Mezzo-soprano Aigul Akhmetshina has sung her fair share of notable female characters—femmes fatales like Carmen (Carmen) and Dalila (Samson et Dalila), and others more innocent like Angelina (La Cenerentola) or Olga (Eugene Onegin). Her newest project with Antonio Pappano on piano, Mujer Fatal, is a multifaceted commentary on womanhood.
The program ranges well beyond the operatic repertoire, and the mix proves attractive. It opens with the title track, written specifically for Akhmetshina by Elena Roussanova and recorded here for the first time. Both singer and pianist express the impassioned side of the femme fatale, but Akhmetshina adds an unmistakable fearlessness as well. In the song’s middle section she gives us glimpses of its opposite: vulnerability.
The two featured songs from Montsalvatge’s Canciones negras speak to Akhmetshina’s technique: nothing overtly flashy, but a clarity of pitch and diction that carries No. 1 (track 2). Her breath control in No. 4 (track 3) yields long, luxurious legato lines. The songs are well-paired, setting yearning against dreaming.
Bésame mucho (track 6) is the most recognizable of the non-classical offerings. Jonathan Palmer Lakeland’s arrangement of Consuelo Velázquez’s bolero affords the singer a spotlight that she maximizes: her phrases are lithe and organic, and even when the piano introduces a more structured rhythmic accompaniment, she upholds the sultry air that is central to the song.
Ravel‘s Pièce en forme de Habanera (track 8) is one of the most impressive tracks for its expressive and technical range. As with many of his works, the difficulty is hidden in the finer details, and such is the case here: the melismatic passages are tightly controlled yet come off as spontaneous. Several moments of pointed interjection from the duo surprise not because they are out of place, but because they push past the expected emotional intensity.
Given the minimalism of some of his best-known piano works, Erik Satie and his Je te veux (track 9) reveal a very different side, one that the duo portrays effectively. The music here is decidedly emotive, at times even rhapsodic. Through the drama, we can appreciate the persuasiveness of Akhmetshina’s sweeping vocal lines.
Tchaikovsky‘s None but the Lonely Heart (track 11) possesses a similar earnestness and gives Pappano a chance to shine. Compared to some of the other songs, the keyboard has a greater presence here, and it is a pleasure to hear Pappano and Akhmetshina in a well-informed partnership: the lines intertwine at times, but one never feels in the way of the other.
Rimsky-Korsakov’s The Nightingale and the Rose (track 12) carries a sense of mystery in its opening piano interlude; Akhmetshina’s first solo, unaccompanied, builds further tension and suspense. One of the most striking aspects of the song is the sheer vocal range required, and she shows complete comfort capturing the piercing high notes as she evokes the quiet enigma of the lower ones.
Aigul Akhmetshina. Photo © Lera Nurgalieva.
Of the American selections, those from Gershwin and Bernstein stand out. The Man I Love (track 14) juxtaposes Pappano’s jazzy yet pensive suavity with Akhmetshina’s sumptuous timbre. While her singing does come off a little heavy-handed at times, it does justice to the meaning of the text. Somewhere (track 16) sees Akhmetshina at her most sensitive in a comforting reading.
A serious issue with the digital version of the album is that it does not come with a booklet, which, in a program like this, is paramount for song texts and translations. The physical CD appears to include them. This misstep aside, the performances are exquisite and make a convincing case for Akhmetshina and Pappano’s artistic versatility.
If you enjoyed this album, also hear
Aigul Akhmetshina: Aigul | Joyce DiDonato: Songplay | Elīna Garanča: Sol y Vida | Isabel Leonard & Sharon Isbin: Alma Española
