Edvard GRIEG (1843-1907)
Songs
Lise Davidsen (soprano)
Leif Ove Andsnes (piano)
rec. 5-8 September 2021, Stormen Konserthus, Bodø, Norway
Sung texts with English translations enclosed
Reviewed as download from press preview.
DECCA 485 2254 [79:48]
The Norwegian soprano Lise Davidsen and pianist Leif Ove Andsnes have given us something rare here—a Grieg song recital that sounds as if these miniatures matter as much as Tristan, which in the hands of lesser artists they decidedly do not. Recorded in Bodø, well above the Arctic Circle, in early September 2021, this Decca release captures two musicians at the height of their powers, bringing what can only be called an operatic intensity to music that too often gets treated as mere salon fare.
Davidsen’s voice—and let’s be frank about this—is enormous. Not just large, but enormous in a way that makes you wonder how she’ll scale it down for “Solveigs sang” or “En svane.” But she does. The sheer technical command here is breathtaking: that gleaming, pewter-dark soprano rides Andsnes’s piano line in “Våren” with such buoyancy you’d think she’d been singing this repertoire since childhood rather than making her recorded debut in it. The tessitura sits perfectly for her, the middle voice glowing with a richness that recalls—dare I say it—the young Flagstad, though Davidsen’s timbre has more bronze in it, less silver.
Andsnes understands something crucial: these songs need piano playing, not accompaniment. His introduction to “Med en vandlilje” establishes a harmonic world before Davidsen enters, the left hand’s chromatic descent suggesting depths that the deceptively simple vocal line will explore. When she does enter, there’s an inevitability to it. The partnership feels genuinely collaborative—neither dominates, though Davidsen’s voice could certainly overwhelm if she chose to let it.
The programming shows intelligence. Rather than chronological order or thematic grouping, we get something more intuitive… a sequence that feels like it breathes. “En svane” follows “Våren” not because they belong together on paper but because they sound right together, the swan’s gliding motion emerging naturally from spring’s awakening. This matters more than it should—song recitals live or die by their pacing, and this one lives.
Some quibbles, though. In “Jeg elsker dig,” Davidsen’s approach strikes me as too grand, too public for what is essentially an intimate declaration. The famous setting of Andersen’s text needs more inwardness than she gives it here; the climax on “dig” feels calculated rather than spontaneous. And while Andsnes’s touch throughout is beyond reproach, his tempo for “Solveigs sang” drags just slightly—not enough to derail the performance, but enough to make you notice the machinery behind the magic.
But then comes “Våren,” and all reservations vanish. This is singing of such radiant beauty, such perfect calibration of tone and text, that you forgive everything else. The way Davidsen floats the final phrase, the vowels pure as mountain water, Andsnes’s right hand tracing nuanced arabesques beneath her—this is what we hope for in lieder singing and so rarely get. The Norwegian language sits in her voice like it was born there (which, of course, it was), consonants crisp without being aggressive, the diphthongs shaped with loving precision.
The recorded sound, captured in Stormen Konserthus, gives us both intimacy and space. Davidsen’s voice blooms in what sounds like a generous acoustic, yet we hear every detail of Andsnes’s voicing—that subtle emphasis on an inner voice here, a perfectly judged pedal release there. The engineers have wisely placed the soprano at a realistic distance; this isn’t one of those uncomfortably close-miked affairs where you hear every breath magnified to gasping proportions.
One wishes for more adventurous repertoire choices—where are the Vinje settings? the Haugtussa cycle?—but what’s here is done with such conviction that complaints seem churlish. “En drøm” receives a interpretation of such hushed intensity that you find yourself holding your breath; “Jeg elsker dig,” despite my earlier reservations, builds to a thrilling conclusion.
This is major singing in what some would call minor music. But Grieg’s songs aren’t minor—not when performed like this. They’re simply scaled differently, requiring a different kind of attention, a willingness to find grandeur in intimate spaces. Davidsen and Andsnes make the case for these pieces as powerfully as anyone has on record. Essential listening for anyone who cares about the Scandinavian song tradition, and a reminder that great voices need not confine themselves to opera houses to make great art.
