CD:
Julian Bream, lute, and Sir Peter Pears, vocal: Heavenly Love, Earthly Joy: Elizabethan Lute Songs by John Dowland and Others

I am a hopeless Anglophile, have been virtually all my life, despite that incident in the 19th century when my Irish great-great-grandfather renounced, with good reason, his fealty to Queen Victoria.

I am also fascinated by the meaningful coincidence, synchronicity, a concept that still remains vague to me despite reading a fair amount of Carl Jung and attending a workshop on the topic. Just about the only thing I've taken away is that you must decide what meaning to attach to a pair or series of coincidences.

All this leads to something of a leitmotiv running through my weekend. While I was getting ready to go out Saturday, Classic Arts Showcase happened to play a clip of "Jupiter" from Holst's The Planets, as conducted a few years back by Sir Andrew Davis for the Prom at the Palace, a concert celebrating Queen Elizabeth II's golden jubilee. Some of you may be aware that the slow, majestic passage in "Jupiter" is a tune called Thaxted, which is the melody for the hymn "I Vow to Thee, My Country," a favorite of Diana, Princess of Wales. Naturally I dropped what I was doing to pause and listen.

Fast-forward to Sunday morning, when, with worse than the usual number of distractions on my mind, I went to Mass at St. Matthew's. Even on a good day the most riveting homilist has his work cut out trying to hold my attention, but it's worse still in this post-Epiphany, pre-Lenten no man's land where we currently live. And winter has arrived after every previous reprieve.

I was in a particularly bad frame of mind by the time we got to the closing hymn. Then the organist began playing, and I jumped. It was "O God Beyond All Praising," set to the tune of -- yes, once again -- Thaxted. I fought back tears, particularly through the second verse.

Then hear, O gracious Savior, accept the love we bring,
that we who know your favor may serve you as our king;
and whether our tomorrows be filled with good or ill,
we'll triumph through our sorrows and rise to bless you still:
to marvel at your beauty and glory in your ways,
and make a joyful duty our sacrifice of praise.

I took it as a sign connected to my Anglophilia and decided I'd finally see the film adaptation of Alan Bennett's The History Boys, set in the Britain of the '80s, a time when Maggie Thatcher was, as Martin Stephenson put it, still "waltzing in her middle-aged heels" -- and coincidentally the one and only time I've visited the U.K.

But fate wasn't done with me yet. The guy at the ticket booth revealed that The History Boys are still not to be seen at Dupont Circle, thanks to continuing technical problems.

That bit of news propelled me into the Dupont Circle Olsson's, where I found a happier surprise: Acorn Media has released Oliver's Travels on DVD. Back in the '90s PBS's Mystery! series ran this little gem, a combination road trip, mystery, and romance featuring an utterly charming Alan Bates, beautifully matched with Sinead Cusack as the policewoman who accompanies him on a journey across Britain to solve a disappearance. The story is graced by decidedly eclectic musical selections and beauteous British locations. Bates and Cusack are backed by fine supporting cast, including Scottish character actor Bill Paterson.

After the DVD browser, I headed for classical new releases. Last week I had more or less decided to cover the latest Naxos disc of William Alwyn's music ("Elizabethan Dances" and other works), figuring it would suit the citywide Shakespearean festival, for starters.

No such luck, as we have only the older Chandos recordings and not the Naxos. But among the new releases I found something a good deal more intriguing: RCA's newly remastered version of Heavenly Love, Earthly Joy: Elizabethan Lute Songs by John Dowland and Others. The recording, which had been out of print, features the great guitarist Julian Bream, here performing on lute, and tenor Peter Pears, Benjamin Britten's partner in music and in life.

In addition to the ever familiar works from Dowland and Thomas Morley, Heavenly Love, Earthly Joy contains works by the less well-known Thomas Ford and Philip Rosseter. There is nothing alien or outdated about its themes: love and lust, coupling and estrangement, longing and despair.

I never tire of Elizabethan music and am familiar with a number of the conceits, themes, and texts of the songs and poetry of the era. That said, it was startling and more than a little unsettling to read the texts of Heavenly Love, Earthly Joy, as well as related historical and biographical materials. In particular, the spiritual and psychological exhaustion at the heart of "Come, Heavy Sleep," apparently written while Dowland was in exile due to political intrigue, have the resonance in 2007 that they surely possessed in 1597.

Pears is of course known for his performances of Britten's works, often in roles expressly written for him, though his repertoire embraced early music and a good deal more. I've grown used to hearing soprano interpretations of Elizabethan music (by Custer LaRue of the Baltimore Consort, for example, or Emma Kirkby), but it is bracing and somehow poignant to hear a tenor's reading, especially with such a distinctive voice.

This is definitely an album to consider for your early music collection. Finding Heavenly Love, Earthly Joy takes away some of the sting of missing Paul O'Dette's free concert at the National Gallery the other week.

The clincher was when I saw the sticker on the CD and my jaw dropped. It read: "The recording that inspired Sting's chart-topping CD Songs from the Labyrinth."

I'll leave you a moment to slap your foreheads at the thought that Bream and Pears require a link to Sting as a selling point, or that the latter artist is a good match for Elizabethan music. Then I must point out that while Sting headed up the Police (the music group, not British bobbies), one of his seminal albums was entitled Synchronicity.

Britain. Two different Elizabethan eras. Patriotism. Meaningful coincidences.

Bryn Terfel with Sir Charles Mackerras and the Scottish Chamber Orchestra: Tutto Mozart

I always like to say that in opera, the tenor gets the girl, but if it's Mozart, all bets are off and the baritone has more than a healthy chance. This is taken to its extreme in Don Giovanni, in which the bass-baritone gets the girl and then another girl and another girl and then... well, you know the opera.

The larger point, of course, is that Mozart composed a good deal of memorable music for the bass-baritone voice, especially with the varied characters in his operas and Singspiele. No Mozartean baritone need get stuck in the middle of a stage like some grand but rather dull singing tree, bellowing out dark tones. Mozart's bass-baritones get to scheme and seduce and fight, and no one goes home bored.

The Welsh bass-baritone Bryn Terfel has had some notable triumphs in Mozart, with a debut in Cosi fan tutte and subsequent successes in the title role in more than one production of Le nozze di Figaro. He has even sung the lead in Don Giovanni, though, to tell the truth, the guy seems more at home as the righteously angry Figaro or one of the scheming lovers in Cosi.

Terfel's latest recording, Tutto Mozart, draws together the threads of some of those earlier triumphs and offers a tantalizing sampler of roles he has not yet done on stage, plus some Mozart rarities that you're unlikely to encounter otherwise.

For example, Terfel performs Rudolf Moser's version of the Mozart fragment "Warnung," or "Maenner suchen stets zu naschen" (loosely translated as "men are always looking to nosh"). It's a straightforward little tune containing the advice given by parents throughout uncounted centuries: men are after one thing, and it ain't in the cookie jar. I can report that Terfel approaches this selection with appropriate gusto and a sense of fun; musically speaking, he's licking his lips.

Speaking of sweetness, it goes without saying that Terfel also seems a natural for Papageno, a role he hasn't yet performed on stage, or Leporello, the guy in possession of Don Giovanni's not so little black book.

But can he take on the somewhat darker roles -- the count in Figaro, for example, or Don Alfonso in Cosi? Don Giovanni is already part of his repertoire, and he can certainly turn on the charm, as he does here in "La ci darem la mano." Sit back and listen to what he does with key scenes and varying moods of Mozart's works.

Throughout this recording I was struck by what a beautifully expressive instrument Terfel has in that voice. By turns it summons up rage, tenderness, humor, bewilderment, passion -- no doubt everything Mozart intended.

And in case you've been wondering, Terfel is indeed partnered on several tracks. Wherever the music calls for a Dorabella, Papagena, Pamina, or Zerlina, the soprano Miah Persson and the mezzo Christine Rice step in, with enchanting results.

Sit down, pour yourself a cup of Kaffee mit Schlag, and savor Tutto Mozart. Decadent, yes, but youdeserve it.

By the way, between recording albums like this and preparing to sing Wagner's Wotan at the Met, when does Bryn Terfel have time to eat? Pass the Linzer cookies, please.

Leon Fleisher: The Journey

Perhaps there are some people who plot out their lives methodically and hit every goal, every stopping point along the way: a secure childhood, formation of real interests and reputation during high school, academic success in college and perhaps graduate school, career, marriage and family, then a retirement filled with the pleasures of travel and grandchildren, though not necessarily in that order.

Then there's what the rest of us experience as real life: a series of stops and starts, disappointments, undeclared war with our failing bodies, and occasionally the intervention of historic and cataclysmic events. You didn't plan on being drafted, or receiving that diagnosis at age 35, or seeing all that you have built systematically or suddenly swept away. Anyone reading this won't require a second to produce examples from recent history.

And when the obstacles mount or the losses accumulate, are we swept under, or do we react with resilience, inventiveness, perhaps defiance, and assume an unexpected place in history?

Over 40 years ago a young pianist named Leon Fleisher saw the life he'd built virtually destroyed outright: focal dystonia cost him the use of his right hand, and with it his career in the concert hall -- this after studying with the great Artur Schnabel, this after a debut at age 16 with the New York Philharmonic.

About two years ago Leon Fleisher gave an address at the National Press Club, speaking with remarkable candor of his life and career, taking questions from the audience, filling in the gaps for anyone who had missed the genuine drama of his life. What he had to say caused me to marvel that he had had the strength to continue.

The story doesn't end with Fleisher's disabled right hand, or even with understandable anger and despair. Years followed in which Fleisher mastered a left-handed repertoire, became a music educator and conductor, and sought answers when a diagnosis, let alone a treatment, for his mysterious ailment eluded him.

Today Fleisher has not only returned to both the recording studio and the two-handed repertoire; he's rewarded listeners with two well-received CDs, Two Hands and The Journey.

Raising awareness as well as money, he has been frank about the diagnosis and treatment of dystonia (Botox, believe it or not). And how many pianists do you know who have made the National Institutes of Health website and been honored by the American Academy of Neurology?

So how does the new CD sound? There's both intimacy and energy, briskness and melancholy in this performance. We are talking about a man in his 70s who has nearly two centuries' worth of musical geniuses informing his training (Remember, Schnabel actually knew Brahms!), and yet he kept me on my toes -- Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Chopin, even Stravinsky!

It is fitting that the latest disc is called The Journey, as it captures the myriad emotions of loss, anxiety, delight, and acceptance within baroque, classical, romantic, and 20th century compositions. I understand he drew this repertoire both from his past, previously planned recordings, and his current wish list. The Chopin Berceuse and the Beethoven Bagatelle in particular are not to be missed.

The bonus interview CD contains a familiar voice: that of Bob Edwards, formerly of Morning Edition on National Public Radio, now of XM Radio. His soothing tones saw us through countless daily rituals, drudgery, frustration, and sorrow, even those moments when we thought our hearts would break -- possibly just the voice to interview Fleisher, no?

As for the interview itself, expect news and insights, along with a healthy dollop of Fleisher's wry humor.

May you find the answers on your journey, or at least begin to ask the right questions.

• Thomas Quasthoff with Sebastian Weigle/Staatskapelle Dresden: Consider, My Soul: Sacred Arias


• Simon Rattle/Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra with Karita Mattila and Thomas Quasthoff: Shostakovich: Symphonies 1 & 14

All right, then. The confetti is out of your hair (or at least off the top of your head), the new calendar is up, the hangovers have subsided, and the bills are paid and the leftovers eaten -- well, that we should not expect.

But the men of the Vienna Philharmonic have bellowed, "Prosit Neujahr!" at their New Year's Day audience one more time, and we can resume what we were doing before the holiday season descended.

Or can we? In these confusing times, perhaps a new plan is in order.

Resolutions for 2007:

1. Everybody needs to start learning the lyrics for "Auld Lang Syne" NOW, preferably with authentic Scottish pronunciation, all the better to be ready for next Hogmanay. (Look it up.)

2. Casual listeners must remember that "O Fortuna" from Carmina Burana has nothing to do with either The Omen or devil worship, no matter how many times that choral work is trotted out in movie trailers.

3. Let's declare a moratorium on the label "the next Pavarotti." I'm on my knees here.

4. Today is the time to start hunting for more ways of means of keeping classical music as accessible and alive to American audiences as possible, particularly to the young. That also goes for jazz, folk, bluegrass, and other supposedly non-commercial types of music.

5. Welcome your little bluebirds of happiness wherever you find them. For example, rumor has it that WETA may resurrect its classical programming. In further encouraging news, The Washington Post put Il Divo on its "Out" list and Thomas Quasthoff on its "In" list. Is this a great city or what?

Quasthoff, a bass-baritone, is not only a formidable singer but a music educator back in his native Germany. I recall seeing the guy interviewed during a break on PBS's Live from Lincoln Center and being blown away his charm and presence, to say nothing of his fluid, idiomatic English. No doubt much of that comes from his years as a radio host.

But it's his musicianship, currently on display in two very different albums, that will draw you back again and again.

The first, more accessible album is Consider, My Soul: Sacred Arias. These are sung prayers of wonder and rejoicing, as well as lamentation and pleading, from vocal works by Bach, Handel, Haydn, and Mendelssohn. Quasthoff is masterful with the Bach and Handel, and there's palpable energy, even sprightliness to his reading of Haydn. Then he astonishes with his sensitive, even intimate rendering Mendelssohn's "Es ist genug."

There's a further surprise in the program: two African-American spirituals. If Quasthoff seems a natural for German cantatas and oratorios, his ease with and feeling for "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" might catch you by surprise.

Thus spiritually refreshed, contemplate the next project: Simon Rattle and the Berlin Philharmonic's live recording of Shostakovich's 1st and 14th Symphonies, with soprano Karita Mattila and our man Quasthoff taking the vocals in the latter work.

The pairing of the 1st and 14th Symphonies is a little audacious: the teenaged Shostakovich's maiden effort paired with a song cycle about death. The first possesses energy, passion, even humor. The second reveals an unsettling beauty and a disturbing range of emotions -- demanding for both Mattila and Quasthoff, but they acquit themselves well.

Quasthoff has built a repertoire of essential recordings for a top baritone -- Schubert's Die Winterreise, Bach cantatas, Mahler song cycles, and of course romantic lieder. But just when you're getting comfortable he switches gears, as with the Shostakovich above and this spring's jazz album (Yes, really). Watch and listen.