Davóne Tines is, by all accounts, redefining what it means to be a classical singer. But to simply categorize him within the confines of “classical” feels increasingly inadequate. The American bass-baritone, currently undertaking a year-long residency at London’s Barbican Centre, isn’t just expanding the technical and aesthetic boundaries of his art form; he’s interrogating its very foundations, and challenging the assumptions that underpin it.
Tines’s ascent has been remarkably swift. Named Musical America’s Vocalist of the Year and recipient of the 2024 Chanel Next Prize – an award recognizing international contemporary artists – he adds the 2025 Harvard Arts Medal to his growing list of accolades, joining past winners like architect Frank Gehry and novelist Margaret Atwood. What sets Tines apart isn’t merely his vocal prowess, demonstrated in performances ranging from the Dutch premiere of Kaija Saariaho’s Only the Sound Remains to his Metropolitan Opera debut in John Adams’s El Niño, but his insistent questioning of the structures that support and often limit artistic expression.
“Davóne Tines may have the voice of an opera singer, but he talks like a philosopher,” observes a sentiment echoed in discussions of his work. His thought process isn’t spontaneous; it’s deliberate, often unfolding in extended silences as he carefully constructs his responses. He’s not afraid to employ complex terminology – “preclusively,” “valences,” “reified” – to articulate his ideas, or to frame his artistic explorations within the language of abstract thought, even describing his performances in terms of “a quadratic function.”
Currently preparing for a double-bill of works by Kurt Weill and William Grant Still at Detroit Opera, Tines approaches each project with a similar level of intellectual rigor. He’s equally comfortable performing spirituals and gospel music with his band, the Truth, as he is tackling the repertoire of “capital O opera,” though his engagement with the latter is, he emphasizes, “strictly occasional.” For the Detroit Opera project, focused on Black American love stories, he’s willing to “retake the mental baggage” associated with the operatic tradition. But what keeps him at a distance the rest of the time?
“Many cultural artefacts and practices that are upheld by institutions over time tend to be exclusionary because the populations, largely white and predominantly wealthy, have created systems and foundations for propagating their own perspective or interests,” he explains. This isn’t a rejection of the operatic canon itself, but a critique of the power structures that have historically shaped it and continue to influence its presentation.
The question of whether he’d be interested in performing iconic roles like Mozart’s Don Giovanni or Wagner’s Wotan elicits a nuanced response. “I’m open to all of those possibilities. It’s always been dependent upon context.” He pauses, then adds, “You know, maybe there can be an assumption that I don’t like the operatic canon?” The issue, he stresses, isn’t his personal preference, but rather the lack of a continuous reevaluation of the canon’s value, and relevance. “What’s too often missing for Tines in opera and classical music is an investigation into why treasured artworks remain valuable and what they may say today.” He’s not interested in simply being “slapped into someone’s production of Don Giovanni,” but in engaging with the text through “a very intentional process of evaluation.”
“Intentionality” is a recurring theme in Tines’s artistic philosophy. His Barbican residency, he explains, is about more than just selecting repertoire; it’s about exercising agency and defining his engagement with the world. He identifies two guiding principles: the importance of how something is constructed, as much as what is constructed, and the belief that “everything is some sort of metaphor for everything else.” He sees art as a space where ideas are “transferable and scalable.”
His first Barbican concert, dedicated to the work of Julius Eastman – a Black, gay composer, pianist, and singer who defied easy categorization – exemplifies this approach. Like Eastman, Tines occupies a space between genres and disciplines, identifying himself as a “creator and opera singer.” The performance was a collaborative effort, featuring Tines alongside a lineup of musicians and dancers, with the program curated by cellist Seth Parker Woods. It was, Tines says, about “representing a point of view [and] a way of working.”
His second residency concert, featuring his devised work Concerto No 2: Anthem with the BBC Symphony Orchestra, further illustrates his vision of “lateral” artistic agency. Commissioned by the LA Philharmonic, Tines subverted the traditional commissioning process by requesting that the orchestra commission him, personally, to create a piece. “Singers,” he points out, “aren’t usually granted such a role.”
Anthem brought together composers Michael Schachter, Caroline Shaw, and Tyshawn Sorey, along with poet Mahogany L Browne, to create a concerto for voice and orchestra that explores the question of national identity. Inspired by the glamour of the Hollywood Bowl, Tines issued his collaborators with detailed instructions, aiming to “do something big and shiny – like a magic trick.” That trick, he explains, was transforming “The Star-Spangled Banner into Lift Every Voice and Sing (the US’s Black national anthem) over the course of three concerto movements.”
Reflecting on the current political climate in the United States, as the nation approaches its 250th anniversary, Tines offers a surprisingly direct response: “I hope it can become a place where true empathy is exercised. I think if we all were better able to identify with and respect the struggles and lives of others, we would make worlds that were better for ourselves.”
Davóne Tines will perform with the BBC Symphony Orchestra at the Barbican, London, on , and will perform Tyshawn Sorey’s Monochromatic Light (Afterlife) at St Giles’ Cripplegate, London, on .
