They slip out of view so easily, these singers who not long ago lit up our horizons whenever a new recording or a personal appearance came in prospect. Of Frederica von Stade we became particularly fond because she brought to everything, but particularly the French repertoire, a personal touch which was partly a matter of timbre, partly of style, partly a fusion of both, evoking a kind of affectionate sadness: exactly the mood, for instance, of “Absence” in Les nuits d’ete or of “L’indifferent” in Sheherazade.
Both of these major works she sings beautifully. Just occasionally the familiar patina of wear appears on the voice in the louder and higher passages; sometimes a little more refulgence and fullness would transform the wished-for climax into what it just misses being. But most is fine: fine in coloration (dark as the lagoon, white as the tombstone, in the Berlioz), in sensitivity to mood (the mystical yearning, visionary brightness and serene faith of the Blessed Damozel), and in the caress (an exquisitely gentle portamento in the “seduisante” and the forlornly wistful invitation “Entre” in the Ravel). The orchestra do justice to the masterly textures, and balance with the voice is achieved at the expense of neither. Two footnotes: this Sheherazade was originally coupled with a programme of songs by Ravel which deserve to emerge from the vaults before too long, and in future reissues of this kind it would be good to find somewhere in the booklet dates of recording, not just “This compilation 1997” or whenever.
JBS