This is a wonderful disc, the finest song recital to come my
way in some time, as much for the well curated choice of repertoire
as for the quality of the musical vision. Gerhaher and Huber
give us a summation of the German Lied tradition, encompassing
what many would see as its very beginning and its very end.
The First Viennese School is represented by Haydn and Beethoven,
while the Second gets cycles from Schoenberg and Berg. What
in some hands might seem polar opposites here become complementary
halves, and one turns to one School with new ears, having been
refreshed by knowledge of the other.
Any new disc from Christian Gerhaher is an event, something
to get excited about, as he is one of the finest Lied
singers we have today. You can take the beauty of his tone for
granted: it’s silky, gentle, warm and very beautiful,
a worthy successor to the likes of Fischer-Dieskau. What sets
him out as special, however, is the supreme intelligence with
which he combines his vocal tone with interpretation of the
words. He has the ability to render vivid even a cycle as well
known as An die Ferne Geliebte through the way he, for
example, holds on to a consonant for just that tiny moment longer,
or the way he elides one phrase into another so as to shine
a new light on a phrase the listener thinks he knows inside
out. He sounds as if he is creating this music not just afresh
but almost for the very first time. In fact there is an exploratory,
almost tentative nature to his singing that is incredibly compelling,
at times nigh heartbreaking. Nowhere is this more effective
than in the final song of An die Ferne Geliebte, where
the poet tenderly uses his songs to eliminate the distance between
himself and his “distant beloved.” The early stanzas
of the song are shot through with almost unbearable longing,
which then transforms into triumphant hope with the return of
the opening motif in the final verse. It turns the cycle from
something beautiful into something transcendent, confirming
this as what is for me one of the finest interpretations of
the cycle on disc.
So how do Gerhaher and Huber deal with the prickly challenges
of the Second Viennese School? Triumphantly! The most surprising
and, in many ways, the most interesting part of the disc is
Schoenberg’s Book of the Hanging Gardens cycle.
This, I suspect, was particularly special to Gerhaher, as he
accompanies it with a special essay in the booklet, tracing
the development of the poetry and even using a diagram to illustrate
the emotional arc of the cycle. His honeyed voice gets right
inside Schoenberg’s illustration of love awakened in a
heady, almost dangerous context. The young lover’s sexuality
is first awakened in the sensuous world of ancient Babylon and
the cycle charts the consequences of his awakening; but is it
all a fantasy and is any of it real? Gerhaher inhabits the ebb
and flow of the passion to an uncanny degree, unlocking the
wave of expression to an extent that is almost unsettling for
the listener. The rampant sexuality of the seventh and eighth
songs is so powerful because the groundwork for them has been
so effectively laid in the descriptive opening songs, and the
final sequence, where the lover has to withdraw into frustration
and fantasy, crackles with barely concealed desire. Huber’s
accompaniment comes into its own here, picking out Schoenberg’s
atonal piano writing with exploratory precision, painting with
notes in a way that is every bit as effective as the singer’s.
The whole experience reeks of the sensuous, perfumed world of
fin-de-siècle Vienna and, lest that seem clichéd,
it has an uncanny ability to leave the listener emotionally
drained. Stefan George’s dense, almost Wildean poetry,
fits convincingly with Schoenberg’s music and here finds
interpreters whose belief in it is complete. However, the pianistic
colouring is, if anything, even more impressive in the Altenberg
Lieder - listen to the snowstorm that Huber depicts in the
opening bars - and Berg’s writing, in many ways even more
avant-garde than Schoenberg’s, stretches Gerhaher to produce
an entirely different kaleidoscope of sound with his voice,
sometimes even approaching falsetto. It works extremely well,
however, and it’s entirely appropriate for the fragmented,
sometimes illusory world of Altenberg’s texts. The vocal
line is smooth and linear, even while the piano seems lost in
abstract colouring. It’s a wonderful mix, less intoxicating
than the Schoenberg but, for me, more powerful in its ability
to suggest, and I love the way the performers rise to its challenge.
Gerhaher and Huber pay the Haydn songs the great compliment
of taking them seriously, and the intensity of the performances
pays rich dividends, especially in Das Leben ist ein Traum
whose direct poetry and simple melody are elevated into something
very special by a performance of concentration and vision. Similarly,
the thoughtfulness of the other songs, with their spiritual
messages, is clear and purposeful with little touches, such
as the modulations from minor to major, made to bring great
rewards. It was an inspired idea to end with Beethoven’s
visionary Adelaide, a summary of Beethoven’s achievement
in song and a look forward to the achievements of those who
would succeed him in the classical tradition. Gerhaher is at
his most poetic here, lyrical and ardent with a lovely ring
to the upper reaches of his register, while Huber’s accompaniment
is never “by numbers” but he brings the setting
to life with each of Beethoven’s deft touches rendered
magical under his fingers. This song sets the seal on an unusual
but incredibly effective perusal of the German Lied tradition,
well programmed and brilliantly designed.
There are quibbles, most notably in the balance which, to my
ears, gives parity to piano and voice in a way which ends up
giving the piano de facto dominance, making the singer
sometimes a little difficult to hear. That’s a pity when
the quality of what the singer has to offer is so stupendous,
but it’s something you’ll find yourself tuning into
as you get further into this quite extraordinary disc. Rush
out and buy it!
Simon Thompson
Christian Gerhaher (baritone), Gerold Huber (piano) 