Talking Heads: Christian Gerhaher

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Interview with Ben Hogwood

Arcana is fortunate indeed to have the opportunity to talk with Christian Gerhaher. The German baritone has been singing in Salzburg with friends when we speak. It is the morning after, and in spite of a gruelling concert including major song cycles by Berlioz and Schoeck, he sounds invigorated on the other end of the telephone. “It was a very difficult program, but with some fantastic works”, he enthuses. “We did a new string sextet version of the Berlioz cycle Les nuits d’été, arranged by David Matthews, which was really wonderful. I was performing with the best musicians imaginable – Isabelle Faust, Anna Katharina Schreiber, Danusha Waskiewicz, Antoine Tamestit, Jean-Guihen Queyras and Christian Poltéra.

The composer bringing us together for this conversation, however, is Robert Schumann. Together with his long-term musical partner, pianist Gerold Huber, Gerhaher has completed a mammoth project recording the composer’s songs (or ‘Lieder’) for voice and piano. The result is an 11-CD set released this month by Sony Classical, the culmination of many years’ hard work and dedication. Christian receives my congratulations on the pair’s achievement with characteristic warmth. “Thank you very much. Yesterday I got the box, and it was touching because we have worked for such a long time, and so intensely, to achieve this!”

Gerhaher is an engaging interviewee, generous with his answers. We begin by casting his mind back to see if he can recall his very first encounter with the Lieder of Schumann? “Yes – it was a recital by the baritone Hermann Prey. He was performing Dichterliebe, and the Kerner songs. I was especially touched by Dichterliebe, which was a kind of upbeat for my work with Gerold in the Lieder repertoire.”

What was it about the composer’s music that drew him in? “Schumann is very well known now, with titles like Dichterliebe or the Eichendorff cycle, the Heine cycle Liederkreis Op.24, and the Kerner songs, maybe Myrthen, the Op.25”, he recounts, “but I discovered that there are so many songs, 299 in all! I got so completely involved in Schumann singing. I was always addicted to his piano music when I was young, but then I found out that every song, when Gerold and I did them for the first time, was amazing and so full of possible meaning. It would have been so sad to leave these songs undiscovered. We make our repertoire bigger and bigger, if possible, but then came this opportunity of recording, and we thought it was the perfect way to get to know Schumann as well as possible. I must say apart from one or two songs I love them all. I can’t say there is one weak song. In the first ‘Liederjahr’ (Schumann’s first ‘Year of Song’) in 1840, where he happened to deliver 140 masterworks from nothing, there is no song there that is boring, bad or strange. It’s just incredible what a pianist like him could deliver out of no development, from the beginning it was perfect. The 1850 songs are the same. It’s amazing.”

His wonder at Schumann is only enhanced by these lesser-known songs, and our conversation alights on the set of six Gesänge published as Op.107, an intimate and emotional set. “They are”, he agrees. “What I thought quite early on with Gerold is that there is a cyclic idea behind each of Schumann’s opus numbers. Altogether there are 45 separate lieder opuses. Two of them are complete opuses with one song only (Der Handschuh and Belsatzar) but the rest are cycles. We had a very interesting idea concerning these cycles, which is that the form of each is always different. You have so many different ways of completing a song cycle, in the narrative. You have the Kerner songs, and you have the fantastic wedding gift of Myrthen, which speaks for itself as a song cycle, but there are also cycles which are conceived just for one work. The four books of Myrthen always end with two songs by the same poet, like two people standing together at the end of a book – a loving couple.”

He finds another example. “You also have the Op.83, which is an opus reflecting the number ‘3’. There are three songs, and the last song for example, which is a perfect strophic song, is reflecting the trinity of God. You have the three forms of songs – a strophic strong, a very strophic song, and a through composed song, which is the first one. Then you have the number three in people – a loving couple who decide to have a child in the middle of no.2. These go on and on, it is astonishing.”

Gerhaher’s partnership with Gerold Huber (above) exists on wholly equal terms. “Certainly, it is never a case of piano accompaniment. Gerold is a ‘Lied pianist’, not an accompanist. For me it is one of the major achievements of my life, like having a wife that I love, to have Gerold as my best friend. We have been working together for 33 years now!”

It must have been special for the two embarking on this particular voyage of discovery together. “Yes. It was demanding, though,” he says with understatement, “and you have to decide which songs you would add to the recording and those where you think do not match what you were expecting to record. When we had to choose other singers to do the work you can’t do yourself it was really a big mountain to climb, but it was one of the major achievements of my life.”

The guest singers tend to appear on the songs where more than one vocalist is required, or where the range goes beyond that of a baritone. How were they chosen? “By sympathy and by professional admiration,” he says, “but what I like very much is not to choose singers for a quartet or trio that have very similar voices. That is a very important thing to think about, getting the ensemble right. I like to have very different voices, like a light tenor or a soprano, and an alto which is darker. Having different voices is very important in an ensemble because the identity of a voice and person with a sung role is important, to keep this identity as strong as possible. It vanishes in comparison with a solo song, but I did not want a perfect unity in the quartet songs.”

When preparing their interpretations, Gerhaher was mindful of the lives of the poets whose text Schumann was setting. “Yes, certainly”, he says warmly. “How could I not be? Some of the poets are quite unknown, so it was a curiosity that led to nothing because the information did not always give me any advantage. The other thing is that Schumann as an artist didn’t, in my eyes, try to perfectly match the possible meaning of the text he was putting into music. That means he never tries to understand a poem entirely, in the way of noting down the certain meaning. I understand literary lyricism as an open field of thoughts and associations which are not strictly written. There are many possible meanings coming together and not being nailed down with a solution. This is what Schumann does, and he even adds something to the lyricism by obliterating some possible meanings, or bending the meaning of a poem to make it more complicated than it is. He does this not only by putting a poem into music but sometimes by combining poems into his cycles, as combinations which have no relation to each other.”

He gives an example. “In the Op.96 the second song, called Schneeglöckchen, is about one of the first flowers coming out after winter. They are tiny, white flowers, with a small green line on the end of the blossoms. The song is about a winter storm coming in and saying to the Schneeglöckchen, ‘Look, you have to vanish – the storm is coming, and you can’t survive here. The song says, you have such a strange uniform, white with this green strip. The poet is anonymous, and you don’t really know what the whole song is about – it’s a total mystery.” He has a solution. “It’s not about springtime, or the end of winter, but I thought about the colours of the flower in uniforms of old soldiers. I found one uniform of a Hanover group of soldiers, fighting alongside England in the seven-year war of the 1750s. There was one battle in the East of Germany where the Austrians were pushing them away from south to north. They had to flee, and I assume there was a soldier, one of them wounded, and they told him ‘Come with us, we can’t stay here’. He couldn’t, because he was wounded, and was like this strange Schneeglöckchen which couldn’t flee to the north. Why should a Schneeglöckchen flee to the north? If anything it should flee to the south. It’s so complicated, so strange, and so full of mystery and even nonsense. This is what I love with Schumann’s songs and understanding of poetry. He doesn’t deliver a solution – he makes it complicated.”

Gerhaher is a compelling speaker. With Schumann’s music so wholly absorbed in his own consciousness, does he think the approach he described appeals to audiences? “Yes, though you can’t always explain the complications by words, or even explain the meaning. You just show them how complicated music, art and poetry is. There’s nothing to be understood easily in coming to one meaning, like in opera maybe. It’s not a concrete art, it is more abstract.”

He trained with one of the greatest Lieder singers of them all, Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau. This great German baritone recorded much of Schumann’s Lieder output for Deutsche Grammophon, though Gerhaher did not spend too much time listening to his mentor’s interpretations. “Certainly I had some different ideas. He was on one hand my hero, but our purpose was different. The cyclic intention of Schumann is what we think is important to us. Dietrich was taking songs out of opuses that he thought he could sing well, and others he neglected, which is against the cyclic idea. On the other hand, we don’t want to give the impression that we are right, it’s just our idea of how to perform them.”

He cites another set of the complete songs, curated by Graham Johnson for Hyperion. “He did the entire songs, but he was choosing different singers for song cycles. For my eyes I would rather cast them with one singer to keep the identity of thought. We have our own ideas, and I think they are important to ourselves, not to the truth as such.”

As they recorded more of Schumann’s work, how did their feelings towards the composer develop – and in particular the struggles he experienced with his mental health? “Schumann was always in my eyes a perfect artist, or the image of an artist. An idea which I got later on is that you have these two different groups of songs – the songs with one person singing, and the songs with different people singing. I think the illusion of a voice representing the lyrical ego of singing a song, which is an illusion of a story going on, on a stage, that is easily understood by everyone as an illusion, this disappears immediately when several people are singing together. The singularity of one fabric is vanishing, so you have two different possibilities of song. You have the songs I recorded and sing for one person, which are in Schumann’s case representing his world of emotion, his difficult world of depression where he was getting sicker and sicker. The other world, with these many people singing together, has a very special sweetness sometimes – you could say it’s on the border of being kitschy. This made me think of Schumann conceiving these song cycles as a perfect and unproblematic world which he doesn’t live in, but which he wishes for himself. It’s two layers of life, very differently handled by him. This is my idea, I can’t prove it!”

In Christian’s view, what are the qualities required to be a successful Schumann singer? “I would say everyone can do it as they want, as they feel. Certainly for me, being a good singer with my own purposes would mean to have a lot of colour. This is the advantage of singing alone as opposed to other people at the same time. The other thing is the pronunciation of the German language in Schumann songs is especially important. I would say all these layers of colour add to the occasion, to the author as a kind of painting with many colours. You can only deliver them if the pronunciation, as a first instance of colourisation, is done in a perfect way. That means the pronunciation and the understanding of sung words in German is very much depending on the right vowel.”

Finally, as Gerhaher moves towards his next interview, what are his favourite instrumental pieces by our chosen composer? “I admire EVERYTHING by Schumann,” he says warmly, “but there are some pieces without which I can’t imagine a meaningful life: Szenen aus Goethes Faust, the Violin Concerto, and of course the piano works. I think especially of the Symphonische Etüden, Kinderszenen, Waldszenen, Intermezzi, 7 Clavierstücke in Fughettenform, Gesänge der Frühe, and the Geistervariationen.” With that he moves on – leaving us with a remarkable legacy of Lieder recordings to enjoy.

Alle Lieder, the box set of Schumann’s complete songs, is out now on Sony Classical – and you can listen to any of the 299 songs on Spotify here:

You can also watch Christian Gerhaher singing his Salzburg program of Berlioz and Schoeck in this concert stream from the Wigmore Hall in London, which also includes a performance of Schoenberg’s Verklarte Nacht:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HjCux3yQZTI

Wigmore Mondays – Julian Prégardien & Éric Le Sage: Schumann ‘Liederkreis’ & Fauré ‘La bonne chanson’

Julien Prégardien (tenor), Éric Le Sage (piano)

Schumann Liederkreis Op.24 (1:21-20:44 on the broadcast link below)
Fauré Nocturne no.6 in D flat major Op.63 (22:32-30:36)
Le Bonne Chanson Op.61 (32:13-52:38)

Wigmore Hall, London
Monday 15 April 2019

To hear the BBC broadcast through BBC Sounds, please follow this link

The words to the song cycles can be found here for the Schumann and here for the Fauré

Commentary and Review by Ben Hogwood

Julien Prégardien and Éric Le Sage began their double header of Romantic song cycles with a lesser known collection from Schumann. The Liederkreis he published as Op.24 in 1840, his celebrated ‘year of song’, sets poetry by his contemporary Heinrich Heine – specifically the Buch der Lieder, where writer Richard Wigmore identifies common ground of ‘extremes of elation and despair and their mingled sentimentality, self-pity and ironic self-mockery’.

These are relatively short but emotive songs, the end of one often linking to the start of the next through key and mood. The first song, Morgens steh’ ich auf und frage (Every morning I awake and ask) (1:21 on the broadcast) is carefree with an accompaniment from Le Sage that trips along relatively happily, then Es treibt mich hin (I’m driven this way) (2:22) recounts the giddy excitement of waiting to see a loved one. By contrast, Ich wandelte unter den Bäumen (I wandered among the trees) (3:25) finds the subject in deeply introspective and almost resentful mood, despite the relatively calm music. Prégardien reaches some effortless high notes here, and also adopts a suitably flat tone towards the end.

Lieb Liebchen, leg’s Händchen (Just lay your hand on my heart) (7:00) is a short but rather macabre poem, given with halting piano from Le Sage, after which Schöne Wiege meiner Leiden (Lovely cradle of my sorrows) (7:45) follows immediately, offering consolation in the major key.

Warte, warte, wilder Schiffmann (Wait, o wait, wild Seaman) (11:06) stays in the same key but throws off the shackles with a brilliantly descriptive piano part from Le Sage. Berg’ und Burgen schaun herunter (Mountains and castles gaze down) (13:08) describes the ‘mirror-bright Rhine’ with effortless romanticism, but almost unwittingly prophesies Schumann’s attempt on his life with the words, ‘The river’s splendour beckons; But I know it – gleaming above it conceals within itself Death and Night’.

Anfangs wollt’ ich fast verzagen (At first I almost despaired) (16:49) is sombre in mood but quickly cast off by Mit Myrthen und Rosen (With myrtles and roses) (17:43), a light and spring-like conclusion to the cycle.

As a satisfying bridge from Liederkreis to Fauré’s most successful cycle Éric Le Sage – a specialist in the music of both composers – gives a fluid performance of the sixth of Fauré’s thirteen Nocturnes for piano, works that span his whole career. No.6 in D flat major (22:32) is probably the best known, and while its Chopin influences are evident its harmonies bear the French composer’s stylistic imprint. It has a long melody in the right hand from the start, and reaches an impressive climax at 28:20.

La bonne chanson is close to the Nocturne in Fauré’s output, and was intended for his mistress Emma Bardac. It sets nine of the 21 poems from Paul Verlaine’s collection, but it was not initially well received due to its elusive harmonies and longer phrasing. In the cycle Fauré uses recurring melodies to bind the collection together.

The cycle begins in radiant light with Une sainte en son aureole (A saint in her halo) (from 32:13 on the broadcast). The mood is cast, and Puisque l’aube grandit (The day is breaking) continues the bright atmosphere with flowing piano from Le Sage (34:16), and Prégardien copes well with the demands on the lower register of his voice half way through.

La lune blanche (The white moon) casts its spell from 36:14, the pure tone of Prégardien unforced but gaining strength on the higher notes. J’allais par des chemins perfidies (I walked along treacherous ways) is more forceful (38:17), then J’ai presque peur, en vérité (In truth, I am almost afraid) (40:12) has a nervous energy and won’t stay still, before proclaiming its love at the end.

Avant que tu ne t’en ailles (Before you fade) (42:27) is a lovely song, initially harking back to the Nocturne in both key and mood, before Fauré breaks off, propelling it away in another fit of restlessness describing the ‘thousand quail singing in the thyme’. The composer keeps the piano busy once more in Donc, ce sera par un clair jour d’été (So, on a bright summer day it shall be), though Prégardien is much more powerful here too (44:58).

N’est-ce pas? (Is it not so?) is richly romantic, retaining the subtlety of Fauré’s best songs (47:28), while the cycle concludes with L’hiver a cessé (Winter is over) (49:47). Beautifully phrased and paced by Le Sage, the introduction sets the scene for a song that pulls together all the separate elements of the cycle.

For an encore Prégardien and Le Sage gave us three Schumann songs – the first three from his cycle Dichterliebe in fact (54:24 onwards).

Further reading and listening

The music in this concert can be heard here, in the available versions:

Although Julien Prégardien has not recorded Liederkreis, he has a good deal of Schumann under his recorded belt – including this attractive collection with Le Sage and Sandrine Piau, which includes the masterly song cycle of Heine settings Dichterliebe:

You can also watch the album promo here:

Christoph Prégardien – The Darker Side of Love

The Darker Side of Love – Christoph Prégardien and Daniel Heide at the Wigmore Hall

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Christoph Prégardien (tenor), Daniel Heide (piano) – Wigmore Hall, London, live on BBC Radio 3, 18 May 2015

Listening link (opens in a new window):

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b05tpryp

on the iPlayer until 17 June

Spotify

In case you cannot hear the broadcast, I have put together a Spotify playlist of most of the music in this concert, including recordings the artists have made where possible. The playlist can be found here

What’s the music?

Schubert: An den Mond, D259; Schäfers Klagelied, D121

Schubert: Erster Verlust, D226

Schubert: Rastlose Liebe, D138

Schubert: Wandrers Nachtlied II, D768

Schubert: Willkommen und Abschied, D767 (17 minutes)

Schumann: Dichterliebe, Op.48 (30 minutes)

What about the music?

The relationship between Schubert and the poetry of Goethe was long-standing, beginning in October 1814 and yielding tens of songs. Many of them are darker utterances, and the collection here enjoys the composer’s ability to cast a nocturnal scene for voice and piano seemingly at will. It also celebrates his faster, galloping songs, the singer in the saddle for an action-packed horse ride, while the sheer simplicity of shorter songs such as Erster Verlust is pure and touching.

Schumann’s famous year of song reached its creative peak in May 1840, when he wrote the Liederkreis, published as Op.39, and Dichterliebe, where he sought inspiration once again from the poetry of Heinrich Heine. The quote in the Wigmore Hall program sums it up perfectly, Schumann describing the verses as ‘short, maliciously sentimental, and written in the folk style’. They evoke outdoor scenes but also inward and often crippling emotions, the singer – and possibly the listener! – an emotional liability by the end. Schumann rescues Dichterliebe, however, through the piano postludes he provides to Am leuchtenden Sommermorgen (One bright summer morning) and the closing song Die altern, bösen Lieder (The bad old songs), attempting and largely succeeding to restore stability.

Performance verdict

Christoph Prégardien has been singing these songs (or ‘Lieder’, as we should really call them!) for a long time – he recorded most of them a while back – but he still brings keen emotion to the stage.

The silence of Wigmore Hall during a song as tense as Schumann’s Ich hab’ im Traum geweinet (I wept in my dream), the ninth of Dichterliebe’s dozen, said it all. Here was a performer creating vivid pictures from Heine’s barbed text and Schumann’s equally frosty responses to the dark side.

In Schubert, too, the steely edge of even the most youthful Goethe setting could be glimpsed, brought out in an early song like An den Mond (To the Moon) by pianist Daniel Heide, stressing the notes Schubert brings in to challenge the happier times of the song.

Schubert’s horse-riding songs, Rastlose Liebe and Wilkommen und Abschied, were adrenalin-fuelled dashes into the country, while Schäfers Klaglied brilliantly evoked both the tempest and its subsequent rainbow.

Prégardien is an unfussy singer who communicates with his audience through subtle but meaningful expression, both visually and with the use of his hands. This somehow carries over to the listener too, either in the hall or at home, part of a masterclass in how to sing these songs.

What should I listen out for?

Schubert

1:50 – An den Mond (To the Moon) A calm and seemingly contented song to begin the selection – though there are some warning signs, chiefly in the piano part, to suggest all is not well.

5:27 – Schäfers Klagelied (Shepherd’s lament) A downcast and solemn song, with a vivid depiction of a storm in its central section from the piano (from 6:55), which also somehow describes the resultant rainbow (7:13) before a return to sadness.

8:58 – Erster Verlust (First loss) A song of striking simplicity and sadness, with an aching melody where the purity of Prégardien’s tone really comes through

11:22 – Rastlose Liebe (Restless love) A song that gallops out of the blocks with its rapid movement on the piano, and the breathless voice almost struggles to keep up. Meine signs off beautifully at 12:30.

12:47 – Wandrers Nachtlied II (Wanderer’s Nightsong II) Here we can feel the stillness of a summer evening, the conditions in which Goethe scribbled the verses for this poem as he stood outside in a garden. Prégardien’s higher notes are beautifully tailored.

15:18 – Willkommen und Abschied (Greeting and farewell) Another of Schubert’s quick dashes through the text, though at the end of each verse we have a pregnant pause. Prégardien cries out ‘ihr Götter’ (‘O gods!’) at 17:17. The text at the end translates as ‘what a joy to be loved’

Schumann

The words for Dichterliebe can be found here

21:12 – Im wunderschönen Monat Mai (In the wondrous month of May) A graceful song to begin the cycle, with some beautiful top notes (the translated words ‘blossom’ and ‘desire’) that Prégardien very subtly stresses through a pause.

22:54 – Aus meinen Tränen sprießen (From my tears will spring) The spring-like openness continues, in the same key.

23:51 – Die Rose, die Lilie, die Taube, die Sonne (Rose, lily, dove) A playful song, over in a flash!

24:23 – Wenn ich in deine Augen seh (When I look into your eyes) A tender love song, that tellingly moves to the purity C major to tell of how ‘when I kiss your lips, then I am wholly healed’. There is a yearning postlude on the piano.

26:12 – Ich will meine Seele tauchen (Let me bathe my soul) Another short love song, this time with a flowing, watery piano accompaniment.

27:08 – Im Rhein, im heiligen Strome (In the Rhine, the holy river) The singer adopts a much more imposing tone to evoke the grandeur of the Rhine and the great cathedral of Cologne, where hangs an image of ‘Our beloved Lady’ – which the singer equates to that of his own love. The piano postlude is reminiscent of a Baroque aria.

29:16 – Ich grolle nicht (I bear no grudge) The text turns darker, though the musical language is still generally positive. The tenor has a heavier tone here, the voice more of a baritone in its richness.

30:49 – Und wüßten’s die Blumen, die kleinen (If the little flowers only knew) The piano matches the tenor in this flowing, limpid song – spring like in its subject matter but ultimately sad and regretful at a broken heart. This leads straight into…

32:05 – Das ist ein Flöten und Geigen (What a fluting and fiddling) A proud song but once again with a darker centre.

33:29 – Hör’ ich das Liedchen klingen (When I hear the little song) This is Heine’s poetry at its coldest, and in this brief song it gets a suitably bare response from Schumann, who then attempts some consolation in the extended piano postlude, which in reality says just as much as the song does.

35:47 – Ein Jüngling liebt ein Mädchen (A boy loves a girl) A more positive mood now – but soon the poetry turns dark as well. Schumann keeps his tongue firmly in his cheek, allowing the tenor a bit of sardonic humour and the piano a grand finish

36:47 – Am leuchtenden Sommermorgen (One bright summer morning) A beautifully simple song – though now the mood of sadness is taking hold with greater certainty. Again we have a longer piano postlude, the pianist reflecting the text through music and trying to console.

39:38 – Ich hab’ im Traum geweinet (I wept in my dream) Schumann’s use of silence here is striking and altogether ominous. Prégardien gathers the power of the final verse, the texture sparse as can be, until the music stops abruptly.

42:25 – Allnächtlich im Traume (Nightly in my dreams) An elusive song – another dream but one the poet cannot really remember – which possibly explains why Schumann leaves the music sounding half-finished at the end.

43:54 – Aus alten Märchen winkt es (A white hand beckons) There is greater optimism in this song, using the upper register of the piano for the first time in a while, but once again Heine insists on an ending that takes away the potential for happiness. Schumann’s music rescues this in the postlude however!

46:39 – Die alten, bösen Lieder (The bad old songs) A bit of nostalgia to finish – though this is a purge, the poet casting all his ‘bad and bitter dreams’ away in a heavy coffin. Schumann responds with gallows humour, a song that is bold and defiant in its execution but which fades away to reflection. Once again we have a piano postlude, this one even more meaningful as it tries to draw the cycle to a soft conclusion. In the right performance however, like this one, a level of bitterness remains.

Encore

53:05 – SchumannMit Myrthen und Rosen (With myrtle and roses) (the last song from Liederkreis, Op.24) This has an effortless, upward curve to the melody. Prégardien’s gestures to the audience here were beautifully observed.

Further listening

With Christoph Prégardien demonstrating his almost unparalleled abilities in Schubert, here is a Spotify link to a recent recording of him singing the great Schubert song cycle Winterreise. Again this is music on the dark side, but is greatly inspired at that. Texts can be found http://www.recmusic.org/lieder/assemble_texts.html?SongCycleId=47″>here and the playlist is here

For more concerts click here