Kowalski's great contention is that the male alto voice can be a passionate, dramatic instrument; and the present record, like its predecessors, goes far to prove the point. In the opening numbers, the aria from Johann Hasse's Artaserse, there is urgency in the voice to match that of the music. When Orpheus exclaims ''Quel tourment dechire mon coeur'', he clearly means it. Rinaldo's first aria (''Cara sposa'') expresses a similar sense of loss, but in the 'B' section he adds defiance, and this is well caught as is the gentle reproach of ''Cor' ingrato''. The second of the solos from Ascanio in Alba veers in mood between desperation and reassurance, and again it is a splendidly expressive art that Kowalski brings to bear in the long passage of recitative. The plaintive ''Ah, non turbi il mio riposo'' from Gluck's Telemaco becomes a strongly emotional utterance, and the song from Linda di Chamounix (sung here a tone lower than usual) is given a more emphatic pathos than in most performances by Italian mezzos.
The voice itself sounds rather rounder and deeper in quality than previously. Comparing his singing of Orpheus's aria with his ''Che faro'' in the complete opera (Capriccio, 1/90), one finds a brighter, slightly fresher voice in the earlier recording (also a brisker tempo, with embellishments for the Vienna version, but not, as here, for the Paris). Technically, he is for the most part highly accomplished: very fluent, for instance, in the runs of ''Di tanti palpiti'', and preserving a steady line in the simple lament which ends the recital.
The recorded sound may not please all tastes: the voice is very close, the orchestra sometimes a little ungainly in weight. The booklet, which contains its full share of misprints, gives no information about the dramatic context of the arias.'