These songs respond to the sheer beauty of Stutzmann's singing like grass to rainfall.
The performances here are distinguished throughout by the evident intelligence as well as the assured technical ability of singer and pianist; but probably the feature that will single out this recital in memory, say a couple of years hence, is the depth, the contralto quality, of the voice. It is not simply that it makes a change (though it surely does that), but that the deep colouring of the tone gives a rather different aspect to several of the songs, particularly the Ariettes oubliees, and often serves them well. The third of the ariettes, ''L'ombre des arbres'', for instance, responds to it like grass to rainfall: there's a glow that wasn't there before. The ending of ''Green'' (''puis que vous reposez'') and, in the Baudelaire settings, the evening-scene of ''Recueillement'', are also lovely examples.
Not that there is any sense of luxuriating. It is not sensuous singing; not, as it were, inviting to stroke the velvet. Attention is very much focused on the words. Yet there is a sheer beauty of sound to enjoy as well, sometimes lovely in itself (as in the last line of Baudelaire's ''Harmonie du soir'') but often as a subtle reflection of mood, as in the diminuendo so finely achieved in ''Il pleure dans mon coeur'' (''Le dueil est sans raison'') from the Ariettes oubliees where the note trails away in quiet thoughtfulness. Sometimes one would welcome more of a smile in the voice, and perhaps in the Histoires naturelles there is opportunity for a little more showmanship, especially in the first, ''Le paon''. But this too has its compensations: the jokes, such as they are, are not killed by coyness, and in the first of the Bilitis songs there is none of that cute wide-eyed-innocence act over the ''ceinture perdue''.
Though recordings of the songs have not been in notably short supply, many of the best are currently unavailable. This new disc is as attractive in its programme as in its performances; presentation and recorded sound likewise. In case a lingering doubt remains, perhaps I should add that Stutzmann is not another of those American girls in Paris, but was born there (in 1965).