If Ian Bostridge were a heldentenor, he would be Klaus Florian Vogt. No -- not exactly. If a tenor had all the youthful vulnerability, pinpoint delicacy of word, phrase & dynamic, and purely lyrical (sometimes plaintive) tone of, say, Bostridge (Polenzani? McCormack? -- insert name here), but within a heroic stage persona and instrument that projects easily over a full Wagner orchestra for all of Lohengrin... If he sang it as gracefully and authoritatively as a Schumann lied...
That would be impossible, right?
Honestly, I couldn't have been more amazed if this Vogt had ridden in on an actual swan. Nor, I think, the rest of the stunned and explosively loud audience.
I don't know what Vogt will have done in five years, or ten, or twenty. But I'm glad I witnessed this night's marvel with my own ears.
UPDATE (8:45AM): I've slept a little & read some Opera-L notices, and I still can't believe what I heard last night. It's still clear in my ears, though.
Incidentally, if the post does not make clear -- this was Vogt's Met, New York, and American debut.