This is one of those records – and I certainly haven't found too many of them – where the promise of something exceptional in the first phrases is fully borne out by all that follows. The Frauenliebe cycle is sung by a character, as vividly defined as any Fiordiligi, Senta or Mimi in opera. It is not the singer's own character, nor for that matter is it quite the singer's voice as we knew it, say, in her Grieg recital or her role in Gluck's Orphee or Stravinsky's Oedipus rex. Von Otter is one of those rare artists who can adapt the voice and yet be true to its natural identity. In these songs of Schumann (not only in the Frauenliebe) she seems, unselfconsciously, to find a new voice-personality for each and still to confine herself to what lies naturally within her scope, forcing nothing and falsifying nothing.
The woman of the 'life and love' starts out as a girl. ''Seit ich ihn gesehen'' has a shy, private rapture which then grows bold for ''Er, der Herrlichste von allen'', frank in its enthusiasm, buoyant in the spirit of its rhythm, radiant as the voice rises to its highest notes. ''Ich kann's nicht fassen, nicht glauben'' is fully outgoing, an expression of utter commitment, and the smile is always in the voice. The engagement-ring induces maturity, the girl now a woman. The wedding-day preparations, confiding of motherhood, dandling the baby, and then the emptiness of life at the husband's death: all are caught as in reality and in character. It is a completely absorbed and absorbing performance.
The generous selection of songs which follows works its spell partly by contrasts. The pastoral sweetness of ''Des Sennen Abschied'' gives way to a grim, predatory ferocity of utterance in ''Der Schatzgraber'', and the big Brahmsy sweep of ''Lust der Sturmnacht'' throws into relief the wistfully tender mood of ''Dein Angesicht''. In these and in all else von Otter lights upon the right tone, and the right shades of that tone. She enacts the rapid turn-up of the cards (and the dozing mother's awakening) with marvellous vividness in ''Die Kartenlegerin'', just as in ''Vom Schlaraffenland'' she catches the fun of a trip to the land of cakes and buttered buns. The programme is well planned, too, rounded off with ''Rose, Meer und Sonne'', sketching the melodies of Frauenliebe und -leben with which the recital began.
Occasionally the piano is recorded too heavily or too prominently for the voice. At one point (''Er, der Herrlichste'') I thought the rubato in the piano part excessive. But generally the sympathy and unanimity of singer and pianist are all that could be desired – as is the recital in toto. No comparisons: it doesn't matter how much of Schumann you already have on the shelves, this will still be a prized addition.'