By Heidi Waleson

David Daniels sang his third season at the Glimmerglass Opera in Cooperstown, New York, last summer, and even surrounded by a fine ensemble cast in Handel's Partenope, he stood out like an illuminated manuscript in a row of paperbacks. In the role of Arsace, a romantically confused fellow torn between two princesses, every line that Daniels sang was shaped, colored, and ornamented with just the right snap or caress, creating a beautiful legato sound and also a touching, believable character. Add to that a distinctive timbre, volume, and agility always used musically, never for mere display, and you have an event. In his exquisite aria "Sento amor con novi dardi," as Arsace starts to feel his forgotten love rekindling, one could feel the collective shiver go through the audience.

The other element that makes Daniels stand out is the fact that he is a countertenor, the high male voice that used to be a tiny niche, esteemed in England, but associated with a small-scale style of singing. No more. With the new interest in the baroque repertory in opera houses all over the world, countertenors are in demand to take over the romantic and heroic leading roles like Gluck's Orfeo and Handel's Giulio Cesare that were originally written for castrati.

Countertenors with big sounds are starting to appear, but Daniels has more than just volume, and opera houses have taken note. When the singer, who is 32, appeared as Nero in Monteverdi's L'incoronazione di Poppea at Glimmerglass in 1994, it was his first important operatic appearance, one he got by sending a blind tape to Paul Kellogg, then general director of the company. Today he has major management, a record deal with Virgin Classics, and a non-stop international schedule. In April 1999, he will make his Metropolitan Opera debut singing Sesto in Giulio Cesare. For the fall of 2000, the New York City Opera offered him a new production of any opera he wanted. Critics in Europe and the United States speak of Daniels in such terms as "brilliantly assured," "positively incendiary," "breathtaking insight," and "the evening's most fabulous singer."

The son of two singing teachers, Daniels grew up in Spartanburg, South Carolina. He spent his summers at Brevard Music Center where his parents taught, and he listened to every great singer who came through. His admiration for singers like Montserrat Caballé, Leontyne Price, and Marilyn Horne developed early, and his goal was to be the world's greatest tenor. That ambition got him through Cincinnati College-Conservatory and into graduate school at the University of Michigan, but he was not satisfied with his tenor voice. Much more rewarding was singing party turns in what Daniels called his "other voice"-the high falsetto range, up to an A, in which he was wont to deliver "Pace, pace" ("I sang a great `Pace,' he recalls with typical deadpan humor) and other soprano arias for the entertainment of his friends. In the last semester of his master's degree, he made the switch from tenor to countertenor, and immediately felt he had done the right thing. He started to get stylistic coaching in the early repertory from experts, and after graduating in 1992, he started aggressively sending out tapes and making calls. "I would never have been like that as a tenor, but I had confidence in this voice. I knew that if I could get people to hear me, they would listen and take me seriously."

People did. Daniels got covers and small roles at the Los Angeles Opera and did some oratorio work. He caught the ear of Martin Katz, accompanist extraordinaire, who introduced Daniels to Lawrence Tucker at CAMI and Marilyn Horne and who now performs with him in recitals. His Poppea performances at Glimmerglass, stunning in their musical stylishness and dramatic intensity, were followed in 1995 by the title role in Handel's Tamerlano, in which Daniels brought down the house with a staggering performance of the coloratura aria "A dispetto." ("Anyone who thinks that the sound of a countertenor is by definition emasculated should go hear David Daniels blaze through Tamerlano's astoundingly difficult aria of revenge in Act III," said The New York Times.) As Arsamene in Stephen Wadsworth's production of Handel's Xerxes, first at the Boston Lyric Opera and then in a sold-out run at the New York City Opera, Daniels showed that he could play the lyrical lover as well as the roulade-spitting tyrant.

European opera houses were quick to make contact. Daniels sang Didymus in Handel's The odora at Glyndebourne with William Christie in 1996 (Peter Sellars' controversial production had this early Christian martyr strapped to a gurney to die by lethal injection). He also sang Sesto in the Royal Opera Giulio Cesare and Nero in Poppea at the Munich Staatsoper last season. His most recent Nero, at the San Francisco Opera, however, will be his last on stage for a while, though he would very much like to record the role. Daniels now has his eye on two new Handel parts: the warrior Rinaldo, now scheduled for Munich in 2000, and the title role in Giulio Cesare, which he will sing for the first time in February 2000 at the Florida Grand Opera. Daniels is also doing recital work, regularly venturing beyond the traditional countertenor repertory, and he will open the 1999 Edinburgh Festival with Saul, sharing the stage with Bryn Terfel and Charles Mackerras.

For those who can't catch him onstage (and that would be a shame), Daniels will soon have a recorded presence. A disc of Handel arias, performed with Roger Norrington and the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment, will be released in the United States to coincide with his Met debut. He also has a BMG Classics recording of Scarlatti cantatas with Nicholas McGegan and the Arcadian Academy, which was released at the time of the chamber group's fall tour with Daniels. In February, he records a solo disc for Virgin with Martin Katz, and next summer, Handel's L'Allegro with John Nelson. Several complete opera recordings are under discussion as well.

In the bucolic surroundings of Cooperstown, Daniels was enjoying the show, competing in a "Partenope" vs. "Falstaff" basketball game (the singers played, the stage crew members were cheerleaders; "we beat them by eight points"), and looking forward to a few weeks off after 18 months of nonstop work. His quick accession to stardom has brought its own pressures. "I can see how someone could go absolutely crazed," he says, but he is trying to keep perspective. He had received a notice about the Met rehearsal schedule and "a few butterflies started to appear," but he says the immensity of that next milestone hasn't really hit him yet. In any case, he says, "I'm trying to think of it as just another production."