Many - most? - song 
                  recital recordings are one-composer offerings. That’s not necessarily 
                  a bad thing. Many - most? - live recitals are mixed programmes, 
                  normally building in a few larger groups of songs, either composer-related 
                  or nationality-related with some ‘lollipops’ thrown in at the 
                  end. This disc is of the latter kind and the programme is mouth-watering: 
                  a handful of well-known Sibelius songs (sung in German, though, 
                  and in one case French instead of the original Swedish); a group 
                  of French melodies by Massenet (seldom heard but lovely music), 
                  Duparc and Fauré; a trio of Spanish songs (Luna’s De Espana 
                  vengo actually an aria from the zarzuela El nińo judio); 
                  two Tchaikovsky songs most people know and finally three French 
                  chansons, two of them from Edith Piaf’s repertoire. So – a fine 
                  programme. Reading the track-list I looked forward to a varied 
                  full hour of lovely songs.
                Alas! The execution 
                  of them leaves much to be desired. Honestly I derived practically 
                  no pleasure at all from this disc. Ms Celine’s voice may once 
                  have been a pliable and sonorous instrument – and her list of 
                  merits endorses this supposition – but two years ago, when this 
                  recital was recorded, it had lost most of whatever qualities 
                  it once had. It is a thick unwieldy voice, afflicted by a heavy 
                  vibrato that quickly becomes a wobble, not only in the upper 
                  register and in forte. In fact she hardly sings a single note 
                  that is not distorted. The tone in itself is also hollow 
                  and uneven and intonation can be suspect, especially at the 
                  end of phrases. Even though it grieves me deeply to say so, 
                  large portions of the disc sound more like a parody than the 
                  seriously intended recital it – hopefully – was supposed to 
                  be, since behind the vocal deficiencies one can trace an honest 
                  and probing Lieder artist, who has gone to considerable pains 
                  to delve below the surface of these wonderful songs. Her phrasing 
                  is well judged and musical, she is careful about dynamics and 
                  it is obvious that the texts mean something to her, but – and 
                  there is the rub – her voice doesn’t obey her any more. 
                I won’t go into 
                  detailed analysis to prolong the pain but, to be honest, there 
                  are different degrees of deficiency. Sibelius’ powerful songs 
                  can stand a certain roughness and for instance the Finnish dramatic 
                  soprano Kirsi Tiihonen who made a Sibelius disc for Naxos a 
                  few years ago (possibly only released in Scandinavia) sings 
                  these songs with all the mightiness of an Isolde or a Brünnhilde, 
                  but she has her vocal resources under perfect control and her 
                  vibrato, once one has got used to it, only emphasises greatness 
                  of the songs, in fact closer related to operatic scenas than 
                  intimate Lieder. But treating the delicate French Mélodies in 
                  the same large-scale manner is like spreading colours on a large 
                  canvas with a palette-knife instead of using an etching-needle. 
                  Massenet’s songs cry out for a slimmer voice, for some elegance 
                  and fine lines. Ouvre tes yeux bleus, such a lovely song, 
                  is almost unrecognisable when hammered up like this. Henri Duparc’s 
                  Au pays oů se fait la guerre initially finds her in slightly 
                  better shape, more intimate and steadier of tone, probably recorded 
                  on a better day. She even sings some high notes piano and 
                  with little obtrusive vibrato, and the very last song, La 
                  vie en rose, taken very slowly, is actually rather touchingly 
                  done. Many other songs, however lovely per se, are unfortunately 
                  best forgotten in these versions. More’s the pity since her 
                  accompanist, Christopher Gould, is a brilliant pianist and on 
                  my note-pad I jotted down, while listening, “delicate” (Ouvre 
                  tes yeux bleus), “delicious intro” (La Paloma), “lovely 
                  prelude” (La vie en rose), to quote just a few. He is 
                  also recorded with exceptional clarity, while Ms Celine sounds 
                  occluded as though she was recorded in different acoustics, 
                  but it is most certainly the quality of the voice and not the 
                  microphones. 
                The inlay has short 
                  bios on the singer and the pianist and short, uncredited but 
                  illuminating commentaries on the music (printed in white on 
                  black of course – another black mark!) but no texts or translations.
                Pondering a bit 
                  on this disc I wonder why it was issued at all. Someone, at 
                  least, during the run of this production must have been aware 
                  that the end-result was less than flattering to all involved 
                  and should have called the whole thing off. I have tried to 
                  be as positive as possible, but I am afraid that the only recommendation 
                  I can give is: Don’t buy this disc!
                Göran Forsling