Now, when speaking about Bounazou, it’s hardly kowtowing to give unmitigated praise to a soprano who, in such scrupulous subtly, graceful vigor, and rich beauty, handled Stravinsky’s tortuous lines and arduous dynamic contrasts with such dignity. How university training produces such a consummate artist, one may never understand. But it can be said in honesty that Bounazou is an artist and as an artist, she painted a picture. In Act three, I nearly cried. She made me tear up when singing to the confused and lost Tom her sweet, safe lullaby. My own mother would do just that when I couldn’t sleep and so, her fond caressing of Tom with her pianissimo and velvet lyricism nearly pushed me, and I’m sure others, to emotional disarray. In more practical terms, Bounazou is a technician of the highest order, as every rhythmic passage, difficult melodic contour, and a cappella moment was handled with precision but never at the expense of phrasing. An obvious hallmark of Hannigan’s guidance given her own relationship with contemporary works of exceptionally difficult degree. Bounazou always continued the line, moved with the line, and never stopped short of its natural climax built into the fabric of Stravinsky’s writing. Sutherland’s spirit was conveyed that night and I’ll never forget it.