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CHAMBER MUSIC REVIEW
Courage And Desire: Communicating Lieder
February 15, 2001
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By Stephanie Friedman
Lieder recitals appear to be getting better. One after another, wonderful European artists, singers as well as pianists, seem to be regarding the German song repertory the same way early-music enthusiasts regarded the glories of Renaissance music a few decades ago: as a rich legacy to be studied, explored, and performed with renewed purpose. That this rediscovery occurs at a time when many have been lamenting the death of the vocal recital is all the more cause for joy.
Lest this be taken as a slight to American singers, remember that the lied is grounded in German Romantic poetry and the German language. Singers steeped in this over 200-year-old legacy have German poetry in their bones. They feel differently about it, and it shows in their performances. What they communicate is courage and an almost fierce desire to elucidate the poetic meaning of a song. Time and time again a procession of unbelievably gifted singers and pianists has taken the concert stage and opened up new vistas in lieder performance. American singers and nonsingers can only marvel, partake in the deep satisfaction and enlightenment of these recitals, and, if they're lucky, be moved to learn.
Such a recital was presented Thursday evening in Herbst Theater by tenor Christoph Prégardien and pianist Michael Gees. In a program entitled "Follow Goethe: Lieder after poems by Goethe," they bent their superlative talents to exploring the fascination that Goethe's poetry has had for nine composers, including Gees. Nowhere could better guides be found for an excursion through Goethe's composers than these two amazing artists.
Prégardien's voice was by turns sweet, forceful, plangent, and almost painfully focused. Never less than expressive, his voice was like clear glass through which the music passed cleanly and directly. Occasionally he sounded as if he were pushing beyond his limits by using full-voiced high tones instead of blending in a lighter head quality. But this technical choice in no way hampered his singing. The colors he commands made him convincing in a wide range of songs, from the fervent pianissimo of Schubert's "Wanderers Nachtlied" ("Wanderer's Night Song") to the heroic thrust of Beethoven's "Neue Liebe, neues Leben" ("New Love, New Life"). His voice sounded constantly fresh and urgent, with a wonderful Bjoerlingesque plangency for a song like Schumann's "An die Türen will ich schleichen" ("I will creep to the doors"). The program was arranged as a series of songs by various composers, mixed chronologically, and so intelligently organized that a musical and emotional thread ran through each unbroken half, with applause permitted only at its end. It worked beautifully.
One example will have to serve: Opening with a straightforward, rollicking, chordal Schumann piece, "Freisinn" ("Heart that's free"), an early song from the Myrthen, the performers then offered a richly imaged evocation of Nature, "Herbstgefühl" ("Autumn"), which combined the bouncy forthrightness of the Schumann with the abrupt harmonic changes of Hugo Wolf, whose beautiful setting of "Phänomen" ("A Wonder of Nature") came next. This progression did more than establish a musical through-line, however. Its emotional variety satisfied my soul. The first song of the trio set forth a traveler's credo — I will climb into the saddle and ride off, with nothing but the stars above my head. The second delighted my senses with Nature descriptions: "The mellow sun glows warm on you . . . the magic of moonlight cools you with soothing breath." And the third refreshed my soul with a simile: The old man, with his white hair, is as much a "wonder of Nature" as the multicolored rainbow, being a pale reflection of it. And as such, he is still alive to love. In short two-footed lines and deceptively simple language, Goethe provides food for thought, reflection. The result is an epiphany. Wolf's setting is delicate, revelatory. The program continued in this manner, each song determining and speaking to the next one, creating a garland of varied inspirations, and all illuminating facets of Goethe's genius. Toughness and virility were here, along with wistfulness, humor, lyricism, exuberance, and thoughtfulness. Clearly, interpreters of such variety and genius require minds, hearts, souls, and voices to match. These Prégardien and Gees supplied in abundance. In the end, it seemed as if all the songs had been by the same composer, so strong was Goethe's personality throughout.
If there was one weak link in this finely spun web, it may have been Alphons Diepenbrock's "Der Fischer," in which the music did not have the revelatory power of the others. The rest were gems, including one surprise: a different "Erlkönig" ("Erl King") — not Schubert's but Carl Loewe's, a fully successful realization. Prégardien offered all three voices convincingly. It was not difficult to see why some critics have argued for this version over the one by Schubert. One more mention: Hugo Wolf's perfect setting of a perfect poem spoken, in imagination, at the grave of another perfect poet, "Anakreon's Grab". The single encore was Edvard Grieg's beautiful "Zur rosenzeit" ("In the time of roses"), in which the two performers served up Romantic lyricism like an exquisite after-dinner cordial. (Stephanie Friedman, mezzo-soprano, has performed in this country and abroad, in opera and recital. She teaches singing at U.C. Davis and Holy Names College.) ©2001 Stephanie Friedman, all rights reserved |
