Lehmann was highly successful in the opera house (her portrayal of Sieglinde, captured in Bruno Walter's majestic reading of the first act of Die Walküre, is the best that I have heard), yet she was equally renowned for her lieder interpretations, performances of which took up the final years of her professional career. As Alan Blyth's thoughtful contribution to the CD booklet notes, audiences turned up not so much to hear Lehmann's rich voice as to experience her near unsurpassable textual delivery.

Blyth also notes that Lehmann's voice was, in 1947-49, not as secure as it once was, but, conversely, I was here struck by how firm and easily-deployed this soprano is, given that retirement would beckon for the artist as soon as in 1951. Pitching is, with but a single handful of fleeting misjudgements, admirable, the notes placed confidently in their very centre. Lehmann's timbre is shaded and coloured in response to the text, the vocal lines are shapely. Listen, in Strauss' Die Zeitlose, to how the sensuous but sparingly-used portamento blossoms into arching legato lines; listen, in Schubert's Der Erlkönig, to how Lehmann's experience in the opera house translates into her delivery of the lied, with strong characterisation and flawless dramatic pacing; listen, in Schubert's Nacht und Träume, to the gloriously luxurious tone of the opening phrase, Lehmann's timbre speckled with ecstatic ripples of vibrato.

A selection from Brahms' Zigeunerlieder proves a highlight on this disc. The singer's vibrant peals of shining steel in He Zigeuner successfully suggest the rustic gypsy life, the coquettish delivery of Wisst ihr, burning with flustered sensuality, providing ample contrast. In the latter song, Lehmann's throat roughens on the last line of both stanzas, again in repeats, and perhaps her sound is slightly too knowing for this work. Her tone is much more suited to Rote Abendwolken, where the rapturous delivery recalls the passions of Sieglinde. There is an occasional suggestion of shrillness but that can easily be excused. Paul Ulanowsky is a thoughtful piano accompanist.

Orchestrally-accompanied versions of Silent Night and O come all ye faithful should surely prove forgettable, given their surroundings of Brahms, Schubert and Strauss, but Lehmann delivers beautifully, with passionate sincerity. Berlin's God Bless America, similarly, may not seem inviting on paper, but there is such profundity and belief in the reading that the effect is mesmerising, especially when Lehmann lowers her dynamic to caress the entry of the piano chorus. This singer is strongest, however, when singing in German. So natural is her pronunciation that, as someone once said of Maria Callas, you momentarily forget that she is singing, such is the directness of her communication.

The whole, a generously packed disc, is a fascinating look at the work of a great artist, whose radiant voice was matched by a near unsurpassable interpretative intelligence.

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