Wigmore Hall, Mahler, Schubert, Andrè Schuen, Daniel Heide

Photo: Roger Thomas

At the Wigmore Hall, Andrè Schuen and Daniel Heide in a recital of Schubert and Mahler's Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen and Rückert-Lieder.  Schuen has most definitely arrived, at least among the long-term cognoscenti at the Wigmore Hall who appreciate the intelligence and sensitivity that marks true Lieder interpretation.  

Everyone has heard the Schubert favourites Schuen and Heide chose, maybe hundreds of times, but Schuen and Heide made them feel fresh and personal. An den Mond D 259, illuminted with subtle restraint,  Im Frühling D882, full-throated and free-spirited, Abendstern D806, gently contemplative. Schuen and Heide know how to programme, varying songs of introspection with exuberant outbursts like Der Musensohn D764.  The second half of the recital was even better : a particularly tender Sei mie gegrüsst D741 and Dass sie hier gewesen D775. Together they demonstrated Schuen's range, which effortlessly reaches the upper limits of baritone, to near-tenor brightness.  He's still young, but has huge potential - definitely a singer to follow. (Read more about him on this site) 

Schuen and Heide have often explored less familiar parts of the repertoire, like their outstanding Frank Martin Sechs monologe aus Jedermann so it was interesting to hear how they'd do Mahler Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen, which just about everyone has done, not always to best effect.  This is very much a young man's adventure, as it was for Mahler himself, setting out on his own journey.  Despite a slightly cautious start, understandable enough, Schuen soon got into his stride. Schuen's diction is agile, an energetic, even stride in his phrasing.  The poet sets out, upset because he's been rejected by a girl, but his love may have been little more than teenage fantasy. Almost immediately he is drawn to Nature and the world beyond himself.  "Ziküth, Ziküth" here rang strong and pure, as if modelled on hearing bird song ringing in the wild, for the bird symbolizes destiny - Siegfried , heading off down the Rhine, led by a wood dove in the forest.  Thus revitalised, the poet looks ahead. Schuen breathed into the phrase "Blümlein blau! Verdorre nicht!" making the words glow with wonder. Anyone who's seen gentians in Alpine regions, growing out between rocks,  knows exactly why they can feel miraculous. No surprise then that Schuen and Heide gave the second song Ging heut' Morgen über's Feld  such heartfelt vigour.  Flowing, decorative  phrasing in "Wird's nicht eine schöne Welt?Zink! Zink! Schön und flink! Wie mir doch der Welt gefällt!"Sparkling piano figures lead into a new, more serene mood, where lines stretch smoothly, held for several measures, as if basking in Sonnenschein.

With "Ich hab' ein glühend Messer" the mood shifts, like sudden storm, descending on a mountain.   The dark resonance in Schuen's lower register highlighted the drama. But yet again, Mahler doesn't dwell on angst: the drama here is almost as if the poet were reminding himself to be angry - as teenagers do - when he has in fact moved on.  In the final song, Schuen showed the lyricism and tenderness in his timbre, which in many ways is even more impressive than the volume he can achieve when needed.  The Lindenbaum reputedly has narcotic qualities, that can intoxicate those inhaling the scent of its leaves and flowers. Perhaps the poet might die (as suggested in Winterreise) but for Mahler, the song is lullaby. Sleep can refresh and re-invigorate.  Schuen's style is direct, with clear-eyed focus, totally appropriate to this cycle.

Mahler's Rückert-Lieder are not a cycle, as such, and the sequence can be altered.  Schuen and Heide put the more overt songs of love together forming a miniature cycle of their own, followed by Um Mitternacht, in which the poet confronts mortality, and Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen, in which the poet comes away from the cares of the world. The Rückert-Lieder are in an altogether more sophisticate league than Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen,  but Schuen and Heide rose to the challenge. Their performance here was the highlight of the whole evening. Lovely as these songs are, loveliness alone means little. What impressed me most was the emotional maturity and artistic insight Schuen and Heide brought to this interpretation, which can elude some bigger-name celebrities.  A particularly beautiful Ich atmet’ einen linden Duft. Again, a Lindenbaum, whose scent is powerful, but invisible. Subtlety is of the essence : Schuen and Heide seemed to make the music hover, shaping lines without forcing them, Schuen breathing carefully into each phrase, using air itself, like an Äolsharfe. Vowel sounds surged, consonants softened. It is significant that Rückert's poem is almost minimalist, images suggested with as few words as possible.  Similar gentleness in Liebst du um Schönheit. Rückert's lines are again deceptively simple, almost childlike.  Schuen understands that less is more, allowing the song to reveal its purity as it unfolds.

Um Mitternacht thus operates as contrast, not only in purely musical terms, but also to emphasize meaning. If the poet dies, his dilemma is even more poignant if he had had a good life.  While the other songs are near-lullaby, Um Mitternacht is an anthem, ringing out with impassioned dignity, connecting the individual to the cosmos. "Um Mitternacht hab' ich gedacht Hinaus in dunkle Schranken."  All that separates life from death is the beating of  the heart, "ein einz'ger Puls". An image of fragile humanity, reminding us that all the powers of this world can come suddenly to nothing. As so often in Mahler, bombast is inappropriate.  Instead, humility and respect for something greater than the individual. "Herr über Tod und Leben Du hältst die Wacht Um Mitternacht!". Heide's lines are firm and steady : Schuen's voice rings with dignity and affirmation. Thus the logic of concluding with Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen : after the storm, the calm of  true wisdom. The protagonist isn't actually dead, but has learned that wasting time on pettiness is futile.  "Ich bin gestorben dem Weltgetümmel..... ich leb' allein in meinem Himmel, in meinem Lieben, in meinen Lied". This was an excellent performance, but in time, Schuen will develop and find even more in this group of songs.

Thus the logic behind the choice of encore, Urlicht, Mahler's setting of Nietszche, which he incorporated into his Symphony no 2, heard here in the version for voice and piano.  In the symphony it serves as a transition between the "worldy cares" evoked in the qoutation of Des Antonius von Padua Fischpredigt in the previous movement and the resolution, the "resurrection" in the finale. "O Röschen rot!", an image of beauty that must, inevitably fade, Schuen's voice warming the "o" sounds, so they felt sensual, which occur again in the next phrase, but with a chill.  But this nadir of suffering is but a phase. Even angels cannot divert the supplicant from his/her goal. "Ich bin von Gott und will wieder zu Gott!" Schuen sang with resolve, suggesting great inner strength.  God will light the way to "das ewig selig Leben!". 

Franz Liszt's S290, Morgens steh' ich auf und frage, a setting of Heinrich Heine, provided the second encore.  Again, a deceptively simple text, suggesting more than mere words, Liszt's setting more pianistic than Schumann's. Schuen and Heide are planning a complete series of Liszt Lieder, the first volume of which features all three versions of the Tre Sonnetti de Petrarca (Petrarca Sonnets).  Please read my review of that HERE.  

Christoph Prégardien Wanderer Tapestries

Christoph Prégardien Winterreise at the Wigmore Hall Thursday 21st March, in Normand Forget's arrangement for chamber ensemble with Pentaèdre, and Joseph Petric, accordionist.  This is an  arrangement for wind quartet and accordion, released on CD 10 years ago. Why do some people still go berserk at the idea of transcriptions ? Music has always stimulated creative respones. The idea that it should be standardized fixed product is only very recent, more to do with consumer expectations than to do with music or musicianship.  Winterreise in particular has attracted more arrangements than perhaps anything else in the repertoire.  There are Winterreise arranged for guitar, different types of chamber ensembles and even for hurdy-gurdy. There are stagings, adaptations and dance versions.   Prégardien's Winterreise with Andreas Staier on fortepiano is so good that it's an essential part of the discography.  Julian Prégardien's Hans Zender Schuberts Winterriese is a through-composed "new" piece not a transcription, also best in its class (Please read more here).

Gustav Mahler's Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen  exists as song for voice and piano,  the songs further adapted and incorporated in his Symphony no 1. Arnold Schoenberg's arrangement for small ensemble, was created for the Society for Private Musical Performances (Verein für musikalische Privataufführungen) in 1920.  This was an organization of musicians for musicians, hence the title "private".  Musicians only, dedicated to the analysis of new works. Some 154 pieces were examined, the concerts being the fruit of these discussions.  Schoenberg's arrangement brings out the correspondances in the songs, showing how they form a true, unified cycle. This orchestration is restrained, expanding the piano line with subtle flourishes that suggest Spring and lightness.  This delicacy works especially well for tenor, particularly one like Prégardien, whose timbre is pure and clean, suggesting youthful vigour.  Prégardien's recording with Ensemble Kontraste on the disc Wanderer for Challenge from 2010 is wonderful  a must for any serious Mahler listener.  

Prégardien and Ensemble Kontraste also perform several of Wilhelm Killmayer's Hölderlin-Lieder II, which Prégardien has recorded in full. Hölderlin's verses are fragments - one no more than the phrase ".....wie Wolken um die Zeiten legt...." .which Killmayer sets with great transparency  lots of white on the page, I suspect. But that's the essence of the poems : horizons stretch beyond articulation. Pinning down meaning would restrict and demean.  Killmayer created two sets of Hölderlin songs, one for voice and piano, the other for small ensemble. The chamber version is exqusite.  The flute tessitura runs very high, soaring upwards, defying gravity.  A pervasive sense of rapture : the poet contemplating the mysteries of the universe, transcending the prison that is his tower.  Lower, sensual murmurings from clarinet, viola and cello  : single note passages  like celestial light.  Epigrammatic as these songs are, they evoke infinite possibilities.  "Greichenland" sings Prégardien, in clear, bright tones : Hölderlin transfixed by shining ideals, the richness of the ensemble behind him adding dimension.  Killmayer was a master of re-invention, expanding afresh the frontiers of Lieder.

Also on this recording, Marcus Maria Reissenberger's arrangements for small ensemble of 14 pieces by Robert Schumann.  Reissbenberger's transcriptions are faithful to the basic piano line, the other instruments adding extra colour.  Also interesting is the way he mixes songs from  texts by Heine, Kerner and Eichendorff, (not all mega famous) with piano works, not in random order, but with a new logic. A tapestry woven from many threads.

 

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.