Reviewed by Alix Cohen

Melissa Errrico has an affinity for songs that have depth of feeling. Even as an ingénue, the artist seemed more penetrating than patina. Now as a woman, she imbues her material with experience as well as sincerity.

All the songs in this album are filtered through a single, persuasive, vocal sensibility. Errico considers the lyrics, mining their essence. Music director/pianist Tedd Firth colors, supports, and, particularly in this collection, partners. “Sure, there’s a subtext, but at its essence, her voice tells you how she feels,” he notes.

“I Can Dream, Can’t I?” (Sammy Fain/Irving Kahal) floats in on Firth’s hushed piano and Errico’s delicate enunciation. Elongated phrasing savors meaning. One can almost hear Errico sigh. The rarely performed “There’ll Be Another Spring” (Peggy Lee/Contributions by Hubie Wheeler) is a solitary reverie. The lyric “cause the sky is bluer overhead” arcs to “if you would just believe in me.” The piano accompaniment lands like falling dew.

Following its welcome verse (we hear too few of these), “But Beautiful” (Jimmy Van Heusen/Johnny Burke) arrives bruised. After “Love is…” we hear a little chuckle or huff before “funny, or it’s sad.” Errico’s expression is seasoned, and her vibrato glides. Frank Loesser’s “Spring Will Be a Little Late This Year” is melancholy, but unsurprised. Her vocal bears the potency of an undisclosed backstory., steeped in sophistication. At the song’s end, feelings surge, then fade with a jaded shrug.

Worldly polish is again evident with “All in Fun” (Jerome Kern/Oscar Hammerstein II). The song conjures satin gowns (with little left to the imagination), top hats, and too much liquor. An actress, Errico projects its blasé persona without becoming sarcastic. And it’s wistful finish is restrained.

“Remind Me” (Jerome Kern/Dorothy Fields) and “Dancing on the Ceiling” (Richard Rodgers/Lorenz Hart), the latter with its infrequently shared verse, are close to dancy. The first of these is measured, not as accustomed bouncy. We sense a furrowed brow. The second might be an easy tap dance with unfurled shuffle and drag. It teases the carefree and bright but stops short of exulting.

Errico’s rendition of “Both Sides Now” (Joni Mitchell) emerges like shared earth-mother wisdom and lessons learned. It sounds enduring, not reactive; we hear gravitas. Firth’s rhythmic originality is a bit disconcerting, but the collaborators undeniably exhume the song’s marrow.

A bonus track of Cole Porter’s “After You, Who?” is suffused with wary longing.  “How does love ever stop? How do we ever go on?” Errico writes, musing about her interpretation. Firth’s piano is sumptuous.

A burnished tone pervades I Can Dream, Can’t I? It’s all-of-a-piece. Its point of view is calm, grounded. The album fosters personal contemplation as well as listening pleasure.