SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

Schumann and Brahms: Kate Royal (soprano); Christopher Glynn (piano). Wigmore Hall, London, Thursday, 7.5.2009 (CC)

Schumann: 6 Lieder, op.107
Brahms: Liebestreu, op.3/1; In der Fremde, op.3/5; Lied; Parole, op.7/2; Anklänge, op.7/3; Juchhe!, op.6/4
Schumann: Gedichte der Königin Maria Stuart, op.135
Brahms: Murrays Ermordung, op.14/3; Nachtigallen schwingen, op.6/6; Wie die Wolke nach der Sonne, op.6/5; Der Frühling, op.6/2; Volkslied, op.7/4; Der Trauernde. Liebe und Frühling I & II, op3/2 & 3

It is fascinating tracking the career of Kate Royal. Her EMI discs have been popular; they are imaginatively programmed and provide a fascinating mix of the familiar and the less well–known. Her operatic career is taking off in no uncertain fashion: future engagements include Donna Elvira (Glyndebourne), Pamina and Anne Trulove (Rake’s Progress) at the Royal Opera, Covent Garden and her debut at the New York Met. 

The world of Lieder is where Kate Royal feels most at home, though, and on this occasion she did indeed projected a real sense of communication to this near–capacity Wigmore Hall audience. In terms of vocal range, she is a true soprano, but as she conclusively proved on several occasions, that does not mean that her lower register is weak. Far from it, and this ability to truly project low down was used to great effect, in the Brahms song, “Liebestreu”, op.3/1, for example. 
The programming was carefully considered and, often, beautiful. There was one last–minute hitch, though. Graham Johnson, the originally advertised accompanist, had cancelled and so, at a late stage, the young Christopher Glynn substituted. Royal has, of course, recorded a highly successful Schumann disc for Hyperion with Graham Johnson (CDJ33110). None of the repertoire on that disc was replicated in the present recital. Glynn is an able pianist who took some time to accustom himself to the Wigmore acoustic, threatening to overpower Royal on several occasions in the earlier stages of the evening. It was only when we arrived at the fourth of the Brahms songs in the first half, “Parole”, op.7/2, wherein Brahms conjures up the huntsman by using horn-derived fanfare figures, that Glynn really began to indicate that he has any great force of character. 

If her 2008 Wigmore recital indicated that Royal’s diction was improving beyond all measure, this concert confirmed it. She launched the evening with Schumann’s Six Lieder, op.107 (1851), a set of settings of Titus Ulrich, Möricke, Heyse and Müller von Königswinter, all of which centre on the concepts of loss and sadness. Royal’s blanched tone for the first, “Herzeleid”, seemed entirely appropriate. The words “unglücksel’ge Träumerin” (luckless dreamer) seem designed to slip up any unwary singer, but they were in fact crystal clear even at the very back of the hall. If one can make references to Wolf’s more famous “Gärtner” (Schumann’s third song) and a sideways nod to Schubert’s (or Gretchen’s) spinning–wheel for “Der Spinnerin” in the mode of accompaniment, neither action interrupts the integrity of Schumann’s utterance. Most impressive, perhaps, was the sense of continuity between stanzas the musicians effected in the final song, “Abendlied” (“Evening Song”).  

The set of Brahms songs from the first half were remarkably wide–ranging, from the mini-operatic scene of “Liebestreu” (“True love”) through the exciting “Parole” (which actually was the first time in the recital that Royal really showed us the power of her voice) to the joyous, playful “Juchhe!” (“Hurrah!”). 

The magnificence of the programming shone through the first sequence of the second half. The five songs of Schumann’s late, beautiful Gedichte der Königin Maria Stuart, op.135 cradled Brahms’s setting of a Scottish folksong, “Murrays Ermödung”, op.14/3 (1858), inserted between the second and third Schumann songs. The contrast between the outgoing Brahms and the preceding Schumann, “Nach dem Geburt ihres Sohnes” (“After the birth of her son”) was stark indeed.  

Royal did not quite capture the sense of tender farewell that runs through op.135/1, “Abschied von Frankreich”, a shame as the song flowed well. More effective was the prayer–like “Nach der Geburt ihres Sohnes” (“After the birth of her son”), a song of the starkest, most ascetic prayer imaginable. The trick here is to ensure that it does emerge as a prayer, not as a contradictory funeral dirge, and Royal succeeded magnificently. The third song, “An die Königin Elisabeth” emerged as a perfect partner to the Brahms folksong insertion. The most problematic of Schumann’s op.135 is No.4,  “Abschied von der Welt” (“Farewell to the World”), purely in terms of projecting the words, which pose problems for any non–native German speaker (“Zugemess’ne Zeit” seems doomed). Yet Royal succeeded, even reveling in the magnificent processes of the German language itself (which other language has a single word for “joy of death”? – “Todesfreudigkeit”). Actually, this fourth song is surely one of Schumann’s jewels, from any period of his life. The way the composer seems to play with our very perceptions of time itself is simply awe–inspiring. One criticism, and it is directed at the pianist – the attempts at painful, accented gestures on the piano failed. One could hear what Glynn was getting at and aiming for – and indeed, what Johnson would surely have achieved, had he chosen to do so – but the effect was beyond Glynn’s expressive capabilities.

Finally, a set of seven Brahms songs, taken from opus numbers Royal had extracted songs from in the first half: Opp. 6, 7 and 3 (in that order). Royal’s decision to keep her arms absolutely motionless at her sides for some of the songs was a little off–putting as it was so artificial. Op.6/2 was a case in point (“Der Frühling”). Close your eyes, though, and Royal projected the idea of contained elation very effectively indeed. Impressive also was Royal’s handling of “Liebe und Früihling I”, op.3/2, a song that begins as a folksong before blossoming out into more overtly expressive realms. 

If there is one major criticism of this recital, it is of length. The first half was a mere 30 minutes (exactly); the advertised programme finished at 8.56pm, and there was only the one encore (the traditional song, “Early one morning”). 

Kate Royal seems to be going from strength to strength, learning from her mistakes and taking constructive criticism on board.  
As a postscript, I was about to point out a performance of Handel’s 1749 oratorio Susanna that was scheduled for October this year at the Barbican with Royal in the title role, only to find that she has been replaced by Sophie Klarthauser on the grounds of pregnancy and that Royal’s baby is due around then. Congratulations are in order, it seems. 

Colin Clarke

reviewer


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