Finnish
soprano Soile Isokoski left me cold on the
very first concert I ever reviewed for Seen
& Heard, in September
1999. It was
interesting, therefore, to encounter her again,
now several times over more famous. On that
earlier occasion she sang Richard Strauss
(as she did here, too, but as a small encore).
She has a name for herself in Mozart, though,
and it was three songs by this composer that
started the recital (not four, as the programme
notes stated – presumably because of the type-setting
of the programme on the reverse of that sheet.)
In fact,
the first song (just to add to the confusion)
is not by Mozart at all, but by Josef Myslivecek.
Ridente la calma is an arrangement
of an operatic aria (Il caro mio bene), but
comes with a Köchel number of K15/K210a.
A workaday account of the piano part was balanced
by some truly lovely slurs by Isokoski. The
dramatic scena, Als Luise die Briefe ihres
ungetreuen Liebhabers verbrannte, K520,
suffered by the pianist’s literalism, while
Isokoski’s fast vibrato became positively
distracting in the final song of the group,
Dans une bois solitaire, K308. Beginning
with three songs in three different languages
(none of which is your own) is brave, and
it was perhaps a pity that French, the language
of the final song, appears to be Isokoski’s
weakest. ‘C’était’ became ‘Si était’;
‘Je’ became more ‘Ge’.
Four
Brahms Lieder fared better, although
Isokoski’s quick vibrato was beginning to
irritate. The dark ‘Liebestreu’, Op. 3 No.
1 (‘True love’) had the advantage of some
focussed piano playing while the second offering,
‘Der Tod, das ist die kühle Nacht’ showed
that the questionable pronunciations of earlier
in the recital may have been just nerves (or
maybe Isokoski is just happier in German).
Just one word fell at the hurdle – ‘Wonne’
became more ‘Wonner’ in ‘Meine liebe ist grün’,
Op. 63 No. 5. The penultimate song, ‘Das Mädchen
spricht’, was probably the most successful,
flighty with a real element of wit.
Toivo
Kuula (1883-1918) is one of those composers
who died too young. He was killed in a shooting
accident at the tender age of 34. The romantic
Jääkukkia, Op. 24 No. 2 (1913,
‘Frost flowers’), despite its dark exterior
still showed signs of folk-inflection. Isokoski
dealt with the high-lying line well. Sinipiika,
Op. 23 No. 1 (1912, ‘Wood sprite’) was curious
mix of tender melancholy coupled with suicidal
tendencies while Marjatan laulu (‘Marjatta’s
Song’) was a mesmeric, dark lullaby. Finally,
Purjein kuutamolla Op. 31a No.1
(‘Sailing in the moonlight’, 1917) included
some glassily limpid piano playing.
Debussy’s
infinitely beautiful Ariettes oubliées
(1885-87) rounded off the recital. If there
was almost immediately a pronunciational quibble
(‘extazzze’ for ‘extase’), it did seem that
here was where Isokoski’s voice finally found
a comfortable niche. This was of particular
note in the second song, ‘Il pleure dans mon
coeur’ (‘Tears fall in my heart’) where Isokoski,
instead of disturbing the delicate piano part,
floated exquisitely on top of it. It was not
quite a moment of magic, more a run-up to
it – and it came in the third song, ‘L’ombre
des arbres’ (‘The shadow of trees’), with
a floated high note in the penultimate line.
An exciting climax to ‘Chevaux de bois’ (‘Merry-go-round’)
did not quite erase the niggling feeling that
Isokoski’s voice should have a greater repertoire
of shades to it. ‘Spleen’ emerged as really
quite modern in feel, yet again that vibrato
became off-putting.
An encore
of Richard Straussian simplicity, ‘Ich trage
meine Minne’, Op. 32 No. 1, provided a lovely
conclusion to a recital of decidedly mixed
impressions.
Colin Clarke
Return to:
Music on the Web