The repertoire looks sensible: nothing too high or noisy, much of it taken from mezzo roles, all new to the Scotto discography and intrinsically attractive additions too. So we hope for the best and are inclined to give early doubts the benefit of respect for a distinguished artist. But no: at first it is a matter of enjoying what is sung fairly quietly and in the lower half of the range, trying not to bother too much about the harder, more unsteady, less generally obedient notes, until the sequence becomes oppressive. If an allegro were allowed to intervene, if the adagios and andantes were not quite so slow, if for once the flickering shadows came and went with some pause left for a straightforward, firmly drawn phrase or two, it might be possible to recommend the record. As it is, a few special 'collector's' moments can be collected. The Perichole solos ought to head this list, but the champagne is flatulent without sparkle, the sentiment thick without French lightness. A lovely pianissimo (''que ton coeur s'ouvrira'') in the Sapho aria, an affectionate diminuendo at the end of Massenet's Elegie, the touching effect of an indrawn breath at the end of the verses in Mignon: these and a few more of their kind repay the listener.
There is also the pleasure of hearing Dulcinee's song with harp in Don Quichotte, a graceful and rarely salvaged piece. And perhaps, as with many of these 'recitals' (inverted commas because the programme arrangements rarely seem to be shaped with a continuous recital in mind), the items would impress more favourably if taken on their own, when a distinction would be a sense of inwardness, the concept of aria as soliloquy. But I am trying hard, and know that nothing (well, almost nothing) would induce me to listen straight through the record again.
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