Bryn Terfel at Carnegie Hall

Bryn Terfel, that likable lug of a Welsh bass-baritone, gave a recital in Carnegie Hall on Friday night. And it was a cheering, splendid event.

The first half of the program was devoted to British art songs; and the second half had Handel, Mozart, Schubert, and so on. In other words, the first half was like a second half, and the second like a first.

Mr. Terfel started out with songs by John Ireland, Peter Warlock, and the little-known Frederick Keel, all on poems by John Masefield. This poet is known for "Sea Fever." And so is John Ireland. Indeed, this is one of the most beloved songs in the British repertory. Mr. Terfel sang it with gusto and beauty, of course. But he also sang it with dramatic pauses and other such effects. He stretched the music out, when it could do with a firmer pulse.

Still, Mr. Terfel has any number of virtues, among them clear diction. One could dispense with the lyrics provided in the program booklet. And can anyone roll an "r" in English like Mr. Terfel? Also, when speaking to the audience from the stage, Mr. Terfel is loud and clear. This is surprisingly, strangely rare in the music business.

Along came the Warlock song "Captain Stratton's Fancy" — and here Mr. Terfel combined humor and virility, a combination that no one does better. He is also a first-class shouter — that is, when he shouts, it is elegant and musical. In the Keel songs we find that special, nearly unique British blend of happiness and melancholy. Mr. Terfel puts a greater stress on happiness, or at least he did on this occasion. Some of that strange, light-inflected somberness was lost.

In due course, Mr. Terfel turned to Vaughan Williams — two of his finest songs, "The Roadside Fire" and "Silent Noon." These songs take mystery and wonder; Mr. Terfel did not provide enough of these qualities. He was rather obvious and blunt. Sometimes he can sing like a longshoreman, when singing like a silversmith would be better.

To conclude the first half was a group of songs by Roger Quilter. And, in Mr. Terfel's hands, they tended to be big and anthemic. They could have been subtler. But then, Mr. Terfel has those numerous virtues. And the royal assurance with which he sings is far from the worst thing in the world.

Accompanying this recital was Malcolm Martineau, accompanist to so many vocal stars. He did his usual apposite job. It is possible not to notice him, so seamless and unobjectionable is his playing. It has an air of just-rightness.

To begin the second half, Mr. Terfel sang the aria "Si tra i ceppi e le ritorte" from Handel's "Berenice, regina d'Egitto." He bulled his way through this aria, with scant refinement. Nonetheless, there was that royal assurance. And a concert aria by Mozart — "Io ti lascio, o cara, addio" — was sung with considerable refinement. Never on this evening was Mr. Terfel more musical than here.

There were four songs of Schubert, performed with much beauty and insight. Unfortunately, Mr. Terfel went in for funny pauses, maddening pauses, interrupting the flow of the music. For instance, he and Mr. Martineau would emphasize changes of key, in a too obvious, completely unnecessary way. And one song, "Litanei auf das Fest aller Seelen," was harmed by rhythmic flabbiness.

Mr. Terfel is not associated with French music, but he sang three songs of Fauré, and sang them admirably. "Le secret" would have been more potent if it had been a little straighter and faster. But no real harm was done.

And Mr. Terfel ended the printed program with traditional songs from the Celtic Isles. These were arranged superbly by a man (woman?) named Hazell — I'm sorry, but I have no further information. From both Mr. Terfel and Mr. Martineau, "Loch Lomond" was terribly moving. And Mr. Terfel proved that you don't have to be a tenor to sing "Danny Boy."

Throughout the evening, he talked to the audience, in an amazingly charming and deft way. Nothing was too long. And, in those Celtic songs, he had the audience participate: humming "All Through the Night" and belting out the refrain of "Molly Malone."

At encore time, Mr. Terfel sang the Christian song "If I Can Help Somebody," with sincerity and nobility. And then he waded into the audience, to sing Don Giovanni's serenade. In his stroll-about, he was hilarious and musical in equal parts. And I have never seen Carnegie Hall so in the palm of one man's hand. Afterward, he bade farewell with a sad Welsh tune.

With the death of Pavarotti, Mr. Terfel is the most likable singer on earth. By the end of Friday's recital, I was thinking, "Forget singers: He may be the most likable man on earth, period."