Anna Netrebko, Ramon Vargas, Erwin Schrott, Royal Albert Hall, review I don't know how to put this politely, but it must be said. One big reason that this glamorous concert speedily sold out the Albert Hall was that its line-up marketed not only three of today's best opera singers, but three of today's best-looking opera singers - luscious Russian soprano Anna Netrebko, seraphic German tenor Jonas Kaufmann and smouldering Uruguayan bass Erwin Schrott (who also happens to be married to La Netrebko). Then Kaufmann cancelled because of health problems, and his place was taken at short notice by the Mexican Ramón Vargas. He is an estimable tenor, but even his mother would be hard pushed to describe him as a GQ pin-up. As the dream of hearing beautiful music sung beautifully by beautiful people dwindled, so the event seemed to lose much of its point and become just another goody bag ripe for transfer on to DVD. So what was the candy? The first half seemed torpid, with a largely nocturnal atmosphere. Schrott self-indulgently crooned some tango, while Vargas sounded tight and occluded of tone in Quando le sere from Luisa Miller. Netrebko was even more disappointing in Adriana Lecouvreur's first aria, revealing an inability to float and an incipient beat when attempting to sustain anything above mezzo-forte. Only the glorious trio from I Lombardi sparked any sort of musical fire. There was more oomph after the interval. Netrebko's bolero from Vespri Siciliani was clod-hopping and Vargas's Una furtiva lagrima inelegant, but Schrott delivered a zarzuela number seductively, and Vargas relaxed and opened up in a Neapolitan song. Then Netrebko showed her mettle in a glorious bit of operetta nonsense by Kalman, before joining her hubby in The Merry Widow's waltz. The programme came to a rousing conclusion with a rip-roaring rendition of the final trio from Faust, sung in some language they had the cheek to call French. The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra played neatly under Claudio Vandelli, with the Philharmonia Chorus contributing Va pensiero and the humming melody from Madama Butterfly. Schrott, lean and lithe in a tightly cut designer suit, made great play for the ladies - a strategy with which poor Vargas, a butterball, could not compete. There was a lot of clapping, waving and flashing of cameras in an audience graced by several Russian oligarchs and their molls. It was all pretty cheesy, but quite good fun. Sum, Linbury Studio, and King Priam, Brighton Festival, review