Rachel Fenlon’s “Winterreise” is quite extraordinary for many reasons.

First, Schubert’s famously melancholy cycle was originally written for tenor, and though frequently transcribed for baritonal depths or even bass, its interpretation history remains confined largely to male voices.

Secondly, Fenlon achieves a high degree of German Innerlichkeit, that somewhat obscure, culturally rooted feeling of inward expressiveness which so pervaded the recordings of Lotte Lehmann (the first woman to perform all of “Winterreise”), and – in a different context – Elisabeth Schwarzkopf. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, the UK-born soprano is the first to my knowledge to publicly accompany herself on the piano. Schubert has done so himself, as told by, among others, Joseph von Spaun.

But on CD Fenlon makes for an astonishing premiere.

A Musical Polyglot

Granted, this is not your usual “Winterreise,” and Fenlon’s approach sonically departs from the intricately cultivated dialogue between pianist and singer. Traditionalists may object that by combining two constitutive roles into one this back-and-forth of reciprocal inspiration gets lost in translation, so to speak – not to mention that a single interpreter can hardly be expected to master two instruments at similarly high levels of accomplishment. Fenlon is, after all, not the synthesis of a Gerald Moore and Brigitte Fassbaender, nor does she pretend to be.

Rather, through her brazenly dual art she proposes a modern twist on a repertory staple. Most noticeably, each song’s tempi vary considerably when compared to the canon. The opening song “Gute Nacht” is on the fast side, only Brendel (with Fischer-Dieskau) and the radically pacing Eric Schneider (with Christine Schäfer) beat Fenlon’s five minutes and 36 seconds. Yet overall, the album clocks in at one hour and 14 minutes, situating our pianist-soprano well within the middle ground of the recording tradition. It shows the interpretive freedom she gains from being her own accompanist.

On the flipside, it seems to who presently writes that the downward trajectory of “Gute Nacht” lacks some of the proverbial weight on the narrator’s shoulders. It does not have the genteel lightness of touch or, for that matter, the slightly dissociative rhythm that would, from the very outset, define the whole cycle’s savoringly mournful tone. This lack, if anything, may count as a cosmetic flaw, and Fenlon’s vocals easily prove to offset some of my initial fears. Her sympathetic phrasing is a strength she can unfailingly rely on, especially in the touching line of “an dich hab’ ich gedacht.” Similarly, her voice type shows an undeniable affinity with more pointedly dramatic passages, such as the captivatingly rendered “Auf dem Flusse.” Fenlon’s tender vibrato effectively pairs with the score’s shimmering series of arpeggios, delineating the prevailing sense of anguish and emotional instability.

A Modern “Winter Journey”

Still, her modernity consists in a directness that seemingly avoids grand vocal gestures. In “Die Nebensonnen,” for instance, the voice only hesitatingly follows the dying motion initiated by poet Wilhelm Müller’s image of the sinking suns. There is no attempt at recreating the resoundingly solemn quiet of, among others, Fischer-Dieskau, Florian Boesch, and to some extent Brigitte Fassbaender. Fenlon’s interpretive milieu does not necessarily coincide with 19th century sentimentalism; one suspects the influence of contemporary art songs instead.

Purists, again, may have every reason to disagree. Does Rachel Fenlon’s “Winterreise” supplant any of its famous predecessors? No; but despite its rather limited shortcomings, it stands without real competition in its own right.