Press

 Guðjónsdóttir guided it [O Zittre nicht] with total confidence, as if it were nothing; but in the middle, she had also given, to start, an extensive coloratura. Her high notes reverberated in the hollow and -for her- small acoustics of the Turina.

[...] The recital contained only eight numbers, almost all of them "life or death". The second one is from a rarely programmed Mozart opera, 'Mitridate, re di Ponto', and the aria 'Al destin, che la minaccia', also because, as we said above, it includes a terrible high E, prepared to make a recital sink. The Icelander sang it again without difficulty, with fullness and it even seemed to us that, in a brighter way, with less dryness (the hall is already dry, and even more so for that volume of high notes).

The Russian song 'Solovey' by Aleksandr Alyabyev, composed around 1825, was unknown. Being called 'nightingale' and with a range like Guðjónsdóttir's, we can imagine the succession of unreachable notes it presented, ending in a tremendous D.
 
[...]In this lyrical field, three Icelandic songs by unknown authors undoubtedly stood out, which brought out a full balance of the voice in her, rounding out the register, sweetening her color, and making us feel her full identification with this music. 

Finally, she decided to close with the most well-known, lively and light piece from Bernstein's 'Candide', a "Valentine's Day card", as the composer called it, where she particularly stood out for her more relaxed interpretation, as if she had stepped out of the concert screen to sing to family and friends. Naturally, this ode to luxury and jewels, parodying the aria of the jewels from Gounod's 'Faust', had to end with a genuine pearl necklace like the three impossible E flat notes that the Icelandic soprano strung together with the precision of a Tiffany jeweler.

CARLOS TARÍN, ABC de Seville