"Hello, Gorgeous!" That's what you'll say when you hear the first sounds of Barbra Streisand's voice on her new album of duets, Partners . She's now 72, and having husbanded her voice with extreme care for the last decade or two, she sounds, well, gorgeous �" soaring with ease into the stratosphere, belting (yes, just a bit), making your nipples hard with her bull's-eye pitch, her breath control, her long-held bell tones that break into a soft and relaxed vibrato. Yeah, there's a delicate amount of reverb and filtering in the mix, but this is (I've said it before and I'll say it again) gorgeous singing.
I hope you caught her appearance as the sole guest on Jimmy Fallon's Tonight Show. Although Fallon was an idiot who wouldn't stop gushing over Babs, she was gracious to him, poised and witty. And she sang the most dynamite "Come Rain or Come Shine." She sang higher than Yma Sumac, lower than Carol Channing, and with the exciting punch of her days-of-yore appearances on the Johnny Carson show. Her duet version with John Mayer on Partners can't compare.
And it seemed a gracious honor when Jimmy offered Babs his chair. Although they bantered about it with seeming spontaneity, I slowly realized this wasn't gallantry at all. The reversal of guest/host position allowed Babs to present her favored right profile to the camera, mostly shielding the scorned left, and was probably a perquisite of her appearance on the show.
So, I'm concluding, she's keepin' her ass covered. Literally �" on television she wore a jacket with tails, and in the recording studio (you should definitely watch these music videos on YouTube), she favors billowing blouses. And figuratively �" she's playing it safe. She never wanted to be caviar for cultists, and has always courted mass appeal. So her duet partners are safe choices. No one among this all-male crew is gonna rock the boat. Also safe is the way she's rather unfortunately sticking to her previously much- (some say overly) recorded classics. Over half the song choices are some form of retread. Another "Evergreen?" Again with "The Way We Were?" My pulse does not race.
With one exception, she maintains the same plodding, slow tempo throughout the (not-too-generous) 50-minute playing time. Sure, it shows off her breath control and lets her voice be unfettered as all get out, wafting around the heavens. But put them together with the overreaching arrangements, and you got trouble. In each song a massive 70-piece orchestra is thrown mid-way into nearly overwhelming climax. Tsunamis of sound. But put them all together, and they spell stupefying. They begin to negate their own impressiveness. Sample two or three cuts, and wallow in the luxury of it all; listen to too many in a row, and you may feel you have molasses in your ears.
Not so much the dramatic actress in song that she was early in her career, Babs is content now to deliver pure sound. No small feat. But like the arrangements, she doesn't so much reach an emotional climax, as just the loudest place. As slow does not equal profound, loud is not emotional imperative.
Yet on most every track, Babs breaks through. There are thrills all over the place. Josh Groban's voice entwines comfortably with Babs' on "Somewhere." In a big-band arrangement, Michael Bublé sings "It Had to be You" Sinatra-style, and gooses Babs into some snaz of her own (if the number doesn't swing as it ought, it's surely the tempo at fault). Two not-to-be-missed highs include Babs' partnering with Andrea Bocelli, a guy I never thought I'd be endorsing. Yet here, he provides my favorite cut. Their vibratos quiver in unison (as hand-in-glove as Joan Sutherland and Marilyn Horne), and the silken warmth of his voice seems such a natural match to Babs'. Their "I Still Can See Your Face" is rapturous.
And in an arrangement that involved some technical wizardry, Babs duets with Elvis Presley so successfully you'd never guess one of the participants is dead. It's a lovely, touchingly low-key conclusion to the album. The Queen still reigns.