed him on bothcheeks and then left without a word.

" Yes, that is true. But then a few years afterthat, he came to me again when I was doingRigoletto in a small theatre in Moscow – Imean a place you'd need to go out of theway to get to. After the first night, I was toldPavel had been there. Then he came to thesecond, and came to see me backstage, afterwards. Well, we talked and talked andtalked and as we parted I was thinking tomyself that here is a man who is 90 years oldand he took the trouble to come and talk tome and to listen to me singing. I left thetheatre that night with a new outlook. I felt, as I feel now, that I am gradually becomingmore and more happy. And more and more I can hear my own voice. And now I knowwhat I want to do with it. "

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