Wigmore Hall
Dichterliebe, op.48
Variations on an original
theme in E-flat major, WoO 24, ‘Ghost Variations’Songs from the Six Songs, op.89, and from Six Poems of Nikolaus Lenau, op.90
London audiences have grown
used to making difficult choices, and expect little sympathy from those in less
musically-favoured cities. In most circumstances, I suspect I should have opted
to hear Krystian Zimerman play Brahms with the LSO, but the prospect of
Matthias Goerne and Menahem Pressler won out on this occasion. Not unreasonably
so, either on paper in practice: Goerne is of course one of the very greatest Lieder-singers of our time, whilst
Pressler’s career is without parallel. Never having heard the latter in concert
– alas, I never heard the Beaux Arts Trio – the choice was actually not so very
difficult.
A good deal of thought had
clearly gone into the programming, for a last minute change had been made to
its ordering (and, in one case, to its composition). Originally, Dichterliebe was to have come last, a
fitting climax, no doubt, with the op.89 and op.90 songs and the ‘Geister
Variations’ to have been heard in the first half. ‘Requiem’, the final number
of op.90 disappeared, as did the interval, and Dichterliebe moved to the front of the queue. It was a brave move,
fully vindicated, and in practice, I think a wise move, for the strange works
of Schumann’s tormented final years probably fared better for being put into
context by such an unquestioned masterpiece. One would not expect Pressler’s
pianism necessarily to be technically flawless at this stage, nor was it; but
here, any momentary slips were of little import (whether for me, or, so it
seemed, the rest of the audience). The opening bars of ‘Im wunderschönen Monat Mai’
said it all really, pregnant with expectation, but already equally careful and
expressive of Schumann’s intricate balance – or dialectic – between quasi-autonomous
musical structures, Bachian lessons fully learned and developed, and response
to Heine’s verse. (It is noteworthy how, in most cases, Schumann’s greatest
songs are his settings of the very greatest in German verse, something that
certainly differentiates him from Schubert.) Voicing often made one hear the
music afresh: an inner line brought out, a striking move towards abstraction or,
conversely, towards dissolution or expansion of poetry in music. ‘Das ist ein
Flöten und Geigen’ peered forward towards Das
klagende Lied, not the only occasion on which Mahler sprang to mind, an
impression conveyed by both artists, whether consciously or otherwise..
Goerne, of course, does ‘serious’
like almost no other vocal artist. Born to sing Wozzeck, born to remind us of
the true sadness of Papageno, he was, if anything, still more born for Lieder. His legato remains a thing of
wonder, fully the equal of, yet utterly different from, that of, say, Christian
Gerhaher. But Goerne arguably makes more of the words, or at least offers a
more verbal portrayal, Fischer-Dieskau hovering in the background without the
slightest sense of imitation. And so, we heard so much of human experience:
joy, sadness, immediacy, recollection, strident insistence, fear… Heine, as
much as Schumann, came once again to life before our very ears. ‘Die alten, bösen Lieder’ told its sombre
tale as if already hinting at the troubles of Schumann’s later years, and yet
also signalling a control, an ability to cope and indeed to transfigure, that
would increasingly elude the composer later on. But Pressler had the last word,
or rather did so in tandem with Schumann: that infinitely touching piano
epilogue held us spellbound. One never wants it to end, yet feels that it
captures something of the eternal. So, at any rate, I felt again here.
The piano variations stand as
testament to a tortured soul, yet also the composer’s ability, even in 1854, to
make something of that torture. It is difficult, perhaps impossible, simply to
hear them ‘as music’, but Pressler, despite a good few uncertainties, conveyed their
almost Beethovenian nobility as compositional inspiration came and went. The
op.89 and op.90 songs are less problematical, although we do not hear them so
very often. Flashes of former inspiration were very much present, but so too
was a sense of struggle towards something almost close to sobriety. Goerne knew
not to make too great demands of them, but there was, by the same token, not the
slightest hint of condescension. The bleakness of the Lenau songs comes readily
to him, of course, but that is not to gainsay the subtlety with which he
portrayed the very particular bleakness that remains founded upon hope. Neither
in life nor in work did Schumann tend towards nihilism; Goerne and Pressler too
offered hope, both as performers and in performance. The quiet close of the
final song left us uncertain, just as it should have done.
