The celebrated bass-baritone on why he retired at 52, life after thalidomide, and his new career in Shakespeare and cabaret

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Thomas Quasthoff: ‘I’ve always said my disability is a fact, not a problem.’ Photograph: Andre Rival/Focus / eyevine

Your own career was kick-started by winning a top prize, and now you’re spearheading a competition for young singers, Das Lied. Given the pressures of these sort of contests, are they the best way to identify talent?

We wanted a competition that honoured the genre of Lied – almost the smallest form of performing music, with usually one singer and one accompanying instrument, the piano. We’re not looking for child stars but slightly older performers. In Lied you have to have experience of life. We set up the competition in 2009 – I’m happy to say the prize-winners so far are on their way to big careers – and entries are now being received for the 2015 prize.

Where should a newcomer to Lied start listening?

Start with Schubert, so simple, so touching – his songs fly through the sky like angels; Brahms, whose music is so strong and earthy; Schumann, a crazy guy who wrote the most beautiful endings to his songs.

You retired from singing in 2012, aged only 52. Why?

My brother died. With his diagnosis of lung cancer I somehow lost my voice. I went to the doctor and he could find nothing wrong. Nothing. I had an infection – laryngitis – which quickly went, but my full voice didn’t return. It was psychological. My brother and I were, you could say, abnormally close. He was my soulmate, my support, my best friend. We wrote three books together. Michael was a wonderful writer and we often presented song programmes together.

Your announcement caused a huge outcry – your many fans the world over, in some real and particular sense, are still in mourning…

I decided that if I wasn’t coming back at 100%, I wasn’t coming back at all. I was getting older – I am now 55. I have my disability. My back is not as good as it should be. I was sick of travelling. I asked myself how long do I want to do this? In this business, when you are travelling the world the whole time and having exciting encounters, relationships struggle or break up. I have a beautiful wife and a [step]daughter in Berlin. I wanted to be with them more.

Was this early retirement the worst that could happen to you?

No. Absolutely not. The worst was that my brother died. OK, to give up singing was not a decision like buying a car, but it was easier than I thought it would be. I had such support from my friends and my family. At first I thought: “Tommy, you are not in Carnegie Hall, you’re not in Vienna, Paris, London, Texas…” But that feeling soon went. I’ve done cabaret since childhood – my brother used to say I was born on the stage – and now I’m touring a show, singing, but not classical. I’m playing Shakespeare too – nearly 40 performances as Feste the clown in Twelfth Night!

How was your talent spotted? You were very young, little more than a baby?

Yes, there are some home videos showing me singing in tune and in time when I was barely three. By the time I was 13 it was clear I needed proper tuition. I did my first paid concert at 15.

But you couldn’t go to music school?

No I couldn’t, because at that time you had to be able to play an instrument. I couldn’t because I was a thalidomide child, but I was lucky to have a musical family. My mother played the piano. My father had studied singing. He wanted a career, but this was the 1950s, a sad time when the theatres had been mostly destroyed in the war. He had a beautiful bass voice but he wouldn’t have survived because he had terrible nerves. If you think a quite nice voice is enough for a good career, you’re definitely wrong.

You speak of your father’s difficulties as a performer, yet on your website you say of yourself: “I can’t wear tails on stage, I’m not much to look at, my body is small and inconspicuous, and I can’t make impressive gestures as I just don’t have the necessary extremities.”

Yes, but I have always wanted to perform, and I have always had support for what I do – friends, family, my brother, and now my wife and daughter. Of course sometimes I’ve thought I’m only succeeding because of my disability. That’s why people are turning up to see me. But if you’re singing at, say, London’s Wigmore Hall for the 10th time, you don’t get that particular bonus of looking like the Hunchback of Notre Dame any more. It’s the quality of singing people are judging. I’ve always said my disability is a fact, not a problem. I like it when my beautiful wife says to me: “Tommy, you are just as muscular as other men, only a little shorter”.

You may be aware of the recent row over the shape of a singer at Glyndebourne. It must infuriate you to hear such comments made about a singer’s appearance.

I think it’s disgusting. People wouldn’t have the courage to write such things about me. What would they say? He’s a singing dwarf, or what? What about Jessye Norman? What about Montserrat Caballé? They were everything as performers, but not small. If they can touch people, that’s all that counts. And they put immense hard work into it. That’s what I love about the States, which is not so true in Germany. In the USA they’re not afraid that hard work is rewarded. If you have three Rolls-Royces and five Porsches in your garage, good luck to you.

Was there a significant difference between your treatment as a thalidomide baby and that shown towards children in the UK [in 1972, after a long-running law case, £28m compensation was paid by the drug’s UK distributor, Distillers Company (Biochemicals) Ltd, now Diageo, with a further settlement of £20m to the Thalidomide Trust in 2009]?

The company which manufactured the drug, Grünenthal, only issued a public apology in 2012 – nearly 60 years late! Compensation was very small but it has just been increased significantly. I get help with my rent. But I have been lucky. I’ve travelled the world and earned a good living as a singer. I still have a professorship and am able to work, though less than before. For that reason, though I support all the action for compensation, I didn’t want to be a frontman for thalidomide. It must be those who really have had absolutely no choice but to rely on the tiny sums of money available whose voices must be heard.

You’ve always sung a wide repertoire. What music do you listen to, apart from classical?

Jazz, the old things like the incredible Miles Davies, but also Stevie Wonder, Ray Charles, I love their singing, though I never tried to imitate their style.

You once sang with Bill Clinton and Cherie and Tony Blair at a G8 summit. Is it true you’re getting into politics yourself?

Ha! I’m too old. It’s such a dirty business. No, no, no and no. Go tell them Tommy is teaching and acting and working with his voice and making fun of art in his cabaret, which by the way is called No Art! I have fun going on stage. I love to be close to audiences. I’ve had no choice. I had a talent. I had to share it – and I still do.

The 2015 Das Lied international song competition is in Berlin, 17-22 February