James Bowman - A Celebration of a Genius
With the death on 27th March 2023 of James Bowman, we have lost not only the greatest countertenor of the modern era, but a genuinely nice and funny man, who I was lucky enough to work with in the early years of my career.
Born on 6th November 1941 in Oxford, he was educated at the King’s School, Ely, singing in the choir at Ely Cathedral, and rising to be Head Chorister. After school, he went to New College, Oxford, as a choral scholar, and was a member of New College and Christ Church Choirs. While still at university, he auditioned for the role of Oberon in Benjamin Britten’s ‘Midsummer Night’s Dream’ with the English Opera Group, Britten’s opera company which he had founded in 1945, with Peter Pears, Anne Wood, Joan Cross, John Piper and Eric Crozier. Thus began James’ lifelong association with the role and the opera, culminating in his recording with Richard Hickox in 1993. Britten was enchanted by Bowman’s singing, engaging him for the role, and later writing the role of the Voice of Apollo in ‘Death in Venice’ for him in 1973. In an interview late in life, James revealed that Britten had considered rewriting Oberon to suit his voice, as the original part, composed for Alfred Deller, had been purposefully created with a small range, suitable for the older singer. Sadly for us, but perhaps fortuitously (how can one improve on perfection?), Britten was too ill to complete the task, and died in 1976.
James Bowman burst on to the operatic scene after his appearance with the EOG, making debuts at Glyndebourne (La Calisto, 1970), ENO (Semele, 1971) and the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden (Maxwell-Davies’ ‘Taverner’, 1972). Before this, he had been an original member of the Early Music Consort of London, founded in 1967 by David Munro and Christopher Hogwood, and so was at the forefront of the extraordinary early music movement which swept the world from the late 1960s on. Munro’s tragic suicide in 1976 brought the Consort to an end, but the touchpaper had been lit, and things were never the same again. Trevor Pinnock’s English Concert, Christopher Hogwood’s Academy of Ancient Music and John Eliot Gardiner’s Monteverdi Choir and English Baroque Soloists were the vanguard of the new movement, reinterpreting baroque and pre-baroque music with original instruments, baroque pitch (down a semitone from modern pitch) and minimal vibrato singing, a movement which was soon taken up by musicians in continental Europe, North America and Japan.
James was involved in much of this new wave, and for me, his importance and his legacy were built around his extraordinary voice. Not for him the weedy English bleat which made some countertenors figures of fun in the early days. His voice was big and beefy, capable of dominating large theatres and concert halls. It was never a high countertenor, like David James or Michael Chance, or many of the more recent star voices, and he remained loyal to the standard alto range, but it had a quality like no other, and he used it with such skill and imagination that it often took the breath away.
I was lucky enough to sing with him on many occasions at the beginning of my career, starting with his most famous role, Oberon. I had just taken a principal contract with Scottish Opera, in 1982, when I was cast as Theseus in the well-established production, originally by Toby Robertson in 1972, of Britten’s ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’. This was a fantastic production featuring many of Scottish Opera’s home-trained singers, like Bill McCue’s perfect Bottom, Linda Ormiston’s hilarious Hermia, Nan Christie’s titanic Tytania, John Robertson’s simpering Snout and Frank Egerton’s fabulous Flute, and James had sung Oberon since its first appearance ten years before. He himself confessed that he was never a real stage creature, but he had such charisma and such a dominant voice, that you watched his every move. As Duke Theseus, partnered by the wonderful Claire Livingstone as Hippolyta, I was never on stage with Oberon, but it was a huge privilege to be in the same show with the great man (very much at his peak, aged 41), and I loved watching his scenes. There was one stage and orchestra rehearsal not long before the Dress, when Claire was indisposed, and an understudy came out of the chorus to sing Hippolyta. This young lady had a lovely voice but was relatively new to stage work and became confused as to when to go on stage for her big entrance with me. She wandered on to find herself accompanied near the footlights by someone she didn’t recognise, as the stage was quite dark. Feeling self-conscious, she whispered to this figure: “Are you Brian Bannatyne-Scott’s understudy?” James tried to usher her to the wings, whispering back: “No, I’m James Bowman!” Compounding her error, she persisted: “That may be the case, but are you Brian’s understudy?” Suffice to say that every time I met James after that, he reminded me of the incident, and made sure he got some quip in about understudies!
It was a real treat to be able to observe his Oberon at close quarters, a performance of immense beauty and no little threat at the beginning, as Oberon demonstrates his power over Tytania, as a figure of malevolence and danger. Oberon is not a nice fairy!
When I recorded Theseus for Philips with Sir Colin Davis and the LSO in 1996, it was a great shame that James had recorded the role with Richard Hickox a few years before and could not be cast again. Our Oberon, the American Brian Asawa, was very fine, but Bowman was peerless.
I worked with him again in Handel’s ‘Orlando’ at the end of my time with Scottish Opera, although this time I was the understudy (to Stephen Varcoe), and didn’t get to appear with James on stage. It was one of the first ‘modern’ productions of Handel, complete with lunatics in an asylum and James in a straitjacket, so perhaps I was spared embarrassment. James’ understudy that time was David James, countertenor of the famous Hilliard Ensemble, with whom I was to sing many times in Arvo Pärt’s ‘Passio’, and who has become a dear friend after that first meeting.
My final stage appearance with James Bowman was in the wonderful production for the Spitalfields Festival in 1988 of Monteverdi’s ‘L’Incoronazione di Poppea’, in which he sang Ottone, and I sang Mercurio. It was staged in the magnificent Christ Church, Spitalfields in the City of London, built between 1714 and 1729 to a design by Nicholas Hawksmoor. The church had become almost derelict by the 1960s until a restoration project was carried out from 1976. Restoration was still underway in 1988 (it reopened fully in 2004) but it proved a great venue for a baroque opera, and the costumes were lavish and the sound splendid. After the performances, we all decamped to Ham by the River Thames near Richmond, where we recorded the opera, with a starry cast conducted by Richard Hickox. Arleen Auger and Della Jones were Poppea and Nero, Gregory Reinhart sang Seneca, and James sang Ottone. His performance was typically superb, rich and full-voiced, and his futile love for Poppea was heart-breaking. Thwarted in that love, Ottone turns into an avenging monster and attempts to kill her, dressed as a woman. When this attempt is prevented by intervention from the God of Love, he repents and is exiled. James conveyed all these emotions in a fantastic performance, although in the church, he was hilarious offstage as the supposed Drusilla, camping it up and having a wonderful time in drag!
I sang a few concerts with him after that, but I never got to do another opera, as he retired from the opera scene, and indeed returned to the Anglican choral scene of his youth by joining the Choir of the Chapel Royal at St James’s Palace. His farewell London recital was at the Wigmore Hall in 2011. He was made a CBE in 1997, and certainly merited a knighthood, becoming, at least, a Chevalier de l’Ordre des Arts et des Lettres.
He leaves a legacy of wonderful recordings, and memories of a very funny and carefree man. His was without doubt, one of the Voices of the Century, and he will be much missed.
Cover photo: Alvaro Yanez
