the new king of the proms

When critics write about Jonathan Lemalu's voice 'sumptuously honeyed', 'richly creamy', 'like slow melted chocolate' they make him sound like a culinary delicacy. And when this opulently rounded creature appears as a half-naked Papageno in Mozart's The Magic Flute at Glyndebourne, they go into gourmet ecstasies. Even clad in a sober suit at the Wigmore Hall, he casts a golden glow. But so he should, for what he brings to our rain drenched shores and will bring to the Royal Albert Hall in the Nation's Favourite Prom this weekend is a touch of South Seas sun.

His family hail from Samoa, and the first thing that becomes apparent when he begins to talk with a gentle Kiwi twang is that we mispronounce that country's name: the accent is on the opening syllable. Moreover, his own first name is Fa'afetai, meaning 'thank you'.

'My middle name is Jonathan,' he adds, 'which is Hebrew for "a gift from God". I was given those names because I was born with a hole in my heart, and it closed up naturally. But Jonathan was an easier name to use at school it meant I didn't get teased and, therefore, didn't have to beat anybody up.'

Big and burly in training gear plus a bright red baseball cap 28- year-old Lemalu could easily be taken for a sportsman. And chanting the haka before mashing his opponents on the rugby field was how he blended singing and sport in Dunedin, the New Zealand town where he grew up and the place he still calls home. But proper singing was part of his life from the start. His factory-foreman father, who had big sideburns and sang with a rock band, was known as the Pacific Island Elvis.

Young Jonathan chose to sing in choirs at school, in community centres and, above all, in church. Samoan culture, he says, is strongly religious.

'And it's also about respect for tradition, for your extended family, based on the teachings of the Bible. I loved singing Bach, but I also loved running riot with my friends.' What sort of voice did he have at that time? 'Nothing much, it was woolly, but it had potential. I was distraught when it broke early, as I had aspirations to sing big soprano solos.' But only in choirs, and only for pleasure. 'I didn't think of it as a job, because where I'm from, nobody did. You couldn't make a living as a singer in New Zealand.' He decided to study law. Why? 'I was fascinated by it. I was argumentative, and I was told I was good at it I could make the most wrong things sound right, which is what a lawyer's job is. Getting that law degree was still is the highlight of my life, because it didn't come easy to me. I worked my proverbial off to get good marks.' Not even winning New Zealand's premier singing contest could dissuade him from staying to finish his studies, despite blandishments to come and seek his fortune in London.

Now that he's here he plans to buy a house in London soon he's making it big, both as an opera singer and recitalist, which he insists is his greatest love. 'Because that's where you're most exposed just you and a piano. For some reason, I get a kick out of the danger. When you're in a large house with a big orchestra and a padlock on your mouth as I am when I sing Papageno it's hard for people to tell if you're singing well.

On stage I like to live as dangerously as I can. I don't want my performance to sound manufactured, I want it to seem like the thoughts are just coming into my mind.' How does he feel when he hears himself described as the next Bryn Terfel? 'Pretty damn good, because that man is my favourite singer.'

Lemalu has never shared the stage with his hero never even met him partly because there's usually need for only one voice like theirs at a time. 'I'd like to just hang out with him. He's got the vocal prowess I hope to achieve, and he's charismatic, down-to- earth, focused. There's a big heart, and a humility that shows through in his music. His voice is seamless from top to bottom. That's what good voices are.' But he insists he doesn't want to replicate the great Welshman: 'I want to be the next Jonathan Lemalu.'

Lemalu classes himself as a bass-baritone.

'And that means neither a bass nor a baritone.

I can sing the notes for Don Giovanni [one of Terfel's big roles], but it's not just the vocal thing, it's the character of your sound.

Right now, at my age, with my character, Giovanni's servant Leporello is my natural role. I play common folk, or ignorant people like Papageno, or naively ambitious people because that's the way I am myself.

A young singer, working hard and very ambitious.' His voice trails off as he scans the female talent settling at the table next to ours, then he yanks his mind back to the job in hand. 'No, I must focus Where was I? Yeah, er, why rush off and play grownups? Why not enjoy the fact that you're young, and do young roles? When I hear 25-year- olds whining because no one wants them for King Philip, why? There are plenty of 35-year-olds who can no longer play Papageno, so do it while you can.' Lemalu may be classical music's new shooting star, but he's determined not to follow in the footsteps of opera's Posh Becks, Roberto Alagna and Angela Gheorghiu.

'If I start giving off airs of being pretty damn special, I hope someone will get on the phone and say, "Look, mate, calm down." Those diva stories are just sad.' When the money starts rolling in, he'll see his family right, and he's spending his latest award on lessons in French and German.

'For now, I'm working on my package, learning the ropes, establishing myself as a good young singer. Success isn't going to come just because you do a good interview with the Evening Standard.' Still, he's done that pretty well, too.

The Nation's Favourite Prom, Sat 17 Jul, Royal Albert Hall, Kensington Gore, SW7 (020-7589 8212). Jonathan Lemalu Roger Vignoles: Songs By Brahms, Faure, Finzi, Schubert (EMI Classics) is available now.

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