Susan Graham

This review has been updated. The sound of two women singing in close harmony can give a special feeling of pleasure and even exhilaration. It is a sound not restricted to French art song, but the French especially cultivated it during the belle époque era, 1880 to World War I. This was the era lovingly mined by soprano Renée Fleming and mezzo-soprano Susan Graham in a joint recital Saturday at Walt Disney Concert Hall. The quintessential example would be the "Duo des fleurs" from Delibes' "Lakmé," appropriated as an ad by British Airways for its sense of classy uplift.

This review has been updated. The sound of two women singing in close harmony can give a special feeling of pleasure and even exhilaration. It is a sound not restricted to French art song, but the French especially cultivated it during the belle époque era, 1880 to World War I. This was the era lovingly mined by soprano Renée Fleming and mezzo-soprano Susan Graham in a joint recital Saturday at Walt Disney Concert Hall. The quintessential example would be the "Duo des fleurs" from Delibes' "Lakmé," appropriated as an ad by British Airways for its sense of classy uplift.

This is an intoxicating recording of Handel's endlessly inventive and complex opera, captured live in Robert Carsen's enchanting production as it ravished Paris last summer. Lucky Chicago saw it early this year. Every superlative is warranted. The singers sweep all before them. Fleming is a creamy Alcina. Graham, a heroic Ruggiero. Kathleen Kuhlmann, a steadfast Bradamante. Timothy Robinson, a devoted Oronte. Juanita Lascarro, a touching Oberto.

Susan Graham and Nicholas McGegan have never collaborated before. But when they get together, the Texas-raised mezzo-soprano and British conductor behave like an old married couple. On a recent afternoon in Berkeley, the home base of the Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra, a leading period performance ensemble that McGegan has directed for many years, the duo engaged in lively banter about their first artistic partnership -- a six-concert California tour of works by the 17th century English composer Henry Purcell.

"I have a feeling I'm being watched very closely," Susan Graham said, smiling straight into an overhead security camera and brushing fingertips against the fancy-yellow-diamond drop earrings that lent their playful accent to her borrowed $6-million parure. The scene was Cartier on Fifth Avenue, where the mezzo-soprano whom many friends call Suzy was celebrating the release of her new CD, "Poemes de l'Amour." Never had the famed jeweler honored a classical musician in such fashion.

Soviet authorities detained a pregnant American woman and her Russian husband for more than two hours because they were protesting Moscow's refusal to let him go to the United States for the birth of their child. Susan Graham, from Spokane, Wash., said she and Matvey Finkel were stopped by police from gathering signatures on a petition outside Moscow's Cosmos hotel. The couple were married in 1979, but Finkel has been denied permission to emigrate.

After eight years of struggle, Matvey Finkel on Tuesday was preparing to leave the Soviet Union, and he had reason to be grateful to a number of people he had never met, from the President of the United States to 600 high school students in Washington state. Only two months ago, Finkel received the latest in a long line of refusals in response to his request to leave the Soviet Union to join his American wife, Susan Graham, in the United States.

Friday night at UC Santa Barbara, Dawn Upshaw performed in recital. Two nights later, Susan Graham appeared at the Music Center. These are two of America's most appealing, best-loved singers, and they have a lot in common. They are close in age -- early 40s. They are from the heartland and all-American. They are singers who can reach an audience. Indeed, they can reach an audience so well that both have been invited to sing for state dinners at George W.

Never an innovator, Venezuelan-born French composer (and Proust intimate) Hahn has been largely ignored by music historians and critics, who prefer to concentrate on his great contemporary Debussy. But not audiences. Anyone encountering the songs of Hahn is likely to find them perfect in matching words and music, in limpid melody, in evocation of particular moods. Graham sings a collection of them with surpassing purity and delicacy.

Friday night at UC Santa Barbara, Dawn Upshaw performed in recital. Two nights later, Susan Graham appeared at the Music Center. These are two of America's most appealing, best-loved singers, and they have a lot in common. They are close in age -- early 40s. They are from the heartland and all-American. They are singers who can reach an audience. Indeed, they can reach an audience so well that both have been invited to sing for state dinners at George W.

"I have a feeling I'm being watched very closely," Susan Graham said, smiling straight into an overhead security camera and brushing fingertips against the fancy-yellow-diamond drop earrings that lent their playful accent to her borrowed $6-million parure. The scene was Cartier on Fifth Avenue, where the mezzo-soprano whom many friends call Suzy was celebrating the release of her new CD, "Poemes de l'Amour." Never had the famed jeweler honored a classical musician in such fashion.

If you're surprised to see the same soprano singing the disparate roles of Pamina and the Queen of the Night, that's the point. Dessay's album argues that Mozart didn't make the vocal classifications we do today. For him, a soprano was a soprano was a ... well, maybe. Dessay is excellent in the pyrotechnics of the Queen (and other virtuosic roles), but less persuasive in the fuller lyricism demanded of Pamina (and similar heroines).

Ned Rorem is most famous for his frank diaries and for his art songs. But while the diaries have long been combed for dish, the songs have mainly been famous for being famous. Though praised for decades for their direct sentiment and sophisticated poetry, they've fought fashion. But wait long enough and everything changes. Tuneful, old-fashioned songs are back in American music, and a new generation of noted singers has come along to sing them.

This is an intoxicating recording of Handel's endlessly inventive and complex opera, captured live in Robert Carsen's enchanting production as it ravished Paris last summer. Lucky Chicago saw it early this year. Every superlative is warranted. The singers sweep all before them. Fleming is a creamy Alcina. Graham, a heroic Ruggiero. Kathleen Kuhlmann, a steadfast Bradamante. Timothy Robinson, a devoted Oronte. Juanita Lascarro, a touching Oberto.

Subtle and thoughtful, musically astute and dramatically engaging, Susan Graham's local debut recital Thursday night at the Alex Theatre in Glendale proved admirable in every way. The tall mezzo-soprano from Roswell, N.M., acclaimed by some as the definitive Octavian ("Rosenkavalier") of the younger generation, and a ubiquitous singing actress in new operas by John Harbison ("The Great Gatsby," last December) and Jake Heggie ("Dead Man Walking," this October), arrived in reams of accolades.

Subtle and thoughtful, musically astute and dramatically engaging, Susan Graham's local debut recital Thursday night at the Alex Theatre in Glendale proved admirable in every way. The tall mezzo-soprano from Roswell, N.M., acclaimed by some as the definitive Octavian ("Rosenkavalier") of the younger generation, and a ubiquitous singing actress in new operas by John Harbison ("The Great Gatsby," last December) and Jake Heggie ("Dead Man Walking," this October), arrived in reams of accolades.

Susan Graham and Nicholas McGegan have never collaborated before. But when they get together, the Texas-raised mezzo-soprano and British conductor behave like an old married couple. On a recent afternoon in Berkeley, the home base of the Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra, a leading period performance ensemble that McGegan has directed for many years, the duo engaged in lively banter about their first artistic partnership -- a six-concert California tour of works by the 17th century English composer Henry Purcell.

Never an innovator, Venezuelan-born French composer (and Proust intimate) Hahn has been largely ignored by music historians and critics, who prefer to concentrate on his great contemporary Debussy. But not audiences. Anyone encountering the songs of Hahn is likely to find them perfect in matching words and music, in limpid melody, in evocation of particular moods. Graham sings a collection of them with surpassing purity and delicacy.