Over a period of 70 years Strauss wrote songs that are marvellously grateful for the soprano voice. Edith Wiens is poised midway as a Straussian, more a Marschallin than a Sophie, nearer an Ariadne than a Zerbinetta. The mellifluous grace that is required for those long, flowing melismas comes easily to her, especially in quieter songs, where there is a gentle sheen on the tone. Asked to find more volume, the voice is apt to lose its quality and some of the climaxes are prone to an uncomfortable vibrato. The result is a programme of predictable strengths and weaknesses: wherever Strauss is in a dreamy mood, the listener is lulled contentedly on wafting lines of vocal beauty, but being awoken by music at a higher dynamic level is likely to be a less pleasurable experience.
That may explain why Wiens and her sympathetic accompanist, Rudolf Jansen, open with a group of night songs and lullabies. The opening lines of Meinem Kinde and the later, better-known Wiegenlied are soft, nicely shaped, untouched by hardness or angularity of any kind; whereas Muttertandelei, a Schwarzkopf favourite that asks for a quickness of spirit, is dull by comparison. The next group, a posy of songs about flowers, includes a particularly attractive Malven, sinuous and weightless, but still warm in tone. The second half of the disc introduces a number of favourite Strauss songs and in general Wiens is disinclined to stamp much personality on them, leaving an attractive but docile impression in Allerseelen, and weaving a soft-focus haze around Standchen. Jansen opens Morgen with an easy songfulness in the accompaniment and Wiens typically responds with rapt vocal colours, but little use of the words. Given that there is a good measure of beautiful singing on the disc, it is a shame that the final “Habe Dank” in Zueignung should sign off in a rather unlovely fashion.'