For Schubert's Birthday : Abendlied für die Entfernte

Schubert's Birthday today !  I'd planned to mark the occasion at the Wigmore Hall, but Julia Kleiter cancelled (get well soon !) and the prospect of driving up snow covered hills late at night was too much to contemplate. But for me, every day is Schubert's Birthday. So here's a gift in his honour, the song Abendlied für die Entfernte D856 (1825) to a poem by August Wilhelm Schlegel. 

Hinaus mein Blick! hinaus ins Tal! 

Da wohnt noch Lebensfülle; 

Da labe dich im Mondenstrahl 

Und an der heil'gen Stille.

Da horch nun ungestört, mein Herz, 

Da horch den leisen Klängen, 

Die, wie von fern, zu Wonn' und Schmerz 

(Gaze into the distance, gaze towards the valley, There lives yet the fullness of life,. Be revived by the rays of the moon,  in the holiness of peace.   My heart : listen undisturbed to gentle sounds that, as if from afar,  evoke joy and sorrow )

Wenn Ahnung und Erinnerung 

Vor unserm Blick sich gatten, 

Dann mildert sich zur Dämmerung 

Der Seele tiefster Schatten

Ach, dürften wir mit Träumen nicht 

Die Wirklichkeit verweben, 

Wie arm an Farbe, Glanz und Licht 

Wärst du, o Menschenleben! 

(When apprehension and memories gather before our sight,  growing misty in the twilight of the soul's deepest shadows. Ah, if we didn't weave dreamns with reality, how lacking in colour,  gloss and light would life be ?)

So hoffet treulich und beharrt 

Das Herz bis hin zum Grabe; 

Mit Lieb' umfaßt's die Gegenwart, 

Und dünkt sich reich an Habe, 

Die Habe, die es selbst sich schafft, 

Mag ihm kein Schicksal rauben; 

Es lebt und webt in Wärm' und Kraft

Durch Zuversicht und Glauben. 

(So the Heart is filled with hope, faithfully and with determination unto the grave, embracing bthe present with love, counting the blessings it has endowed itself which fate cannot take away. It lives and moves with warmth and diligence through confidence and faith)

Und wär in Nacht und Nebeldampf 

Auch Alles rings erstorben, 

Dies Herz hat längst für jeden Kampf 

Sich einen Schild erworben.

Mit hohem Trotz im Ungemach 

Trägt es, was ihm beschieden. 

So schlummr' ich ein, so werd' ich wach, 

In Lust nicht, doch in Frieden. 

(And if, in night and fog swirl around, and death intervenes, this Heart has long found, for every battle, a shield of defiance to ward off defeat. So I fall asleep, and will awake, not in pleasure but in peace) 

The strophic setting and sturdy piano accompaniment enhances meaning, for it emphasizes the sense of steady determination through which the Heart , the protagonist defies the inevitable fate that is death.  Because the Heart has heard " leisen Klängen" he has lived well and loved life so well that this fate sustains him and gives him peace even when he's lost the world, and only has distant horizons to gaze upon.  Schlegel's poem is deeply contemplative : a philosophy of life that overcomes mortality.   Thus we can gaze upon the statue of Schubert, on his 123rd birthday, as it stands, no doubt covered in snow this bitter winter,  and understand the significance of the text. 

Pierre Boulez Saal opening concert : Schubert Der Hirt auf dem Felsen

The Opening Concert  of the Pierre Boulez Saal, Berlin's new hall for chamber recitals.  Daniel Barenboim  did the honours in the Mozart Piano Quartet KV 493, with his son, Michael, the violinist, beside him.  No way would a concert as significant as this have been  complete without a star like Barenboim.  The invisible star, nonetheless was Pierre Boulez, for whom the hall is named. Fittingly, the concert began and ended with Boulez: Initiale initiating proceedings, with Sur Incises as the grand highlight. Both pieces also demonstrated the acoustic and flexibility of this new hall.  It's more than a recital hall, since it can be adapted for larger ensembles and even, potentially, for chamber opera.  Seating seems generous, so backstage facilities might also be of the same high standard.  Coffin-shaped concert halls are dead.  London, wake up!

Barenboim will also be remembered for posterity because he nurtures young musicians, just as he himself was nurtured when he was a child prodigy. It was good to hear Karim Said, whom Barenboim has mentored since childhood. Please see my article Why we need  to know who Karim Said Is from 2008. Said has matured nicely. He was the soloist in Alban Berg's Kammerkonzert for piano, violin and thirteen winds, with Barenboim as conductor. Later, Said was the lead pianist in Sur Incises.  Jörg Widmann appeared, both as clarinettist and as composer, performing his own Fantasie. The whole concert can be heard on repeat here, a good idea since you can fast forward past the inordinately long breaks between pieces.   You can see who's in the audience, too - Simon Rattle. 

Being a Lieder person,  I was keen to hear Schubert Der Hirt auf dem Felsen D 965 with  Barenboim, Widmann  and the incomparable Anna Prohaska.  Pauline Anna Milder-Hauptmann, the celebrity coloratura of her day, wanted a showpiece that would test her range and artistry. Der Hirt auf dem Felsen is a challenge, even for the finest performers.  The piano part is dense, "rock-like" in its complexity, and the clarinet part equally daunting. But the soprano is the star. The piece runs for twelve minutes, connecting three different poems (Wilhelm Müller and Karl August Vernhagen).  Schubert's setting replicates the imagery in the first poem,  Müller's Der Berghirt, whiuch describes a young shepherd, sitting high on a rock on a mountain, looking down on the valley below, where his beloved lives, far away. Thus the extremes of height and depth,the soprano's voice soaring upwards, while the clarinet's lower register floats seductively around her, sometimes in duet.

In the early part of the 19th century, there was a craze for "Alpine" music connecting the Romantic concepts of Nature, purity and freedom with picturesque mountain scenery and peasant simplicity.   Weber's Der Freischütz premiered in 1821 and Rossini's William Tell in 1829, the year after Schubert wrote this remarkable song. Tragically, it was his last completed work., but it might indicate how Schubert might have progressed had he survived.  Later in the century,"Alpine opera", such as La Wally came into vogue.   Strauss and Mahler wrote music in which mountains appear, figuratively. Indeed,  the whole genre of Bergfilm is an adaptation of the style. Lots on this site about mountains in music and Bergfilme.

Although the soprano in Der Hirt auf dem Felsen certainly does not yodel, the idea of a song designed to carry over long distances applies, and requires good breath control (as do pan pipes and Alpenhorn), Milder-Hauptmann and Schubert no doubt realized the piece would be a tour de force.   Prohaska was wonderful, singing with mellifluous grace.  Her words rang clear and true.

"Je weiter meine Stimme dringt,
Je heller sie mir wieder klingt
Von unten".  

In the last section, Prohaska's voice trilled deliciousl, .duetting with Widmann's clarinet. Tricky phrasing, but joyously agile, like a mountain spirit. 

"Der Frühling will kommen,
Der Frühling, meine Freud',
Nun mach' ich mich fertig
Zum Wandern bereit"

It might seem trivial, but I loved the outfit Prohaska wore: cropped trousers, knee-high boots and a long jacket.  Very elegant, yet also reminiscent of a 19th century traveller, a poet or a wanderer.

Fingal, fantasy and creativity - Schubert and Ossian

Ossian on the banks of the Lora - Francois Gérard 1801

Despite inspiring some of the most sublime music ever written (Mendelssohn) and founding the Scottish tourist industry, Fingal was a fantasy.  Schubert set several texts attributed to Ossian, supposedly a 3rd century Celtic bard.

I've been listening to Loda's Gespenst D150 (1815). Der bleiche, kalte Mond erhob sich im Osten.  Fingal's soldiers sleep, their blue helmets glittering in the moonlight. But Fingal doesn't sleep. He looks toward Sarno's tower (see it in the pic?) . Suddenly ein Windstoß rips down from the mountains. It's the phantom Loda, umringt von seinen Schrecken.  Defiant, Fingal raises his sword. Schwach ist dein Schild, Kraftlos dein Luftbild und dein Schwert. You're a windbag, Loda! The text is heroic declamation - no ornamentation in the piano part, little lyricism in the vocal line.

Fingal defies Loda - Asmus Jacub Carsters 1754-98

Then Loda speaks. Ich dreh' die Schlacht im Felde der Tapfern.....Mein Odem verbreitet den Tod.  Fingal isn't fazed. His phrases are hurled like thunderbolts, Faß die Winde und fleuch! the piano pounds affirmation. Loda advances but Fingal spears him. Der blitzende Pfad des Stahls durchdrang den düstern Geist, and Loda disintegrates in a puff of smoke, and Fingal goes back to his men.  Considering the histrionic potential of this text, Schubert's setting is fairly straightforward. The lines aren't difficult to sing but the song runs around 12 minutes and needs a singer who can do drama without taking the mickey, because the poems were taken very seriously indeed, and were, in many ways, the germ from which grew the whole Romantic revolution .

In an age before widespread media coverage, Scotland and Ireland were wild, unknown regions, beyond civilization.  The Ossian poems captured the imagination because central Europeans could project their own concepts onto an exotic template.  Fingal and Ossian served a function like the gods of Classical Antiquity, as depicted in the 18th century blended with the concept of idealized Primitive Innocents, as in Jean-Jacques Rousseau.  Even if Mendelssohn realized that the poems weren't authentic, by travelling to Fingal's Cave, he was making a pilgrimage of sorts  to the source of an imaginary world where things could happen beyond the bounds of convention.  Names like "Carric-Thura" and "Sora" and "Comhal" thrilled, precisely because central Europeans didn't know what they meant, because they sounded wildly exotic.

This song is unusual because it's not strictly speaking by James Macpherson but by  Edmund, Baron  von Harold, born in Ireland, but resident in Düsseldorf from a very early age. When the craze for Ossian swept Europe, von Harold might have spotted an opportunity to "translate" yet more manuscripts that weren't lost so much as non-existent.  Indeed, it seems that von Harold didn't actually speak Gaelic, so his sudden discovery of Dark Age documents is improbable.  Fingal and Ossian represent the creative spirit, precursors of the 19th century fascination with strange lands and myths. So Loda was an apparition? Loda, Fingal and Ossian served a purpose even if they were fantasy. 

Manic Depressive Schubert ? Der Musensohn

Manic depressive Schubert?  Der Musensohn D764 op 92/1, a case in point.  Listen to the pounding piano, Schubert's own instrument, through which he "spoke" without words.  Note the frantic, driven pace, the repetitive figures, tearing along as if driven by some unnatural, manic force.  Such rhythms occur frequently in Schubert. Babbling brooks, for example,  and merry strophic verses. But as any thoughtful reading of Die schöne Müllerin would suggest, the babbling is anything but cheerful.  Whether that brook is a malevolent force or simply a mirror through which the poet works out his  turbulent  emotions, the brook symbolizes something more complex than bucolic landscape.

"Durch Feld und Wald zu schweifen, Mein Liedchen wegzupfeifen,", "through fields and woods, I canter, piping my little song". Cantering, one foot lifted up, the other on the ground, like a prancing horse. Though the Muses' son doesn't stand still, his movements are controlled and purposeful, like the rhythm of dance. That's why "Und nach dem Takte reget, Und nach dem Maß beweget Sich alles an mir fort."  The idea of dance is, I think, critical, since the Muses were often depicted dancing together. The arts, united in communal expression.  Thus the pace of this song: fast, and sprightly, but not undisciplined or the dance will collapse into chaos. Although the tempo is fast, it evokes a steady pulse, the very pulse of life that reinvigorates Man and revives Nature after a hard winter.

Lovers are lolling under Linden trees (symbols of sleep and enchantment) but when the Muses' son passes by, presumably invisible, "Der stumpfe Bursche bläht sich, Das steife Mädchen dreht sich
Nach meiner Melodie". Note "stumpfe Bursche", a kind of bucolic oaf who acts by instinct.  The Muses' son is driven, his feet have wings. The piano evokes delightful diversions, but always returns to the basic, forceful mission. But is the Muses' son happy? The punchline "Den Liebling weit von Haus". He is the favourite son, but driven far from home.   Goethe knew Greek mythology well enough that the sons of the Muses didn't have happy fates.  It may or may not be relevant that this song was written in December 1822, when Schubert may well have become  aware that his health could not be taken for granted.

"Ihr lieben, holden Musen,Wann ruh ich ihr am Busen Auch endlich wieder aus?"  You dear, sweet Muses, when can I at last find rest in your embrace?  The dilemma of parental love : kids have got to grow up and find their way.  Some performances of Der Musensohn are  so swift that the piano seems in frenzy, driving the singer almost breathless  Manic, perhaps, but better that than anything too stolid, which misses the element of whirlwind dance.  Today a friend sent me an old favourite, where the bright, fleet-footed energy is balanced by Classical elegance. but does not disguise the existential sadness of the Musensohn's predicament.

Florian Boesch Wigmore Hall Prometheus Schubert Wolf

Florian Boesch and Malcolm Martineau gave a challenging lunchtime recital at the Wigmore Hall yesterday, framed by two different versions of Goethe's Prometheus.

Martineau defined the mood of Schubert's Prometheus with granite-like chords.  Boesch's voice floated in quietly, all the more impressive for its restraint.  Prometheus has the world on his shoulders, he can't flinch.

Boesch's Grenzen von Menscheit was outstanding, as if the whole programme had been planned around it. This long, difficult song is often the preserve of bass baritones who emphasize its dark qualities. Boesch, however, brings out its optimism, which might, to some, be shocking. The piano introduction  begins with slow, plodding chords, reminiscent of Prometheus.  Yet Boesch shaped the opening lines with surprising tenderness, anticipating the sudden leap skywards on the word "Wolken"  The Heavenly Father is sending thunderbolts, but "mit gelassener Hand". So Boesch sang the words "segnende Blitze" employing the agility in his voice to suggest a caress.

The last four lines in the first two strophes are repeated, suggesting that the protagonist is trapped, dragged down by his burdens.  Men cannot compete with Gods. Then a transition, where Goethe repeats the words "Wellen" and Schubert  creates rolling phrases to suggest  invisible tides. "Ein kleiner Ring" sang Boesch,"Begrenzt unser Leben, und viele Geschlechter reihen sich dauernd Aa ihres Daseins..." Tremendous breath control and dignity. "Unendliche Kette." Individual men may be doomed to struggle, and to drown, but some invisible power, like the tides of the ocean, ensures that mankind will be replenished. Boesch showed how Grenzen der Menscheit, in its quiet, understated way, isn't so much about the limitations of Mankind, but about endlessly renewed horizons.

Boesch and Martineau did Wolf's Drei Gedichte von Michelangelo which Matthias Goerne and Andreas Haefliger performed at the Wigmore Hall last October (more here).  Goerne and Haefliger were exceptional, as one would expect.  In the more relaxed setting of a lunchtime recital, Boesch asnd Martineau could afford to "merely" be very good. A relative term, as these are performers of the highest calibre.  Besides, they were saving up for Wolf's Prometheus. Wolf's setting is ferocious, almost manic in its rage against the fate of the Titan, whose crime was to give light to Mankind. One can understand why Wolf, a man of extremes, would identify with Prometheus. Pounding piano figures, and demands on the voice that would frighten lesser singers.

Wolf emphasizes defiance. Martineau's playing was demonic, Boesch's singing intense and emotionally ravaged.  "Hier sitz' ich, forme Menschen Nach meinem Bilde. Ein Geschlecht, das mir gleich sei, Zu leiden, zu weinen, Zu genießen und zu freuen sich Und dein nicht zu achten, Wie ich!"  Wolf knew about Nietzsche and his fate, so similar to Wolf's own. This insight makes the interpretation of the song even more poignant. With his sensitivity to text, Wolf would have connected his own creativity (and frustration) with Prometheus's mission to create a new race of men.

Prometheus, Michelangelo, the protagonist in  Grenzen von Menscheit and Wilhelm Meister, the Harpist in the Schubert Harfenspieler songs earlier in the recital, share in common stubborn persistence in the face of adversity. They create, therefore they live, even if they are themselves effaced. This programme was wonderfully well thought through and will, no doubt, in time mature into a larger conceptual collection.
..
The recital ended with Hugo Wolf Gebet. "Herr, schicke, was du willst,", the poet challenges God. But the poet is Eduard Mörike whose wry humanity appealed so much to Wolf. "Doch in der Mitten liegt holdes Bescheiden". Happiness doesn't come from extremes but from being "in the middle", knowing one's boundaries.

Please also see
Luca Pisaroni Italian Lieder
Christoph Prégardien Magic and Mayhem

Ständchen or Sérénade Schubert Valentine

Jusqu'à toi mon chant dans l'ombre
Monte doucement