From understudy to leading man: Tenor Baek Seok-jong's 'Vincerò'

It was a poisoned chalice. In 2022, when world-renowned tenor Jonas Kaufmann was unable to perform due to lingering COVID-19 symptoms, the Royal Opera House in London offered Baek Seok-jong a last-minute replacement role — Turiddu in "Cavalleria rusticana."

"For me, it was quite literally a poisoned chalice of an opportunity," he said.

The timing could not have been more fraught. Baek was already in the middle of his debut run at the Royal Opera, covering the role of Samson in "Samson and Delilah" — a chance that had come his way only after tenor Nicky Spence suffered a leg injury. Cover roles rarely reach the stage; they exist as insurance against the unexpected, called upon only when the principal is suddenly unable to perform.

"That week I had three scheduled performances of 'Samson and Delilah,' yet I spent more than four hours every day studying the new score with a coach," Baek recalled. "Even now, I think of it as the most adventurous and nerve-racking challenge of my life."

From Samson to Turiddu, the man who had stepped in for Kaufmann announced himself properly on the world opera stage. The Metropolitan Opera's casting director saw "Cavalleria rusticana" and the following year gave Baek full, official casting as the lead in both "Nabucco" and "Turandot." He calls that moment "a turning point in my career."

"Looking back, none of it was coincidence," he said. "Because I had prepared thoroughly, I was fully and completely able to deliver."

The lyric spinto tenor who has captivated the Metropolitan Opera in New York and the Royal Opera House in London now brings his Prince Calaf to Korean audiences in "Turandot" (July 22–24, Seoul Arts Center) — the very role he says suits his voice best.

The artist Baek Seok-jong is today was forged by a decision that defined his life: leaving behind a promising career as a baritone to become a tenor. Even seasoned figures in the music world who had watched him for years were skeptical. World-renowned baritone Thomas Hampson urged him not to make the switch; tenor Lee Yong-hoon, by contrast, encouraged it. Caught between conflicting counsel, Baek spent a long time in conversation with himself.

"At the time I was already active as a baritone, and many of my teachers and those around me tried to talk me out of switching," he said. "I respected their views, and for a while I buried the dream of becoming a tenor deep inside."

The mentor who became his "decisive turning point" was tenor Lee Yong-hoon. Baek describes their encounter as being "like a stone dropping into a still lake, sending out ripples that changed the direction of my life."

He was working as a young artist at San Francisco Opera when he set everything aside and resolved to walk the path of a tenor. Almost immediately after he made that decision, the COVID-19 pandemic broke out. "For many people it was a time of standing still," Baek reflected, "but for me it was a time of preparation that God had allowed."

The long tunnel of the pandemic became, for him, a period of silent discipline. While concert halls went dark, he headed to the practice room instead of the stage. Inside a Methodist church in San Francisco, he faced empty pews and worked on his voice, wrestling with it day after day for more than a year.

What sustained him through that long period of self-refinement was advice Lee had given him. Taking his first steps as a tenor, Baek still carries those words close to his heart. Lee had told him: "You probably won't need a teacher. Just sing naturally, the way you speak, but open your body fully and connect the sound. It will take one to two years to find your own voice."

"'To become a great tenor, three things are required: first, talent; second, ceaseless effort; and last, the hand of God' — those words from teacher Lee Yong-hoon have become the compass of my life."

For more than a year and a half, Baek studied new vocal technique and searched for his tenor sound — retuning the instrument of his body to place a brilliant upper register atop his rich, deep lower tones. "The conviction I gained at the time was not that I had to become a tenor," he said, "but that the tenor voice was the path that would let me use my voice to its fullest."

After Baek's tenor debut in "Samson and Delilah" proved a success, Royal Opera director Oliver Mears told The New York Times: "Switching from baritone to tenor happens from time to time, but what makes Baek Seok-jong's debut so remarkable is that he had never once stood on an opera stage as a tenor."

In just four years, Baek has become a tenor the world's stages are calling for. Beyond New York and London, major opera houses in Berlin, Florence and Vienna have come seeking him. His repertoire continues to expand, but "Turandot" holds a special place — he considers it the role that fits his voice best.

Puccini's "Turandot" can be summed up as the triumph of love over an ice-cold princess. Among recent Korean productions of the opera, the most talked-about was the Seoul Metropolitan Opera's staging featuring Baek's mentor Lee Yong-hoon. At its heart is "Nessun Dorma" — None Shall Sleep — one of the most celebrated arias in all of opera.

Baek plays Prince Calaf, who stakes his life on winning Turandot's heart, and with it the right to sing that aria. "Calaf is not a hero who knows no fear," he said. "I think of him as someone who, despite feeling fear, pushes his choice through to the very end. That is precisely what makes his courage feel so human."

He went on to interpret Calaf as "a man who believes that love and hope still exist, even inside Turandot's frozen heart." That belief, Baek says, is the greatest force driving Calaf forward.

His reading of Calaf's cry — "Vincerò!" ("I will win!") — is equally fresh. For Baek, the word is neither a victory cry over a solved riddle nor an expression of masculine ambition.

He describes the aria as "a human declaration of holding on to hope until the very end, overcoming despair and fear." His own journey has been a series of trials and challenges large and small, and so the aria's confession mirrors his life.

"Looking back, there were times when my own life felt like walking through a pitch-black tunnel," he said. "But as I kept going, one step at a time without giving up, I found that at the end it was not darkness waiting for me — it was brilliant light. The belief that if you keep walking without losing hope, no matter the circumstances, you will always find the light: that is the message I want to share with the audience."

His reason for singing is no different. His voice carries not the ambition of conquest but a hope that refuses to break — a comfort directed not inward but outward. "If, through my voice, I can be a small light and salt for this age and give someone courage and hope," Baek said, "that is the greatest reason I sing."