Wigmore Hall
Mahler – Kindertotenlieder
Wagner – Wesendonck-LiederMahler – Des Knaben Wunderhorn: ‘Rheinlegendchen’, ‘Wo die schönen Trompeten blasen’; ‘Des Antonius von Padua Fischpredigt’
Mahler – Rückert-Lieder
Waltraud Meier (mezzo-soprano)
Joseph Breinl (piano)
This is perhaps a difficult easy
recital to write about. With the best will in the world – and I think I probably
have that when it comes to Waltraud Meier – not everything was entirely
successful; or, perhaps better, there was little that approached the perfection
one might expect from some artists. It is, I think, a little too easy to fall
back on clichés concerning distinctions between ‘opera singers’ and Lieder singers. There are no absolute
boundaries between artists; nor are there between genres. Indeed, there can be
a certain snobbery when it comes to Lieder-singing,
just as there can be when it comes to chamber music vis-à-vis orchestral music.
Perhaps it is justified, sometimes at least; it is difficult to dispute that
the general standard of works in the one is higher than in the other. Imagine a
song repertoire that was mostly devoted to the likes of Verdi and Donizetti! In
any case, that was not what we heard here, Mahler and, above all, Wagner being
unsurprising territory for Meier.
Kindertotenlieder received an interesting performance.
Intonation was not always spot on. I think that element of colouring – a deliberate
flatness? – was, like other such elements, sometimes an interpretative
decision, quite striking; however, I am not convinced that it always was. Perhaps
it was not the best work with which to have opened a recital; too often, Mahler’s
vocal lines sounded dangerously exposed. Meier treated the songs, and here I
realise that I am already falling back on the ‘operatic’ cliché, more as a
unified drama than one generally hears. One might object that that is not what
these songs ‘are’ and I suppose they are not, but it does no harm to hear
different approaches. Certain phrase endings in particular had more musical
connotations, sounding very much in the line of the Wagner heroines she has
portrayed – and also, those one might have wished her to portray: Brünnhilde as
well as Isolde.
Joseph Breinl’s piano playing
sounded spare, more contrapuntal than harmonic in emphasis. That, however, is
how Mahler tends to sound on the piano. I am not convinced that Mahler’s songs,
where orchestral versions exist, are best served by the piano; regardless of
what actually came first, the ‘accompaniments’ sound as if conceived with
something close to Klangfarbenmelodie in
mind; one hears very much where Schoenberg and, perhaps still more so, Webern
were coming from. But there is interest in hearing how different the harmonies
sound shorn of their orchestral colour, and such comments are in no way meant
as adverse criticism of Breinl’s excellent performances in any of the Mahler
songs.
In the second half, Meier
seemed considerably more at ease with the composer. There was sardonicism and there
was archly ‘staged’ flirtation in the Wunderhorn
songs; these are songs of alienation, just as the Rückert-Lieder are, and that is how they sounded. The terrible
stillness of ‘Um Mitternacht’ can rarely have sounded so threateningly
Nietzschean. Both artists ensured that each of these songs had its own character
and, again, the sense of some overarching narrative, even if it were one
impossible to put into words, was strong. It was more akin to a cantata, almost
Waltraute-like – I always think of that Götterdämmerung
scene in such terms – than one generally hears, or would generally wish to, but
again, there was much to be gleaned from such a perspective.
For all that is often said
about Wagner as a pianist, his later works involving piano are far from
negligible. His Sonata for Mathilde Wesendonck is far too often ignorantly
dismissed; it is a fascinating work, which deserves many more hearings. The
songs which bear her name are rightly esteemed, of course; here what struck me,
both intrinsically and in performance, was how genuinely song-like they are, their
overt operatic connections notwithstanding. Breinl’s tone was softer, more
conciliatory: more ‘Romantic’, I should say. Meier offered a portrayal of
wisdom that seemed almost to be recalling youthful folly: heard more from the
standpoint of Isolde at her Transfiguration rather than in the second act.
Echoes and indeed presentiments of Isolde are impossible to banish here, but
this seemed to be more than that. Again, there was a starkly ‘dramatic’ aspect
to the performance which I should not always wish to hear, but which I was glad
to have heard on this occasion.
The encores were worth the
price of admission alone. About them I had no reservations whatsoever. First,
we heard an urgent, almost overwhelming performance – from both artists – of Brahms’s
Von ewiger Liebe. Then Meier
astonished with the most terrifying Erlkönig
I have ever heard and, most likely, shall ever hear. In her narrative and
characterising element, this was in the very best sense an operatic scena, its
terror heightened of course by Breinl’s command of that cruel piano part. Meier’s
searing performance, though, was something I doubt I shall ever forget. So perhaps
I was wrong to start by suggesting that this was a difficult recital to write
about; one simply needed to take it on its own terms. Those terms often provided
their own vindication, regardless of what might be considered ‘correct’.
