Franz Schubert - Winterreise

"The breadth of scholarly approaches to Franz Schubert's song cycle Die Winterreise testifies to the structural and dramatic complexity of the work; assessments range from complicated graphs, complete with interlocking axes and cryptic semantic labels, to outright sighs of resignation over the work's intractability. Perhaps this intrigue is what attracts performers and academics alike to the work; singer and scholar Michael Besack traces the ambiguous dramatic trajectory of Schubert's cycle back to antiquity. 'Epic poetry and the tragic theater never produced a story with a moral,' he pointed out.

"A central question concerning the cycle is whether it really is one. The two dozen poems by Wilhelm Müller that Schubert took as his texts appeared piecemeal in three separate publications between 1822 and the completion of Schubert's setting in 1827; Müller's third publication, finally bearing the title Schubert would adopt, featured the newest poems along with the ones previously published (though the latter were reordered). The chronology of Schubert's setting also calls the idea of a continuous cyclical narrative into question: he set Müller's initial 12 songs early in 1827, then completed the other dozen later that year. Still, while some of the individual songs are frequently performed alone, one can easily read a composite story into the cycle. Literary scholar Cecilia Baumann describes the work as 'a simple story of a rejected lover who leaves the town where his love resides and sets out in winter on an aimless journey.' Schubert biographer Jacques Chailley reads a different kind of journey: 'not simply that of a scorned lover - he is only a phantom - but an image behind which one can discern at each moment the journey of man toward the tomb: 'Die Winterreise' is the sinister voyage of life.' Such existential ideas gain support from the bleakness of 'Auf dem Flusse' ('At the River'), in which the lover's description of the frozen stream seems to shade into one of a physical corpse, and of the melancholy hurdy-gurdy-man's lament that ends the cycle.

"The songs ruminate on, rather than depict, events that have befallen the rejected lover; as the first two lines of the first song indicate ('A stranger I came hither, a stranger hence I go'), the journey has already taken place: the famous fifth song, 'Der Lindenbaum', likewise centers on symbols of remembrance. Schubert's introduction establishes a tranquil major mode with an airy, fluttering accompaniment; it becomes apparent that this figure represents the rustling of the eponymous lime tree. 'Upon its bark when musing, fond words of love I made,' the wanderer tells listeners, 'and joy alike and sorrow still drew me to its shade.' Only briefly do the mode and mood of the music change to minor, in direct correlation to the image of passing the tree in darkness. These pictorial elements lie only on the surface, however. Certain musical elements create a sense of geographical and chronological remove: the rustling figure is constantly interrupted by a leap up to a quaint stepwise descent; the echo of a 'hunting horn' figure suggests distance - spatial and temporal; the wind blows off the wanderer's hat, but he trudges forward without even turning around. The cold wind listeners that it is winter; the presence of leaves is unlikely. The rustling sound is not a real, but an imagined, phenomenon: 'Now many leagues I'm far from/The dear old linden tree/[But still] I ever hear it murmur/'Peace thou wouldst find with me.'' Schubert's song does not evoke images; it evokes the act of remembering images." (Description by Jeremy Grimshaw. From AllMusic. Read here.)

Performers: Christoph Prégardien, Andreas Staier

1. Die Winterreise, D. 911: I. Gute Nacht
2. Die Winterreise, D. 911: II. Die Wetterfahne
3. Die Winterreise, D. 911: III. Gefrorene Tränen
4. Die Winterreise, D. 911: IV. Erstarrung
5. Die Winterreise, D. 911: V. Der Lindenbaum
6. Die Winterreise, D. 911: VI. Wasserflut
7. Die Winterreise, D. 911: VII. Auf Dem Flusse
8. Die Winterreise, D. 911: VIII. Rückblick
9. Die Winterreise, D. 911: IX. Irrlicht
10. Die Winterreise, D. 911: X. Rast
11. Die Winterreise, D. 911: XI. Frühlingstraum
12. Die Winterreise, D. 911: XII. Einsamkeit
13. Die Winterreise, D. 911: XIII. Die Post
14. Die Winterreise, D. 911: XIV. Der Greise Kopf
15. Die Winterreise, D. 911: XV. Die Krähe
16. Die Winterreise, D. 911: XVI. Letzte Hoffnung
17. Die Winterreise, D. 911: XVII. Im Dorfe
18. Die Winterreise, D. 911: XVIII. Der Stürmische Morgen
19. Die Winterreise, D. 911: XIX. Täuschung
20. Die Winterreise, D. 911: XX. Der Wegweiser
21. Die Winterreise, D. 911: XXI. Das Wirtshaus
22. Die Winterreise, D. 911: XXII. Mut!
23. Die Winterreise, D. 911: XXIII. Die Nebensonnen
24. Die Winterreise, D. 911: XXIV. Der Leiermann

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Othmar Schoeck - Das Schloss Dürande

"''Das Schloss Dürande' was his last opera, by far his longest, and in many senses the one with the highest degree of musical inspiration. But the libretto is so drenched with Nazi vocabulary that it will in future at best be heard in concert or on CD. It shall probably never been seen on stage again – and let’s hope it isn't.' Back in 2002, this was the apodictic opinion of Schoeck’s biographer Chris Walton about the opera 'Das Schloss Dürande', which was first performed at the Berlin State Opera in 1943, at the height of the Second World War.

"The libretto by Hermann Burte, for which Schoeck was also in part responsible, remains from today's perspective the weak point of the opera. Its style is awkward, and the quality of the verses is variable. Alongside pretty, ingenuous, folksy verses and hearty revolutionary songs, we also find amateurish rhymes and linguistic embarrassments. Today, it’s the national-socialist phrases and ideological elements of the libretto that are most problematic. But Schoeck’s music is of such high quality that it is more than worth re-engaging with the opera today.

"The Bern University of the Arts (HKB) accordingly embarked on a project funded by the Swiss National Science Foundation (SNSF) to investigate the opera’s genesis in the context of the German/Swiss cultural exchanges of its time (the results have since been published in book form: ''Als Schweizer bin ich neutral'. Othmar Schoeck's Oper 'Das Schloss Dürande' und ihr Umfeld' – ''As a Swiss, I’m neutral'. Othmar Schoeck’s opera 'Das Schloss Dürande' and its milieu'. Schliengen: Edition Argus 2018). At the same time, Francesco Micieli was commissioned to get to grips with Burte’s text and embark on a radical act of prising it apart – the rhymes in particular. After some hesitation, Micieli agreed: 'It needs a large-scale act of de-kitschification. For me, the novella remains the source we must draw upon, and whose language we should endeavour to approximate'.

"Micieli’s new text is an object lesson in libretto-writing. In it, he endeavours to re-engage with Eichendorff's original text in a reflective, mediating fashion. The ideological, artistically problematical verses are here replaced, while the dramaturgical significance is heightened of the struggle songs and the folk-like verses inserted by Burte.

"So in concrete terms, what were the challenges Micieli faced, and what was his approach to solving
them?

(Armand, hält den Becher)
'Heil dir, du Feuerquelle,
Der Heimat Sonnenblut!
Ich trinke und küsse die Stelle,
Wo deine Lippen geruht!'

(Armand, holding the goblet)
'Hail to thee, thou spring of fire,
The blood of our homeland's sun!
I shall drink, and kiss the spot
where your lips touched!'

'Heil', 'Feuerquelle', 'Heimat', 'Sonnenblut' – all these are core words in the vocabulary of the Third Reich (the 'Lingua Tertii Imperii' as Victor Klemperer called it). They are here condensed in a pathosladen context and intensified by the exclamation marks and the end rhymes. The alliteration 'Heil – Heimat', with its echoes of Stabreim, serves to dot the i's, as it were. The second half of the strophe is pedestrian, pretentious and crassly different in tone. These four lines alone demonstrate how the duo of Burte and Schoeck accommodated themselves to the Nazi regime and how the vocabulary, pathos, rhymes and linguistic banalities of the text disqualified their opera for later generations. The solution proposed by Micieli is radically different – it is a kind of textual counter-proposition, though one that actually reflects the pianissimo that Schoeck wrote in his score at this point: 

'Komm leise da herüber
zum schattig verschwiegenen Baum.
Ich trinke und küsse die Stelle,
die deine Lippen berührt.'

'Come softly over here
To the secluded shade of the tree.
I shall drink, and kiss the spot
That your lips have touched'.

Francesco Micieli’s new version sees itself as a creative experiment in reaction to the original libretto. It is without rhyme, without any pomp, and it is gentle. Astonishingly, the prosody of the German text fits better here, too. The furtive invitation 'Komm leise da herüber' masks the metre, suppressing all accents. And 'schattig, verschwiegend' points to a different world, to that of dreams.

"Micieli’s chosen artistic approach to his task is intentionally ahistorical, for he is convinced that the opera cannot be performed any other way (as already explained through its reception history above). His arrangement in a sense carries over the procedures of historical performance practice into the creative process, taking up ideas that Schoeck and his contemporaries had already considered at the time, but had only realised in part.

"Schoeck reacted critically to the text that Burte gave him, even while he was at work on the opera. He did not like its dramaturgy at all, and his own scenario pointed more clearly back to Eichendorff. Schoeck was also vehemently opposed to any psychological simplification. Burte was obviously out of his depth in trying to turn his personae into operatic characters possessed of an equal degree of ambivalence to their originals in the novella. His depictions are overwhelmingly simplistic. The dreamlike quality of Eichendorff is lost, and everything is translated into concrete action. Schoeck brought his own suggestions, but often felt as if he was banging his head against a brick wall, and complained bitterly about it. In some places he simply changed the text himself, though from our viewpoint today he didn’t do so often enough. His first biographer, Hans Corrodi, was able to get him to include two poems by Eichendorff in the finished libretto. All the same, not all the problems of Dürande can be laid at Burte’s door as commentators have been wont to do. The composer himself also brought in a number of ideas that cannot but seem dubious to us today.

"After the opera's second production was a flop – it took place at the Zurich City Theatre, also in 1943 – Schoeck’s circle of friends endeavoured to save what they could and proposed making the necessary repairs. The literary scholar Emil Staiger suggested cuts to Schoeck, along with improvements to the worst of the libretto's rhymes. Gerd Albrecht made a half-hearted attempt to revive the opera in Berlin in 1993, but this failed too – though the music itself received praise: 'The music more or less tries to win back the typically Eichendorffian atmosphere that the libretto had lost.' One critic even suggested writing a new libretto: 'They didn’t succeed in saving the opera. For that, it will need a new text.'

"Our new text has adapted some 60% of the original and succeeds in both creating a different tone and reinventing the characters. The demeanour, dramaturgy and overall utterances have been altered. It is as if a new opera has emerged, whose motto is 'Back to Eichendorff!'. This approach uses literary means to analyse what goes on when you re-write a libretto. What happens with the language, how does its demeanour change, and how does this alter the psychology of the characters, their disposition and the dramaturgy? And what does this mean for the text’s relationship to the music? How does the process of enlarging on Eichendorff actually take shape? It is essentially a kind of restitutive update (Willi Schuh, the former music critic of the 'Neue Zürcher Zeitung', might have called it a 'retrotransfer').

"Practical issues come first: 'Just how slavishly do you have to keep to the number of syllables and stresses, and how freely can we let it unfold?' Time and again, the discussion about the work in progress came back to the significance of the actual process: 'This engagement with the libretto sees itself as a kind of 'artistic laboratory', and doesn’t really aim to be complete.' 

"In a further step, the initial, poetic version had to be made congruent with the vocal lines, which was Mario Venzago’s task. A syllable was omitted here, one added there, while this or that stress was altered and the melodic line and the rhythms adjusted appropriately. The varying literary quality of the original text posed a particular challenge. The style of Micieli’s language – and of Eichendorff’s – is at times fundamentally different from that of Burte, making 'fractures' evident when they clash up against each other. Leaving such ruptures visible might be an acceptable mode of operation when restoring a physical work of art, for example, but they can hinder the musical flow of an opera. As a result, smoother transitions had to be achieved: 'Francesco [Micieli] can also proceed more freely. Often the right words come through simply when you play the music.' 

"It is relatively easy to cope with small changes to the numbers of syllables and to shifts in the placement of accents, but the challenge is far greater when you’re dealing with a quite different amount of text to be sung. As a shrewd man of practice, however, Venzago was able to make suggestions that might otherwise have seemed quite unusual: 'Because I had too much text (and because you simply can’t churn out the text when you’re singing high notes), I’ve place the voices on top of one another.'

"When adopting passages from the original novella, some passages intentionally remained in the third person, which creates quite new effects. Here, the participants in the process had to rethink things scenically. What happens when you speak in the third person; when is this at all feasible, and when not? If it’s not just a matter of Gabriele speaking in the third person, but of having her words divided up between her and her brother Renald, then the result is a double act of alienation that reflects her somnambulistic character, but also her uncertainty, indeed her heteronomy. Ultimately, the interlacing of the siblings' text creates a subtle sense of inner commonality.

"This reworking of 'Das Schloss Dürande' aims to restore to the international operatic stage a significant opera of late-tonal Modernism that in the long term will have to find its own way into the repertoire alongside the works of Richard Strauss, Leoš Janáček, Franz Schreker and Alexander Zemlinsky. Its late-Romantic style, which is common to the 'lyrical' Schoeck of the songs and the 'dramatic' Schoeck of the opera 'Penthesilea', here explores the very boundaries of what the idiom would allow. At the same time, both these aspects of his oeuvre are so closely interwoven that the result in Dürande – which we are now able to rediscover for ourselves – is wholly autonomous and appropriate to its subject, almost postmodern in conception, and still capable of sweeping us off our feet today." (Thomas Gartmann. From the liner notes.)

Performers: Berner Symphonieorchester, Mario Venzago

1.1. Akt I: 'Ein Junger, Fremder Mann'
1.2. Akt I: 'Am Liebsten Würd Ich Nach Dem Fremden Zielen'
1.3. Akt I: 'Still! Da Amtet Es Im Wald'
1.4. Akt I: 'Renald, So Falsch, So Dumm!'
1.5. Akt I: 'Sie Beteuerte, Dass Sie Es Nicht Wisse'
1.6. Akt I: 'Wie Heuchlerisch Du Das Erzählst!'
1.7. Akt I: 'Was Hast Du Da-Zeig Her!'
1.8. Akt I: 'Gute Nacht, Mein Selig Vater Und Mutter'
1.9. Akt I: 'Gabriele, Sie Lauschte Am Fenster'
1.10. Akt I: 'Verzeih Mir, Bruder, Im Zimmer Ist Eine So Dumpfe Luft!'
1.11. Akt I: 'Was Will Sein Stampfen Und Pochen?'
1.12. Akt I: 'Gabriele! Alles Leer!'
1.13. Akt I: 'Ich Hab Gesehn Ein Hirschlein Schlank'
1.14. Akt II: 'Angelus Domini'
1.15. Akt II: 'Eine Gems Auf Dem Stein'
1.16. Akt II: 'Sie Legte Den Kopf Auf Ihr Bündel'
1.17. Akt II: 'Es Ist Nun Der Herbst Gekommen'
1.18. Akt II: 'Ich Möchte Mich Gerne Bei Nacht Verirren'
1.19. Akt II: 'Wein Gereift Im Sonnenstrahl'
1.20. Akt II: 'Renald Dubois, Warum So Gehetzt?'
1.21. Akt II: 'Wie, So Geschwind Wieder Bei Kräften?'
1.22. Akt II: 'Wer Beschreibt Die Große Freude'
1.23. Akt II: 'Ich Schwang Mich Auf Vom Gitter'
1.24. Akt II: 'O, Wie Mich Der Gedanke Mitten Ins Leben Trifft!'
1.25. Akt II: 'Der Zweite Schluck Vom Neuen Wein'
1.26. Akt II: 'Er In Paris, Sie Hier Im Kloster!'
1.27. Akt II: 'Gestern, Brüder, Könnt Ihrs Glauben!'
1.28. Akt II: 'Endlich Am Ort Der Ehrwürd'gen Frauen'
1.29. Akt II: 'Zum Teufel, Wo Sind Meine Sachen?'
1.30. Akt II: 'Hi Hi! Sie Sind In Paris!'
1.31. Akt II: 'Bleibe Er Brav!'

2.1. Akt III: 'Ihr Leute Von Paris!'
2.2. Akt III: 'Sie Kommen Aus Dem Süden Her, Sagen Sie?'
2.3. Akt III: 'Er Will Sein Recht Vom Grafen Von Dürande'
2.4. Akt III: 'Ein Advokat, Ein Niemals Angelangter'
2.5. Akt III: 'Herz, In Deinen Sonnenhellen Tagen'
2.6. Akt III: 'Wer Ist Der Herr, Den Wir Erwarten?'
2.7. Akt III: 'Mein Diener Nicolas Hat Den Raum Bestimmt'
2.8. Akt III: 'Ich Kann Dein Held Nicht Sein!'
2.9. Akt III: 'Fortgespült Der Garten'
2.10. Akt III: 'Nachts Durch Die Stille Runde'
2.11. Akt III: 'Herr Wirt, Die Polizei!'
2.12. Akt III: 'Nun, Lieber Graf, Erwacht Vom Träumen?'
2.13. Akt III: 'Der Liebste Ist Davongegangen'
2.14. Akt III: 'Gefunden! In Nacht Und Bangen'
2.15. Akt III: 'Der Jäger Frei'

3.1. Akt IV: 'Was Für Eine Welt!'
3.2. Akt IV: 'Achille, Hyppolit Ferdinande!'
3.3. Akt IV: 'Nur Knapp Entkommen!'
3.4. Akt IV: 'Da Draussen Gellt Die Verrückte Zeit'
3.5. Akt IV: 'Lasst Mich Herein, Ich Muss Zum Grafen!'
3.6. Akt IV: 'Könnt Ich Mich Niederlegen'
3.7. Akt IV: 'Auf Die Höh'n! Die Schauer Wehen!'
3.8. Akt IV: 'Wie Von Nacht Verhangen'
3.9. Akt IV: 'Da Steht Im Wald Geschrieben'
3.10. Akt IV: 'Ich Bin Zu Spät!'
3.11. Akt IV: 'Mein Liebster! Bei Dir!'
3.12. Akt IV: 'Der Wind Hat's Gebracht Und Genommen'
3.13. Akt IV: 'Gerächt Die Schande Der Schwester'
3.14. Akt IV: 'Da Ist Der Alte Baum Nicht Mehr'

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Franz Schubert - Lieder After Mayrhofer

"1817 is the beginning of a period in Schubert’s life, called his 'years of crisis,' when he was forming and asserting his personal and musical autonomy. His songs from this time concentrate on mythology and on the poetry of his friend Johann Mayrhofer. Thirteen mythological Mayrhofer songs sing through the 'I' of a mythological character and address a god for aid. [...]

"Both Mayrhofer’s poems and Schubert’s songs present difficulties. Mayrhofer’s language and treatment of myth occlude his poetry’s meaning. Schubert’s settings obscure what they might communicate to readers or listeners through experimental formal, harmonic, and text-setting strategies. To discover the order and meaning behind the abstruse surfaces of the poems, music, and songs, I turn to four analytical perspectives immanent in Mayrhofer’s poems. Though mythological on the surface, Mayrhofer’s poems tell a gnostic narrative of man’s desire to unite with god. The poems are also masochistic: Mayrhofer’s mythological heroes are all in pain, static, and devoted to a goddess. These two simultaneous subtexts exemplify the ambiguity of Mayrhofer’s poetry, that it both keeps its meaning indistinct and means many things at once. Mayrhofer’s use of mythology and Gnosticism direct us to Carl Jung’s use of the same in his psychoanalytic researches into the self.

"Gnosticism, masochism, ambiguity, and the Jungian self are elements of Schubert’s songs just as they are elements of Mayrhofer’s poems. Each of the dissertation’s four main chapters focuses on one of these concepts. In analysis, I give the greatest attention to the music, that is, how the music is Gnostic, masochistic, ambiguous, and psychologically self-expressive. The musical analyses are largely motivic, but also involve musical form, harmony, meter, genre, and vocal style. I understand song as a multiplicity, as an interaction of individual voices. Since each of the four analytical perspectives - as distinct as they are - says something about the relationship between the self and the other, they are means to assess the relationships resulting in song, and how meaning and understanding emerge from the interaction of multiple voices." (The Abstract from Michael Shaw's doctoral thesis 'Schubert's Mythological Mayrhofer-Lieder: Historical, Philosophical, and Psychological Contexts'. Available in full here.)

Performers: Christoph Prégardien, Andreas Staier

1. Fahrt Zum Hades, D. 526
2. Freiwilliges Versinken, D. 700
3. Der Entsühnte Orest, D. 699
4. Der Zürnenden Diana, D. 707 Op. 36 No. 1
5. Lied Eines Schiffers An Die Dioskuren, D. 360 Op .65 No. 1
6. Auf Der Donau, D. 553 Op. 21 No. 1
7. Der Schiffer (Im Winde, Im Sturme Befahr Ich Den Fluß), D. 536 Op. 21 No. 2
8. Die Sternennächte, D. 670 Op. Posth. 165 No. 2
9. Abschied, D. 475
10. Nachtstück, D. 672 Op. 36 No. 2
11. Fragment Aus Dem Aeschylus, D. 450
12. Antigone Und Oedip, D. 542 Op. 6 No. 2
13. Memnon, D. 541 Op. 6 No. 1
14. Philoktet, D. 540
15. Atys, D. 585
16. Der Sieg, D. 805
17. Wie Ulfru Fischt, D. 525 Op. 21 No. 3
18. Der Alpenjäger (Auf Hohem Bergesrücken), D. 524 Op. 13 No. 3
19. Nachtviolen, D. 752
20. Abendstern, D. 806
21. Nach Einem Gewitter, D. 561
22. Gondelfahrer, D. 808
23. Auflösung, D. 807

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Franz Schubert - Schwanengesang & Songs After Seidl

"In January 1829, a good two months after  Schubert's death, the Viennese music  publisher Tobias Haslinger, with whom  Schubert had worked very closely in the final  years of his life, placed an advertisement in  the Viennese press, in which he announced  Franz Schubert's 'Schwanen-Gesang, 14 Lieder', 'the final fruits of his noble power  [...], written in August 1828, shortly before  his decease.' Haslinger had obtained the  rights to the songs in December 1828  from Schubert's brother Ferdinand, who  had been handling the composer's estate,  and had given them the collective title of 'Schwanengesang'. In reality there were two groups of songs: seven songs on texts by Ludwig Rellstab and six on texts by Heinrich Heine. These two groups are contained in a common manuscript of August 1828 and are today collected together as 'Schwanengesang' (D. 957), along with a single Lied, 'Die Taubenpost', on a poem by his friend Gabriel Seidl (D. 965 A). The Lieder do not form a single cycle, for each group appears complete in itself. In the Heine group are collected together all the songs Schubert composed on poems by Heine; the same almost applies for the Rellstab group of Lieder: apart from the Lieder in 'Schwanengesang' the only Rellstab poems on which Schubert wrote songs were the large-scale song for voice, horn and piano 'Auf dem Strom' (D. 943), the strophic Lied 'Herbst' (D. 945), which survives as an album leaf for Heinrich Panofka, and the incomplete 'Lied Lebensmut'. 

"[...] Schubert came across Heine's poems — in particular the cycle 'Heimkehr in the Buch der Lieder', published in 1827 — in January 1828, in a volume in the library that his friend Franz von Schober had furnished for him. In the autumn of 1828 Schubert had bequeathed the volume to the singer Karl von Schonstein, who several years later stated that all the poems in the volume 'that had appeared in the Schwanengesang' were marked by 'Einbucie' - a sign that here too Schubert chose his texts carefully. In his manuscript the texts are in a different order from the one Heine had chosen for his cycle. Since then, several attempts have been made to restore to the songs to the order followed by Heine. However, since the composer chose only six of the 88 'Heimkehr' poems continuously numbered by the poet, there is no unity of content that has to be restored, so Schubert's ordering should be preserved, as is the case in this recording. 

"[...] The Viennese poet Gabriel Seidl, who was a friend of Schubert, was the source of a whole series of poetic texts that Schubert set to music between 1826 and 1828; some of these were solo Lieder, some were polyphonic songs. This is remarkable, since on 4 August 1828 - at about the time that he was working on one the Rellstab and Heine Lieder - Schubert wrote to the poet: 'Dear Herr Gabriel! [this unusual appellation, using the first name, shows that the two men were on a familiar footing] In this letter I am sending back these poems, in which I can discover nothing poetical or useful for music.' That this verdict applied only to the poems that had presumably had been sent directly to Schubert, and not to Seidl's poetry as a whole, can be seen from the fact that Schubert in the past sent his Seidl settings 'en bloc' to the publisher, in volumes containing only Lieder on texts by Seidl (Op. 80, 95, 105); one of these, Op. 95, was dedicated to the poet. This volume - a Lieder group to which Schubert or his publisher gave the title 'Refrain-Lieder' - plays a particular role in this: Thaddaus Weigl, the publisher, announced the Lieder in an advertisement: 'For a long time the public has cherished the wish to receive [from Schubert] a composition with cheerful, comic content.' This wish had been granted by the composer in the four songs, which are 'in part genuinely comical, in part bear the character of naivety and humour.' In fact the 'comic' Lieder are no. 1 ('Die Unterscheidung') and no. 3 ('Die Manner sind mechant!'), Lieder in which young girls mirror the conventions of society. On the contrary, the two Lieder recorded here are neither 'naive' nor 'humorous' - though both, like the two young girls' songs, are structured with a refrain, 'Bei dir allein' in no. 2 and 'dock gewiss ein Gluck' in no. 4. The groups of songs op. 105 and op. 80 document - as do many others - Schubert's predilection also for endowing a central thematic focus to songs already connected by assignment to a single poet. In op. 105 this theme is 'Sehnsucht' - longing - (indeed the title of the fourth song), which is caught within a contradiction - 'Widerspruch' - (the title of the first song in the group) between an internally directed and an externally directed longing. Thus the singer in 'Am Fenster' ('At the Window') turns to the 'lieben Mauern, hold and traut, die ihr mich kohl umschlielßt' ('you dear walls, sweet and trusted, that cool enclose me'), but then thinks 'Du Mauer wahnst mich trob wie einst, das ist die stille Freud; wenn du vom Mondlicht widerscheinst, wird mir die Brust so weit' ('You walls suppose me as cheerless as before - but this is a tranquil joy; when you shine from moonlight, my heart swells'). In contrast, op. 80 is a series of songs of a wanderer through the night. In the first song the singer (he actually does wander: a continual pacing rhythm moves him forwards) calls on the moon sailing through the endless sky to be his companion. The second song refers to 'Das Zügenglöcklein' ('The Passing Bell') (expressed by the piano in the incessantly struck octaves E flat' — E flat"), the death knell reconciling the 'glad pilgrim to the world' — as so often in Romanticism, 'night' is here a night of death. In the third song the Wanderer recognises at last whither the moon is leading him— it shines on 'the little hut' in which 'my beloved friend' is resting. The Wanderer scarcely moves in this song; he is rapt in the nocturnal vision, and the Piano evokes for us the shimmer of the stars and of the moon, and the trembling of his restless heart. 

"Of the Lieder that Schubert was still able to hand to the publisher himself in the second half of 1828, eight are from Seidl alone. As such, these too may be counted as part of Schubert's 'Schwanengesänge'." (Walther Dürr, tr. James Chater. From the liner notes.)

Performers: Christoph Prégardien, Andreas Staier

1. Herbst, D. 945
2. Schwanengesang, D. 957: I. Liebesbotschaft
3. Schwanengesang, D. 957: II. Kriegers Ahnung
4. Schwanengesang, D. 957: III. Frühlingssehnsucht
5. Schwanengesang, D. 957: IV. Ständchen
6. Schwanengesang, D. 957: V. Aufenthalt
7. Schwanengesang, D. 957: VI. In Der Ferne
8. Schwanengesang, D. 957: VII. Abschied
9. Schwanengesang, D. 957: VIII. Der Atlas
10. Schwanengesang, D. 957: IX. Ihr Bild
11. Schwanengesang, D. 957: X. Das Fischermädchen
12. Schwanengesang, D. 957: XI. Die Stadt
13. Schwanengesang, D. 957: XII. Am Meer
14. Schwanengesang, D. 957: XIII. Der Doppelgänger
15. Die Taubenpost, D. 965a
16. Sehnsucht, D. 879
17. Am Fenster, D. 878
18. Bei Dir Allein, D. 866
19. Der Wanderer An Den Mond, D. 870
20. Das Zügenglöcklein, D. 871
21. Im Freien, D. 880

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Franz Schubert - Piano Trios, Op. 99 & 100

"'One glance at Schubert's trio, and the miserable hustle and bustle of human existence vanishes, the world takes on fresh lustre', wrote an enthusiastic Robert Schumann in the Neue Zeitschrift für Musik of 1836, at the end of a long 'critical survey' of various newly published compositions for piano trio. In fact, Franz Schubert's 'Trio in B-flat major, D. 898' had only just been published by Anton Diabelli as 'op. 99', that is, eight years after the composer's death. His other great trio, the 'E-flat major, D. 929' (op. 100), by contrast, had already been printed by the Leipzig firm of Probst during the composer's lifetime – although it is not quite certain whether Schubert had seen a copy of it before he died on 19 November 1828.

"Our knowledge of the genesis of and stimulus for the two works is as disparate as this publication history. With the E-flat Trio we are on firm ground – it was begun in November 1827 and premiered as early as 26 December, when it 'was received with extraordinary applause at my concert in a packed hall', according to Schubert's account to the publisher Schott. About the B-flat major Trio, on the other hand, there is only speculation. This too is certainly a mature work and may have been the earlier of the two (as is suggested by the opus number, which may well stem from Schubert himself ); but the situation is unclear and has given rise to conflicting theories. One thing, however, is incontrovertible: both trios are among the greatest works of the 'late' Schubert.

"Although it is always slightly overshadowed by its more dramatic brother, the 'Trio in B-flat, op. 99' is a work with a beauty all its own. As it happens, the tone of both trios – very unlike that of Schubert's late chamber music for strings – always remains engaging; the music historian Alfred Einstein (a cousin of the physicist) pointed out that they were, 'after the 'Trout' Quintet, the two works in which Schubert achieved the purest blend of the 'sociable' spirit with that of true chamber music'. The 'Trio in B-flat' is characterised by broad, sweeping melodies over what might be called 'organic' pulsating rhythms, as at the very beginning when the exuberant first theme, in spite of its expansive nature, is immediately repeated. After just two bars of transition – a solitary a'' on the cello – the second subject follows on directly: one of Schubert's most beautiful inspirations, which suddenly gives a conventional opening formula a poignant harmonic twist. If Schubert was stimulated here by the 'Romantic' Beethoven of the 'Archduke' Trio, he radicalised the older composer's procedures.

"Yet the piece is not all unproblematic euphony. Einstein drew attention to the similarities of the first movement to the song 'Des Sängers Habe' ('The minstrel's possessions'), D. 832, which begins:

Schlagt mein ganzes Glück in Splitter,
Nehmt mir alle Habe gleich,
Lasset mir nur meine Zither,
Und ich bleibe froh und reich!

And one of the characteristic piano figurations that makes the movement flow so smoothly is indeed anticipated in this song written in 1825.

"The 'Andante un poco mosso' is an affecting example of Schubert's 'organic counterpoint'. While the opening cello melody initially has a very simple chordal accompaniment, its recurrences are increasingly decorated with freely invented countermelodies and accompanying voices, which further heighten the melodic intensity: 'a blissful dream, reflecting the ebb and flow of deeply human feelings' (Schumann).

"More low-key, but no less expressive is the central part of the movement, which begins in C minor. The 'Scherzo', with its waltz-like middle section, in which the 'organic counterpoint' blossoms between the strings in similar, albeit more moderate fashion, and more especially the finale are shining examples of Schubert's technique of 'rhythmic-motivic working', in which a four-bar macro-rhythm (long - long - short, short - long) dominates the music over long stretches (and is already anticipated in the accentuation of the rondo theme itself, which plays a lesser role). Here it is not themes or melodies that occupy the foreground, but the actual pulse of the music, an eminently reliable companion, since it never seems to end. 'May his surviving oeuvre be a precious heritage for us!', Schumann concluded his review. 'However numerous and beautiful the progeny of Father Time may be, he will not soon give us a second Schubert.'

"Around the same time as this trio, Schubert also wrote an Adagio for the same forces that poses a conundrum. Was it the discarded first draft of a slow movement for the Trio in B-flat? Or a sketch for a planned 'continuation'? It seems hardly credible that Schubert would have composed such a large-scale movement simply as a freestanding entity. What is certain, in any case, is that when the publisher Anton Diabelli printed the piece in 1846 (long after Schubert's death), he arbitrarily added the title 'Notturno'. This name was probably inspired by the harp-like chords in the piano at the beginning, over which the violin and cello then enter with a slowly swaying, hymn-like melody in thirds. As so often with Schubert, this one-bar motion module (harp music in the piano, semiquaver anacrusis in the strings), once established, is maintained over long stretches, with strings and piano subtly exchanging roles – the last bar of the strings is already the first bar of the reprise of the melody, which is in fact to be entrusted to the piano, and the latter in turn anticipates the first bar of the brief coda, which moves into A-flat minor. Entirely different from this is the contrasting section, which changes not only key (E major) but even time signature (3/4), and strikes up an almost triumphal ascending melody over rushing triplets – as if the struggle were already over. That this is not the case is shown by the very subdued lead-back to the main section, which is decorated on its repetition with dreamy garlands in the high register. Finally – after the return of the contrasting section, now in C major – bright trills in the piano, twittering like birds, sound above the string melody in a short coda.

"Schubert's second great piano trio (op. 100) also adopts a more ingratiating, sociable tone than others among his 'late' works. The first movement is pert, even playful; a recurring turn-like figure developed from the swashbuckling main theme holds its diverse episodes together, but takes on brooding traits in the (pensively extended) closing group and even tends towards grimness in the development. The sad and tender second theme, which begins by modulating erratically into the third-related key of B minor and ends in E-flat major, also demonstrates in its way that in late Schubert there is always but a single step from sociability to solitude.

"The heart of this work, however – preceding the 'Scherzando', whose playfully light tone almost conceals the fact that its main theme is composed as a strict canon between piano and violin – is the slow movement, 'Andante con moto'. This has the paradoxical character of a C minor funeral march, but one that leaves an impression not of statesmanlike solemnity, but of deeply intimate melancholy (Schumann: 'a sigh that rises to shrieking anguish'); even the contrasting major episode seems more nostalgic than liberating.

"This movement is something of a special case. According to Leopold von Sonnleithner, writing thirty years later, a Swedish tenor named Isak Albert Berg gave 'exquisitely lovely' performances of Swedish folksongs while staying in Vienna in the winter of 1827/28. Sonnleithner adds that Schubert was so entranced by this that he used 'the most delightful of them as themes in the E-flat Trio'. This remark long remained puzzling, because scholars searched in vain for Schubertian themes in the folklore of Sweden. Only in 1978 was a manuscript of Swedish songs discovered in a Viennese library that probably contains copies of the repertory sung by Berg – doubtless less those elusive Swedish 'folksongs' than his own compositions 'in folk style'. One of them, 'Se solen sjunker' ('See, the sun sinks'), served as a stimulus for the bewitchingly beautiful theme of the slow movement; a stimulus, no more. The melody of the fine song initially shows little resemblance to Schubert's movement: the most noticeable borrowing is the repeated octave drop on the word 'Farväl' ('Farewell') and the subsequent concluding phrase. The compelling elegiac opening is wholly Schubertian. No one else would have been capable of deriving such a movement from this song.

We can get a precise idea of the genesis of the trio, and this movement in particular, because the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde in Vienna preserves in its archives a draft score of the first three movements that comes from the estate of Johannes Brahms. It shows both great assurance in the overall design and some fascinating details that deviate from the final version. For example, the second group of the first movement was originally pitched a fifth higher; the 'Scherzando' began without an upbeat; and in the slow movement, before the entry of the melody in the cello, there were initially not two, but three bars in the piano drumming out the march-like rhythm. But in the 'Andante con moto' the differences are even more numerous and striking. The movement seems harsher, more angular, more troubled; many lyrical counterpoints and smooth transitions are absent, and in one passage the violin intones, over a surging chromatic run in the piano, a motif that unmistakably recalls the 'Fate' motto from Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. Was this movement intended as a funeral march for Beethoven himself, who had died on 26 March 1827, and to whom the music could in this way wordlessly bid 'Farväl'? If so, then Schubert subsequently obscured this reference, because along with many other changes he deleted the 'quotation' in the final version.

Schubert underlined the exceptional status of this movement by – uniquely in his entire instrumental output – quoting it at length in the playful finale, not as a foreign body, but integrated into its structure. In a passage of the first version, the funeral march theme was even combined in counterpoint with the repeated quavers of the finale's cheerful second theme – a not entirely convincing idea that he struck out of the final version. At the end, as if at the last minute, the gloomy march brightens up and emerges in the major key (a dramaturgical device frequently used by Beethoven but seldom by Schubert): Death and Transfiguration, as it were. It may be just a coincidence that this piece was premiered on the actual first anniversary of Beethoven’s death, in the only concert Schubert ever organised himself – but it is a highly symbolic one." (Wolfgang Fuhrman. From the liner notes.)

Performers: Andreas Staier, Daniel Sepec, Roel Dieltiens

1.1. Piano Trio In B-Flat Major, D. 898 Op. 99: I. Allegro Moderato
1.2. Piano Trio In B-Flat Major, D. 898 Op. 99: II. Andante Un Poco Mosso
1.3. Piano Trio In B-Flat Major, D. 898 Op. 99: III. Scherzo - Allegro
1.4. Piano Trio In B-Flat Major, D. 898 Op. 99: IV. Rondo - Allegro Vivace
1.5. Nocturne In E-Flat Major, D. 897 Op. 148: Adagio

2.1. Piano Trio In E-Flat Major, D. 929 Op. 100: I. Allegro
2.2. Piano Trio In E-Flat Major, D. 929 Op. 100: II. Andante Con Moto
2.3. Piano Trio In E-Flat Major, D. 929 Op. 100: III. Scherzando. Allegro Moderato
2.4. Piano Trio In E-Flat Major, D. 929 Op. 100: IV. Allegro Moderato

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Samuel Barber - Cello Concerto; Medea (Suite); Adagio

"The years immediately following the end of World War II saw a consolidation of the success that Samuel Barber had encountered in the concert hall with his 'Symphony No. 1' and 'Essay for Orchestra' (Naxos 8.559024). While the romantic and expressive traits that inform these works remained at the heart of his idiom, the 'Cello Concerto' and 'Medea' are marked by an increasingly sophisticated use of the orchestra, as well as a greater harmonic stringency and emotional variety. 

"The 'Cello Concerto' was written for Raya Garbousova. The short score was completed in November 1945, coinciding with Barber's discharge from the air force, with orchestration taking until December. The premiere, by Garbousova, the Boston Symphony Orchestra and Sergey Koussevitzky, took place on 5th April, 1946. Despite initial success, and the receipt of the Fifth Annual Award of the Music Critics Circle of New York, the concerto has established itself only at the margins of the repertoire. Barber revised the score prior to his recording with Zara Nelsova in 1950, and made minor changes thereafter. 

"The opening movement, 'Allegro moderato', begins with an abrupt gesture on strings. An understated melodic complex, rather than a theme as such, now unfolds across the orchestra and the soloist joins in almost matter of factly. Only belatedly is the theme stated as a coherent entity. A slower version of the theme becomes a musing soliloquy for the soloist, but the central development quickly emerges as an incisive orchestral tutti. The soloist responds with brusque pizzicati, and a resumption of the initial mood, broadening as before into the theme's more expressive version. The scene is set for a lengthy cadenza, subjecting the theme's constituent elements to the full panoply of cello techniques. The orchestra re-emerges, growing restive in its response, and leading to an agitated coda. 

"The central movement, 'Andante sostenuto', opens with a plaintive siciliana melody on the oboe, subtly derived from that of the first movement and intertwined with the soloist's barcarolle-like motion. A harmonic shift reminiscent of Vaughan Williams brings a more expressively-wrought continuation, before the initial tonality and melody are restored. The orchestra effects a brief but poignant climax, from where the movement sinks into ominous reverie. 

"The finale, 'Molto allegro e appassionato' , opens with another abrupt tutti gesture, before the soloist leads the way with a vaunting melody, inviting vigorous repartee with the orchestra. An inward second theme involves eloquent passage-work for the soloist, building up dramatically in the orchestra. A short solo passage leads to an atmospheric episode, lightly scored in the orchestra's upper reaches and featuring cello harmonics. The initial momentum is now restored, before the second theme returns in sombre hues to effect the work's expressive climax. A further brief cadenza, follows, after which soloist and orchestra steer the movement towards its fateful conclusion. 

"The ballet 'Medea' has a complex history. Commissioned by Martha Graham for the Second Annual Festival of Contemporary Music in May 1946, Barber began work to a scenario entitled 'Cave of the Heart'. The first version, completed in April and scored for thirteen instruments, was first performed at Columbia University on 10th May, under the title 'Serpent Heart'. The original title was reinstated for the New York premiere on 27th February, 1947, by which time Barber had reworked the score into a seven-movement suite for full orchestra, preferring the title Medea, after the principal character. The suite received its first performance on 5th December, with the Philadelphia Orchestra and Eugene Ormandy. In 1955, Barber telescoped the suite into one continuous movement, 'Medea's Meditation' and 'Dance of Vengeance'. This was first heard in New York on 2nd, February, 1956, with the New York Philharmonic conducted by Dimitri Mitropoulos. Yet the additional music and greater emotional range of the suite merit revival. 

"'Parodos' introduces the characters with brazen fanfares on brass and xylophone. A melodic sequence unfolds in some of Barber's most tensile orchestration, abounding in subtle harmonic dissonances. 'Choros I' depicts Medea and Jason, though the cool colouring of solo woodwind and brass, later upper strings, offsets any overt expression. The music gains in animation, though the brief climax subsides without inciting a greater emotional response. 'The Young Princess' opens capriciously in solo woodwind and piano. Forceful brass and strings denote the arrival of Jason, the music trying in vain to regain its initial charm. 'Choros II' is a ruminative solo for Medea, her 'meditation', a lilting violin figure punctuating the music's rhapsodic course. 

"'Medea' is the focal point of the suite and, indeed, the whole ballet. The mood is sombre and agitated, tension building gradually and ominously as her 'dance of vengeance' takes shape. A sudden pick up in tempo finds solo wind in an acerbic exchange over a syncopated piano ostinato. The music generates increasing rhythmic aggression, before launching into a tragic climax. 'Kantikos Agonias' follows, an enigmatic and uneasy interlude, before 'Exodos' erupts in violent fashion, aptly evoking Medea's crime, the murder of her children. Gaunt brass and yearning strings provoke a brief climax, enshrining the 'jealousy' underlying her actions, before the music winds down to an equivocal close: human actions are no less real for being the stuff of legend. 

"Few twentieth century pieces have caught the public imagination more than the 'Adagio for Strings'. Barber's original score dates from 1936, when it formed the central movement of his 'String Quartet in B minor, Op. 11'. In 1937, Toscanini heard Barber's 'Symphony No. 1' at the Salzburg Festival and asked the composer to supply a piece for his first season with the newly-formed NBC Symphony Orchestra. Barber offered the 'First Essay' and the 'Adagio', which were both broadcast on NBC radio on 5th November, 1938. The inward nature of the latter probably helped reinforce its public significance, with performances at the funerals of such luminaries as President Roosevelt and Albert Einstein. 

"The hushed but expressive theme, its modal flavour imparting an evocative timelessness, unfolds in a series of dynamic terraces; intensity increasing as the rapt mood is effortlessly sustained. Cellos take up the theme, and the music reaches an impassioned climax. A heartfelt pause, and the melody resumes its elegiac course, resolving as if with a benediction. The extent to which the 'Adagio' overshadowed his other works understandably caused Barber frustration in later years. Yet it is difficult to gainsay Aaron Copland's description: 'The sense of continuity, the steadiness of the flow, the satisfaction of the arch that it creates from beginning to end [...] makes you believe in the sincerity which he obviously put into it.'" (Richard Whitehouse. From the liner notes.)

Performers: Royal Scottish National Orchestra, Marin Alsop, Wendy Warner

1. Cello Concerto, Op. 22: I. Allegro Moderato
2. Cello Concerto, Op. 22: II. Andante Sostenuto
3. Cello Concerto, Op. 22: III. Molto Allegro E Appassionato
4. Medea Ballet Suite, Op. 23: I. Parodos
5. Medea Ballet Suite, Op. 23: II. Choros. Medea And Jason
6. Medea Ballet Suite, Op. 23: III. The Young Princess. Jason
7. Medea Ballet Suite, Op. 23: IV. Choros
8. Medea Ballet Suite, Op. 23: V. Medea
9. Medea Ballet Suite, Op. 23: VI. Kantikos Agonias
10. Medea Ballet Suite, Op. 23: VII. Exodos
11. Adagio, Op. 11

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Johannes Brahms - 4 Ballades, Op. 10; 2 Rhapsodies, Op. 79; 10 Intemezzi

"Occasionally unsure what title, if any, he should give a piece, Brahms came to use the term intermezzo as a rubric under which he could file anything that was not especially whimsical or fiery. The Three Intermezzi, Op. 117, do not require the technical facility necessary to perform many of his earlier works, but an incisive musicality is paramount for a proper understanding of these musical miniatures. The fact that they are all marked Andante also presents a problem for the performer, who must probe the details of each work and stress the contrasting elements. All three Intermezzi of Op. 117 were written in the summer of 1892, the year of their publication. This is one of the rare cases in which Brahms gave a specific title for an entire set of pieces. Two of the three Intermezzi received their first performances shortly after they were written: No. 1 on February 18, 1893, and No. 2 on January 30 of the same year.

"Prefaced by lines from Herder's translation of Lady Anne Bothwell's Lament, a Scottish lullaby, the first Intermezzo is in E-flat major and cast in ABA' form. The central section, on E flat minor, obscures the 6/8 meter before returning to the major mode for the modified reprise of the first section.

"A sonata-form movement in B-flat minor, the second Intermezzo provides an excellent example of thematic transformation. The first theme, traced by the uppermost thirty-second notes in the arpeggios of the first two measures, becomes the second theme, played in the top notes of block chords 30 measures later. Because the rhythmic movement from note to note is changed and the textures of the two passages are very dissimilar, it takes a perceptive pianist to locate and bring out the transformed melody. Brahms chooses the relative major, D flat, for the second theme while the development section is built around the fluid arpeggios of the first theme. In the recapitulation, the second theme, truncated and transformed, vacillates between the tonic major and minor.

"Brahms once referred to the third Intermezzo of Op. 117 as 'the lullaby of all my grief.' In C sharp minor, the piece is in ternary form (ABA'), with a central section on A major. Section A consists of two ideas, the first stated in parallel octaves. The entire complex is repeated, although the melodies are accompanied differently and some segments appear in a higher register. The move to A major for the B section creates a sense of relaxation as the leaping theme, again with right-hand octaves, provides a stark contrast to the linear, opening idea. A brief transition leads to the return of section A, re-harmonized and in a form more akin to its second half than to the beginning." (Description of the Intermezzi by John Palmer. From AllMusic. See here.)

Performer: Glenn Gould

1.1. 4 Ballades, Op. 10 No. 1 In D Minor 'Edward Ballade': Andante
1.2. 4 Ballades, Op. 10 No. 2 In D Major: Andante
1.3. 4 Ballades, Op. 10 No. 3 In B Minor 'Intermezzo': Allegro
1.4. 4 Ballades, Op. 10 No. 4 In B Major: Andante Con Moto
1.5. 2 Rhapsodies, Op. 79 No. 1 In B Minor: Agitato
1.6. 2 Rhapsodies, Op. 79 No. 2 In G Minor: Molto Passionato, Ma Non Troppo Allegro

2.1. Intermezzo In E-Flat Major, Op. 117/1: Andante Moderato
2.2. Intermezzo In B-Flat Minor, Op. 117/2: Andante Non Troppo E Con Molta Espressione
2.3. Intermezzo In C-Sharp Minor, Op. 117/3: Andante Con Moto
2.4. Intermezzo In E-Flat Minor, Op. 118/6: Andante, Largo E Mesto
2.5. Intermezzo In E Major, Op. 116/4: Adagio
2.6. Intermezzo In A Minor, Op. 76/7: Moderato Simplice
2.7. Intermezzo In A Major, Op. 76/6: Andante Con Moto
2.8. Intermezzo In B Minor, Op. 119/1: Adagio
2.9. Intermezzo In A Minor, Op. 118/1: Allegro Non Assai, Ma Molto Appassionato
2.10. Intermezzo In A Major, Op. 118/2: Andante Teneramente
2.11. Intermezzo In A Major, Op. 118/2: Andante Teneramente

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