The cover – if nothing else – is a collector’s item: the diva is pictured‚ superimposed on a fragment of ancient sacred script looking for all the world like a cross between Suor Angelica’s vision and Richard Strauss’s Salome. Decca has given Gheorghiu’s collection of sacred hits the New­Agey title of Mysterium‚ but ‘Voice of An Angel in a Strapless Frock’ would have done just as well – and might have sold even more copies. Apologies if this sounds cynical‚ but the Angela Gheorghiu who entranced us all – well most of us – in the Royal Opera’s 1994 production of La traviata under Sir Georg Solti is becoming increasingly difficult to take seriously as a classical artist and I find this collection of musical religious kitsch hard to stomach. It’s surely sincerely meant‚ because Gheorghiu has dedicated the album to the memory of her sister – ‘Per Nina’ is inscribed in gold letters in the halo that surrounds the soprano’s head on the cover pic. (The Giannetta on the Alagnas’ Decca recording of L’elisir d’amore‚ Nina Gheorghiu tragically committed suicide – ‘a cruel fate‚’ according to Alexander Gerdanovit’s liner­notes‚ for one ‘wrenched...too soon from this world’.) In the light of these facts‚ I wish I could be more enthusiastic‚ but this sequence of popular sacred songs‚ preceded by four dirge­like Romanian prayers in schmaltzy orchestrations by Chris Hazell is surely not directed at those‚ like me‚ who believe Gheorghiu to be the possessor of the most individual soprano voice before the operatic public today‚ and‚ at her best‚ an artist to be reckoned with. Certainly the plangency of her instantly recognisable soprano affords some pleasure in Puccini’s Salve Regina (arranged by the conductor and Gheorghiu’s compatriot‚ Ion Marin) and Mascagni’s Ave Maria. This is the music that shows the soprano’s ductile‚ lyric soprano to best advantage. But Adam’s O Holy Night‚ the ‘Pie Jesu’ from Fauré’s Requiem‚ Brahms’s Cradle Song‚ Mendelssohn’s On Wings of Song‚ Schubert’s Ave Maria (these three also orchestrated by Hazell)‚ and Bach’s ‘Quia respexit’ from the Magnificat are barely differentiated‚ stylistically‚ from the Puccini and Mascagni. And‚ ex­cept when she is singing in Italian‚ and her native Romanian‚ the words seem to mean little to her. The recording recesses the Romanian National Chamber Choir‚ Madrigal‚ to the point where they sound as if they are singing in a different room and acoustic from the soloist. Obviously one for 100 per­cent devotees only. I can’t imagine any serious music­lover or record­collector deriving much pleasure from it – Granny might like to find it in her Christmas stocking‚ though.