Global voices give spice to İstanbul concerts

Born in Tunisia, schooled in Vienna, speaking several languages (even his onstage attempts at Turkish caught the right inflection), Youssef speaks to audiences like they just walked into a practice session. “Do we have time for another?” he tosses out to everyone. “Maybe four minutes, or seven?” he laughs. “We’ve got another and you gotta hear Tigran [Hamasyan, his pianist], he’s such a genius.” He doesn’t need to persuade anyone that evening, especially the presenter, Hakan Erdoğan, who gives the thumbs-up. Youssef and his band offer such mesmerizing fare that you get hooked instantly.

The fascinating thing is his music is completely unpredictable, yet there’s plenty of satisfaction for ears that require something to hang their hat on -- a melody, a repeated riff, a texture that lifts you off the ground, and all just the right psychological length. But it’s personal. You can feel Dhafer through all of it.

Youssef not only plays the oud (a guitar-like instrument of Arabic origin) like a master, and he takes it into places no traditional players have gone, but he possesses an unusually rangy voice, which he uses in an almost operatic manner. He’ll start out in an everyday baritone, in a sort of semi-growl with a half-pronounced word from an unknown language, and emit an emotional appeal. Then gradually move up into a robust tenor sound, then proceed into a fully fleshed-out alto, then suddenly and shockingly slide into high soprano territory. And he doesn’t seem to need a breath. The sound is pure yet beefy, and without vibrato until he chooses to add it as a decoration. Youssef’s instrumentally conceived vocalism conveys meaning not so much by words as by an artistically calibrated primal scream.

I’ve often thought -- listening to pop music, current jazz trends, world music, and experimental groups -- that some new genre MUST emerge to stop the tyranny (and boredom) of carbon copies that have permeated the music industry’s last 10 years. I mused that it would be an inspired mix of jazz and world, with electronics, probably leaving rock ‘n’ roll in the dust, since it’s still operating long past its expiration date. But who would achieve this, and when, and to represent the fact that many different cultures are truly meshed in the modern world? In the concert that night in August the answer was right before my eyes.

Leyla Gencer Voice Competition

From all over the world they came. Opera singers. From 119 initial entries, 33 young accomplished opera singers competed last week for top prizes in the sixth Leyla Gencer Voice Competition in İstanbul. Held in the Cemal Reşit Rey Concert Hall, the biannual event in the name of Turkey’s most celebrated opera diva, Leyla Gencer, began with the quarter-finals on Aug. 21, whittling the list to 17 by Aug. 24.

By the semi-finals on Tuesday, South Africa, Romania, Holland, Belarus, Korea, Serbia and Turkey were represented on the stage, where each singer sang two arias with piano accompaniment. With the possibility of winning 12,500 euros as first prize and future performing opportunities, the hopes and dreams of young singers reached fever pitch. Soprano Pretty Yende (South Africa) hid her face in a corner of a wall as the judges were about to announce the finalists. “If my name wasn’t called, I could just hide here,” she said with a shy smile. (But her smile got instantly brighter: her name was called first.)

“Just one aria can make or break you,” says baritone Kartal Karagedik, “it’s like gambling,” referring to the unpredictability of succeeding or failing, based on that particular panel of judges’ reactions to a certain piece he chose to sing. This statement is based on experience: Karagedik is a veteran of many international competitions and a winner of six. A Turk who has lived in Europe for many years and is now singing in an opera house in Magdeburg, Germany, he affirms that “I always feel like I represent Turkey abroad, and proudly.”

“What will you do with the prize money if you win?” I asked several singers mid-way through the week’s auditions. “Pay for lessons,” was the most common answer. For opera singers, a good teacher is critical to success. Yende, who now studies with some famous teachers in Milan, gave due credit to her first teacher in South Africa, Virginia Davids. “Virginia gave me the backbone. Because of her, I am who I am today.”

And who she was, on the evening of Aug. 26 at the finals, accompanied by the Borusan Philharmonic, was magnificent. Pretty Yende won first prize. Her radiant and exquisitely polished aria from Massenet’s “Manon” won both the judges’ favor and the audience’s ardent bravos. Kartal Karagedik’s impassioned rendition of an aria from Verdi’s “Don Carlo” won him second prize. Sopranos Anna Lapovskaya (Belarus) and Pervin Çakar (Turkey) split third prize.

My personal selections were different. But regardless of whether I or anyone else agrees or disagrees, the fact that this competition exists serves everyone in the best way: Young singers get golden opportunities, audiences become discerning about vocal artistry, Leyla Gencer’s legacy is remembered and Turkey is a player on the global music map.