Below are three of the articles I wrote on Anthony Kearns. You can tell I am still just as smitten today as I was then by this wonderful voice and performer.
The Stradivarius of Voice
May 2, 2003
I’ve heard vocal musicians refer to their voices as an instrument which always seemed rather contrived. After all most of us can sing – sort of. I’ve spent my time in a church choir “singing.” I can even sing along with John Denver on the radio (although most folks in the car would rather I didn’t). To call my voice an instrument would be a ridiculous overstatement. I don’t think one could even describe it as an old out of tune piano.
I’ve heard others sing, however, who did a much better job than I. Their voices are pleasant to hear and carry a tune quite nicely. I enjoy hearing them and look forward to choral performances. But to say that any of these sounds are the equivalent of a fine instrument would be a serious exaggeration.
I have to admit that until yesterday I never much thought about what it took to create music from the human voice. However, when one closely examines the process, it is rather amazing. After all, when one plays a piano or violin, the action requires one to see a note on a piece of paper and then stroke the equivalent key or string. It’s not a simple task, but it is a mechanical one. Of course, some do it much better than others and I truly admire their talents. The gifted know how to change mechanical into emotion, and that is not something most of us know how to do.
Singing, however, requires something else. Not only must the musician read the note but he or she must then adjust the diaphragm, lungs, and vocal chords to create a sound. On paper, it doesn’t seem possible. There is nothing to see. There is nothing to touch. There is nothing to point to or to check for quality. The instrument is invisible. Combine this with the fact that the brain (itself invisible) must be used to choreograph all the actions.
I would say it couldn’t be done to equal the level of a Stradivarius. Except that Friday night in the Municipal Auditorium, I saw and more importantly heard the impossible happen. I heard a true instrument, an instrument surely equivalent to the finest violin or piano ever created. I heard a voice that transformed my idea of what singing is supposed to be. Even the word “singing” seems too mundane to describe the sounds I heard. Anthony Kearns, a renowned Irish Tenor, took me into a world I had never experienced before. His voice is controlled as carefully as an instrument and his passion transformed mere words into emotion both on his part and that of the audience.
Beautiful notes, achieved to perfection, filled the room. Words followed the lines of the notes as if they were one and the same. The concept of opera finally made sense to me. Words and notes should be used to carry meaning. They should not be separate entities. Kearns made me see all this. It was an epiphany in the truest sense.
I came away wishing that all words could be sung rather than spoken. It was as if the rest of us are misusing our gift of song by using speech. I now know why there are those who travel whatever distances are needed in order to hear him sing. I would do the same myself. Thank you Anthony Kearns for this gift to the world and to me.
It’s Almost Here
February 13, 2004
I could fill my entire column this week with the refrain, “He’s coming. He’s coming.” I feel like a kid waiting for Christmas. When I heard the news, I went around for days grinning from ear to ear. So what’s got me in such a dither, you ask. The Anthony Kearns concert. And who is Anthony Kearns, you reply, trying not to sound too stupid.
Now that’s a good question. Trying to explain Anthony Kearns is kind of like trying to explain Katherine Hepburn by saying she was an actress or Georgia O’Keefe by describing her as a painter. It somehow just doesn’t say enough. The same is true for Anthony Kearns. I could tell you that he’s a singer who is part of a group called The Irish Tenors. I could tell you that he is good. But none of this would give you a true sense of who he is.
I have to admit sheepishly that until last year I had never heard of the Irish Tenors much less Anthony Kearns. That’s not too surprising because my musical interest is eclectic but not particularly broad which sounds contradictory. What I mean is that I like lots of different stuff, but it’s the same stuff everyone has heard of.
Part of the joy of working for HubStuff is that I get to meet new people, so last May I was scheduled to interview and photograph a “singer” who was coming to town. I got there early and waited in the wings feeling rather foolish, I must admit. I had no idea what I was going to ask or even how much time this man Kearns would have. I have to tell you that the thirty minutes I sat listening to him rehearse were extraordinary. Even his “mistakes” sounded wonderful.
When he finished, I commented that I didn’t feel like I even had to come that evening because what I had already heard was so enchanting. He laughed and assured me that I did want to come to hear the real thing. He was right. An evening listening to Anthony Kearns sing is the closest I’ll ever get to heaven on earth. His Irish ballads and even an aria (and I’m no opera fan) enthralled me. I became an adoring fan.
I promptly bought every Irish Tenor CD that I could afford. Lunch money disappeared to buy music and I didn’t care. I’m sure I have worn several layers off my CDs listening to this music. I have even bought the DVD of their concerts.
Okay. I know. I know. That doesn’t tell you a thing about whether or not you’d be as smitten as I am. Fortunately, there’s a way for you to get a taste to decide for yourself. You can go to Amazon and look for the CDs by the Irish Tenors. There are six (unless I’ve missed one). Each CD has a page that lists the contents of the recording and also provides a sampling of four songs.
Last year, the concert was in the Auditorium at Texas Tech. This year it will be at the Civic Center. I’m thrilled that the better acoustics and seating of the Civic Center will be available this time. February 28 is also the date of a Texas Tech basketball game. That’s too bad for the team, because an evening of Anthony Kearns may mean that the coliseum will be empty.
On a final thought before I turn my CD player back on, if I had children at home, I’d take them to this concert. It may be the only time in their lives that they will have the opportunity to hear what exquisite sounds the human voice can produce. It will give them a chance to compare their music of choice to music that is totally unlike any they have heard before. Don’t worry that they will be bored by it. Anthony Kearns couldn’t produce a boring concert if he tried. He is funny, engaging, and a consummate performer who knows how to relate to any audience.
Meanwhile, I keep reminding myself. He’s coming. He’s coming. Anthony Kearns is coming. I’m not sure February 28 will get here soon enough.
More Than Just a Pretty Voice
March 5 2004
Listening to an Anthony Kearns concert is a night of delight. His magical voice transforms an ordinary evening into a special moment to be cherished always. It’s easy to believe that the flawless performance happens because Kearns has been blessed with an astonishing musical gift. And it’s true that he has a vocal ability that one rarely if ever hears, but as with any gift, it’s what you do with it that counts.
Watching him on stage, his life appears to be the stuff fantasies are made of. After all, his solo performances are considered “suitcase acts” requiring nothing more than for Kearns to show up and sing. The only other person on the stage is the charming Patrick Healy who provides musical and program support. There are no huge buses filled with equipment and personnel. There are no complex lighting requirements. All he needs is a piano and a stage.
The hour before the audience arrives, he dons immaculate black tails over a crisp white shirt finished off with gold cuff links. An announcer walks out on stage and prepares the audience for the performer’s arrival, and then Kearns takes center stage and proceeds to sing. When it’s over, he goes back to the hotel after spending a few minutes personally greeting his adoring fans.
This is the life, you say. For this he is paid the big bucks and don’t we all wish we could be so lucky. “Ah,” he might say in his delightful brogue “if that were only the case.” The real story is hardly a tale of hardship and denial, but it is also one of hard work and professionalism. It’s a world that puts him on the stage 150 days of the year. There are 90-100 concerts with the Irish Tenors and about 50 solo performances. This is about once every two days if my math is correct. Not that performances come that regularly. As Kearns says, “It’s either feast or famine.” He will perform daily for weeks and then it’s a return to Dublin to do nothing – a forced respite that is almost worse than constant performances because he isn’t comfortable doing nothing. But, of course, even nothing isn’t nothing. What looks like down time is filled with the business of his profession. There are meetings with the other two tenors, music to choose, decisions about future concerts to be made, music to be learned, arrangements to be considered for the next tour, and even bills to pay (like the rest of us).
There are “hired guns” such as Vincent Mitchell, who acts as his agent in the United States, to deal with many of the details, but in the end it is up to the performer to make the final decisions. And these decisions impact not only Kearns but his entire staff. For the product, the sales, the income comes from one person – the performer. On his shoulders rests it all and until the others are paid, he gets nothing.
Kearns is not complaining. He will tell you that he is “obsessed with singing.” He admits that he lives a life that many would give their right arm for. But just because it’s an enviable life doesn’t make it an easy one. There is the constant travel, strange hotels, and unfamiliar concert halls. There are the interviews and publicity events that fuel ticket sales but require him to be articulate and friendly when he might rather be reclusive. And then there are the miscues such as the unexpected PBS interview for which he had brought no suit. With only an hour to spare, he must make a quick trip to the local department store although he jokingly considers doing the interview in his performance tuxedo.
Moving from one city to the next on a daily basis is wearing on the body and the voice. To keep his voice – the instrument that is supporting himself as well as others – requires constant attention. Voice lessons allow him to continue to train and to grow as an artist and performer. The learning never stops. He says, “It drives you mad sometimes. Always trying to make the singing better.” There are no laurels to rest upon.
Kearns brings more to this profession, though, than just a dedication to performing. He brings an intelligence that shines through as he talks about the world in which he lives. No MBA could talk more knowledgeably about how one grows a musical career. As a matter of fact, if he tires of the constant demands of live concerts, there are schools of the performing arts that would find him an enviable addition to their faculty. He knows his craft. It radiates as he talks about following in the footsteps of other musicians learning from their experiences. He accepts bad turns in the road not looking back but instead learning from any misstep. He does say, though, that working as part of The Irish Tenors is an advantage because “Three heads are better than one” when it comes to making decisions.
This isn’t a performer who is convinced that he somehow has earned the adulation that he receives from fans who fly from great distances just to hear him sing another time. This is a performer instead who appreciates it when nice things are written about him but who also reads the few negative print articles that appear – taking none too seriously. He will admit, “It’s nice to get compliments, but I don’t wallow in the glory.”
It’s not surprising, though, that his fan base continues to grow each year. He brings to the stage something special, something unexpected. He has worked hard, he has studied diligently, he has prepared as thoroughly as possible. But then he walks out to his audience and has fun. Sure and this is a strange thing to say about a performer who sings operatic pieces to an untutored West Texas audience who would normally not walk across the street to hear such a sound. But when Anthony Kearns sings, we listen and relish every note. He says in his very demeanor “This is fun and you will love it.” And he is right. We do. We expected to love his Irish folk songs such as the “Darling Girl from County Clare.” We didn’t expect to love “Dein ist mein hanzes Herz,” but we did.
While we are having fun, he appears relaxed as he prepares to take us to places we didn’t expect to go. There’s a sense of ease as one watches the tips of his fingers rest gracefully on the piano or the hands come together to add emphasis for a moment in a song. As he finishes one stanza and waits for the music to take him to the next, Kearns looks out on his audience as if to see who he is reaching. He takes time to offer a charming wink to a long time fan sitting on the front row. He laughs comfortably and clicks his heels when the moment is right. This is the not the contrivance of a choreographed event. This is a performer who loves to sing and loves to have others hear him. He is not trying too hard but always achieves more than anyone could expect. Notes are reached and held that don’t seem possible. This didn’t come by accident. This was once a musician who did not even read music but learned. This was a person who said, “Sure, I could sing whatever I heard, but if you are doing Handel’s Messiah, you can’t rely on that.”
That’s what separates Anthony Kearns from the average or even the very good. He has talent – yes. So do lots of singers. He has energy. So do most 32 year olds. But he has something more. Something that is hard to define unless you see him. He’s not just a pretty voice – there’s a man behind the voice who is smart, who is funny, who is charming, who is in love with his profession. And when you bring all this to the stage, miracles happen. Those who attended last Saturday’s concert at the Civic Center got to witness it.
Susan E L Lake 
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