Soprano or mezzo, diva or diseuse, recordings of Brecht and Weill's ballet chante have to be divided into two groups: those that use the original 1933 higher keys, and those that follow the 1957 transpositions and slight rearrangements that Lotte Lenya, who created the work, had made for her older voice after Weill's death.
These two new recordings of Die sieben Todsunden (''The Seven Deadly Sins'') are the latest to use the original pitch. The versions by Elise Ross with Rattle and Brigitte Fassbaender with Garben which also do, are available singly, but Anja Silja's performance with Dohnanyi is only available on a ten-CD Cleveland Orchestra set (only obtainable by mail-order from the Orchestra), which I have yet to acquire, though Silja's 1992 Prom was one of the most searing pieces of Weill singing I've heard.
Angelina Reaux was Rose in the Mauceri Street Scene (Decca, 8/91), and gave spirited renditions of 30 Weill songs in her cabaret sequence ''Stranger Here Myself' (ASV, 6/92). Surprisingly, given this Q experience, in Die sieben Todsunden she is the most operatic sounding of all the singers who have recorded it. Her interpretation is on the cool side, and although her diction is very clear it does not always sound idiomatic when compared with the authentic Berlin sound provided by Fassbaender, who is much more passionate.
Reaux is especially good at differentiating between the two sisters at the moments when she has to provide a voice for Anna II, the dancer. The key moment comes in ''Lust''—when both girls the practical Anna I and the beautiful Anna II have fallen in love with the same man in Boston but are forced to reject him in favour of a richer client. When she sings ''Es war gar nichts zwischen uns, Lacherlich!'' (''There was really nothing between us, ridiculous!'') it is almost a cry of disgust. Fassbaender sounds angry, Ross just apprehensive at this point. The theme which provides the 'victorious' ending is also heard in Weill's Second Symphony and the opening of his chanson, Complainte de la Seine. All these works come from his great burst of creative energy in the years 1932–5: now that there are a dozen recordings of Die sieben Todsunden perhaps the industry could turn instead to some of Weill's rarer works—how wonderful it would be to hear Die Burgschaft.
As for the Lulu suite it is a very apt companion. Reaux has not sung Lulu on the stage—but it would be interesting to see her try it; she is one of the most touching actresses in American opera today. In his essay in the booklet Kim Kowalke points out that ''most of the memorable Lulus of our time have also performed Sins''. (It's true—Lear, Migenes, Stratas, Silja.)
I had high hopes of von Otter's performance with John Eliot Gardiner. It is without question the most beautifully sung version of Die sieben Todsunden that has yet come out. This is not altogether an advantage: the work is a grim parable about the triumph of materialism over human emotions and it needs that note of harshness and cynicism which Reaux certainly manages. On stage perhaps some of the subtle effects that von Otter and Gardiner try for might work but often the beauty of tone and line sacrifices the dramatic impact of the text.
Gardiner's conducting seems rather erratic, in places as slow as Mauceri's for Ute Lemper (the longest drawn-out on disc) but with good danceable rhythms elsewhere. It almost goes without saying that von Otter's diction is excellent, but at key moments such as the cry of ''Es ist richtig so, Anna, aber so schwer!'' at the end of ''Lust'', she just misses the anguish that is so clearly needed. The quartet of male voices that supplies the Family's commentary on the sisters' adventures is adequate, but I rather prefer the gloriously named Hudson Shad group with Masur.
The selection of Weill songs that makes up the second part of von Otter's recital is oddly grouped. Her English is crystal-clear but in the songs from Lady in the Dark and One Touch of Venus, she lacks that essential playfulness within words which marks out the true musical comedy star from the opera diva having a night out with the boys. (Gardiner supplies the other voice in ''One life to live'' which reinforces the feeling of a party trick.) The best tracks are the songs in German, with piano. Der Abschiedsbrief was one of the songs that Weill composed for Marlene Dietrich, it is deliciously ironic in a style far removed from the numbers that Friedrich Hollander wrote for her (Dietrich seems never to have sung it in public). The accompaniments to the Happy End songs sound interesting, I liked the staccato phrasing von Otter uses in the ''Bilbao Song'' but her ''Surbaya-Johnny'' is curiously unemotional to begin with.
There are now so many recordings of Die sieben Todsunden that it isn't possible to make an out-and-out recommendation—it depends on the voice you respond to most. Fassbaender remains my own favourite, but Masur's pacing of the score is preferable to that of Garben, von Otter and Gardiner will no doubt pick up plenty of admirers, but I found their approach too soft.'