Tag Archives: Jâms Coleman

On Record – Hensel: Lieder (First Hand Records)

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Fanny Hensel
Wenn ich ihn nur habe. Die Schönheit Nicht, Mädchen, Wohl deinem Liebling (all 1820). Der Abendstern. Die sanften Tage, Der Sänger. An die Entfernte (all 1823). Auf der Wanderung. Abschied. Mond. Sehnsucht, HU190 (all 1824-6). Sehnsucht, HU192. Maigesang. Seufzer. An den Mond. An die Ruhe. Sehnsucht, HU203. Sehnsucht, HU205. Umsonst. Suleika (all 1827). Sehnsucht, HU217. Nacht. In der Ferne (all 1828-33). Über allen Gipfeln ist Ruh’. Ach, die Augen sind es wieder. Das Meer Erglänzte. Ich wandelte unter den Bäumen (all 1835-8). Der Fürst vom Berge. Traurige Wege. Dämmrung senkte sich von oben. Traum. Mutter, o sing mich zur Ruh’ (all 1840-44). Erwache Knab’. Vorwurf (both 1846).

Jennifer Parker, Stephanie Wake-Edwards (mezzo-sopranos), Tim Parker-Langston (tenor), Jâms Coleman, Genevieve Ellis, Ewan Gilford (pianos)

First Hand Records FHR148 [82’25’’]
German texts and English translations included. Producers and Engineers Tim Parker-Langston, David Jones
Recorded 3-8 January 2023 at Mendelssohn-Haus, Leipzig, Germany

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse

What’s the story?

First Hand Records expands its already enterprising catalogue with this release of Lieder by Fanny Hensel (1805-47) – Felix Mendelssohn’s elder sister – who has recently come into her own not least through her prolific song output, many of which are only now being recorded.

What’s the music like?

Hensel left some 450 individual works, with songs comprising over half this total. A handful of these appeared under her brother’s name, while she had published just three collections of songs and piano pieces at the time of her death: a measure of the extent of her composing is that half of those songs featured here are being recorded for the first time. Covering some 26 years, this selection feels representative of her musical development in terms of its evolving approach to harmony and word-setting, together with the range and type of authors being set.

Although other sequences are perfectly feasible, the decision to proceed chronologically is justified by relative unfamiliarity of Hensel’s songs. Starting with the appealing gaucheness of the Novalis setting If I could only have him, this continues with such relatively ambitious numbers as the Ludwig Uhland ballad The Gentle Days (at almost five minutes the longest item here) or wistful eloquence found in Ludwig Tieck’s Parting. A highlight is her setting   of Ludwig Hölty’s May Song, notably the subtle variations of tone and texture drawn from its 12 verses. The songs from the late 1830s include a striking treatment of Heinrich Heine’s I wondered beneath the trees and those from the early 1840s include the sustained intensity found in Nikolaus Lenau’s Sorrowful Paths, which poet’s Reproach is almost her last song.

A good way into Hensel’s songs is through comparing those five items (from a total of nine) all entitled Sehnsucht (Longing) and written during the mid-to later 1820s. First, a setting of Johann Voss which never ventures far from its subdued opening; next, a setting of Hölty that points up this poem’s conflicting images with real acuity, followed with two briefer settings by these poets (that by Hölty the shortest here at barely 50 seconds) such as amply turn such succinctness to expressive advantage and, finally, a poem by Friedrich Märcker whose overt pantheism inspires a setting of gentle profundity. Here, as in almost all these songs, Hensel never forces the issue with regard to ‘interpreting’ the words at hand – rather, her approach is to tease out its meaning through a dialogue between voice and piano in which inference is all.

Does it all work?

Almost always, not least owing to the advocacy of these artists. The lion’s share is entrusted to Tim Parker-Langston (not unreasonably so given his masterminding of this project), whose mellifluous tenor is eminently suited to Hensel’s music. Of the two mezzos, Stephanie Wake-Edwards’s soulful contralto is duly complemented on three numbers with the lighter tone of Jennifer Parker. The 34 songs are divided almost equally between three pianists who, between them, confirm Hensel wrote as idiomatically as any more illustrious peer for this combination.

Is it recommended?

It is, given this release is a significant contribution to the ongoing dissemination of Hensel’s music. The booklet, too, is admirably produced with its succinct introductory note alongside full texts and translations. Those looking for an overview of these songs need look no further.

Buy

You can explore purchase options on the First Hand Records website Click to read about Hensel Songs Online, and on the artist names to read more on Jennifer Parker, Stephanie Wake-Edwards, Tim Parker-Langston, Jâms Coleman, Genevieve Ellis and Ewan Gilford

Published post no.2,173 – Thursday 9 May 2024

In concert – Laura van der Heijden & Jâms Coleman @ Wigmore Hall – Pohádka: Tales from Prague to Budapest

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Laura van der Heijden (cello), Jâms Coleman (piano)

Janáček Pohádka (1910, rev. 1912-23)
Dvořák Gypsy Songs Op. 55: Songs my mother taught me (1880)
Kaprálová Navždy from Navždy Op. 12 (1936-7)
Mihály Movement for cello and piano (1962)
Kodály 3 Songs to Poems by Bela Balazs Op. posth.: Why are you saying that you do not love me (1907-9); Énekszó Op. 1: Slender is a silk thread (1907-9)
Sonatina for cello and piano (1909)
Janáček Violin Sonata (1914-15, rev.1916-22)

Wigmore Hall, London, 9 March 2022

reviewed by Ben Hogwood Pictures (c) Olivia Da Costa (Laura van der Heijden), Sim Canetty-Clarke (Jâms Coleman)

It bears repeating that times are tough for new artists in music. Competition is fierce, while opportunities for live performance and recording have been severely hampered over the last two years of lockdown and pandemic restrictions. How refreshing, then, to talk about two new artists, a long term agreement with Chandos and a chamber music album notable for its originality and depth of expression.

The new artists, cellist Laura van der Heijden and her musical partner, pianist Jâms Coleman, have been performing together since 2017. Their debut album, for which this concert was an official launch, looks at music from Central and Eastern Europe with its roots in folk, either written directly for cello and piano or falling naturally into a vocal range.

The album shares its title, Pohádka, with a three-part fairy tale for cello and piano by Janáček, based on a Russian tale. This began the concert, a picture book performance bringing the story to life with sharp characterisation and flair. Janacek used a good deal of his music to explore macabre storylines and this was no exception, though the lighter, more lyrical moments were good fun. van der Heijden’s tone was sonorous and projected easily to the back of the hall, while Coleman’s stylish playing was capped with limpid work in the second section.

We then heard arrangements of two songs from Dvořák and Vítězslava Kaprálová as an idea complement, the former transcribing beautifully from voice to cello, with tasteful ornamentation from the cello. It was good to hear more of Kaprálová, a talented Czech composer who tragically died from tuberculosis when she was just 25. Her music immediately cast a spell, Coleman’s mysterious chords matched by a remote but moving line from the cello in its higher register.

Different qualities were required for the music of Hungarian composer and conductor András Mihály. His Movement for cello and piano was a dramatic rollercoaster, and rather volatile at times – reflecting perhaps the differing styles at play in modern music when it was written in 1962. While there were undoubtedly elements of Bartók and even Webern in the music’s contours, which veered into atonality at times, there was a fierce expression suggesting Mihály’s music should be explored further. Both players responded with a terrific performance, mastering the technical demands.

Zoltán Kodály was also an influence on Mihály, and his music suits the cello hand in glove, whether in large-scale sonatas or shorter, folk-informed songs. We heard two songs here, the cello a doleful voice for Why are you saying that you do not love me, while Slender is a silk thread found Coleman beautifully spinning out the silvery tale. However the single-movement Sonatina for cello and piano, at just under 10 minutes, made a lasting impression with its passion, profound lyricism and subtle melancholy. The performers’ love for this piece was clear, and the high voltage account found them finishing each other’s musical sentences.

The same could be said for Janáček’s Violin Sonata, a pungent piece whose proximity to World War One is evident in the rapid fire of its phrases. The composer’s unusual musical language was once again wholly compelling, with broad lyrical statements countered by strange, abrupt full stops to his melodies. The parallels with the current situation in Ukraine were impossible to ignore, especially with the emotion both players brought to the second movement Ballada, its sweeping melodies reaching skyward. Ultimately the acidic third and fourth movements cast a cloud over the mood, the players vividly depicting the distant sound of gunfire alongside more thoughtful introspection. van der Heijden was commendably modest about her own arrangement of the Sonata, for cello and piano, an extremely successful version losing none of the intensity or fractious treble phrases. Both players were superb, their virtuosity and togetherness notable throughout.

This was an extremely rewarding concert, energetic and romantic in turn but also thought-provoking through its wartime undercurrents. Laura van der Heijden and Jâms Coleman deserve great credit for their refreshing take on a chamber music album, which bodes well for their ongoing relationship with one of Britain’s best classical independents. Theirs is a partnership to watch closely.

Watch and listen