Wigmore Hall
Auf
Heliopolis II, Philoktet, Der entsühnte Orest, Atys,
Fahrt zum Hades, Freiwilliges Versinken, Der
zürnenden Diana, Am Strome, Wie Ulfru fischt, Auf der Donau, Der Schiffer,
Einsamkeit, Die Sternennächte, Trost,
Lied eines Schiffers an die Dioskuren,
Auflösung
Wolfgang Holzmair (baritone)
Imogen Cooper (piano)
Twenty-four years after his 1989
Wigmore Hall recital debut with Gérard Wyss, Wolfgang bade farewell – at least
as a recitalist, though other appearances are not ruled out – to the venue with
a programme of Schubert songs to texts by Johann Mayrhofer. (Richard Stokes’s
otherwise exemplary programme note fell strangely silent upon the relationship
between Schubert and Mayrhofer, surely a matter for discussion in a programme
such as this, saying no more than that they ‘shared lodgings’. Maynard Solomon’s
article, ‘Franz Schubert and the Peacocks of Benvenuto Cellini’, published in
the year of Holzmair’s Wigmore debut, might at least have been mentioned, if
only to dispute its suggestions, likewise Susan Youens’s response. But let us
leave that on one side for the moment.) It was only fitting that Holzmair’s recital
partner should be Imogen Cooper, their series of performances and recordings
having been rightly celebrated for much of the period in which Holzmair has
been performing – and, as Holzmair pointed out, in a modest response to the Hall’s
closing presentation, he has been professionally performing Lieder for a period half as long again as
that which he has in London: quite a career, by any standards. It was a
splendidly non-crowd-pleasing programme, one in which attention to text, both
musical and verbal, was exemplary throughout, and a moving opportunity once again
to hear both that unmistakeably Austrian way with words and that unmistakeable
voice, in which a baritone’s range is so tinged with the timbre of a silvery
tenor that one has to remind oneself that Holzmair is not actually a tenor.
The second Heliopolis song opened the programme: a
performance that seemed to begin in
medias res, no warming up here. Both Holzmair and Cooper imparted a vigour,
even a fire, that impressed in itself, fitted Mayrhofer’s wish that passions
seething in brazen harmony (‘Laß die Leidenschaften sausen im metallenen Accord’),
and augured well for what was to come. Even in a slow-moving song such as Philoktet, both musicians knew how to
impart a winning, echt-Schubertian
lilt, for instance to Holzmair’s ‘Unterhalt’, relief from the loneliness of
Philoctetes without his bow. Atys was
a particular highlight of the first group, a performance possessed of a particularly
fine sense of narrative. The ghostliness with which the quotation in the final
stanza was delivered chilled, and yet developed into a fuller bitterness as
that stanza progressed, a fine preparation for the dark harmonies offered by the
rock-solid harmonic foundation for Cooper’s journey to Hades in the following
song. Ghostliness and lilt found themselves in perfect equipoise in Der zürnenden Diana.
It seemed fitting that in, Am Strome, which opened the second group
of songs, the beauty of youth was recaptured in both voice and, implicitly by
recollection, in the text: a heart-rending moment that led, in the song’s
second and third stanzas, into the voice of experience, again both in terms of work
and performance. A group of water-based songs – by the river, fishing, on the
Danube, and the boatman – relished yet never exaggerated Schubert’s essentially
Romantic yet city-bound love for the natural world. A darker side was, of
course, always present, yet never forbiddingly so: ‘Untergang’, the destruction
with which Auf der Donau closed, was
desolate enough, yet neither Holzmair nor Cooper felt any need to exaggerate.
The song spoke, or seemed to speak, for itself, art concealing art.
The second half opened with
the extraordinary Einsamkeit, almost
cantata-like, not only in its length but also its shifting moods, a fine
challenge, expertly navigated, for a farewell recital. Cooper’s voicing of
Schubert’s chords was an object lesson in the art, harmonic rhythm thereby
propelling the musical argument. ‘Gib mir das Glück der Geselligkeit!’ Likewise
the quasi-orchestral quality to the piano part upon the suggestion of riding
into battle: ‘Reitet in die Schlacht hinein.’ Give me the good fortune of conviviality:
whatever form(s), twists, and turns, the historical relationship of Schubert
and Mayrhofer may have taken, one knew here that it was something not to be
taken lightly, and yet at the same time not unduly to be laboured. Sociability
offered its own message for the recital as a whole: as it were, a gathering of
friends, a Schubertiade, united in
the ‘Liebe’ of which the poet spoke. The following starry nights (Die Sternennächte) were simply lovely –
or, better lieblich, as Webern, one
of Schubert’s most avid successors, once marked one of his truly Viennese piano
pieces. Cooper’s exquisite horn calls in Trost
and straining towards Liszt in the following Lied eines Schiffers an die Dioskuren offered excellent examples of
picturesque ‘moments’ that were yet integrated into a convincing whole. The
patent sincerity of both musicians shone through especially strongly in the
latter song’s final stanza, parting the ocean’s waves, before the Auflösung of the final song, which
followed without a break. ‘… störe nimmer die süßen ætherischen Chöre!’ Well,
who in his right mind would wish to disturb those sweet, æthereal choirs? On
either side of the presentation we were treated to an encore, the second, Wolf’s
Mörike Fußreise both welcome and
tantalising: like the recital as a whole.
