Today I bring a total treat for all music lovers and, in particular, for the legions of ardent devotees of opulent Romantic music, especially that of Richard Strauss.

How do I know there are legions of you? Because I have seen the crowds that throng concert halls when big, juicy, sexy programmes of Strauss are the order of the night. And I couldn't fail to have noticed the euphoric responses of audiences when the quality of performance is red hot.

At this point regular readers will be anticipating that I am going to give a massive plug to the upcoming performance of Strauss's colossal Alpine Symphony, which Donald Runnicles and the BBC SSO will perform next Saturday at the opening weekend of this year's Edinburgh International Festival. Well I'm not; we've done that one, though for sure, all being well on the night, it should be an early festival highlight.

I refer to something else altogether, though there is also a festival connection. I have come to think that German soprano Anne Schwanewilms is one of the great singers of the day. Critics and pundits fight like ferrets in a sack over the characteristics and qualities of a singer's voice. It's all personal taste, and each of us hears and responds to any individual voice in our own way. I've been next to people in concert halls and recital rooms where a particular voice has brought tears to the eyes of some listeners, reducing them to emotional rubble and ululating all over their neighbours while, just along the row, another listener, wholly untouched by the sound and emotion of that voice, is completely unimpressed and has turned to stone.

I just love the sound and character of Schwanewilms's voice. (I didn't always.) There is at once a richness and a purity to her sound. She has massive power but uses it with restraint. There is a majesty to her tone, which is wonderfully balanced with an intimacy that draws you into her world of song and persuades the listener that she is singing just to you. And, above all, there is her warmth of tone which, for my emotional palate, makes her ideally equipped for the music of Richard Strauss.

She lavishes all of that technical and emotional armoury on the repertoire of her new CD, which is devoted entirely and opulently to the music of Strauss. I said it was a total treat; it's a banquet of luxuries. At the core of the disc, on the Orfeo label, lies a golden sunset of a performance in a poignant yet heart-warming account of Strauss's Four Last Songs. Here Schwanewilms gently penetrates the heart of the music with singing that is suffused with the sense that this is Strauss's farewell, that he is looking back on all that was his life, knowing that it is drawing to a close and that, without regret, resentment or even resignation, acknowledges finality with a question in the last song, Abendrot: "How weary we are of travelling – can this perhaps be death?" As Schwanewilms sang that phrase, I thought my heart was going to burst.

It is an utterly wonderful performance, wrapped in a cloak of warmth by the glorious Gurzenich Orchestra of Cologne with conductor Markus Stenz. And though the Last Songs are the core, Schwanewilms garlands them with tender and moving performances of extracts from the operas Arabella, Capriccio and in a heart-wrenching account of the great trio from Rosenkavalier when, as the achingly-philosophical Marschalin, Schwanewilms is joined by Jutta Bohnert as Sophie and Regina Richter as Octavian.

There's a bit of a blip, of course, as the final duet, into which the trio flows, is necessarily excised (the Marschalin has left the stage). But it's a gorgeous set of performances, blessed further by a lovely background essay from Michael Kennedy, the doyen of Strauss writers, a wise man, a gentleman and (forgive the personal intrusion) the man and inspirational mentor who brought me into this business 30 years ago.