This
might be my favorite Dawn Upshaw recording since Knoxville: Summer of 1915 and The Girl With Orange Lips, two
of her most imaginative compilations. Voices of Light
certainly shows the singer in effortless form, and the sensitive
keyboard contribution from Gilbert Kalish is a joy. Throughout
the program, my listening notes are peppered with “wow.” The
program is anchored by soft-hued French sets from Debussy and
Fauré, and the latter’s La Chanson d’Ève might be the
highlight of the entire recording. Upshaw’s creamy tone is
perfectly suited to these songs, her feather-light touch capturing
the essence of this composer, and again, I can’t praise Kalish
enough. His support is the kind that makes the word “accompaniment”
sound inadequate; he’s much more of a partner with Upshaw, right
up there with her.
The
dreamy Debussy is often recorded and is perhaps the best-known
set here. I’ve enjoyed versions by Renée Fleming and Barbara
Hendricks, just to cite two, but I like Upshaw’s feeling for
these as much as any I’ve heard. Upshaw’s purity is an asset
here, especially in the languidly alluring “La Chevelure.”
In
between are songs by Messiaen and a single one by Golijov, which
provide good textural breaks between the two more ephemeral
bookends. The Golijov, which translates as “Moon, Colorless,”
has the flavor of a luminous folksong, and shows Upshaw in great
empathy with this idiom as well. (Those who respond to this
may want to investigate her recording of the Canteloube Chants
d’ Auvergne.) It is much more simple, harmonically
speaking, than the items on either side of it – rather canny
programming.
Upshaw
shows a great affinity for Messiaen,
as anyone who heard her in Saint
François d'Assise (recorded live
from the Salzburg Festival on Deutsche
Grammophon) will know. The five selections
here are flooded with the composer’s
typical ardor and religious ecstasy,
especially the “L’Escalier redit,”
in which the singer and pianist intertwine
“headlong in the ecstatic fulfillment
they will find in death.” But of
the group, Upshaw saves the best one,
“Résurrection,” from Chants de
terre et de ciel (1938) until
the very end. In a thrilling ascent,
she reaches the song’s rapturous climax:
Parfum, porte, perle, lavez-vous
dans la Vérité/Perfume, door, pearl,
wash yourselves in the Truth!
Upshaw’s clear, natural-sounding delivery
suits this music perfectly, and I
know I’ll be returning to this often.
The
recording is intimate and clear, totally enhancing these artists’
work, and Nonesuch has provided its usual finely designed packaging,
as well as complete texts and insightful notes by Michael Steinberg,
including an introduction from Ms. Upshaw. For lovers of the
singer, of Mr. Kalish, or the program, this is a light-filled
gift indeed.
Bruce
Hodges
Dawn Upshaw (soprano),
Gilbert Kalish (piano)
