San Francisco Classical Voice

Following an indifferently sung Mozart opener, “Per pietà, bell'idol mio” (Out of pity, my beautiful idol) that revealed dry patches in her voice, Netrebko, giggling shyly and shifting about a good deal, announced that she and Runnicles had decided to sing “Ilia” in honor of her first collaboration with “Maestro,” instead of the programmed Mozart concert aria, “Voi avete un cor fedele” (You have a faithful heart). “Ilia” turned out to be Ilia's aria, “Padre, germani, addio” (Father, kinfolk, farewell), from Idomeneo, an aria beautifully suited to Netrebko's dramatic temperament. However, she sang too forcefully this early in the program; some of the subsequent offerings seemed to suffer for it, and sounded a little strained.

Without any announcement of a further substitution, Netrebko launched into “Zueignung” (Dedication), instead of the programmed “Befreit” (Freed) as the first of the Strauss group. This warhorse, though passionately sung, was overdone; whereas the light-hearted “Ständchen” (Serenade) was notable for one delicately, perfectly sung line, “Mit Tritten, wie Tritten der Elfen so sacht” (With steps as soft as those of elves). Netrebko frequently muffled initial consonants — for example, “Träume” (dreams) in “Wiegenlied” (Lullaby), in which she managed, nevertheless, with Runnicles' help, to create an enchanting line.

The absence of any viable low register was evident in “Die Nacht” (Night) but the beauty of the song came through; and roughness of voice was more than compensated for by the singer's excellent command of the Straussian style in “Morgen” (Tomorrow), whose overlapping, wreathing lines made their mark, as did a perfect pianissimo on “wogenblauen” (blue-waved). Netrebko knew how to sing the final line of the song, “Und auf uns sinkt des Glűckes stummes Schweigen” (and upon us will fall joy's wordless silence), even if she couldn't manage the low note on the final word. Runnicles (excellent partner!) took her near-inaudibility as inspiration for an exquisitely tranquil postlude, one of many gorgeous musical touches provided by this fine musician. “Cäcilie,” the last song of the group, was sung breathlessly and with gusto.

After the intermission following the satisfying Strauss meal, Netrebko reappeared in the same red/black/white mode but different dress, a black strapless fringed affair into which she seemed to have been poured as into a mold, as the fashion writers might say, and a treacherous mold at that, given the singer's frequent writhings, which gave her the look of a black fish bending in the middle. A bulky red choker around her neck, red shoes, and the white flower, secure this time, completed the second-act picture, no less distracting than the first (the abundant decolletage, the slipping, sliding stole needing constant readjustment). The concert singer's first dictum of stage decorum — do not distract the audience from your singing — repeated by countless voice coaches, was thus flouted, twice, with aplomb, but it was all part of the package that is Anna Netrebko.

Among the Rachmaninoff group, three justly famous songs, “Siren” (Lilacs); “Zdes' khorosho” (How fair this spot) — graced with a perfect pianissimo on the words “da ti” (and you); and an especially anguished “Ne poy, krasavitsa” (Never sing to me again) were well executed. But a couple of late songs proved, to me, the most satisfying of all the program. The “Son” (The Dream) from the opus 38 songs, the last that Rachmaninoff would write in Russia before his departure, was a marvel of beautiful harmonic piano wreathings and doodlings around the singer's line, each part having nothing to do with the other but somehow, entrancingly, reinforcing it. And finally, the long, scena-like “Dissonans” (Discord), opus 34, builds and releases, builds and releases, and pulls the listener along as if the disintegration of the love affair depicted were happening right before the eyes — or ears. Both performers were magnificent in this dramatic tour de force, Runnicles giving everything that could be desired to the piano's remarkable inventions, and Netrebko giving full measure to the varying histrionic requirements. To be Russian — that is, passionate — and unabashedly young seemed all the fuel necessary to ignite this smoldering piece.

It was difficult, in the lingering effects of the final Rachmaninoff song, to turn the attention to the first encore, Delibes' sprightly “Les filles de Cadiz” (The Girls of Cadiz), the more so because it wasn't clear at first that Netrebko was singing in recognizable French. But her performance sparkled, as did Runnicles' at the piano. The low notes of the evening's concluding encore, Puccini's “O mio babbino caro” (O my beloved papa) from Gianni Schicchi, were mere vibrato, senza tone, but the singer's operatic temperament swayed the senses and warmed the heart.