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A Great Singer in Her Vocal Autumn

Steven Winn on January 22, 2015
Anne Sofie von Otter, Angela Hewitt

Playing to an appreciative, large audience that included members of the Swedish royal family, the Stockholm-born mezzo-soprano Anne Sofie von Otter was in animated high form Sunday at St. Mark's Lutheran Church.

Dressed in a deep blue gown, she smiled and pouted, pranced and swooned, peered unto a haunting middle distance, and flung an arm out in moments of triumph. Her golden blond hair added a youthful sheen to an artist nearing 60.

Joined by pianist Angela Hewitt in this San Francisco Performances recital, von Otter demonstrated just how much personal presence can mean in an art song program. Her warmth and likability, brightened by a lively sense of humor, can readily win and hold an audience's attention. Von Otter is one of those performers who seems to inspire not only affection but a rooting interest.

Wanting things to measure up musically, unfortunately, does not make it so. This was a spotty evening, undercut by the limitations of von Otter's voice, some wayward programming and a few indifferent solo contributions by Hewitt.

The best came later, in the portion of the program devoted to French composers. (The first half of the program was filled with songs by Beethoven, Schubert and Brahms.) Maybe von Otter sensed her strong suit, adding back in three French numbers — one by Reynaldo Hahn and two by the little-known Cécile Chaminade — originally scheduled and then scuttled. “You’ve been such a good audience,” she said.

As soon as von Otter hit the gentler, more liquid lines of the French lyrics, in Hahn’s “Le souvenir d'avoir chanté,” a voice that had too often sounded brittle and inflexible before intermission loosened up and began to flow. Gabriel Fauré’s “Le secret” was especially fine, murmurous, reverent, quietly penetrating. Three songs by Debussy unrolled with long, lyrical lines and none of the sometimes discernible breath control issues evident in the first half of the evening.As soon as von Otter hit the gentler, more liquid lines of the French lyrics, a voice that had too often sounded brittle and inflexible before intermission loosened up and began to flow.

Six songs by Chaminade, a cultishly popular composer called “our little Mozart” by Bizet, made for an extended soft landing for the night. Folksong-like and often strophic in character, the selections ranged from charming to cloying to pattering. But von Otter gave herself over to them, most notably in “La tombeau des Naïdes.” Her steely declaration that “The satyrs are dead, and the nymphs too” sent a shiver through the house.

Nonetheless, more Fauré or Debussy and less Chaminade would have made for a stronger close. Some modest encores, including that Charlie Chaplin chestnut, “Smile Though Your Heart Is Breaking,” offered very marginal added value.

Earlier on, the recital got off to a slow start with four Beethoven songs. Von Otter’s slightly granular voice lacked the youthful bloom that “Maigesang” required. And she failed to muster the sustained gravity of “In questa tomba oscura.” She did have some fun with a comic song about a well-dressed flea, twitching and itching her way through it. Von Otter, at that moment, seemed like a natural storyteller for listeners of all ages.

The Schubert section opened with the famous “Auf dem Wasser zu singen,” all shimmering, watery light. This account, delivered with a strangely dry sameness of tone and emphasis, lacked depth and reflection. Then, encouragingly, von Otter seemed to find her stride in a skillfully phrased and cohesive “Im Abendrot.”

Hewitt, whose accompaniment was mostly responsive and well considered, proved distractingly assertive in a Schubert song about dusk that von Otter delivered with handsomeness and poetic restraint. As for the pianist's own solo turns, neither her murky reading of Schubert's G-flat Major Impromptu nor an oddly disjointed Brahms Intermezzo, Op. 117/1 merited inclusion. Hewitt rallied in two colorful Emmanuel Chabrier selections. Like von Otter, she reserved the best for the second portion of the evening.

A trio of Brahms songs that brought the first half of the program to a close elicited erratic assets and liabilities. No sooner had von Otter set the listener swimming through a delicate but firmly wrought “Wie Melodien” than she landed too harshly and insistently on the summons to sleep (“Schlafe”) in the following song.

And so it went, in this alternately moving and static recital. Von Otter is a great talent who must draw on diminished vocal resources as she ages. She can still summon light and wonder, even as the shadows can’t be ignored.