''Mary Wiegold's Songbook'' is a chain of contemporary miniatures, with no extracts from larger works. Contrast is provided by three Dowland arrangements for the instrumental ensemble (two clarinettists, with saxophone, viola, cello and double-bass): but in any case there is no shortage of contrast in the songs themselves. These range from a Birtwistle setting of Paul Celan that drifts icily to an understated ending, and a tersely expressionist cantata by Colin Matthews that achieves knife-edged balance between tragedy and farce, to the poised lyricism of Simon Bainbridge and the touchingly direct simplicity of Howard Skempton, setting a brief text by Emily Dickinson.
The whole enterprise is a formidable test of a singer's stamina and technique, and now and then (especially in Keith Tippett's expansive and vocally very wide-ranging Sun—The Living Son) there are hints of strain. More generally, however, Mary Wiegold displays a blend of poise and flexibility which serves the diverse character of the material very well indeed. There is no excess vibrato, and a blessed ability to blend with the instrumental lines without ever being submerged by them. Wiegold is particularly effective in the finely-pointed narrative of Judith Weir's Romance and the wordless phrases of Michael Nyman's Polish Song. She is, moreover, greatly helped by a warm but never over-bright acoustic: All Saints' Petersham was the recording venue.
The range of texts here is perhaps even more striking than the range of musical styles. Only Bayan Northcott's ''The maidens came...'' seems both to acknowledge yet also skilfully distance itself from an earlier, memorable setting—Stravinsky's. The disc ends with Colin Matthews's deliciously straight setting of Wendy Cope's Strugnell's Haiku. Here is a mordantly lyric poet who might well inspire many more composers in the future.'