Freiburger Barockorchester, Heras-Casado : Beethoven Choral Fantasy and Symphony no 9

Beethoven Symphony no 9 "Choral" in D minor, Op. 125, and the Choral Fantasy   in C minor op 80 with soloist Kristian Bezuidenhout, Pablo Heras-Casado conducting the Freiburger Barockorchester, new from Harmonia Mundi.  In this Beethoven anniversary year, it is good that there are ventures which probe more deeply into the composer and his music. The year started with reconstructions, in full performances concerts throughout Europe, of the concert of 22nd December 1808, in honour of the composer, in Vienna which included the Fifth and Sixth symphonies, concluding with the Choral Fantasy providing a grand finale, Beethoven himself playing  the piano part.  Perhaps it says something about the stamina of modern audiences that some could not understand the ambitious scale of the programme. The Choral Fantasy is in many ways the embryo of  Beethoven's Symphony no 9,  now an anthem of hope and unity, all over the world.

Although the Choral Fantasy wasn't successful at the 1808 concert for many reasons, it is hardly a neglected work. The Adagio begins with a substantial section for solo piano, for this is very much a piece for piano, supplemented by orchestra and voices.  The familiar "Ode to Joy" motif is introduced first by the piano, then elaborated by different sections in the orchestra.  A concerto, in effect, the piano very much part of the evolution of the whole. Not for nothing is the Choral Fantasy in the repertoire of many fine keyboardists.  Kristian Bezuidenhout on fortepiano is complemented by the Freiburger Barockorchester, whose period sensibilities enhance finer textures and a "personality" in the approach which feels more intimate and direct, very much in keeping with the idea of individuals interacting as individuals, gradually building up towards communal expression.  Just as in the Choral Symphony, the choir and vocal soloists in the Choral Fantasy enter only in the final Allegro, which has been purposefully reached as a result of what has gone before.

The character of these performances make this new recording a strong recommendation even in a market saturated with Beethoven Ninths. The vivacity and vigour of the Freiburger Barockorchester works extremely well with this symphony, given its fundamental message. "Alle Menschen werden Brüder" was a radical concept in the context of its time, when authoritarian regimes were giving way to new ideas, which included the freedom of the individual, and the right to tolerate self-determination.  It is significant that Beethoven replaced the text used in the Choral Fantasy (by Christoph Kuffner) celebrating the harmony of Nature where "Nacht und Stürme werden Licht" with the even more explicit Friedrich von Schiller Ode to Joy.

Beethoven's Symphony no 9 perfectly captures the revolutionary spirit of the Romantic era, and of the ideals Beethoven held so deeply.  What would Beethoven, Schiller and their contemporaries think of modern societies where such values seem to be in retreat ?  While this symphony is expressive with the full blast of a large modern orchestra and massed voices,  the Freiburger Barockorchester, with their appreciation of the more intimate soundworld of Beethoven's time, also bring out the human scale and personal warmth in this symphony. The power of this piece lies in the way Beethoven uses individuals to create a greater creative whole.  The Freiburger Barockorchester have also recorded a superb Beethoven Leonore (the 1805 version of Fidelio) with René Jacobs, livelier and more spirited than John Eliot Gardiner, emphasizing the originality of Beethoven's writing for the two female roles, who are much more developed than in the 1814 version. It is essential listening. The Freiburger Barockorchester have recently released a new recording of Beethoven's Piano Concertos no 2 and 5 "The Emperor" also with Kristian Bezuindenhout and Pablo Heras-Casado.

The superb playing of the Freiburger  Barockorchester is enhanced by Heras-Casado's direct, vivid style, and by the quality of the soloists,  Christiane Karg, Sophie Harmsen, Werner Güra and Florian Boesch.  Their voices are exceptionally well-balanced, and operate in consort with each other, which is also part of underlying meaning. Not a weak link here, as is sometimes the case with lesser performances.  The choir is the Zürcher Sing-Akademie, also very rewarding. 

Schubert Unfinished - Concentus Musicus Wien, Florian Boesch

Schubert Unfinished (Aparté AP189) is the first CD Concentus Musicus Wien has recorded since the death of Nikolaus Harnoncourt, who, in the course of countless musical voyages of discovery, had such a decisive influence on its musicians. The ensemble explores "uncharted territory" with orchestrations of Schubert Lieder by Johannes Brahms and Anton Webern, soloist Florian Boesch, with a new completion of  Schubert’s Symphony in B minor (D 759) compiled by Nicola Samale and Benjamin-Gunnar Cohrs.

Anton Webern's orchestrations of Schubert Lieder date from 1903, very early in his career, and are of interest because they show how Webern approached the adaptations with restraint. They are faithful to the purity of Schubert's idiom, perhaps teaching Webern the virtues of understatement : nothing like the elaborations of Franz Liszt ! "Tränenregen" from Die Schöne Müllerin supports the vocal line with delicate strings, woodwinds and chamberpipe organ murmuring when the voice is still, replicating the refrain in the piano part.  "Der Wegweiser" from Winterreise is equally hushed, providing a contrast to Brahm's darker orchestration of Schubert's Memnon D541, to a text by Mayrhofer. Just as the character of a poem affects its setting, an orchestration should reflect the song.  Thus Brahms's orchestration of Schubert's Geheimes D719 is lighter and livelier. Goethe's poem describes playful flirtation, hence the good humour in Schubert's and Brahms's approach. "Ihr Bild" from Schubert's Schwanengesang is a setting of Heinrich Heine, also very distinctive. It draws from Webern almost funereal low timbred horns and brass, assertive but never dominating the vocal line.  Boesch rings out the final words "Und ach, ich kann es nicht glauben, Dass ich dich verloren hab’!" like a cry of anguished recognition, for the painting is all that remains of the beloved, who is dead.  The anthem-like solemnity of Webern's orchestration shows his sensitivity to the poem and to the song. It is one of the highlights of the whole disc.

Schubert's Gruppe aus Tartarus D583 sets a text by Friedrich Schiller, and is highly dramatic. Brahms's orchestration matches its forcefulness, ascendant figures with hunting horns and long trombone lines, and an almost Beethovenian climax, followed by brief, potent postlude. Schubert's tender Du ist der Ruh D776 is complemented by Webern’s graceful orchestration. 

Drafted in 1821, Schubert's manuscript for what is known as his seventh symphony exists in sketch form, with a melody line and bass and counterpoint underneath. All four movements of the 7th were drafted, but he only orchestrated the slow introduction and the first 110 bars of the first movement. setting the piece aside before working on his opera Alfonso und Estrella. There also exists an autograph draft of a complete third movement (Scherzo, D 759/3),with the opening bars orchestrated., to which Samale and Cohrs have added a brief trio to create a third movement. They also suggest that it is possible that the first entr’acte from Schubert’s incidental music to Rosamunde (D 797/1), dating from the same period, was intended to serve as the symphony’s Finale. This movement, lasting almost four hundred bars, is also in B minor, and it bears many noticeable similarities to the symphony. Indeed, there are motivic relations that link both the Scherzo and the entr’acte with the symphony’s first two movements. Over the past 150 years, there have been several attempts to complete this symphony.  This version, first performed by Concentus Musicus Wien in 2014 and conductor Stefan Gottfried is gracefully paced and good listening.

Wigmore Hall Opening Gala - Boesch, Martineau, Heine and friends

To mark the start of the Wigmore Hall's 2018/19 season, Florian Boesch and Malcolm Martineau in a characteristically thought-provoking programme of songs to poems by Heinrich Heine, by Robert Schumann, Franz Liszt and Robert Franz.  From Boesch and Martineau, you can always expect the unexpected, but done with intelligence and insight. So I'll start with the end,  and the encore, which Boesch introduced as being like those endless but addictive Brazilian TV soaps where relationships go round and round forever.  Robert Schumann's Ein Jüngling liebt ein Mädchen, standard repertoire, but rarely heard with such originality.  Heine's mischevious wit came to life as Boesch sang, his eyebrows arched in disbelief as he counted the different permutations on his fingers.
"Es ist eine alte Geschichte, 
Doch bleibt sie immer neu;
Und wem sie just passieret,
Dem bricht das Herz entzwei".

But back to the beginning of the recital where Boesch and Martineau sang nine songs to poems from Heine's Lyrisches Intermezzo.  Had the point of the programe not been evident beforehand, the songs might have come as a shock, since these weren't the familiar texts to Schumann's Dichterliebe but settings by Robert Franz (1815-1892).  The two men were contemporaries.  Schumann praised Franz's first songs while he was a music critic for Die Neue Zeitschrift für Musik.  Hearing Franz's settings of the same texts that Schumann set highlights the difference in their compositional styles.  In Franz's Im wunderschönen Monat Mai (op 25/5 1870), the piano part is ornate, suggesting floral imagery, while Schumann's version emphasizes the declaration of love.  Schumann responds to the irony in Heine, whereas Franz softens the more sarcastic edges.  The strong definition of Schumann's Im Rhein from Dichterliebe (op 48, 1848) suggests the power of the river and cathedral, contrasted with "meines Lenbens Wildnis" : the poet hardly dares speak of lost love. In Franz's version, (op 18/2 1860), "die Augen, die Lippen, de Wanglein" glow radiantly.  The suppressed fear in Schumann's Allnächtlich in Taume gives way to sadness in Franz. Schumann represents Romanticism with its sense of individualism and the unconscious, while Franz represents Romanticism in more Beidermeier discretion.  Franz, like many other composers of the period, such as Carl Loewe or Franz Lachner, and many others, are important because they remind us of the many different seams in the Romantic imagination

Yet another strand of Romanticism, with an intermezzo before the songs of Franz Liszt, Schumann's Abends im Strand (op 45/3 1840) ; the very image of paintings by Caspar David Friedrich where tiny figures on shore watch ships sailing to unknown places.  Ardent figures in the piano part suggest excitement, and the vocal part rises wildly at the phrase "und quaken und schrei'en" before retreating from adventure to the gentility of the last verse  where "endlich sprach neimand mehr".

Boesch and Martineau continued with Liszt's Heine settings, including Ein Fichtenbaum steht einsam (S309/1 1860), Du bist wie eine Blume (S287 1843-9). In Liszt's Im Rhein, im schönen Strome (S272/1 1840) the piano line depicts the rolling flow of the river, which gradually gives way to more sparkling figures illuminating the last verse which mentions the lost beloved, then ends in reassuring repeated motif.  Martineau shone, and Boesch's dignified phrasing added solidity.

The high point in this set was Loreley (S273/2 1856) in one of the finest performances of this song I can remember.  Liszt creates textures in the piano part which suggest the sparkling waters, the word "loreley" embedded  wordlessly, over and over.  The delicacy with which Martineau played showed why this song is so often performed by women. But Boesch has the skills to carry it off even more convincingly.  He sang the first verses with tender restraint, creating a sense of wonder : the protagonist is, after all, not the loreley herself but a mortal wondering why the tale is so tragic.  He sang the lines "die luft ist kühl" so quietly that a ghostly chill seemed to descend, and even negotiated the tricky sudden ascent to higher range on the word "Abendsonnenschien".  Martineau played the second phase of the song to bring out the lyrical, golden warmth with which the loreley seduces.  Boesch's voice seemed to glow on the words "Die schönste Jungfrau sitzet" growing with strength and volume, evoking the power of the "wundersame, gewaltige Melodie", leading logically into the next section of the song where the seamen  are seized "mit wildem Weh", and hurled to their deaths.   Rumbling turmoil in the piano part, Martineau unleashing the fury in the waves, enhancing Boesch's darker timbres as he sang, emphasizing out the menace and horror.  This created a wonderful contrast with the last section of the song, where the gentler melody returns, as the river becomes calm once more. Now not only the motif "loreley" repeats but whole phrases, gradually retreating into a serenity which we now know will last only until the next doomed sailor appears.

Boesch and Martineau capped this wonderful Liszt Loreley with an equally impressive Schumann Belsazar (op 57, 1840). They have done this song on numerous occasions, but this performance was exceptional, Boesch relishing the inherent drama but doing it with such naturalness that it didn't feel forced. Theatrical as the scene is,  Heine's telling of the story is human.  Martineau played the rippling figures evoking the high spirits of the party in the palace, the lines flowing like wine.  "Es kirten die Becher, es jauchzten die Knecht" sang Boesch with robust vigour.  This matters, for it is drink that makes the King bold enough to curse Jehovah. Boesch's timbre is elegantly regal and his words rang forcefully : "Ich bin der König von Babylon !" Martineau's piano spakled : a last moment of fizz before the mood descends into hushed fearfulness.  A sinister chill enetred Boesch's voice, his words measured and carefully modulated, his "t"'s as sharp as knives.  Great insight, for that very night Belsazar gets stabbed to death.

After this immensely rewarding first half of the recital came a selection of Schumann's Heine settings, including Die beiden Grenadiere (op 49/1 1840). vividly characterized and muscular, and three Lieder from Myrthen op 25 , Die Lotosblume, Was will die einsame Träne and Du bist wie eine Blume. showing Boesch at his sensitive best.  Trägodie (op 64/3 1841) a song in two contrasting parts. Lover elope in hope, but their dreams are doomed. The songs are neither Heine's nor Schumann's finest, so they depend more than usual on good performance. Boesch and Martineau did them so they felt like real people, rather than maudlin figures as in some less accomplished hands I've heard.  Boesch and Martinaeu gave a very good account of  Liederkreis (op 24 1840) with some extremely interesting high points.  Warte, warte wilder Schiffmann suits Boesch's masculine physicality, while Berg' und Burgen schau'n herunter brought out something even harder to achieve ; exquisite, well-defined nuance, for this is an almost bi-polar song and poem. A boat sails merrily on the sunlit river, but above loom mountains and castles, realms of death and night.  "Oben Lust, im Busen Tückern, Strom du bist der Liebsten Bild!"  In comparison, Mit Myrten und Rosen is full-hearted joy, though it, too, is haunted by a Heine kick in the tail, which Boesch and Martineau brought out with subtlety.  Liederkreis can often be the crowning glory of a recital, and this one was good, but the first half of this programme was so unusual and so brilliantly done  that this time, for a change, Liederkreis took second place.

"New" Schubert Schwanengesang - Florian Boesch, Wigmore Hall

Schubert Schwanengesang, D957 (1828) with Florian Boesch and Malcolm Martineau at the Wigmore Hall, London. Schwanengesang isn't Schubert's Swan Song any more than it is a cycle like Die schöne Müllerin or Winterreise.  The title was given it by his publishers Haslingers, after his death, combining settings of two very differet poets, Ludwig Rellstab and Heinrich Heine.  Wigmore Hall audiences have heard lots of good Schwanengesangs, including Boesch and Martineau performances in the past, but this was something special.

Since Schwanengesang is not a song cycle, there's no reason why song order can't be altered.  Boesch and Martineau began with Liebesbotschaft, following it with Frühlingssensucht and Ständchen, forming a bouquet, where the songs complemented each other. This meant that Boesch could focuss on emotional finesse.  We're so used to good baritone performances that it's easy to underestimate the delicacy in these songs, but Boesch, despite the firmness in his timbre, achieves an almost tenor-like freshness, which is very moving. Martineau's opening notes in Ständchen floated gracefully : you could imagine the plucking of lute strings on a warm summer evening.  Boesch has an uncanny ability to sound much younger than he is, without sacrificing the poise that comes with maturity, but what was most impressive here was the way he conveyed the innate intimacy in the songs. The words were shaded as if they were spontaneous, private exchanges. Nothing "troubadour" here. Real lovers, real feelings.

Then in flew Abschied. A farewell so early in the journey? The vigorous figures in the piano part suggest speed and forward thrust. But a clue is hidden in the last strophe.  Not all the stars in heaven can replace "Der Fensterlein trübes, verschimmerndes Licht".  Boesch shaped the phrase deliberately. Beneath the blustery surface, we glimpse once again the intimacy we heard in the first three songs, and feel the loss more strongly. When Boesch sang the first line of In der ferne, "Wehe, den Fliehenden, Welt hinaus ziehenden", my blood ran cold. Suddenly it hit me why that line spans two rhyming phrases. The two songs Abschied and In der Ferne form a pair, one pretending denial, the other unmasked grief.  Thus the logic of grouping them with the turmoil of Aufenthalt and with Kreigers Ahnung, which in the Haslinger edition comes as the second song and here forms the end of the Rellstab settings. In Kreigers Ahnung, the poet is on a battlefield.  He's afraid, his heart heavy with foreboding. And what thought gives him comfort ? "Herzliebe - gute Nacht!", sang Boesch, his voice ringing first with tenderness, then with a kind of haunted resignation, the song quietly fades, and the poet falls asleep. 

Boesch and Martineau's re-ordering of the Rellstab songs makes sense, musically and in terms of meaning, bringing out depths in the material which can be overlooked in comparison with the more sophisticated Heine songs. No-one knows what Schubert might have done, had he lived longer.  How much more of Heine would he have set ? And would more Heine have developed him as a composer, in the way that Schumann was shaped by Heine ?  Boesch and Martineau paired Das Fischermädchen with Am Meer, but the connections are deeper than images of the sea, which in any case is a metaphor for emotion, which the Fischermädchen is right to fear.  The lilting lyricism of the first song gives way to the more disturbing  undercurrents of "Der Nebel stieg, das Wasser schwoll" in Am Meer.  Boesch's voice rose for a moment before receding backwards, like the ebb and flow of a tide.  The two pairs of strophes mirror one another.  Am Meer thus flowed into Ihr Bild, with its dark piano chords and penitential pace. Ihr Bild flowed into Die Stadt.   In both texts, the imagery is almost supernatural. In Die Stadt the piano line is almost impressionistic, a painting in sound.  Only in the last verse does the mood lift, "leuchtend vom Boden empor", Boesch's voice is suddenly defiant, but the mists descend again. 

Thus we were prepared for the final pairing, Der Doppelgänger and Der Atlas, first and last in the Haslinger Heine set and here heard in reverse order.  The pattern of sombre pace and short-lived protest that has gone before returns in Der Doppelgänger but hearing Der Atlas last restores the balance in favour of protest.  Martineau defined the piano part so it felt monumental, and Boesch's singing took on majesty.  Like the Doppelgänger, Atlas has lost what made him happy, and is doomed to suffer for eternity. He is cursed, but he is strong and will not crumble.   Boesch and Martineau's song order has musical and textual insight, and deserves great respect.  This is a refreshing new way of listening to a group of songs that otherwise can sometimes, in less capable performances, seem uneven.   Seeing microphones in the auditorium suggests that a recording will be in the offing, and well worth getting even if you already have rows of Schwanengesangs, or even  the previous recording Boesch and Martineau made for Onyx a few years back.  This unique performance is in an altogether different  league than most.

In the intermission before the Rellstab and Heine songs Boesch and Martineau did Grenzen von Menschheit D 716, Meeres Stille D 216 and Der Fischer D225 - which also form a mini-cyle of their own amd fit in very well with the songs that make up Schwanengesang.  At the very end, though, Boesch and Martineau found a way to incorporate Die Taubenpost, D 965 A, Schubert's setting of a poem by Johann Gabriel Seidl, which the publishers Haslinger added to Schwangesang but which has little connection, otherwise.  Boesch's face lit up in a broad grin, and he danced a cheerful shimmy before he started to sing, banishing the ghosts of loss and despair.  Yet again this made musical sense, since like Abschied, the carefree mood in Der Taubenpost belies its message : the dove's name is Sehnsucht, but, being a bird, it doesn't know what that means.   

Schumann Liederkreis op 39 Florian Boesch Wigmore Hall

Robert Schumann Liederkreis op 39 ((1840) with Florian Boesch and Justus Zeyen at the Wigmore Hall, London.  In Liederkreis op 39 Schumann sets the poems of Joseph von Eichendorff, so very  very different to Heinrich Heine, whose poems formed the basis of Liederkreis op 24.  Eichendorff was both idealist and pragmatist, an aristocrat who helped create the Prussian public system, the first and most comprehensive government school system, open to all, regardless of wealth or status.  One of the principles of Romanticism, derived from 18th century ideas, was the concept of the purity of Nature and of those who lived in harmony with it.

Joseph, Freiherr von Euchendorff

Though Eichendorff,  Heine and Schumann were contemporaries  - living poets being set by a living composer, "new" works" in every sense - Eichendorff's aesthetic harked back to earlier ideas of pastoral innocence. Liederkreis op 39 is beautiful because it harks back to an earlier period of innocence,  closer to the naturalism and sense of wonder captured in the folk-like wisdom of Brentano and Arnim's Des Knaben Wunderhorn.  Songs  like Waldesgresräch connect to the supernatural enchantment of Das klagende Lied, where the supernatural overlays human experience.  "Du weiss nichts, wer ich bin", sang Boesch, not imitating the voice of a maiden so much as expressing an innocent's frustration with mortals who don't understand.  The Lorelei has lived forever, but  the hunter hasn't a clue. This wonderful song hovers between two worlds.  Throughout the cycle, there's always something beyond, glimpsed yet not explicit.  In Auf einer Burg, an old knight has been waiting so long in his mountain fastness that he's  turned to stone.   Hence the minor key in ths song. Yet meanwhile, in the valley, peasants are getting married : life goes on and renews, though the knight might turn to dust.  The same theme arises in Im Walde, where the happy procession disappears   into darkness. ""und mich schauert's im Herzengrunde". Boesch's voice growled "Herzengrunde" , suggesting unspeakable horror. Though  Eichendorrff's world evokes the past it doesn't cling to it.  The cycle ends with Frühlingsnacht .The moon, the stars and the woods tell the poet that change is coming and, with it, new hope.  Whatever the poet may dream of, "Sie ist Deine, sie ist Dein". 

Like all good Romantics, Eichendorff relished the unknown. Songs of wandering were songs of alienation, a concept earlier periods had few means of articulating. But songs of wandering also remind us that there are worlds we don't know, which might be beyond our comprehension.   Nothing insular about Eichendorff, whose frontiers were of the mind.  Boesch was at his best in songs like In der Fremde ("Aus der Heimat hinter den Blitzen rot") and In der Fremde ("Ich hör' die Bächlein rauschen") with its haunting refrain "Ich weiss nicht, wo ich bin", bringing out the internal musical connections in this cycle, offten missed when it's done like a series of songs,  The refrain "Ich weiss nicht wer ich bin", for example, connects to the Lorelei's cry "Du weisst nichts, wer ich bin".  Though Eichendorff and his peers didn't use the vocabulary of modern psychology and alienation, they understood the concepts.  It was wonderful hearing Boesch singing Liederkreis op,39, but get the recording, just out on Linn Records. Please read more here. Though I wrote more about the Mahler songs, that's only because  Boesch has done lots of Schumann, and relatively little Mahler.

Before Schumann';s Liederkreis op 39 Boesch and Zeyen presented four Schubert songs on themes of wandering, In Walde D708, Auf der Brücke D853, Der Pilgrim D794 and Der Schiffer D536. They also did five Hugo Wolf songs to poems by Eduard Mörike, Begenung, Auf ei altes Bild, Denk'es o Seele!, Schaflendes Jesuskind and Gebet.  One erotic, one supernatural, three ostensibly though not quite religious and one so disturbing that it’s in no category.  Justus Zeyen has played with Boesch before, but his style is loud, more suited to Quasthoff than to the subleties of Boesch. Nonetheless, he showed how the piano part in Liederkreis op39 is more spare than in Liederkreis op24, in keeping with the restrained sensibility of the poems.

Schumann & Mahler Lieder Florian Boesch - a must for Mahler

Schumann and Mahler Lieder with Florian Boesch and Malcolm  Martineau, now out from Linn Records, following their recent Schubert Winterreise on Hyperion.
From Boesch and Martineau, excellence is the norm. But their Mahler Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen takes excellence to even greater levels. Although I've heard dozens of performances over the last 40 years, this took my breath away. I've been playing the songs over and over, getting so much from it. Boesch's voice is a thing of wonder - such richness, such beauty, - yet fluidly natural, free of mannerisms and self consciousness. When you listen to Boesch, you're  not listening to "a performance" so much as being drawn into the music itself,  experiencing it in a profoundly personal way.

Mahler's Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen were particularly personal works for Mahler himself. He wrote the texts himself and set them with a very short period: hence their spontaniety. This is very much a young man's adventure. so youthful vigour is central to interpretation.  Martineau plays the first bars of "Wenn mein Schatz Hochzeit macht" which repeat, like tentative but brisk footsteps into the unknown.  Note how steady Boesch's voice is as he joins in, for the protagonist is to undergo a wide range of conflicting emotions as he proceeds on his journey. When Boesch sings "Fröhliche Hochzeit" , for example, the "ö" trembles, as if to emphasize sarcasm.  The protagonist has been alone, weeping in his "dunkles “Kämmerlein". When Boesch repeats the word a second time, he shades it to evoke the darkness and all that it implies.  This intensifies the contrast in the second part of the song with its joyful outburst.  Boesch's voice glows as he sings the lyrical "Blümlein blau! Verdorre nicht!

Vöglein süß!". We can almost imagine the protagonist's lungs swelling, taking in the clean air. Like the bird, the protagonist will make his mark on the world by singing.  Not whining, to make a bad pun.  Martineau's playing is lyrical, too, suggesting the bird, singing alongside the singer.  "Zikuth, zikuth" sings Boesch  with utter simplicity, for the bird represents nature and innocence. For a moment, though, "Singet nicht! Blühet nicht!" and the poet retreats into himself, voice and piano gently muting. But not for long. The pace quickens, the piano line suggesting an energetic hike.  Lilting passages move and flutter. We're on the open meadows."Ei du! Gelt? Guten Morgen! Ei gelt?" Note the  rhythms. Boesch and Martineau keep the tone light. The bird is cheeky but it’s also chirpy. Sparkling piano figures lead into a new, more serene mood, where lines stretch smoothly, held for several measures, as if basking in Sonnenschein.  Yet again, the protagonist retreats, the piano line decelerating breaking into single notes "Nein ! Nein !" sings Boesch, with quiet resignation. "Ich hab' ein glühend Messer" heralds a sudden mood change.  Mahler's contrasts suggest stage drama, perhaps a hint that the protagonist thinks he needs to talk big to make a point. Significantly, the bluff doesn't last : the protagonist moves on.  But to what? He lies under a linden tree, whose perfume was reputedly narcotic.  The music becomes lullaby, gentle rocking patterns in voice and piano. For a baritone who has great heft when he needs it, Boesch  can do soft and tender extraordinarily well.

Will the protagonist wake refreshed or will he die ?  In Das klagende Lied, Mahler's hero rests under a tree, and gets a message from his dead brother. But in Schubert's Winterreise the hero realizes that there are no easy answers. He must keep searching.  So whither the wayfaring lad? "Alles, alles, Lieb und Leid, und Welt, und Traum".  The connections between Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen and Mahler's Symphony no 1 are obvious. But the piece is a breakthrough because Mahler is embarking on a journey in music and metaphysics that might never end.  In 1885, in  Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen, we already glimpse Das Lied von der Erde and even the Tenth Symphony looming into view.  Boesch and Martineau are Lieder specialists,deeply immersed in the aesthetic that inspired Romantiuc poetry, painting and music, and have created whole programmes on the theme of Romantic Wanderer.  Please see my review of their recent Wigmore Hall concert here. Boesch has also recorded a Wanderer disc with Roger Vignoles. Like the wanderers of the early Romantic period, Mahler, "Dreimal heimatlos", channels that questing spirit though his music is very different to Schubert's.

Surprisngly, Boesch and Martineau have done relatively little Mahler, but they are Lieder specialists, and this, I think, gives them an edge over some singers whose background might be more geared towards opera  and less intensely intimate genres.  Fundamentally Lieder is an inward genre where sensitivity and emotional intelligence are paramount.  With their extensive experience in Schubert and Schumann, Boesch and Martineau can bring that Lieder sensibility to bear in Mahler, and , perhaps even more significantly, an understanding of the early Romantic roots behind Lieder and behind the folk traditions collected by Brentano and von Arnim for their volume Des Knaben Wunderhorn. Thus this Lieder eines farhrenden Gesellen  is one which even seasoned Mahler listeners should take the time to listen and absorb.  Mahler's symphonies, even past the Fourth, connect to the Wunderhorn background.

Also on this recording, an excellent Schumann Liederkreis op 39, which Boesch and Martineau have done together many times   This version's excellent.   Regular Boesch and Martineau fans will be delighted, because Linn recordings are audiophile quality.  Listeners coming in for the Mahler are in for a serious treat !  Schumann, too, drew on the spirit of the Romantic wanderer, so hearing Schumann and Mahler together enhances our appreciation of how two very different composers approached the same concepts. In Liederkreis op 24, Schumann set Heinrich Heine, more worldly and cynical than Joseph Freiherr von Eichendorff  whose poems inspired Liederkreis op 39.  A wise choice oin the part of Boesch and Martineau, since Eichendorfff's poems are closer to the naturalism and folk wisdom of Wunderhorn. There are wanderer sings, like In der Fremde ("Aus der Heimat hinter den Blitzen rot") and In der Fremde ("Ich hör' die Bächlein rauschen") with its haunting refrain "Ich weiss nicht, wo ich bin".  But there are also songs like Waldesgresräch which connects to the supernatural enchantment of Das klagende Lied, and songs like Frühlingsnacht where in darkness the poet recalls lost love, but is cheered by nightingale song and the fresh blooms of Spring. The themes of Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen ! 

This recording isn't long (47 minutes) but it's packed with good things and worth every cent.  Three songs from Schumann's Lieder und Gesänge aus Wilhelm Meister op 98a, for example,  which Boesch and Martineau have done live several times in recent years.  Wie nie sein Brot mit Tränen aß, Wer sich der Einsamkeit ergibt, and An die Türen will ich schleichen.  Schumann's settings aren't as omnipresent as those by Schubert and Hugo Wolf, but they are every bit their equal, contemplative and - dare I use a naughty word these days - "intellectual".  Wilhelm Meister is a tortured soul, and an exile who will never find peace, but he sings on, nevertheless, though  he's forever doomed to wander.  Nothing pastoral, but also very much in the Romantic spirit of psychological discovery.  

Schubert, Wanderer - Florian Boesch Wigmore Hall

A summit reached at the end of a long journey: Florian Boesch and Malcolm Martineau at the Wigmore Hall, as the two-year Complete Schubert Song series draws to a close. Unmistakably a high point  in the whole traverse. A well-planned programme of much-loved songs performed exceptionally well, with less well known repertoire presented with intelligent flourish.

Boesch and Martineau began at the peak, with Schubert's Der Wanderer D493, (1816 Schmidt von Lübeck).  "Ich komme vom Gebirge her".  A deceptively simple phrase, but delivered by Boesch with great authority, for this song is the quintessential symbol of the whole Romantic revolution.   The song is itself a journey.  The resolute beginning gives way to desolation, then to the short, lyrical "Wo bist du, wo bist du, mein Geliebtes Land".  As Richard Stokes has written, the song "takes the form of a short cantata".  Boesch's flexibility allowed him to mark the transitions clearly without sacrificing the line.   In the last verse, his voice moved from firmness to despair, descending to ghostly whisper, so the last words rang out with anguished finality, connecting the last verse with the first. One of the most rewarding performances of  Der Wanderer I've ever heard, and I've heard hundreds.  

With its regular, repetitive lines, Der Pilgerweise D 789 (1823). can sometimes sound undistinguished, but Boesch and Martineau brought out its depths.  The pilgrim is a beggar who struggles on though "Thread after thread is torn from the fabric of his happiness". So why carry on? No mention of religious faith in this text, written by Schubert's raffish friend Franz von Schober.  Perhaps this pilgrim is the epitome of an artist, driven to create.  He's poor but has the gift of song. Boesch coloured the words with gentleness, suggesting quiet strength.   Rewarded be, those who hear the song so well interpreted.

In  Der Wanderer an den Mond D870 (1826, Seidl), Martineau depicted the steady tramping pace in the piano part, over which the vocal lines float with carefree lyricism.  In some ways, this song is the opposite of Der Wanderer.  In the context of this programme, we were looking backwards before moving forward.  I had wondered why Boesch's body language had become quite jaunty towards the end of Der Wanderer an den Mond.  This fitted the upbeat mood, but also proved a good introduction to An den Mond (D468 (1816,Hölty)  Provocatively, Boesch spoke a few words before starting. "What's this song about? Who,is dead, the girl, or the man?"  It's a curious poem, with an unidentified protagonist gazing down from the sky. Who is weeping on who's grave?  A stimulating approach. There's no reason Lieder should be grim and stiff. Perhaps this was a song Schubert played in the company of friends, enjoying themselves for sheer pleasure.  Two more happy songs: Der Zufriedene D320 (!815, Reissig) and Der Weiberfreund D271 (1815, Abraham Cowley, translated Ratschky).  The first concise and pointed, the second risqué.  From contemporary drawings, we can assume that Liederabend audiences were open minded.  Endless variety: the pious An Die Natur D372 (1815-6, Stolberg-Stolberg), with Bundeslied D258 (1815, Goethe). Schubert treats this as a drinking song, while Beethoven, setting the same text, makes connections to the drinking clubs of the time which fuelled political action. Thus Boesch and Martineau ended the set with Lacheln und Weinen D777 (1823, Rückert).  Laughter and tears - the landscape of Lieder is vast and varied.

Der Sieg D805, (1824 Mayrhofer) is an anthem, but its brave front is disguised by references to classical antiquity.  The protagonist has slain the Sphinx. The song  resumes in repose ("O unbewölktes Leben !") but the way Boesch sang the critical line "Und meine Hand - sie traf" haunted the peace with a sense of horror.  Two songs of Spring, Frühlingsglaube D686 (1820 Uhland) and Im Frühling with An den Schlaf D447 (1816, anon) and Abendstern D 806 (1824 Mayrhofer), beautifully articulated by Boesch and Martineau.

This set of songs was balanced by the final set, with Prometheus D674 (1819 Goethe) and Grenzen der Menschheit D716 (1821 Goethe) , powerful songs which Boesch can sing with authority, all the more moving because his approach can evoke more sensitive feelings. Limitations of mankind, for men are human, not gods.  Thus the unforced elegance of Boesch's An den Mind D296 (1819, Goethe and the tenderness in the two "motherhood" songs, Grablied für die Mutter D616 (1818 anon) and Die Mutter Erde D788 (1823 Stolberg-Stolberg).  It's surprising that this song isn't performed more often as it exemplifies many of the themes in this Wanderer journey.  The piano introduction is finely poised, suggesting slow footsteps "schwer und schwül".  In the moonlight, someone is being buried.  Diminuendos and a minor key, but the mood is "erhellt von sanfter Hoffnungn Schein"  Mother Earth holds us all.  Death does not triumph.   This concert was being recorded live. If it's released, this song will be one of the highlights.  Boesch and Martineau's encores were An den Mond D296 (Goethe) and Nachtviolen D752 (!824 Mayrhofer).

Lieder as Social Comment? Boesch Wigmore Hall

Wigmore Hall Monday Afternoon  recitals differ from evening concerts because they're shorter and more relaxed. Florian Boesch and Malcolm Martineau proved that "relaxed" does not in any way mean lowering of standards.  They presented a strong programme of Schumann and Wolf with refreshing panache.  ,For example, Die beiden Grenadiere, Op.49 No.1 where they seemed to create the physical presence of two tough soldiers, still marching defiantly in defeat.  One man thinks of home, but the other is still truculent, the strains of the Marseillaise ringing in his ears.   More Heine, with  Abends am Strand, Op.45 No.3  Another pair watch a fishing boat, and chat about  distant lands "und von den seltsamen Menschen". They don't like dirty foreigners (literally) !  "In Lappland sind schmutzige Leute,Plattköpfig, breitmäulig, klein; Sie kauern ums Feuer und backen Sich Fische, und quäken und schrein.seltsammen Sitten  dort". So they sit, unmoved, on the beach, on the fringes of life,  as darkness envelops them, in every sense.

Die feindlichen Brüder, Op.49  yet another pair of men fight a battle so cataclysmic that they and their castle are destroyed, and their ghosts continue to struggle, for centuries  after. Boesch and Martineau would have compiled this programme ages ago, but Heine feels remarkably prescient in the light of recent events.  

For a breather, Boesch and Martineau then switched to Schumann's settings of Chamisso, Op 40, where they did all four songs in the set to telling effect. The first two songs, Märzvielchen Op 40/1 and Muttertraum Op 40/2, are relatively gentle but Der Soldat  Op40//3 ends in sheer horror.  A man loves another more dearly than anyone else in the world, But what's happening ? His pal is being executed. And by whom, and in what circumstances ? The psychological levels are complex. This is an extremely disturbing song, despite the steady march pace.   In comparison even Der Spielmann Op 40/4  might seem conventional.  since it connects to ancient traditions connecting fiddlers with death  In a macabre twist, Schumann set this poem about a cursed  wedding on the eve of his marriage to Clara.  

Eight songs by Hugo Wolf, including the less ubiquitous Wolf settings of Goethe's Harfenspeiler songs, then back to Schumann and Heine for Belsatzar op 54.  In the piano part, the music reels riotously, as if at a drunken orgy.  "Ich bin der Kõnig von Babylon!", sang Boesch, just slightly off kilter so you could imagine the King puffed up but wobbly. At his moment of triumph, the King is struck down  Heed the Writing on the Wall, puffed-up would-be leaders of men.

"The Twitter of the 19th century", announced Boesch before commencing  another Schumann setting of Chamisso,  Verratene Lieder . Two lovers kiss in secret but the stars pass it on, and soon everyone is in on the act.   Let no one think that Lieder is not cutting-edge social observation.  Listen again here on BBC Radio 3.

Wozzeck with brains : Florian Boesch Markus Stenz

Alban Berg Wozzeck from  Amsterdam last week, Markus Stenz conducting, with Florian Boesch, an outstanding Wozzeck. Boesch's characterization reveals great insight. This Wozzeck is far more complex than a nobody, so browbeaten that he becomes more animal than man. That's a perfectly valid approach, and one which lends itself to surprising psychological development. Wozzeck is "the common man" but the common man isn't necessarily mindless, or psychotic (as Wozzeck might well be).  The natural majesty in Boesch's timbre lends itself to a portrayal as powerful as a force of nature.  The intensity in his voice suggests great strength, pressures building up like magma, held in check by hard geological forces. When the tectonic plates fissure, Wozzeck explodes. When he kills, the murder is more to do with himself than with Marie.  At the end we hear "Ringlien, Ringlein, Rosenkranz". Are cyclic forces destined to come round again? Or have we learned through the process of listening, that the insanity of the Doctor and the Captain is an excuse for evil ?

Boesch's Wozzeck is powerful, too, because he can suggest the fragility in Wozzeck's mind, its fundamental fractures audible in the quiet moments as in the outbursts.  When Boesch sings Wozzeck's brief moment of self assertion " Wir arme Leute......Geld ! Geld!", his voice takes on a steely edge though the lines are delivered with leaden resignation.  Even the Captain picks up that Wozzeck is "eine guter Mensch.... Aber er denkt zu viel, das zehrt."   The Drum Major and Marie just act: Wozzeck in his confused way is trapped by his thoughts. Boesch's Wozzeck thinks, for sure, since intelligence is the hallmark of Boesch's style.  He's a man for whom being superficial would be a moral affront.  In the scene where Wozzeck and Andres are cutting reeds in the bog, Wozzeck sees mushrooms.  Boesch sings with rapturous, though strange  beauty: to Wozzeck, the mushrooms are supernatural miracles.

In his own inarticulate way, Wozzeck is an artist, who can intuit things others cannot see. He's loyal to Marie though she's not too bright,  her emotional range limited to formulaic homilies.  The snatches of pseudo folk song and the "jaunty" choruses are there for a purpose, but not, I think, to suggest pastoral innocence.  Perhaps they are Berg's way of saying that "romantic" escapism is a form of servility which fools "poor people" into accepting their lot.  Berg's writing is too precise, and structured so deliberately that the strictness of the symmetry is very much part of meaning.  This music operates like an invisible mechanism, controlling the narrative just as circumstances control the people trapped in the isolated garrison. Hence the tight discipline of Stenz's conducting. The Radio Filharmonisch Orkest play dance with tense, bristling energy. Marches and dances are exercises in formation. Let the momentum slip and things fall apart.

Boesch and Stenz first did Wozzeck together in 2011 in Cologne, from which the photo above was taken (copyright Bernd Uhlig) so there's an electricity between them that animates this concert performance so it feels like drama.  The dynamic is so strong that I hope they'll be doing further full productions.  In Amsterdam last week,  Nathan Berg sang the Doctor, a role he's done before and does extremely well. Berg's voice crackles with menace. His words may seem rational. The character clearly is not.  Thomas Piffka sang the Captain, Asmik Grigorian sang Marie, Endrik Wottrich the Drum Major and Peter Tantsits Andre.

Also available at the moment is Wozzeck from Zurich, conducted by Fabio Luisi with Christian Gerhaher in the title role. Last October, Luisi brought this to London in concert performance, with Leigh Melrose stepping in. Please read my review here. . Luisi was new to Wozzeck, but conducted brilliantly: proof that technical excellence allows great freedom of expression.  The Zurich production has a very good cast (wonderful Doctor/Captain) and a much better Marie) but the staging doesn't help. In principle, the idea is OK : a puppet theatre with the singers as puppets. In practice, that means wooden acting. The singers become caricatured stereotypes.  Gerhaher in particular becomes a cipher. Gerhaher in particular becomes a cipher, the portrayal too anonymous to compensate for a voice which is a bit of the generic side for a role as quirky as Wozzeck. 

Florian Boesch Wigmore Hall Schubert Series

Florian Boesch and Malcolm Martineau at the Wigmore Hall, another highlight of the WH's complete song series. Read my review of the opening concert in the series, also with Boesch asnd Martineau HERE.  The two recitals dovetail beautifully, complementing each other extremely well. As with the first recital, Boesch and Martineau mixed famous songs with others more esoteric. That's why the Wigmore Hall series is so important. It's not enough to know only "greatest hits", but to explore the whole traverse of Schubert songs.  That is why the Wigmore Hall series is so important.

Schubert's settings of Goethe's Wilhelm Meister songs, the Gesänge des Harfners formed the backbone of the first half of this recital, and rightly so.  Although we've heard these songs so many times before, it's worth pondering their place in Schubert's creative output. Schubert would have known Goethe's saga in full, and probably understood the horror of the Harper's situation, cursed by guilt, exile and alienation.  In Wer sich Einsamkeit ergibt D 478, the piano recreates the sound of the kind of travelling harp Wilhelm Meister might have carried with him on his wanderings.  In 2013, at the Wigmore Hall, Matthias Goerne sang the Harfner songs transcribed for harp with Sarah Christ (review here). I remember thinking how beautiful the harp sounded, less assertive than a concert piano and more plaintive. But the darker colours of the piano are firmer, reverberating in silence, very much part of meaning. These songs aren't core repertoire for nothing.

Boesch and Martineau pull off a masterstroke,  though, by pairing the Harfner songs with other songs about struggle and journeying. In Der Pilgrim D794 to a poem by Friedrich Schiller, the piano part resembles the steady march of a pilgrim, possibly just as poor as Wilhelm Meister. He may never reach his goal, but he's inspired by "ein mächtig Hoffen und ein dunkles Glaubenswort". In Der Wallfahrt D 778a, to a poem by Friedrich Rückert,  "Meine Thränen im Bußgewand". This time the pilgrim is adrift in the desert. The song is but a fragment, created for performance by Schubert scholar Reinhard Van Hoorickx who recreated other fragments, like Lebensraum D1a which Boesch and Martineau did at the Wigmore Hall in September 2015. Then Der Hoffnung D295, a grudging, trudging sort of hope and Greisengesang D778, also from the same  Rückert Östliche Rosen from which Der Wallfahrt came, though the song is much more substantial. Here the protagonist has gone old and grey, but, having gone through tough times has found peace. As always, Florian Boesch programmes with genius. Incredibly rewarding intellectually as well as artistically.

What is the theme, then, of the second half of this programme? Is it love, albeit doomed love, like the Harfner's love? The jauntiness of Ratlose Liebe D138 gives way to Die Liebe hat gelogen D751 and Du liebst mich nicht D756, both plaintive, and the mood of secrecy in Geheimes D719. That would fit around the strange, unsettling Abendstern D806 (1824) to a poem by Johann Baptist Mayrhofer.   Mayrhofer was a strange, difficult character: it says much about Schubert's personality that he put up with him so long.  The Evening Star is an outsider, shunned by others, presenting itself briefly before darkness settles. Perhaps Mayrhofer identified with it. The star sings "Ich säe, schaue keinen Keim, und bleibe trauernd still daheim." -  I shine, but stay sorrowful.

This creates the right context for Lied des Florio D857 no 2. which comes from Schubert's incomplete Schauspeil Lacrimas, whose exotic "oriental" setting cloaks doomed love.  The piano part connects to Abdenstern in that it sparkles gently, like a star, but the text expressly refers to poison and death. This song has a companion, Lied der Delphine (Florio's amour) for high soprano. It wouldn't suit Boesch's voice, but keeping the two apart fits in with the idea of unfulfillment. Bear Delphine and Florio in mind, though, for Der Kreuzzug D932  has notes so high that they stretch a baritone's range, which oddly enough fits meaning. A monk watches Crusaders heading off to the East. The piano part suggests the chants and bells of an enclosed monastery. The voice part, however, soars upwards, as if the monk could escape and ride off with the knights.  But "Ich bin, wie ihr, ein Pilger doch!". The monk is fighting inner battles every bit as difficult as those the Crusaders are heading towards.

 With Das Grab D569, we reach the lowest depths. Now the voice inhabits the lowest points in the tessitura. The pace is funereal, the piano tolling a death march.  But good programmes don't send us home feeling sad, so it's followed with Am Tag aller Seelen D343, also known s Litanei.  "Ruh'n in Friden, alles Seelen"  Old and young, freed of earthly suffering, honoured on All Souls Eve, It's an extremely beautiful song, ideally suited to the sensitivity with which Boesch can sing.  And so to the blissful Seligkeit D433 in which happiness is restored.  In a way, perhaps we've been on a journey, or a pilgrimage, facing difficult times, but emerging, not like the Harfner, but like Mignon, transfigured by grace. How I wanted to be at this recital, but circumstances proved otherwise. But a true Lieder buff will never be thwarted! I recreated the programme through  recordings and memories. And I've heard Boesch and Martineau often enough to imagine how they'd sound. As with most things in life, you get as much as you are prepared to put in.

Florian Boesch - BR Klassik videostream recital

From BR Klassik, a video of a recital by Florian Boesch and Martin Martineau.  It's a superb performance, of course, but it's also an unusual opportunity to watch how Lieder specialists approach their art.  Filmed in one of the small studios in the radio station building, the focus is unusually intimate and focused. Only at the Holywell Music Room, Oxford, do listeners get this close to performers, so close that the recital feels like personal interaction.  What a thrill it is to look inside the piano, as a singer does, and see the strings vibrate, the music physically quivering into life.

The audience, presumably invited, are paying attention, even though the seats look uncomfortable and some of the repertoire was difficult. For this is what makes Lieder unique. It's not "background entertainment", but intellectual engagement. The poet's ideas and emotions are conveyed by composer and performers and processed through sensitive listening. Not at all a passive spectator sport !

These days when the very word "intellectual" is a swear word, we need to remember the social history of Lieder. Opera as we know it now didn't really exist. People would go to the theatre for a good show, with music. Mozart "is" intellectual, but there's no reason why we can't just sit back and enjoy. Singspeile and more earthy entertainment were pretty much the norm, even for Beethoven, whom I can't even imagine doing showtunes.  That's why Rossini and Donizetti seemed so revolutionary. There was Schubert, raised in Italian as well as German tradition, trying to figure out how to write opera and never quite succeeding.

Socially, too, Lieder reached an intellectual audience. Most of the poets Schubert set were near contemporaries, often men whom he knew personally. Poetry absolutely is at the heart of the genre, and poetry means ideas. At Liederabends. people would flirt, and eat and chat, but they came for the mental challenge of hearing poetry translated into song. Kind of like a literary salon, with music.  While there's lots of strophic ballad in the genre, its highest points are reached in durchkomponierte art song.

Boesch and Martineau chose a challenging programme, quickly launching from the famous Der Wanderer D489 to Amphiaraos D166. There's no way you can get this song without a basic appreciation of Greek myth, though the forceful chords evoke powerful, if doomed, heroic resolve. The poet was Theodor Körner, who actually did die a hero, fighting Napoleon with the Lützower Jäger.  Boesch and Martineau did this song at the Wigmore Hall a few weeks before the Munich recital (read more here). This later performance was even more ferociously intense, bringing out the the structural progressions in the song so well that I rushed to read what Graham Johnson wrote about it.

As in London, they followed this with Gebet wäjhrend der Schlacht D171 and then straight on to the declamatory ballad  Die drei Sänger D329 1815. Schubert loved setting these sagas, though they are hard to carry off well without the communication skills Boesch and Martineau possess. Schubert didn't complete the song, so Boesch recited the rest of the poem so we could imagine what might have been. Then, on to Waldesnacht D 708 and Der Gott und die Bayajadere D 254, which Boesch sang with Graham Johnson at the Wigmore Hall at the start of the WH's complete Schubert song series. (read more here)   Again, being in a small studio and so close up made the experience even more intense. Boesch and Martineau created the lilting lines so they sounded exotic, even dance-like, evoking the fabled India of Goethe's imagination. For all its loveliness, this song isn't that easy to do. Boesch and Martineau bring out the sumptuous beauty in it, but also the turbulent anguish of the Bayadere ( a dancer) who sacrifices herself for love.

Three Liszt settings, Ein Fichtenbaum, Vergiftet sind meine Lieder and Loreeley.  Lovely piano parts, for Liszt was a pianist and "spoke" through the instrument rather than picking up on the bitterness of Heine's irony.   Boesch, however, compensated by articulating the words expressively, emphasizing the inner poetry. Watch his face as he sings, and listen to how he emphasizes meaning. .Then on to Schumann, also a pianist and married to one of the greatest pianists of her time.  Fantastic piano lines, and in Aufträge op.77, No.5  a fiendishly fast-paced, tongue-twisting, lyrical vocal part. Humour is part of its drama. At the end, Boesch burst into a huge grin.  The melancholy Meine Rose flowed gently, and Herzeleied Op 107/1 was lusciously plangent. 

These prepared us for a masterful set of 3 of the 9 songs from Lieder und Gesänge aus 'Wilhelm Meister', Op.98a, Wie nie sein Brot mit Tränen aß, Wer sich der Einsamkeit ergibt, and An die Türen will ich schleichen.  Schumann's settings aren't as popular as those by Schubert and Hugo Wolf, but they are every bit their equal, with firm, contemplative and - dare I use a naughty word, "Intellectual". Boesch and Martineau delivered them with dignity and conviction so strong that one could almost feel the presence of the Harper warning us through his strange poetry. 

Two Schubert encores, Nachtviolen and Heidenröslein,, just as at the Wigmore Hall. . This latter is so ubiquitous that some think its folk song, but it isn't. It's Goethe.  Again, listen carefully to Boesch as he sings, pointedly stressing the subtle violence. The youth trifles and kills the rose but she fights back with its thorns. "Röslein sprach: "Ich steche dich,/ Dass du ewig denkst an mich/ Und ich will's nicht leiden."  Before antibiotics, you could die if a scratch became infected.  But the song switches quickly back to cheery insouciance and femininity which we know isn't as innocent as it may sound. Watch Boesch's expressions. Yes, this is a humorous song, though it packs a lethal punch!

Complete Schubert Songs Wigmore Hall Boesch Martineau

The Wigmore Hall's complete Schubert Songs series of 40 concerts began with a recital by Florian Boesch and Graham Johnson.  (Read my review here).  If anything, though, the second concert, where Boesch was accompanied by Malcolm Martineau, was even better. The programme was  beautifully planned, and the performance  exceptional, even by the very high standards of the Wigmore Hall.

Boesch and Martineau began, "at the beginning" with two very early pieces Schubert wrote while still a student at the Stadtkonvict, a school as forbidding as its name in English might suggest. But Schubert has Antonio Salieri for a teacher.  Quel innocent figlio D 17/1 1812 and Pensa, che questo istante D76 1813, are settings of poems by Pietro Metastasio. Metastasio (1698-1782)  was a prolific composer of operas and other vocal works, whom Salieri knew personally . To Schubert, Metastasio would have been almost a contemporary figure. Boesch and Martineau performed them so well that they seemed surprisingly sophisticated, showing that the young Schubert was absorbing the fundamentals of his art thoroughly from the finest models of his time.

Nonetheless, Schubert was independent-minded, already immersed in German poetry and song. No doubt Gretchen am Spinnrade and other early songs will appear later in the Wigmore Hall series, but for now, Boesch and Martineau chose four of Schubert's eleven settings of poems by Theodor Körner (1791-1813), from 1815.  Amphiaraos D166 is a ballad in heroic mien. "Dank Dir, Gewätiger Gott" sang Boesch, "Dein Blitz ist mir der Unsterblickeit Siegel!"  The thunderbolt of Zeus is the protagonist's "seal of Immortality. Gebet wäjhrend der Schlacht D171 begins with forceful violence turning suddenly to prayer.  Körner was a patriot, a hero of the Lützower Jäger, freedom fighters against  Napoleon, in a period in which the Romantic ideals of German identity were forged.  Körner was killed in battle. . Schubert was a few years younger, and in no position to enlist, which gives the settings extra poignancy.  The mood changed completely with  Das war Ich D174, a song of love with a twist of humour and a delightfully pretty postlude. With a big smile, Boesch sang Liebestädelei D206. "Lass dich küssen" sang Boesch with total charm.  

More contrast. Boesch and Martineau followed the lighter side of Körner with the declamatory ballad,  Die drei Sänger D329 1815 to a poem by Johann Friedrich Ludwig Bobrik. Schubert loved setting these sagas, though they are hard to carry off well without the communication skills Boesch and Martineau possess. Schubert didn't complete the song, so Boesch recited the rest of the poem so we could imagine what might have been. The story is familiar. It's a variation of the legend of  Der König von Thule, better known in the Goethe setting Schubert wrote at around the same time. Then, the lyrical dialogue between swan, eagle and doves that is Lebensmelodien D 395 1816,  to a poem by August  Wilhelm von Schlegel, brother of the more famous Friedrich Schlegel, of whom more below. It's a gentle song, made persuasive by the sheer grace of Boesch and Martineau's delivery. 

Das Heimweh D 456 1816 (Theodor Hell) prepared us for the high point of the whole evening, a truly masterful performance of Der Wanderer D489 1816 to a poem by Georg Phillipp Schmidt known as "Schmidt von Lübeck". (He wasn't born a nobleman.)  Der Wanderer is the epitome of the whole Romantic aesthetic, so beautiful and so profound that it is, to many, an even greater masterpiece than Erlkönig.  Boesch and Martineau performed it with exceptional intelligence and sensitivity, bringing out its deepest undercurrents.  Magnificent phrasing, elucidating the inner patterns in the music, which enhanced meaning even further. This is why those of us who cherish Lieder appreciate the unique qualities of the genre.  Der Wanderer expresses emotions so universal that no-one with a soul could fail to be drawn in.

Capping that astonishing  Der Wanderer would have been near impossible.  After the interval, Boesch and Martineau returned with another Der Wanderer D649 1819 to a poem by Karl Wilhelm Friedrich Schlegel, another great pillar of the Romantic revolution that transformed European culture. That might sound formidable, but what it means is that the Romantiker  shifted emphasis from externals to internals, from the public to the private.  Schlegel's Der Wanderer is a contemplative piece. While Schmidt von Lübeck's wanderer believes ""Dort wo du nicht bist, dort ist das Glück", Schlegel's wanderer finds peace  within himself. "Alles reinen seh' ich mild im Weiderscheine, nichts verworren....froh umgeben, doch allein". (All things I see clearly, gently reflected around me, nothing distorted, happy but resolutely alone). Sometimes it takes greater strength to come to terms with life. In its own way, this Wanderer is as inspirational and as challenging as the other.

The two Der Wanderer songs formed the centrepiece of the recital, whose programme was designed as elegantly as a rondo.   Three more Schlegel songs from 1820 followed, Die Vögel D 691, Der Schiffer D694 and Im Walde D 708  In the latter song, Schubert emphasizes the turbulence of "Windes Rauschen, Göttes  Flügel", Martineau playing with great vigour.  But Schlegel's message is more elusive. Boesch brought out the real depth in the song with the firm way in which he articulated the critical strophe, ""Tief in dunker Waldesnacht, freigegeben alle Zügel schwingt sich des Gedankens Mavcht". (Deep in the forest, in the night we aren't inhibited, so the Power of Thought is made free)  In a nutshell, the spirit of the Romantiker, without which we might not appreciate ideas like what we now call psychology.  and personal freedom.

Thus we returned, refreshed, to more Italian songs by Schubert, the Drei Gesänge D902 (1827), two of which are to poems by Metastasio, who had inspired the composer when he was was learning his trade with Salieri.  This time L'incanto degli ochi and Il traditor deluso are songs of genuine maturity, very much with Schubert's stamp of individuality. Boesch and Martineau delivered them with the grace they deserve   Elegantly framing these songs were three settings to poems by Johan Gabriel Seidl, Widerspruch D 865 1826 before and later Bei dir allein!  D 866/2 1828 and Irdisches Glück D 866/4.  The connections with the rest of the programme go deeper than language. In  Irdisches Glück  the text refers to a man who finds happiness in simple things, even though there are undercurrents of past suffering.  Seidl isn't a poet in the league of Friedrich von Schlegel, but the message isn't so different from that in Schlegel's Der Wanderer : we make of life what we can.  Is Lieder a lost art ? By no means, it's totally relevant to our lives today

This review also appears in Opera Today. The next recital in the Wigmore Hall complete Schubert Songs is on Sunday with Henk Neven. 
 

Wigmore Hall Complete Schubert Songs Florian Boesch, Graham Johnson

The Wigmore Hall, London, has launched Schubert : The Complete Songs, a  40-concert series to run through the 2015 and 2016 seasons.  There have been Schubert marathons before, like BBC Radio 3's all-Schubert week and The Oxford Lieder Festival's Schubert series last year, but the Wigmore Hall series will be a major landmark because the Wigmore Hall is the Wigmore Hall, the epitome of excellence. Amazingly, the second recital in thisd series (Boesch, Martineau) was even better ! Please also read my review here.

The Wigmore Hall's unique reputation springs from "the experience of music  made by supremely gifted musicians  for listeners open to what they may have to say", to quote John Gilhooly, the Wigmore Hall's Artistic Director.  Simple words, but radical words in the current cultural climate where compromise means more than quality. The real way ahead for serious music is to treat it seriously. Excellence is by definition, "elitist" or it wouldn't be "excellent". But  that basic ideal is simple. "The intensity of emotions, the concentration, the joy, the spiritual highs and lows, and the sheer vitality of what happens at the Wigmore Hall", Gilhooly continues, "all combine to create a sense of living art, renewed and refreshed in the moment of every performance".

"Don't let the song recital become an endangered species", Gilhooly writes in Classical Music magazine (August 2015).  Great as it will be, the Schubert series is only part of the 96 song recitals this season.   Head-on, Gilhooly confronts the fashion for marketing Lieder other than on its own terms.  "If your experience of a song recital is of someone bluffing their way through pieces they barely know, why should you go back for more?"   Lieder is fascinating because it connects to sources deep in European culture.  Perhaps it's not an easy sell in a non-intellectual age, but the Wigmore Hall meets these challenges by providing the best, aiming to "open minds to this vast imaginary world",  the  ocean of creative experience unleashed by the Romantic revolution. Capital "R", Romanticism, not lower case.

This inaugural concert featured Florian Boesch and Graham Johnson, both icons in Lieder circles. It also started with a rarity to pique the interest of the Wigmore Hall's core Lieder audience, who were out in force. This was Schubert's Lebenstraum D1a, a fragment written without text, only recently and somewhat controversially identified with Lebenstraum D39. Here we heard a version created for performance by Reinhard Van Hoorickx. Johnson played the original part for piano, followed by the new arrangement based on the poem by Gabriele von Baumberg, which formed the basis of the later song. Bear in mind that the fragment was writen in 1810, when Schubert was 13.  Boesch and Johnson followed this with a set of Goethe songs from 1815, Der Fischer D225,  Erster Verlust D226 and Der Gott und die Bayajadere D 254. The first two displayed Schubert's fascination with driven, repeating rhythms, the last with his fondness for long declamatory ballads, both styles he would continue to explore.

Boesch and Johnson then moved to a set of songs from 1816 to poems by Johann Georg Jacobi (1740-1814),  a theologian, jurist and academic. These were perhaps the treasures of this recital, since they are relatively underperformed. An Chloen D 462 and Hochzeit-Lied D 463 were delivered with graceful purity, the masculinity of Boesch's voice gently modulated to bring out their charms.  The greater depth of In der Mitternacht D464 and Trauer der Liebe D 465 suited Boesch's characteristic timbre. Trauer der Liebe was particularly effective, as it's a very good poem. Although Jacobi employs typically Romantic images like mourning doves, dark forest foliage and whispering winds, the poem deals with unsentimental emotional strength. "Freiden gibt den treuen Herzen nur ein künftig Paradies" (Happiness is given to loyal hearts only in a future Paradise) Boesch sang with pointed dignity, suggesting the intellectual rigour in Jacobi's poetry. In Die Perle D 466, the text refers to a man who can't see the joys of Springtime because he's lost a pearl he found on  a pilgrimage in distant lands. Schubert's music is jolly enough, invoking "Birke, Buch' unde Erle" (birch, beech and alder) but Jacobi's punchline is altogether more understated. "Was mir gebricht", sang Boesch quietly, "ist mehr als eines Perle".

The Jacobi set concluded with Lied des Orpheus, als er in die Hölle ging D 474. Johnson played the long piano introduction, so it felt like an overture to a miniature drama.  Schubert chose to set only  the section of the very long poem, in which Orpheus battles flames, monsters and shadows to enter Hades. Almost schizoid frenzy contrasts with eerie stillness. Jacobi and Schubert knew full well what the story of Orpheus symbolizes. Orpheus doesn't interact much with other characters, so the drama is, by its very nature, an inner monologue rather than a narrative. Orpheus doesn't save Eurydice but in the process, discovers the power of creative art. (read my review of Gluck's Orphée et Eurydice at the Royal Opera House here.  Better still, go, because it is very well thought through and an excellent show).

Boesch and Johnson continued with three settings of poems by Matthias Claudius, An die Nachtigall D497 1816, Der Tod und das Mädchen D531 (1817) and Täglich zu singen D533, 1817), then five songs to texts by Schubert's strange companion, Johann Baptist Mayrhofer Der Schiffer D 536 1817, Memnon D 541 1817, Auf der Donau D553 1817, Aus Heliopolis 1 D 753 1822 and Aus Heliopolis II D 754 1822.  Mayrhofer's poems reference Classical Antiquity to mask the inner demons the poet faced.  How he must have dreamed of an "unbewölktes Leben" (a life without clouds)  To some extent, Schubert may have intuited what lay beneath the shimmering surface calm.

Then, on to Der blind Knabe D833 1825, and Totengräbers heimweh D842 1825 (Jacob Nikolaus Craigher de Jachelutta), the latter performed so well that it set off spontaneous applause - genuine applause, totally sincere, not daft "audience participation".  Boesch beamed with appreciation. It's a marvellous song, and was done so well!  Please read my piece on this song here. Then, back to "Happy Schubert", Das Lied im Grünem D 917, 1827, (Johann Anton Friedrich Reil). Schubert and Reil, an actor, were friends, so the song may be a memory of good times in the countryside, in the past. We know , now, that Schubert was already ill with the disease that killed him 16 months later, but Schubert didn't, and nor did Reil.  It is enough that we can enjoy this lovely song for itself and revel in its freshness.

This review also appears in Opera Today. Boesch will be singing another recital in this Wigmore Hall series on Thursday 24th September, which I'll write about, too.

Photo of Boesch and Johnson by Simon Jay Price