Wigmore Hall
Seligkeit, D 433; An die Apfelbäume, wo ich Julien erblickte, D 197; An den Mond, D 193; Nähe des Geliebten, D 162; Rastlose
Liebe, D 138; Wandrers Nachtlied I,
D 224; An den Mond, D 259; Der Musensohn, D 764; Ganymed, D 544; Meeres Stille, D 216; Erlkönig,
D 328; Viola, D 786; Totengräberlied, D 44; Totengräbers Heimweh, D 842; Drang in die Ferne, D 770; Der Wanderer an den Mond, D 870; Abdenstern, D 806; Der Wanderer, D 489; Nachtstück,
D 672
Luca Pisaroni and Wolfram
Rieger had been due to give a recital of Schubert Lieder this evening; both, alas, fell ill. No one, however, could
have been disappointed by their replacements. I had heard Benjamin Appl just
one week earlier in an excellent recital at this very venue; he and Jonathan Ware now stepped in to give us
an all-Schubert programme at least as fine.
Seligkeit (in one translation, ‘bliss’) opened the proceedings
– and so it sounded. Both Appl and Ware were on excellent form from the outset,
both of their parts sounding good-natured, carefree (insofar as Schubert can
be). The voice sounded beautiful of tone with that great degree of variegation
I had noted in the previous recital; the piano part was lucidly, nimbly traced.
There was dramatic variety – and unity – to be heard in An die Apfelbäume, wo ich Julien erblickte. The transformation of
third stanza – ‘Nach langer Trennung Küsse mit Engelkuss…’ – quite properly
took one’s breath away, as did the transmuting of ardour into nostalgia in the
fourth. Nocturnal mystery and, above all, musical and verbal sincerity marked
out An den Mond.
There then followed a sequence
of Goethe settings. Rastlose Liebe made
a wonderfully honest impression: a review of it as performance might simply
quote its text. Wandrers Nachtlied I
benefited from a performance capturing perfectly its mixture of restlessness
and the restful: like the Wanderer himself, one might say. Musical structure
came to the fore in a delightful performance of another An den Mond, followed by a foot-tapping, ardent account of Der Musensohn. German is, of course,
Appl’s native tongue, but the communicative skill he shows with it goes far
beyond that. A seductive, charming, and alternately joyous Ganymed had more than a hint of Mozart to it. The contrast was
stark in a heart-stopping account of the strange Meeres Stille: stillness that yet moved. The concluding Erlkönig had it all, even when compared
with the previous month’s memory of Waltraud
Meier. Dramatic characterisation was every bit as strong; how it made one
long to hear and indeed to see Appl on stage. So was tragic momentum, for which
Ware was, of course, equally responsible. It had this listener in tears – and I
doubt I was the only one.
Viola was a very different sort of song with
which to open the second half. Ware’s quietly arresting piano prelude compelled
one to listen, his beautifully pellucid tone preparing the way for Appl’s
equally beautiful – never, of course, just beautiful – tone. The strength of
Appl’s narrative was such as to sustain, even to heighten, what in lesser hands
might outstay its welcome (similarly the later Drang in die Ferne). This was as gripping in its own way as Erlkönig, and perhaps a rarer pleasure
still. A charming, good-humoured Totengräberlied
followed: very much a performance.
Programming Totengräbers Heimweh
thereafter was a nice touch; we heard a dark, almost Bachian account. The ‘rr’
in ‘scharre’ was delivered as surely only a German could. More important was
the transfiguration experienced in the final stanza. Ware gave a wonderful
impression of what I am tempted to call the quasi-Magyar tendencies in the
tread of Der Wanderer an den Mond,
which then blossomed, unusually for Schubert, into something lighter. Time
seemed almost to stand still in Der
Wanderer; one almost wished there were no ‘almost’. Nachtstück offered a satisfyingly dark conclusion, albeit quite
properly a conclusion that was far from unrelievedly dark. A strong sense of
contentment was just the thing.
