Tosca, Royal Opera House, London<br></br>Bryn Terfel/Malcolm Martineau, Barbican, London<br></br>Classical Opera Company, Wigmore Hall, London

It's an old man's voice, but a good one

If, like me, your interest in grand opera began after 1990, you could be forgiven for thinking there was nothing more to Luciano Pavarotti than girth, tax returns, an incredible discography, and those lustrous letterbox high-notes. Surely, you'd think, no-one could take this man seriously as a romantic hero? Yet despite the back-slapping vulgarity of the whole Three Tenors shtick, it was impossible not to respect a singer who made so much of what he still had. Forget the top Bs. What was – and is – distinctive about Pavarotti's singing, be it Nessun Dorma or Volare, was his phrasing and his use of consonants: that gleeful bite that could transform the most laughable lyric into something immediate, involving and persuasive. Which indicates something quite heartening. Unlike many a younger Cavaradossi, Pavarotti is not an artist who simply rests on the laurels of an unusually beautiful voice. Which is why, some 39 years after his Covent Garden debut, he can still make a compelling account of that role – even if those laurels now resemble a dried flower arrangement.

Dramatically and musically speaking, it would be crazy to pretend that Covent Garden's eleventh revival of Franco Zeffirelli's 1964 production makes for a cohesive Tosca. No amount of closing one's eyes and thinking of Italy can convince you that this is a powerful portrayal of love in a vicious police state rather than a stately lap of honour for a 67 year old superstar. In the title role, Carol Vaness does her best to reclaim centre-stage; singing often very beautifully but out-Vogueing the entire staff of Madam Jo-Jo's during Acts II and III. As if in reaction to Vaness's high-camp, a sullen Sergei Leiferkus does his best to drain Scarpia of seductiveness or subtlety, mangling his words and showing little interest – sexual or otherwise – in either co-star. And this is how Pavarotti's became the most subtle and engaging performance on stage. With Scarpia and Tosca so busy in their different attempts to steal back a little of the limelight, all he has to do is stand still, act noble, and sing. Which is all anyone wants him to do. The top notes are still in place, the diction still beautifully direct, the sweetness in the middle honeyed and complex. Only moving between registers proves difficult. Thus Recondita armonia and E lucevan le stelle, for all their thoughtfulness and sensitivity, have the compressed, regretful air of remembered – rather than actual – rapture and despair.

Pavarotti's Cavaradossi has already been dubbed a farewell performance, though heaven knows how many open-air concerts he might do before retirement is officially announced. Yes, this is now an old man's voice – no doubt about it – but the age of the voice has not quite overwhelmed the maturity of the artistry. So is this an event I will tell my grandchildren about? Probably not, but I'm glad I went. Another Covent Garden victory lap from Pavarotti seems highly unlikely now, as does another revival of this Tosca. Arrivederci to one, then. Goodbye to the other. Having squeezed past the bouncers yet again with the biggest of names, let's hope that this is that production's final outing.

Tenors aside, Bryn Terfel now seems the most likely candidate to inherit the title of world's favourite opera singer. He's cuddly, he's talented, he has a stunning voice, and, at the age of only 36, he's already massively successful. So why does he want to sing lollipops so soon in his career? I'd assumed that last weekend's Barbican recital with Malcolm Martineau might be offered as consolation to those who couldn't get tickets to the new production of Don Giovanni. Instead it was aimed at a completely different audience.

As I'll be reviewing Terfel's Don next week, I won't devote too much space to this recital. But I am curious as to how the desire not to let "intellect act as a barrier to enjoyment" – as Terfel puts it – became a desire to lie down and show your tummy like Classic fm's mascot labrador. I'm also curious as to how Schubert's greatest hits (including a divine Meeres Stille, an artful Heidenröslein, and a cluttered Erlkönig) became warm-up material for Vaughan-Williams and Quilter. Quilter! With the exception of Jake Heggie's The Moon is a Mirror – newly commissioned for Terfel but conservative enough to have been written 60 years earlier – it seemed as though Terfel was performing the same recital programme he would have sung as a Guildhall student (though I doubt the examining panel would have gone a bundle on either the medley of Welsh Folk Songs or his second encore). Remarkable! Such talent. Such a voice. What a waste. And, since you asked, it was Flanders and Swann's hilarious classic, The Hippopotamus Song, complete with audience participation.

Who knows what might happen were some bright young thing to incorporate Funky Moped into his or her lieder recital one day, but somehow I doubt they'd get the Wigmore Hall's audience to sing along. Normally speaking this audience expresses its approval in a rather reserved fashion. On Tuesday night, however, they just might have done it. Why? We'd been treated to that rare, marvellous thing: an evening of beautiful, unusual music played with obvious, unashamed intelligence.

The Classical Opera Company have had their ups and downs over the last few years, suffering from uneven productions and a lack of definition in the strings. Last week that fuzziness was dispelled by the kind of vivacious playing that lifts early classical style from its customary air of rococo inanity. Conductor Ian Page's pacey programme of music from Mozart's childhood sojourn in Chelsea contextualised Mozart's emerging voice with those of the composers he heard; Arne, Abel and JC Bach. Under the brilliant leadership of Lucy Russell, COC's strings glowed – a glow matched by the ravishing upper-register of soprano soloist, Gillian Keith. Triumphant debut or triumphant return to form? A triumph either way.

a.picard@independent.co.uk

'Tosca', Royal Opera House, London WC2 (020 7304 4000) tomorrow