With her polished and winning 2001 collection of
Bach and
Handel arias, contralto
Stephanie Blythe proved that she could run with the best of the countertenors. Her follow-up effort, again with conductor
John Nelson and the
Ensemble Orchestral de Paris, leaves her lighter-voiced colleagues behind, diving into the rich late-romantic works of
Brahms,
Wagner, and
Mahler. The album also offers a lot for the musically curious, since the
Wagner and
Mahler selections are presented in unusual, but effective, instrumental arrangements by
Hans Werner Henze and
Arnold Schoenberg, respectively. Why, you might ask, would anyone bother to re-orchestrate either of those composers, both of whom were unusually skilled in that regard? It's a valid question. But the
Mahler in particular takes on a completely new dimension when heard in
Schoenberg's bold instrumentation, and
Henze shifts the sound world of the Wesendonck-Lieder toward the more intimate colors of the woodwinds, again shining a different light on the music itself. The
Brahms is presented in its original form, but with smaller instrumental and choral forces than usual. So, there is more to be found here than just a new voice tackling the same old repertory.
Blythe certainly has the goods for the job: her rich, flexible, and tightly focused voice is one in a million, reminiscent of
Marilyn Horne in many ways, but warmer and less pointed. She can sing with great intimacy and sheen, or ramp up the energy to soar above even the thickest textures. There is a pleasing mother-earth quality to her lowest range, and a silvery brightness to her top, meaning that she has any number of colors at her disposal. And at least in the
Mahler and
Wagner's "Stehe still!," easily the two most successful tracks, she displays a vivid interpretive instinct, and a willingness to put purely vocal concerns aside and bite into a text. But the
Brahms suffers from a lack of engagement, as do the more understated
Wagner songs, leaving the impression that these great works are simply being sung well, rather than being brought to life. It's especially disappointing in the
Brahms: when the chorus finally makes its entrance in the third section, representing the soothing sound of God's own psaltery, there is little sense of release or comfort, little catharsis for the lonely. Every "i" is dotted, every "t" crossed, but the animating spirit is missing.
Not that
Blythe bears all the responsibility, although she certainly could take more risks. The relatively small, distant sounds of the
Ensemble Orchestral de Paris and
A Sei Voci just don't have the warmth and presence to bring the best out of
Brahms, and
Nelson's conducting occasionally comes off as unassertive. And the entire album sounds like it was engineered for maximum balance at the expense of exciting highs and lows. There is a veil over much of the instrumental playing that seems unnatural, and which draws attention to itself. In the end,
Blythe's second album for Virgin shows that she may very well be the next great contralto. But she has room to grow artistically, and she needs better production from her label.