[...] Undeterred by the naysayers, Mr. Goerne is now preparing a strike into the very heart of women's repertory: Robert Schumann's "Frauenliebe und -leben," settings of poems by Adelbert von Chamisso, describing "woman's love, woman's life" in eight first-person vignettes.

"I decided to sing 'Frauenliebe und -leben,' " Mr. Goerne said, "because it's wonderful material and because women don't want to sing it anymore." The fault lies not in Schumann but in Chamisso, whose hero-worshiping, self-abnegating tone offends postfeminist sensibilities.

Eventually, Mr. Goerne hopes to couple "Frauenliebe" and the "Wesendonck Lieder" on a single CD. "I can't imagine that a big label will be interested," he said. Meanwhile, he is programming "Frauenliebe" in London and Paris, where he finds audiences most receptive to artistic adventure.

Performances of the Schumann may be less sparse in New York than in other places. In the last 10 years, Lincoln Center and Carnegie Hall have presented a combined total of 9 performances of "Frauenliebe und -leben," 6 of "Die Schöne Müllerin" and 15 of "Winterreise."

Curiously enough, sexual politics may not be much of a factor here. Consider the American mezzo-soprano Susan Graham, who might well be expected to have sung "Frauenliebe," but never has. "Partly it's just that I've been concentrating on other things, like my French repertoire," she said recently at Zankel Hall. "And partly I always think that lots of other people are singing it, but I guess maybe that isn't true."

Ms. Graham was attending a recital by the English baritone Christopher Maltman, whose program that night included Schumann's gothic ballad "Die Löwenbraut" ("The Lion's Bride"). Written to another Chamisso text, it revolves around another paragon of selfless womanly devotion, who speaks at length in her own voice. Maybe the man who can put across her heartfelt lines with the necessary empathy (Mr. Goerne sings the song, too) is already halfway there to singing "Frauenliebe."

Mr. Maltman disagrees. "I feel instinctively that a song in which a female character speaks is fundamentally different from a cycle which expresses solely the point of view and desires of a woman," he said after his recital. "I personally would have difficulty taking on 'Frauenliebe.' "

Mr. Goerne, with his shaved head and portly frame seems an unlikely candidate for some gender-bending, transgressive performance-art caprice. But thinking of "Frauenliebe" in dramatic terms, it takes no huge leap to envision a semistaged presentation involving, perhaps, a locked desk drawer and a diary. Some anonymous male - the diarist's brother, say, or her grandson - might discover the secret writings, begin to read and be drawn inexorably into the woman's undiscovered inner world.

Without resort to theatrical trappings, Mr. Goerne seems to be making just the mental adjustments an actor would.

"What's behind 'Frauenliebe' is timeless and wonderful," he said. "Unconditional devotion, without mental reserve. Chamisso and Schumann, who wrote 'Frauenliebe,' were men, too, after all. They were able to imagine.

"To express what they found, I don't have to pretend to be someone I'm not. I have to learn to play a stranger from within myself, to discover or awaken aspects of my personality I've never known, to let those powers take over. Once, at the opera house, in a production of 'Wozzeck,' that almost happened for me. But not quite. What I want in my work is to get to places where I've never been." nytimes.com - 6.Dez. 2005