Wigmore Hall
Wolf – Neue Liebe
Peregrina
I & II
Liszt – Blume und Duft
Wolf – An die Geliebte
Liebesbotschaft
Nachtgruß
Michelangelo-Lieder
Liszt – Ein Fichtenbaum steht einsam
Vergiftet
sind meine Lieder
Laßt
much ruhen
Ich
möchte hingehn
Des
Tages laute Stimmen schweigen
Über
allen Gipfeln ist Ruh’
Wolf – Harfenspieler I, II, & III
Liszt – Der du von Himmel bist
Wolf – Byron-Lieder
Morgenstimmung
Matthias Goerne (baritone)
Andreas Haefliger (piano)
A wonderful recital, both in
terms of programming and performance! No dubious attempts at ‘light relief’,
but an exploration of German song that ranged beyond familiar ‘favourites’
without compromising upon quality. Matthias Goerne was in his element here,
well supported – and rather more than supported – by Andreas Haefliger.
It was, of course, Haefliger
who had the opening word, the introductory harmonies of Neue Liebe, as so often with Wolf, clearly in a line of descent
from Wagner and Liszt, without being reducible to those influences, chords from
the sepulchre, beautifully voiced, reminiscent from afar of Liszt’s ‘Il
penseroso’ from the Italian Années de pèlerinage.
The following Peregrina songs, again
Mörike settings, offered an interesting case study of how songs that are
famously focused upon text can yet emerge as less word-dominated than one might
have expected, a consequence both of a fine pianist and a truly collaborative
singer. Peregrina II almost sounded
at times as if shading into melodrama (in the proper sense), yet somehow
melodrama with an exquisite vocal line, Goerne’s crescendo and diminuendo on
the last two lines a perfect example of synergy between words and music. The
sole Liszt song in the first half, Blume und
Duft, emerged as properly Tristan-esque,
and for once – an exaggeration, I know, though a pardonable exaggeration – it may
have been a matter of Wagnerian influence upon Liszt rather than the other way
round, this Hebbel setting having been written in 1860, just after Tristan. In this performance, it was not
just the harmony, tonality verging at times upon the suspended, but the vocal
line and delivery that shaded into such dangerous territory. I could not help
but think what a splendid Kurwenal Goerne would be likely to make in the future
– until I consulted his programme biography, to discover that he has already
sung the role.
Wolf and Mörike returned in
the guise of An die Geliebte, whose
poetic and musico-dramatic contours were finely drawn by both artists. The quiet
ecstasy with which the song concluded could hardly have been bettered. Nachtgruß would soon offer a similar but
different form of magic, that of the night, which, in Goerne’s hands, or rather
through his voice, left us spellbound. The three Michelangelo-Lieder showed once again a composer in the wake of
Wagner and Liszt, nevertheless unmistakeably himself. ‘Alles endet, was
entstehet’ almost made Wotan’s Walküre
monologue seem like a jeu d’esprit:
profound in the best sense, like Goerne’s baritone itself. The final ‘Fühlt
meine Seele’ offered again a sensibility that was definitely post-Lisztian,
post-Tristan, and yet crucially
remained very much of the Lied rather
than the opera house or indeed the ‘star’ recital.
Liszt remains overlooked,
even condescended to, by many who should know better. How people can talk such
rubbish about him if they were to hear songs such as these, in performances such
as these, I really do not know; perhaps we simply have to accept that the
problem lies not with the composer and continue without the not-so-cultured
despisers. Ein Fichtenbaum steht einsam
offered an immediate audition for the Romantic Liszt, especially in the piano:
such characteristic figures and harmonies, the Années de pèlerinage again brought to mind, and such flexibility of
delivery from both performers. Goerne’s strength of tone in Vergiftet sind meine Lieder, also a
Heine setting, and his identification with the text were second to none. Ardour
with an undertow of sadness marked the impeccable musical flow of Laßt much ruhen, but it was the relatively
early (c. 1845) Georg Herwegh setting,
Ich möchte hingehn that seemed to
mark the very heart of the recital – or at least a twin heart, with the
Michelangelo settings. Tristan-suffused,
albeit this time very much avant la
lettre, Liszt’s writing and sensibility seem all the more telling, given
that it would be Herwegh who would introduce Wagner in his Zurich exile to the
philosophy of Schopenhauer. Here, we were led into the world of a somewhat,
though only somewhat, more German complement to Liszt’s own Petrarch sonnet
settings. Haefliger’s shading and phrasing proved just as impressive as that of
his colleague. Wotan again came to mind in the late (1880) Des Tagess laute Stimmen schweigen, Goerne’s audibility and
communication at pianissimo, indeed
later at ppp, quite breathtaking. The
ghostly expressionism of the final kiss ‘Dann kusst euch still und mild die
Nacht’ was judged to unexaggerated perfection.
Haefliger relished, likewise without
unnecessary underlining, the proto-Parsifal
progressions of Über allen Gipfeln
ist Ruh’, before we returned to Wolf, whilst remaining with Goethe, for the
three Harfenspieler: the piano’s
assumption of the harpist’s role delightful in the first, the syncopation of
the second especially unsettling. Remaining with Goethe a little longer, Liszt’s
Der du von dem Himmel bist offered
something akin to a depressive Liebestraum.
Wolf’s two Byron settings from 1896 followed, ‘Keine gleicht von allen Schönen’
sinuous, weighty, and undeniably heartfelt. Morgenstimmung
proved the recital’s crowning glory: quite the climax in every respect, both
unifying and true culmination.
