A true work of genius
inspires many creative insights. It
becomes alive, reborn, when a good performance
elicits a new, distinctive response.
Such a work is Winterreise. This year
we have already had, in the Matthias
Goerne/Alfred Brendel recording,
an interpretation so exceptional that
it sets a new benchmark. This version,
by Ian Bostridge and Leif Ove Andsnes
is completely different from the Goerne/Brendel,
but none the less a very important addition
to the canon.
Winterreise is a work
of intense introspection, often performed
best when a singer has absorbed it fully,
through "life experience".
Nearly ten years ago, Bostridge recorded
it in a venture with David Alden, the
film producer. The DVD of the recording
and of the making of the film has recently
been reissued. Alden had decidedly definite
ideas on how the piece should be presented:
the performance was director-led, not
performer-led. Bostridge and his pianist,
Julius Drake, showed by their body language
that Alden's vision was not one they
were attuned to, and inevitably it comes
across in the performance. Over the
years, Bostridge evolved his own views
on the cycle. He has lived his own journey,
imbuing his interpretation with a deep
understanding of its psychological complexities.
His voice has also grown more assured,
opening up with a new, warmer richness.
This new recording, made only in May
this year, is "his" Winterreise,
light years more personal, more technically
and emotionally developed than the earlier
version.
Schubert was himself
a tenor, and wrote Winterreise with
the voice-type in mind. The pure, crystalline
quality of Bostridge's voice has a transparent
quality that brings emotion to the surface.
His voice, sometimes compared to an
exotic wind instrument, can express
a plaintiveness not many others can
aspire too. Yet here, the vulnerability
is definitely not of the type expressed
in the acclaimed Die Schöne Müllerin
which launched his career. It is tempered
with a recognition that the journey
serves a purpose, however unknown. The
miller's lad escapes fate, but the protagonist
here faces up to it. Bostridge's voice
can express this more complex vulnerability
with a resonant firmness. This is reinforced
by the playing of Andsnes, resolute
without being dominant. Andsnes is a
Schubert soloist of great experience,
and his partnership with Bostridge is
a meeting of like minds.
Indeed, what is striking
in this version is the way singer and
pianist bring out the inner patterns
in the music. The ebb and flow of the
musical line feels almost organic. The
stages on this journey are well defined
: the pause for reflection Der Lindenbaum,
the contrast between Einsamkeit
and Die Post, for example. There
are songs of repose and songs of movement.
At times, Andsnes plays with an almost
penitential sense, as if marching in
a funeral procession. It is very subtle
and understated, but is repeated several
times, in the "tolling bells"
of Frühlingstraum, then
again in Das Wirthaus and Die
Nebensonnen. Similarly, the attention
to structural detail brings out little
felicities, such as the way "wunderliches
Tier" is sung referring the
strange crow accompanying the wanderer,
anticipating the "wunderlicher
Alte" whom the protagonist
will follow later. Both players clearly
respond to each other. In Auf dem
Flusse, the voice mimics the piano,
rising out of the introduction "Der
du so lustig rauschtest" with
ever so gentle a gap between words,
and later, "erkennst du nun
dein Bild". In Im Dorfe,
the voice floats upwards on "und
Morgen früh" while the
piano growls and tinkles, graphically
describing the snoring villagers and
the arrival of dawn. This is by no means
a "text-led" performance.
Indeed, it moves with
a sense of wonder, as if each new stage
on the journey springs a surprising
new discovery. Whatever psychological
label might be pinned on the protagonist,
here he is portrayed as a man with an
acute, hyper-bright sensitivity to his
surroundings, seeking portents in all
he sees, but unable to make coherent
sense of them. His response to the world
around him is steeped in lyricism –
Frühlingstraum here is exquisite
– yet it is illuminated by the intense
clear light that shines from a snowbound
landscape. How very different from the
portrayal Alden used in the filmed version,
where the protagonist is a madman locked
in an asylum and his visions are mere
delusion.
Bostridge's protagonist
has striking flashes of insight. Crossing
the frozen river in Auf dem Flusse,
he connects the thundering torrents
beneath the ice with his own psyche.
One of the "dein Bild"s
is whispered with a dramatic jolt of
recognition. The moment of silence at
the middle of Irrlicht enhances
the lines that follow with a sense of
magic, as if the will o' the wisp was
an elemental spirit. Even the fierceness
of Bostridge's attack in some parts,
such as "wass soll ich..."
and vowels sometimes too open, fit
with this portrayal of preternaturally
heightened observation. This prepares
us for the surreal transformation in
the last three songs.
After the despair that
has come before Mut (courage)
strikes a strange note. Its surface
defiance rings hollow, like whistling
in a graveyard. Has the protagonist
finally taken leave of reality ? When
he contemplates the three suns in Die
Nebensonnen and imagines his lovers
eyes, is he using poetic licence, or
has he lost it? Something is out of
kilter. Then the wandering beggar comes
onto the scene, resolutely playing his
hurdy-gurdy. The realisation of this
song, Der Leiermann, on this
recording is spectacular. Bostridge
sings with delicate lyricism "und
sein kleiner Teller bleibt ihm immer
leer"- all lovely rolling "l"s.
The air of reverence and mystery is
almost palpable. The protagonist observes
the old man with perception, even though
he does not know why h will follow him
or where it will lead. Bostridge sings
"wunderlicher Alte"
with a kind of reverence, leaving the
meaning open ended, floating in the
ears and memory. What does happen next
? The mystery is part of the story.
Comparisons are meaningless.
Bostridge doesn't sing like Fischer-Dieskau,
or Hotter, or Goerne, or Schreier or
Prégardien. An artist creates
his own, unique interpretation. This
version has been deeply thought through
and absorbed with creative imagination.
It is faithful to the music's form and
structure, yet highlights the emotional
and psychological aspects of the protagonist's
mind with unusual insight. It is a performance
Bostridge and Andsnes can be proud of,
for it enhances still further our understanding
of this amazing cycle.
Anne Ozorio
Ian Bostridge, (tenor) Leif Ove Andsnes (piano)