Watts/Maltman/Vignoles - Strauss Lieder, 9 June 2010

Wigmore Hall

Das Rosenband, op.36 no.1
Rote Rosen, op.31 no.1
Blauer Sommer
Begegnung
Five Songs, op.15
Leises Lied, op.39 no.1
Am Ufer, op.41 no.3
Wiegenlied, op.41 no.1
Lied an meinen Sohn, op.39 no.5

Krämerspiegel, op.66: four songs
Des Dichters Abendgang, op.47 no.2
Einerlei, op.69 no.3
Gefunden, op.56 no.1
Das Lied des Steinklopfers, op.49 no.4
Schlechtes Wetter, op.69 no.5

Elizabeth Watts (soprano)
Christopher Maltman (baritone)
Roger Vignoles (piano)

A singular, though by no means the sole, virtue to this recital was the programming, for which I assume credit should be assigned to Roger Vignoles. The opportunity to hear such a fine selection of Strauss Lieder is far rarer than it should be. Quite why, I cannot understand, for every Straussian I know – and quite a few decided non- and even anti-Straussians – would aver that nowhere is the composer greater than in his songs. Indeed, a composer of rare discernment expressed the view to me a while ago that, whilst he would not especially mind never hearing a Strauss opera again, the songs were a different matter entirely, so perfect were many of them. (And no, I have not the slightest intention of divulging the composer’s identity.) Whilst I can appreciate and understand the sentiment, I cannot quite bring myself to share it, but then I have long been unhealthily drawn to the myriad of awkward questions thrown up by Strauss’s musical dramas. Nevertheless, a selection of Lieder such as this would be as powerful an incentive to jump ship as I can imagine. Not only thoughtfully selected, but intelligently apportioned between soprano and baritone, these songs ensured that one left the hall wishing for more, which is just as it should be. If only, though, we could have heard the entire cycle, rather than a mere four songs from Krämerspiegel…

Key to the recital’s success was the consistent quality of Vignoles’s contribution at the piano. An enduring disappointment for pianists is the lack of any mature contributions from Strauss to their repertoire. (A few early pieces are worth hearing now and then, but I could not honestly plead their case more strongly than that.) Yet if they turn their attention to the world of Lieder, things look very different, unsparing though Strauss can be in his demands upon the pianist. Sometimes those demands are positively orchestral, yet rarely, at least in a fine performance, are they impossible to fulfil. Vignoles resourcefully conveyed a sense of inebriation to the second song, Blauer Sommer, whose whole world full of roses prepared us nicely for the Rote Rosen of its successor. And he whipped up quite a storm in Winternacht and the last of the four Richard Dehmel settings, Lied an meinen Sohn, though here the almost absurd demands from the composer were not always surmounted. They were, however, preceded by Mendelssohnian deftness of touch in the ravishing Wiegenlied. It is interesting to note the difference in musical language announced by some of the Dehmel settings: now inevitably associated in many of our minds with Schoenberg, his verse elicited a surprisingly Schoenbergian, perhaps even Debusssyan, response in the harmony of Leises Lied.

Vignoles captured equally well the combination of Lisztian fantasy and evening glow in Des Dichters Abendgang. Moreover, the Viennese waltz charm heard in the Krämerspiegel songs was spot on, nowhere more so than in the Rosenkavalier reminiscences of Einst kam der Bock als Bote. (We also heard, before that, Es war einmal ein Bock, and after it, Es liebte einst ein Hase and O Schöpferschwarm, O Händlerkreis.) The opening lines, indeed are ‘Einst kam der Bock als Bote/Zum Rosenkavalier an’s Haus,’ and there is a subsequent sly reference to ‘Der Strauss sticht seine Dornen schnell.’ The thorns of this Strauss/bush prick both with elegance and eloquence – how typical of the composer – the skin of publishers now as then. And the presentiment of the Mondscheinmusik from Capriccio, with which O Schöpferschwarm closes, brought tears to my eyes: the supreme riposte to the bloodsucking shopkeepers of the title.

What of the voices? Elizabeth Watts was a late replacement for Dorothea Röschmann. She took a little while to settle, the words of the opening Der Rosenband differing more than once from those Klopstock wrote and Strauss set. Yet, by the end of her first group, the sense of excitement and skittishness in Begegnung was readily and winningly conveyed. Unevenness in the vocal line was cruelly exposed in Wiegenlied, likewise a few intonational difficulties in Es war einmal ein Bock. Nevertheless, the hint of cabaret in Watts’s delivery keenly pointed up the satire of the latter, and by the third Krämerspiegel setting, Es liebte ein Hase, there was a considerable soprano presence indeed. (And how can one resist the play on words: ‘Sein Breitkopf hart und härter war,’ Breitkopf und Härtel lampooned through a hare, a lover of unctuous phrases, whose fat head, Breitkopf, became more and more wooden?) The final Rosenkavalier hurrah of cake-baking in the Heine setting, Schlechtes Wetter, was skilfully, elegantly presented.

Christopher Maltman brought typically burnished tone to his contributions. Schubertian echoes were to be heard in the Michelangelo Madrigal from the op.15 songs, and again in the Dehmel Am Ufer, Wagner too. Richness and sincerity of tone were a hallmark of Maltman’s performance, combining to especially powerful effect in Lob des Leidens, another of the op.15 set, not least on account of both musicians’ expert shaping of Strauss’s climaxes. Life shone through anger in its successor, Aus den Liedern der Trauer, likewise in the bitterness of the penultimate Das Lied des Steinklopfers, surely as close to the Berg of Wozzeck as Strauss ever came – far more so than in the merely apparent similarities of Elektra. Here the insistence of genuine anger – the poor wretch who has yet to eat today, breaking stones for the Fatherland – truly chilled. Here as elsewhere, the supreme clarity of Maltman’s diction should be noted, and not only were his words clear, they always meant something. The mezza voce employed in Gefunden had a magic all of its own, however, transcending mere words in a fashion that would equally delight the listener and annoy the poet. So much the worse for Goethe, and so much the better for us.

Brewer/Vignoles - Strauss Lieder, 7 December 2009

Wigmore Hall - BBC Lunchtime Concert

Zueignung, op.10 no.1
Die Georgine, op.10 no.4
Breit‘ über mein Haupt dein schwarzes Haar, op.19 no.2
Wie sollten wir geheim sie halten, op.19 no.4
Hochzeitlich Lied, op.37 no.6
Glückes genug, op.37, no.1
Ich liebe dich, op.37 no.2
Befreit, op.39 no.4
Songs from Gesänge des Orients, op.77
In der Campagna, op.41 no.1
Die heiligen drei Könige aus Morgenland, op.56 no.6
Frühlingsfeier, op.56 no.5

Christine Brewer (soprano)
Roger Vignoles (piano)

This was one of those concerts about which it is difficult to find a great deal to say: very little to elicit adverse criticism, yet, by the same token, precious little that is likely to prove unforgettable. Everything was performed at a high level of professionalism and Christine Brewer’s warm persona is such that it would be impossible not to like her. To hear a selection of Strauss Lieder is in itself of course most welcome, especially one such as this, which mixed the familiar and the less so (in the case of the Gesänge des Orients, the almost unknown). Members of the audience, as so often, did not help: coughers and paper-rustlers were out in force, and a high-pitched noise – some electronic device, I assume – rendered the opening Zueignung well-nigh unlistenable.

That was a great pity, for the power of Brewer’s voice registered from the outset, likewise the clarity of her diction, not always a hallmark of sopranos in Strauss. The following Die Georgine, its text also by Hermann von Gilm, enabled her to show the communicative, inviting aspect of her musicianship and personality. Roger Vignoles’s sustained yet muscular piano playing made just the right impression in Breit’ über mein Haupt, whilst his vigorous repeated chords in the ensuing Wie sollten wir geheim sie halten (‘How should we keep it secret’), imparting a sense of movement, answered the title’s question, namely that we should not be able to do so. I wearied somewhat of the preponderance of flowers and so forth in the opening songs, but perhaps such sickly Romantic imagery appeals more to others than to me.

Brewer really came into her own in Ich liebe dich, a Brünnhilde supported by piano fanfares that seemed to look forward to Der Rosenkavalier – and even evoked parallels with Schoenberg’s Gurrelieder. The soprano proved just as dramatic in the Dehmel setting, Befreit: no lyric Schwarzkopf she, which entails gains and losses. What could be said for certain, here and elsewhere, was that Strauss’s long lines caused her no difficulties whatsoever. In the more elliptical three numbers from the Gesänge des Orients (‘Ihre Augen’, ‘Schwung’, and ‘Die Allmächtige’), she was fully able to spin the vocal line, whilst Vignoles highlighted Strauss’s sometimes surprisingly oblique harmonies. The sparer textures of these later songs registered most fully in the piano part, with no loss to the vigour of Schwung.

Wiegenlied was truly lovely. Here, Brewer showed that she was quite capable of scaling down her tone to a much gentler level, though she drew intelligently upon her reserves for the climax. The piano part in this song sounds busier than it does in the orchestral version. The latter seems to me in every respect preferable, likewise that of Die heiligen drei Könige, where here, rather to my surprise, the tremolos did not always resound as they might; it is very difficult, but it can be done. Just prior to that Heine setting, Vignoles’s piano had hinted at the Strauss of the symphonic poems – somewhere between Aus Italien and Don Juan – for In der Campagna. With Heine also as the poet for the final song, Frühlingsfeier, Brewer the dramatic soprano returned with a vengeance for Strauss’s own rite of spring. Allerseelen was a welcome encore, the magic of Wiegenlied reignited.

Edinburgh Festival: Christine Brewer and Roger Vignoles, 28 August 2007

Queen's Hall

Strauss: Ich liebe dich, Op.37 no.2
Strauss: Breit über mein Haupt, Op.19 no.2
Strauss: Die Georgine, Op.10 no.4
Strauss: Die heiligen drei Könige aus Morgenland, Op.56 no.6
Strauss: Befreit, Op.39 no.4

Wolf: Vier Mignon Lieder

Britten: Cabaret Songs

John Carter: Cantata


Christine Brewer (soprano)
Roger Vignoles (piano)

Christine Brewer is celebrated for her Strauss, and not only in the opera house. Her recent disc with Roger Vignoles for Hyperion has gathered many plaudits. The opening group of songs gave an opportunity to consider further this growing reputation. Her apparently endless reserves of breath ensured that maintaining and shaping long phrases was never a problem and her diction was excellent. Moments of intimacy, however, were fewer than one might have expected; I rather had the impression that Brewer would have been better matched by an orchestra. Moreover, whilst Vignoles accompanied provided adept accompaniment, the piano part also lacked the sense of insights won from a seasoned partnership. This seemed to be almost the stereotypical Lieder-recital -by-an-'opera-singer', albeit one with great command over her awesome vocal reserves. Indeed, I missed the orchestra in 'Die heiligen drei Könige', in which the lengthy postlude sounded rather matter of fact on the piano. Vignoles doubtless had his reasons for not lingering, but the piano part did sound a little too much like the transcription that it is. The violin trills that depict, with such knowing naïveté, the infant Christ's crying either do not transfer very well to the piano or did not do so on this occasion.

But maybe nerves had been at play, for matters improved with Wolf's great Mignon Lieder. All four songs are so beautifully proportioned, for which we must thank both Wolf and Goethe, and these proportions were well served by readings attentive to formal as well as verbal concerns. Brewer seemed to respond more readily to the narrative context of Wilhelm Meisters Lehrjahre, enabling Vignoles to follow suit with less generalised accompaniment. Whilst the tendencies present in the Strauss songs had not disappeared completely, a greater readiness to respond to the shifts and turns in Wolf's alchemic blend of words and music exhibited itself as the group progressed, rendering the delectable 'Kennst du das Land' most moving. When Brewer asked, at the opening of the second stanza, 'Kennst du das Haus?' her hushed tone conveyed just the right sense of confiding consolation. Her full vocal strength would then be employed for a well-judged and never-strained climax at the third 'Dahin! Dahin!', before subsiding for the final line, both drawing back and urging Mignon's father on: 'Geht unser Weg! o Vater, lass uns ziehn!'

I felt nevertheless - perhaps surprisingly for a singer so steeped in the vocal works of German Romanticism - that Brewer was much more at ease in the English-language items of the second half. There was no longer any communicative barrier between singer and audience, which may partly have been a product of the audience's comprehension of the texts. She proved a witty, winning 'hostess' in the Britten-Auden Cabaret Songs, which might easily have seemed merely 'clever'. There was not only an impressive dynamic range but a quicksilver flexibility largely absent from the Strauss songs and only intermittently present in the Wolf items. Once again, this seemed also to apply to Vignoles, who must, I imagine, have been taking his cues from the singer.

John Carter's Cantata is a shaping of four Negro spirituals into the shape of a pseudo-Baroque cantata: Prelude/Rondo ('Peter go ring dem bells'), Recitative ('Sometimes I feel like a motherless child'), Air ('Let us break bread together'), and Toccata ('Ride on King Jesus'), although the designations seem somewhat arbitrary. The composer added a busy and ever-so-mildly 'wrong-note' piano part. Brewer, in her brief introduction, admitted to a longstanding devotion to these songs in their original form, having sung them so often at home as a child. She certainly seemed to sing from the heart, and once again communicated vividly, rising to a splendid climax on the held-note at the end of the final 'Toccata'. Vignoles shaped his part considerately yet with requisite vigour when required. It would be difficult to remain unmoved by the circumstances of the piece: Carter is believed dead, perhaps on account of suicide, but nobody knows where the sometime composer-in-residence of the National Symphony Orchestra may be. Nevertheless, my reaction was along the lines of: if you like this sort of thing, this is the sort of thing you will like.