Oh cielo! Dove son io?

Osvaldo Golijov's Three Songs for Soprano Goddess and Orchestra were written for Dawn Upshaw, who according to the man himself possesses "a rainbow of a voice." I say, if Dawn's the rainbow, then Patricia Wright is the gold which comes afterwards, and - to me at any rate - infinitely more precious. In this soprano-adoring life which I lead, it can seem sometimes as if all the wonderful things - all the performances I want to, ought to see - happen elsewhere, happen overseas and out of my reach. On Saturday night, though, it was all around the other way. For once I was in the right hall, the right city, the right country, listening to the right (pun not intended but rather felicitous!) soprano - while the rest of the world missed out.

The concert opened with Chabrier's 'Espana'. I didn't really hear it. I knew Patricia's three Chants d'Auvergne were coming next - can I be blamed if that was all my mind had room for? The songs - 'La pastoura als camps', 'Bailero' and 'Malurous qu'o uno fenno' - were a dream, glittering, captivating, each brought vividly to life. A singer such as this is a torment, you know - a voice so gorgeous you want to close your eyes and surrender yourself to the sound alone, and a stage manner so enchanting you couldn't possibly do so. Rodrigo's Concierto de Aranjuez followed (excellent, incidentally), then interval, then de Falla's Three Cornered Hat Suite, and then at last the point I'd been looking forward to most of all: those three Golijov songs. The songs captured my imagination the first time I heard them and they have not let go. Written for Dawn Upshaw but destined equally for Patricia Wright - a perfect marriage of song and singer, a transfixing performance of three extraordinary songs, and quite simply, one of the most magical things I've heard anywhere ever. As far as I was concerned, the concert ended there, with the final bar of 'How Slow the Wind'. It didn't actually end there - Ravel's Bolero followed - but I was miles away, staring at the floor and wondering how exactly I was supposed to return to normal life. I haven't yet quite managed it.

And all this after the kind of Friday a soprano devotee dreams of, though more than that I shan't say - I'm keeping that particular treasure for myself alone. Truly a glorious, glorious weekend.