Occasions like this are not, strictly speaking, classical music concerts. I would say they are more entertainments on a classical theme. Both are equally valid ways for a singer to perform for their public. But they can be described in different ways and their success is judged by different criteria. Yes, the audience was in the Royal Albert Hall last night to hear Jose Carreras sing, but they were also there simply to be in his physical presence, to celebrate yet another time that he was able to stand before them, and, of course, to celebrate the holiday season. Their happiness was obvious. Standing ovations in this context have a different meaning to those at ordinary classical concerts. They are to say thank you for "being you" and for "being here". They are a reflection of the place that this singer has in so many hearts, hearts that just cannot bear to let him go. I honestly think that if Carreras had stood on that stage and sung until 3 am, the audience would still have begged for more.

That was stealing a line from My Fair Lady, and indeed this was one of the pieces sung by the soprano Lisa Milnes "I could have danced all night". Milnes bears an uncanny physical resemblance to the young Katia Ricciarelli. However, her voice is quite different, not as rich and dramatic as Ricciarelli's was. It has a 'creamy' quality, a bit like Kiri te Kanawa's, although Milne's voice at this stage in her career seems a lot lighter than Kanawa's. Because of this, she sings Broadway much more idiomatically than Kanawa . She has a lot of stage presence and really engages with the audience. She probably needs to work on her concert wardrobe a bit. The gown she wore after the interval was nearly as unflattering as some of the ones Olga Borodina wears.

No such problems for the men always resplendent in white tie and tails, and never a worry about making an awkward dress decision. While I'm on the subject of appearances, Carreras' hair was a beautiful natural silver grey. Paradoxically, it made his face look younger, almost boyish. Meanwhile the young Catalan tenor, Salvador Carbo, clearly had far more important things on his mind than the state of his attire. He has a very pleasing tenor voice, quite beautiful in places, and secure top notes. Up until now, his work has been mostly in operetta and bel canto roles like Don Pasquale and Nemorino.

But you can imagine what it must have been like for him walking out on the stage of the Royal Albert Hall with 3000 people waiting to hear him sing. (Even a veteran like Bryn Terfel admitted he was taken aback last year). Or perhaps it would be more apt to say, in the case of many in the audience, they were waiting for him to FINISH singing so they can hear the tenor they REALLY came for. Not only was Carbo sharing the stage with Jose Carreras, his solo was 'Mattinata', a song written especially for Caruso by Leoncavallo, and the duet was from La Boheme, 'O soave fanciulla'. Again, for many in the audience, Carreras IS Rodolfo and there is no other. Carbo was understandably very nervous, and it showed. It didn't appear to affect his voice too much, but it affected his body language terribly. He seemed almost frozen in 'O soave fanciulla'. Milnes tried her damnedest to engage him, but he was having none of it. One of the most erotic duets in all of opera, and he never even turned towards her let alone looked into her eyes. If someone were completely unfamiliar with La Boheme, I doubt if they would have realized that he was singing a passionate love song to the woman beside him. I suspect under less threatening circumstances, he can be a much more expressive singer. Incidentally, his duet with Carreras was 'The little drummer boy'. Their voices blended beautifully, the timbres complementing each other perfectly. I had never heard this sung as a duet for tenors. The effect was lovely.

Apart from 'Federico's Lament' Carreras sang no opera arias there were Christmas carols, Spanish and Neapolitan songs (some quite unfamiliar and written by mid 20th Century Neapolitan composers), some operetta, and Broadway). He took a while to warm up. His first solo, 'L'oreneta' lay too low for his voice, and the lower notes ended up being 'declaimed' rather than sung. But as the evening progressed, there were some moments of exquisite beauty of tone, and notes that rang out and seemed to hang in the air forever - windows into the past, and I loved them. The 'Canto del Volga' from Lehar's Der Zarewitsch was particularly beautiful. And the 'Core 'ngrato' that he sang as his last solo encore was, like last year, something which I found so intensely moving that I am unable to judge it objectively. He always looks so melancholy and lost in himself before he starts to sing it. It's not as if he is trying to put himself 'into the mood', but as if something about the song itself seems to make him sad. He looked absolutely drained when he finished it.

Carreras' 'Federico's Lament' drew enthusiastic applause, not only from the audience but also from the orchestra - much tapping of violin bows on music stands. It even woke up the oboe player who literally slept whenever he wasn't playing. He would put his instrument down, rest his chin on his chest, close his eyes, and off he'd go to the land of dreams. Maybe the poor man was still exhausted from the London Symphony Orchestra's recent Berlioz marathon. The percussionists and horn players looked pretty exhausted too. Nevertheless, David Gimenez (conducting the entire programme from memory no music stand on his podium) coaxed some wonderful playing from them, especially in the 'Adagio' from Kachaturian's ballet, Spartacus. His conducting style is very pleasing from a visual point of view. Fascinating to watch, in fact. His body language reflects the music perfectly without being over the top or distracting. He watches his players like a hawk, his eyes constantly darting from one section of the orchestra to the other, and he is very attentive to his singers.

At the end, I suspect the girls presenting the bouquets got a bit mixed up in all the excitement. There were 3 bouquets in rather sober colours which were clearly meant for Carreras, Carbo, and Gimenez, and one slightly larger bouquet, all pink roses and lilies, clearly meant for Milnes. But it ended up with Gimenez who looked suitably bemused. As did Carreras when someone from the audience shouted during the encores... "What are you going to sing with the soprano?" "I can't get no satisfaction", he replied without batting an eye. But his speaking voice is so refined and melodic that he made it sound like the title of a Donizetti aria. She blushed. He laughed and gave her that look of his. She blushed some more.

All in all a very enjoyable evening. And a little bitter-sweet too, hearing Carreras make music with the younger generations of singers, all the way down to the sweet voices of the boy choristers who sat spell-bound when he sang. Gimenez was only 8 years old when Carreras made his debut at the Liceu, and now he was conducting for him with the orchestra whose Principle Conductor, Sir Colin Davis, had been Gimenez' own teacher. A sense that the torch was starting to be passed on, but for me...

La sua gentil sembianza ò sempre in petto,
Lo sguardo, i vezzi, i palpiti, i sospiri;
Nel cor mi porterò l'antico affetto...