You need a break among all the gift-wrapping and something to disconnect from traumatizing encounters on the Christmas markets (drunk people with blinking antlers on their heads howling carols while pouring spice wine over your overcoat, for example)?
Fine, so Waltraud Meier sings more soprano than mezzo repertory these days with all those Isoldes, but it’s the roots that count, at least for the sake of this post. Other than that, Meier pretty much transcends categories. She also has one of the best dictions, if not the best, around today and her interviews and audience discussions are regularly lessons in witty repartee. She’s one of the best singer-actresses, period.
As my friend the dramaturg says, “when she comes on stages, the curtains burn up.” (the ‘burning curtains’ list is short. There’s Karita Mattila, there’s Catherine Naglestad and there’s Waltraud Meier. – Yes, I know that that makes at least two sopranos out of three, but I don’t care.)