Opera fanatics are persnickety — especially when it comes to singers. Any promising newcomer on the scene will inevitably be placed under a microscope, judged against the so-called "greatest" stars of the past who have sung the same standard repertoire and set any number of arbitrary "gold standards."
Enter Beth Taylor, a Scottish mezzo-soprano whose voluptuous and cavernous voice is almost shockingly beautiful, whether she's unspooling long, flowing lines of text, tenderly paring it down to a thin golden strand of sound, or pushing to thunderous decibels.
Taylor is flying under the radar right now, but not for long. Her stock has been slowly rising since she wowed judges at the Cardiff Singer of the World competition in 2023, where she was a finalist. Last month in London, she made her Royal Opera House debut to glowing reviews. And now she's released her debut solo album called The Deeps Have Music.
The album's title is snatched from a line in Edward Elgar's Sea Pictures, a song cycle from 1899 which anchors this smartly curated, wide ranging recital of songs about the sea. Through a mix of old and new music, Taylor offers myriad views of our relationship to the vast, powerful and mysterious ocean.
Almost every proud British mezzo-soprano with a solid low register has a go at Elgar's evocative Pictures. While the texts may seem fusty today — awash with craggy coves and elfin imagery — Elgar's sweeping music still shines. Taylor's voice is an astoundingly perfect fit. On the song "Where Corals Lie" it plunges as deep as the oceans she sings about, ending with the barest thread of perfectly supported tone. No other singer today can offer both her majesty and detailed dramatic insight. This recording sets a new standard. While the performance is missing Elgar's original orchestration, Taylor's empathetic and imaginative pianist, Hamish Brown, has created a piano and voice reduction based on Elgar's own piano accompaniment. You can feel every roiling wave and taste every smoldering wisp of sea spray.
Taylor is a 32-year-old native of Glasgow who labels herself a mezzo-soprano — but I'm not sure that's true. Her sturdy, burgundy-colored, lower register sinks comfortably into contralto territory. It's a plush instrument used with intelligence — especially in her phrasing, where every line is sculpted with utmost care without being fussy.
The Breakers, for instance, is a brand new, two-paneled set of songs contrasting a tempestuous storm at sea with an introspective, moonlit moment by a river. The composer, a young Welshman named Cameron Biles-Liddle, dedicated the piece to Taylor, who interprets both the turbulent and tender sides of the songs with sublime confidence. The music exploits her dusky, low end and seemingly inexhaustible breath control.
Taylor includes a few deep cuts on the album, including Hamilton Harty's tragic "Sea Wrack" and Schubert's atmospheric "Lied eines Schiffers an die Dioskuren," in a performance that leans into the mystery of a boatman bewitched by the twin stars Castor and Pollux, delivered in nuanced, idiomatic German.
Undervalued women composers also get a turn in the spotlight. Alma Mahler, Gustav's wife, compares love to the unpredictability of a vast ocean in a prayerfully rendered "Lobgesang," while the feisty English suffragette Ethel Smyth paints Three Moods of the Sea in bold pastels and expansive phrases in which Taylor luxuriates. A truly rare discovery here is the set of six short songs, Petits Poèmes du Bord de l'Eau by the forgotten Parisian professor Hedwige Chretien. They are by turns puckish, intimate and evocative — and at least 100 years old, but they sound tailor made for Taylor, who savors the open French vowels and subtle coloring.
Regardless of whether we call her a mezzo-soprano or not, Taylor is blessed with uncommon vocal beauty and the intellect to back it up. Now, with a thoroughly satisfying debut album, she's at the doorstep of stardom.
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