Ian Bostridge astounded
the song world with his seminal Schöne
Müllerin with Graham Johnson
in 1994. Amazingly, he has managed to
pull off the feat a second time, in
this outstanding performance with Mitsuko
Uchida. Indeed, this is an even more
distinctive version, one which confirms
Bostridge as perhaps the most individual
and sensitive interpreters of this cycle,
one with which his name is inextricably
linked.
Schubert's song cycles
are much more than the sum of their
parts: performing them requires a breadth
of vision to illuminate the cycle as
a whole. It is not enough to sing well:
understanding and interpretation are
paramount. What is fascinating is how
Bostridge has lived with, and grown
with, this cycle. With Johnson, Bostridge
emphasised the painful vulnerability
of the miller's lad, a portrayal of
youthful anguish. Now, Bostridge brings
to it the insight of a more mature observer,
more attuned to the psychological drama
that is at the heart of the cycle. It
is a tour de force, reflecting an infinitely
deeper understanding of what the cycle
means. There is nothing quite like it.
The nearest comparison is Matthias Goerne,
whose depiction of the psychosis haunting
the miller's lad shocked many by its
intensity. Bostridge manages a different,
if equally perceptive understanding,
without Goerne's unorthodox tempi. He's
also a tenor. Schubert envisioned the
cycle for higher voice and was a tenor
himself. This matters a lot, for this
version expresses much of what might
have been Schubert's personal subtext.
This is, therefore, almost as innovative
as Goerne's groundbreaking version,
but perhaps more accessible. Bostridge
and Uchida make more of the brook's
demonic struggle to overpower the boy
than his inner demons. This makes their
version closer to the Romantic spirit
where magic and menace lurk close beneath
the surface, where nature spirits can
be malevolent. It also fits in with
the theory that Schubert himself may
have felt cursed by his illness, the
result of a natural act of love. Danger
and the supernatural are Bostridge's
natural territory: witness his brilliant
Janáček
and Henze recordings where he elucidates
terrifying mysteries beyond the realm
of consciousness. This new interpretation
has, therefore, all the virtues of an
intelligent, modern psychological reading
while remaining within the mainstream
of the Romantic tradition.
Significantly, Bostridge
emphasizes that the poet Wilhelm Müller
said it was a set "Im Winter zu
lesen" - to be read in winter,
in barrenness and cold. The text may
speak of Spring and flowers but it is,
frankly about suicide of a very young
man. Schubert connected love with death
only too well, for he had been diagnosed
with venereal disease shortly before
setting the poems. It is not a pretty
cycle, by any means. Bostridge and Uchida
focus on the uneven dialogue between
the brook, representing death, and the
young man, dreaming of love.
Uchida is almost too
dominant a partner, but her evocation
of the powerful, unyielding movement
of the mill wheel expresses the unrelenting
power of the water. This brook has a
demonic life of its own, calling to
the boy, drawing him towards its crushing
embrace. Bostridge's voice has developed
deeper colours over the years and his
portrayal of the lad is exquisite –
lyrical yet richly shaded, making the
contrast between the boy and the brook
all the more poignant. He whispers,
both in awe and excitement “ist
das denn meine Straβe ?".
The brook has already shown who's boss.
In the brief vignette of "reality",
where the miller talks with his apprentices
after work, Bostridge manages to portray
the gathering vividly, yet the piano
reminds us of the ferocity lurking outside,
threatening to shatter the cosy scene.
Der Neugierige (the questioner)
is one of the critical turning points
in the cycle. For Goerne it was as if
we were inside the boy's troubled mind,
a terrifying inner sanctum. For Bostridge,
it is the curiosity of innocence, a
moment when the demons in the brook
for once are still, while the boy wonders
about love. But not for long – Ungeduld
starts almost immediately with its
insistent, demented pressures. Bostridge
sings the verse, when he thinks he's
won love with heartfelt openness and
triumph but Uchida has already told
us that something's amiss. The contrast
between lyricism and the violence of
the piano part is striking.
In this recital, he
sang the last verse of Morgengruβ
with much more defiance than on the
recording, which was much more effective,
for it shows that there's still spirit
and hope in the lad's mind. Soon after,
though, follows Pause, which
for Bostridge is the turning point of
the cycle. The boy has hung his lute
on the wall, and can sing no more. Bostridge's
voice actually takes on a lute like
quality from here on. It is as if the
boy has already lost the power to be
a proactive individual. The two "lute"
songs, Pause and Mit dem grünen
Lautenbande are balanced by two
angry songs about the huntsman whom
the miller's daughter clearly prefers.
Bostridge and Uchida hardly stop to
breathe between songs, allowing them
to form a striking group that in turn
connects to the "colour" songs,
Der liebe Farbe and Die böse
Farbe. As a unit of six, without
a break, the drama is intensified. In
the middle was a most ferocious Eifersucht
und Stolz (Jealousy and Pride).
It is somewhat restrained on this recording,
compared to the fire with which Bostridge
sings it in recital. His recent years
in opera have certainly taught him expressive,
passionate characterisation.
By the time Bostridge
sings "Der Mai ist kommen, der
Winter is aus!" we are left
under no illusion that Spring really
will come. The miller's lad and the
brook have a final dialogue. Uchida
starts Der Müller und die Bach
as if she were playing a funeral march,
for the brook is calling the boy to
itself. Yet Bostridge infuses the last
verses with revived lyricism. "Ach,
Bächlein, liebes Bächlein
... aber weiβt
du wie Liebe tut?" These
are "his" last words in the
cycle, and Bostridge has him depart
with tenderness.
Just as Uchida started
the cycle evoking the mechanical process
of the mill wheel, she ends it with
the same relentless turning over of
the same small motif. In this context,
I've often thought of the folktune "muss
i' den" with a similar hurdy-gurdy type
figure revolving over and over. Here,
the coy sentimentality of the folktune
seems absolutely right - the brook's
quaint song is ersatz. The brook has
destroyed the lad and absorbed him into
itself. Goerne managed a strange but
brilliant synthesis, expressing sympathy
for the boy while expressing anger at
the waste of a destroyed life. For Bostridge
the final Wiegenlied is no tender lullaby
either, but the chilling voice of the
brook and its lack of conscience. It
possessively warns the flowers not to
arouse the lad from his slumber, like
the warped mother in the movie Psycho.
It is all the more disturbing because
Bostridge sings this with such understatement,
letting the horror speak for itself.
Bostridge has emerged
form the period of quiet in his career
and become a more mature, deeper and
sensitive performer than before. A true
artist keeps creating, thinking things
over and developing and to his credit,
Bostridge seems to have endless reserves
of musical intelligence. Creating one
distinctive Schöne Müllerin
enshrines him as one of the cycle's
best performers. Creating a second,
exceptional and original interpretation
as this new version, earns him a place
in the pantheon.
Anne Ozorio
Ian Bostridge (tenor); Mitsuko Uchida (piano)
