Two nights ago, Pretty Yende gave a recital in Weill Recital Hall. And what better place for a recital than a recital hall? Weill is the fetching upstairs annex in the Carnegie building.

Yende is a South African soprano, not yet thirty. She made her Metropolitan Opera debut during the 2012-13 season in Rossini’s Comte Ory. Right now, she is singing Pamina in the Met’s Magic Flute (a Mozart opera, as you know).

This singer is true to her name—her first name, Pretty. When she appeared for the second half of her recital, in a different gown from the first half’s, a man called out, “Gorgeous.” She smiled. And she has a million-dollar smile, and an utterly winning stage presence.

Her recital was a nicely mixed one, showing off the singer’s versatility, and also her spirit of adventure. There were several styles and languages. The program included bel canto songs and arias. A group of Debussy songs. Liszt’s Petrarch Sonnets. Zarzuela numbers. And more.

There were a hundred things wrong with Yende’s singing, a hundred impurities. Poor intonation. Frayed top notes. Etc., etc. But oddly, none of this mattered much. And that is because of what is apparently Yende’s nature.

She has the priceless ingredients of sincerity, poignancy, radiance, joy, and lovability. The whole is greater—much greater—than the sum of the parts. What are some bad notes when you, sitting in the audience, have all this other? Yende has a basic musicality.

And she is obviously a gracious woman—as when she applauded, repeatedly, her accompanist, Kamal Khan (who was ebullient throughout the recital).

Among Yende’s “ingredients” is a sense of fun and whimsy. Before singing her zarzuela numbers, she struck a Carmen pose. One of those numbers was a Vickie D. song, “La tarántula.” (A “Vickie D. song” is one associated with the late Spanish soprano Victoria de los Angeles.) In this song, Yende said “oy” instead of “ay.” Perhaps this was a Sephardic song? (Vickie D. sang those too.)

For the adoring crowd, Yende sang three encores, beginning with “O mio babbino caro.” Then she sang, unaccompanied, a South African song—lovely, pure, unfussy, natural. She closed with an operetta favorite, “Art Is Calling for Me,” a.k.a. “The Prima Donna Song,” by Victor Herbert. Sills scored with this number, and so did Kiri. So did Pretty Yende.

By the way, isn’t a song from West Side Story the obvious encore? “I Feel Pretty”?

More seriously: I heard Yende in The Magic Flute last week, and as we were leaving the house, I said to a friend, “You know, I bet Pretty Yende is religious.” He said, “Why’s that?” I said, “There is an inner radiancy, a light. I just have a feeling.” He agreed.

Anyway, Pretty Yende could be a better singer—and she probably will be—but she could hardly be more appealing or touching.

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