How many singers have ever undertaken a recital of this length and variety, and executed it with such consummate mastery? Very few, I think. On this particular evening in New York, Schwarzkopf seems to have been in sovereign voice, evincing an enviable control over every aspect of her art. The results disarm criticism and remind us older listeners what a Schwarzkopf event could be like when she was in her prime. None of her studio recordings of the time quite prepares one for the sheer joy in singing and in interpreting shown here simply because, as ever, the presence of an audience (albeit an unruly one that claps inordinately and sometimes during postludes) produces from an artist that extra frisson, of immediacy and spontaneity. Besides, Schwarzkopf appears to have been out to wow a New York audience that hadn't yet completely capitulated to her (Bing was still blocking her Met debut).
Schwarzkopf sets forth on her 100 - minute marathon with readings of songs by Mozart that precisely mirror the mood of each, her tone carefully differentiated between the sorrow of the first two, the teasing of the next pair. Then, as in each group that evening, there is an encore introduced by the singer—and what an encore! ''Come scoglio'', no less, sung with even greater verve and determination than on the recently reissued Karajan/EMI set of a couple of years earlier.
The six Schubert songs are a compendium of Schwarzkopf's achievement in that field with once more an amazing variety of tone-colour to which is now added vivid word-painting—the contented melancholy of Der Einsame, the near-tragedy of the Rosamunde Romance, the joy of Seligkeit, above all the desperate longing of Gretchen, which surpasses even the soprano's version with Fischer (EMI (CD) CDC7 47326-2, 2/87). Here, as throughout, the singer's quick vibrato is sometimes used to heart-stopping effect.
Schwarzkopf's account of the Strauss songs are not that different from her well-known studio versions, except that in Wiegenlied she seems to manage a more refined legato, spun on a half voice, than anywhere else. The two comic scenes have the familiar Schwarzkopf archness, admired or not according to taste.
As ever, the Wolf group is the crowning glory. Here, more than anywhere, Schwarzkopf's highly individual art finds its zenith of achievement. It would be tedious to catalogue the many insights, just get the CDs and listen for yourself. I would only emphasize that in every case the interpretation vouchsafed here is superior to the singer's studio performances and each is a classic to be savoured, with the underrated George Reeves as a most perceptive but never too prominent partner.
Then there are the final encores—a performance of Der Nussbaum that's sheer magic, a perfect evocation of whispered anticipation, three lighter pieces that became something of a 'must' at any recital by this artist (a keen change of voice between the youth's and the girl's in Vergebliches Standchen), and after that—incredibly—a Handel aria that shows Schwarzkopf as fresh and full in tone after more than an hour and a half's singing as she was at the start, and indicating an enviable command of Handelian line even though the approach may be too romantic for current tastes. If I could have in my collection just one representation of this soprano's art it would have to be this one.
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