Elisabeth Schumann’s Swan Song

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Born in 1888, Elisabeth Schumann’s first recordings were acoustics, made in 1915, although it is probably for her later, electrical recordings that she is better known. She had an illustrious operatic career, famous for such roles as Sophie in Der Rosenkavalier and Eva in Die Meisteringer, also excelling in Mozart with roles such as Pamina, Susanna, Zerlina and Blonde. She was a favourite of Richard Strauss, who even tried to persuade her to sing the role of Salome, creating an edition in which he reduced the size of the orchestra to accommodate her light, lyrical soprano, though she never took up the offer.

She was also highly regarded as a singer of Lieder and Lotte Lehmann, who was perhaps her greatest rival in the field, once said she represented the purest singing style of German Lieder. She has a large discography and many of her recordings, both acoustic and electrical were once issued in a six disc EMI box set, which now appears to be available as a Warner download.

The present recordings were made somewhat later in her home in Manhattan in 1950, when she would have been in her early sixties, and this appears to be the first time the sessions have been issued in their entirety. The accompanying notes are sketchy and inadequate. Included are brief biographies of Schumann herself and of George Schick and George Reeves, who I assume are the accompanists, but there is no indication as to which songs they play, nor which items are completely new to the catalogue.

Being late recordings, this is not a disc to which I would direct anyone interested in hearing “the purest singing style of German Lieder”. Though the bell-like purity of Schumann’s top notes remains more or less intact, quite frankly, in the middle and lower register, she sounds all of her sixty odd years. Certainly, the voice has aged less well than some other sopranos, who also made recordings into their sixties, such as her contemporary Maggie Teyte or, of more recent singers, Renée Fleming. Some of the Wolf songs now clearly stretch her to the limit and I find myself wondering if this is the reason they were not issued before. One should probably make allowances for the way these songs were recorded (probably on a 7.5ips home recorder, according to the notes) but to my ears  she sounds effortful and unsteady for much of the time.

She redeems herself in the final three bonus tracks, first in two acoustic Odeons of her singing Wolf’s Frage und Antwort and Straus’s Morgen (date and accompaniment unknown), followed by a later recording of her delivering in English a master class on Morgen, this time with Ernest Lush on the piano. No date is given, and I wonder if this was from one of her lecture tours of 1950 and 1951. If it was, then she sounds in much better voice here than she does on the home recordings.  and she gives invaluable advice on singing the song, recollecting working on it with Strauss himself.

I hate to be negative about a much-loved artist, but this disc, I would suggest, is for completists only. Anyone wanting to discover the voice and art of this great soprano, will be much better served by the six-disc set detailed above.

Thibaudet & Feinstein – Gershwin Rhapsody

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George Gershiwn always had a foot in both the classical and Broadway camps and this disc too has a foot in both camps by bringing together Broadway star and cabaret artist, Michael Feinstein and classical pianist Jean-Yves Thibaudet. The two men have known each other socially for some time and hatched the idea of doing this programme over several dinners whilst they were appearing at the Napa Festival in 2021.

One would expect Feinstein to be at home in such a programme, but Thibaudet is no stranger to the jazz idiom, having recorded albums of music by Bill Evans and Duke Ellington, and he has of course, also made recordings of Gershwin’s Piano Concerto and Rhapsody in Blue. Most of the arrangements, and all of those for two pianos, are by Tedd Firth, but Thibaudet also plays some of Gershwin’s own pieces as well as Earl Wild’s wonderful arrangement of Embraceable You, whilst Feinstein sings his own arrangements of three songs  (Someone To Watch Over Me, Embraceable You and They Can’t Take That Away From Me), Tedd Firth providing the arrangement for the fourth (Love Is Here To Stay).

The first eleven tracks comprise the Rhapsody in Blue Medley, in which Tedd Firth has bookended several of Gershwin’s songs with the beginning and end of the Rhapsody in Blue arranged for two pianos. In-between we get to hear Michael Feinstein sing to his own accompaniment, each of his solos complimented by an arrangement of the same song for solo piano played by Thibaudet. The Earl Wild arrangement of Embraceable You is particularly noteworthy and is brilliantly played by Thibaudet.

After the medley, which takes up almost half the length of the whole disc (quite short measure at 48 minutes) we move to a cheeky arrangement of Vincent Youmans’ Tea for Two, before returning to Gershwin. Apart from Love is Here To Stay, which is given a languidly gentle arrangement for Feinstein (this time by Firth), most of the songs on this latter half of the disc are less well-known, and two of the piano pieces (Graceful and Elegant and Under The Cinnamon Tree) are in fact receiving their first ever recording.

It is evident throughout that the two performers have a great rapport and are enjoying themselves immensely and that sense of fun and discovery certainly comes across. Feinstein is of course in his element in this material, but Thibaudet is no stranger to Gershwin either and he too sounds completely at home.

Rather than a programme of music arranged for two pianos, I liked the fact that what we have here is a mixture of solos and duets, with the vocal items adding to the variety. It’s a programme I can imagine going down very well in cabaret. A class act indeed and one that I found thoroughly enjoyable.

In Relations – Eva Zalenga and Doriana Tchakarova

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The back page of the booklet that comes with this CD has a complicated diagram, which attempts to display and unravel the various connections between the composers and poets featured in this recital. We all know about the friendship that existed between Mendelssohn and Schumann, but did you know that Loewe, who also made music with Mendelssohn, taught the composer Emilie Mayer, who set poems by Heine, as of course did Loewe and Schumann? So did Meyerbeer, though his only connection with Mendelssohn and Schumann is that they both were vocal in disparaging his music.

The aim is evidently to bring some unity to what is essentially a recital of nineteenth century Romantic songs by both male and female composers, most of which are not exactly regular visitors to the concert platform. It’s a nice idea and it can be fun trying to trace the connections between the various personages represented in this recital, though certainly not necessary for the enjoyment of it.

We begin with Meyerbeer, who is better known for his large-scale operas, none of which have ever held much interest for me. The three songs we get here are rather charming and tuneful, though they don’t quite escape the epithet of parlour music. These are followed by a couple of songs by Loewe, the first a setting of Meine Ruh ist hin, a poem better known to us as Schubert’s Gretchen am Spinnrade. Loewe’s setting is less grippingly intense but it does tell the story well.. Loewe’s accompaniments are worth noting and they are brilliantly played by Doriana Tchakarova, who supports her soloist at every turn.

Mendelssohn’s Hexenlied is better known than the songs we have heard so far and it really calls for a little more variety of timbre than Zalenga has yet at her disposal.  On the other hand Zalenga’s bright, youthful soprano is perfectly apt for the Suleika songs that follow. The Schumann songs go well too, though I would have preferred a little more sense of breathless excitement in Aufträge, such as we hear in older versions by Elisabeth Schumann and Elisabeth Schwarzkopf.

For the rest we are given some rarities by women composers, both of whom were entirely new to me. Emilie Mayer, who died in 1883 (not 1833 as the booklet has it) was the first woman to have her symphonies performed all over Europe. The two songs included here no doubt had an eye on the popular publication market and, like the Meyerbeer, have more than a whiff of the salon about them. Nonetheless I was pleased to make their acquaintance. That said, I found the Heine settings of the English composer, Frances Illitsen, even more interesting. All three are worth investigating, in particular the setting of Heine’s Katherine, which is a glorious outpouring of lyrical melody.

This recital would appear to be the recording debut of the young soprano Eva Zalenga. She has a lovely, light soprano which faintly reminded me of the young Lucia Popp. I see from her website that her operatic roles are Papagena, Barbarina, Susanna, Ännchen, and also Sophie in Werther, all of which would seem right for her at the moment. I can also imagine her making an excellent Sophie in Der Rosenkavalier. As yet the voice doesn’t have a great range of colour at its disposal, but this does not mean she sings without feeling. Throughout she is a most musical singer and keenly responsive to the poetry. You really feel she connects with each of the songs

I wish Hänssler had vouchsafed us translations of the German texts, but, nonetheless, I thoroughly enjoyed this journey through some of the byways of nineteenth century Romantic song. An auspicious recording debut for Eva Zalenga.

Contents:

Giacomo Meyerbeer (1791-1864)

Komm

Meerestille

Suleika

Carl Loewe (1796 – 1869)

Meine Ruh’ ist hin, Op. 9, no. 2

Die verliebte Schläferin, Op. 9, no. 3

Ihr Spaziergang, Op. 9, no.4

Die Schneeflocke, Op. 63, no. 1

Felix Mendelssohn (1809-1847)

Hexenlied, Op 8, no. 8

Suleika, Op. 57, no.3

Suleika, Op. 34, no. 4

Die Nonne, Op. 9 no. 12

Robert Schumann (1810 – 1856)

Liebeslied, Op. 5, no. 5

Aufträge, Op. 77, no. 5

Viel Glück zur Reise, Schwalben! Op. 104, no. 2

Die letzten Blumen starben, Op. 104, no. 6

Aus den östlichen Rosen, Op. 25, no. 5

Singet nicht in Trauertönen, Op. 98a

Emilie Mayer (1812 – 1883)

Du bist wie eine Blume, Op. 71 no. 1

Das Schlüsselloch im Herzen

Frances Allitsen (1848 – 1912)

Katherine

Mag, da draußen Schnee sich thürmen

Die Botschaft

Sonic Alchemy – How do we measure time?

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YuEun Kim (violin), Mina Gajić (piano), Coleman Itzkoff (Cello)

How do we even measure time?

This is the question asked at the beginning of the booklet accompanying this absorbing disc. It supposes that time is a construct of man and that time, as we understand it, has not always been the same. To quote from the booklet again, “Our ideas on time have changed throughout the centuries and will probably continue to do so. The works on Sonic Alchemy are of composers who offer a new perspective on how we can perceive time, each in their own way.”

Mozart may seem a strange bedfellow for the two contemporary composers we have here, but there is an obvious link with Pärt’s Mozart-Adagio for piano trio, a re-working of the slow movement from Mozart’s Sonata in F major, K. 280, in which Pärt seeks to subtly blend the styles of the two composers into a single natural whole. It is framed by Mozart’s two Piano Fantasias K.397 and K. 480, which are both performed as written.  

The disc opens with Vasks’ Balta Ainava (White Scenery) for solo piano, an evocative piece which is written sensa misura. There is no tempo written into the score, the performer is instructed to play “very sweetly and softly”. Gajić responds with an unsentimental approach, which perfectly allows the music to speak for itself, her tone clear and pellucid. This is followed by Pärt’s Fratres in the version for piano and cello, in which the composer’s method is based on a fixed relation between two voices. This is where I noticed a tendency for Gajić to overuse the pedal, which somewhat muddies the textures of her part. This is a shame because Coleman Itzkoff is wonderfully lucid in his part. This overuse of the pedal also creeps into her playing of the Mozart Fantasias, which are a bit heavy and a little too rigid, lacking in, well, fantasy. No competition here for the likes of a Mozart spécialiste, like the wonderfully sensitive Maria João Pires. Still, they do not feel out of place in this programme, their juxtaposition with the other works on this disc bringing them forward out of their own time and into the twentieth century.

The other Vasks piece is Castillo Interior, a duet for violin and cello, which contrasts long hymn-like, somewhat devotional  phrases with rapid, almost aggressive sections, which perhaps remind us that the bustle and violence of the outside world is never far away. It is brilliantly performed here by YuEun Kim and Itzkoff.

Finally, we come to the most well-known piece on the disc, Pärt’s ubiquitous Spiegel im Spiegel, which, clocking in at 10:24, must be one of the slowest on record. Tamsin Little only takes 8:14 over it, but listening to it after this performance, Little seemed a little rushed to me. Kim’s tone here is ethereal, almost insubstantial and she and Gajić sustain the slow tempo brilliantly. I found myself hanging on to each note and just for these ten minutes it felt as if time really did stand still.

I should just mention that the recording quality is first rate. Despite my reservations about the performance of the Mozart Fantasias, I found this an absorbing disc, and one that I shall certainly return to from time to time.

Contents.

Peteris Vasks (b.1946) : Balta Ainava (White Scenery)

Arvo Pärt (b. 1935): Fratres

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791): Fantasia in D Minor, K.397

Arvo Pärt: Mozart-Adagio (after Sonata K. 280)

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Fantasia in C Minor, K. 475

Vasks: Castillo Interior (Interior Castle)

Pärt: Spiegel im Spiegel

Sir Bryn Terfel – Sea Songs

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It’s been a few years since Sir Bryn visited a recording studio and here he lets his hair down in a programme of sea songs, shanties and maritime folk songs. In the notes he explains that, as a North Wales farmer’s son, he has always been somewhat obsessed with the 360-mile coastline of northern Wales. However, his journey takes him much further than the shores of Wales, with songs originating from the Shetlands, New Zealand and the Bahamas (Sloop John B, which no doubt most people will probably know in the version recorded by The Beach Boys in the 1960s).

Along the way, Terfel is joined by friends and colleagues, Sir Simon Keenlyside, Sting, singer-songwriter Eve Goodman, the folk group Calan and the male vocal group Fisherman’s Friends from Cornwall. Arrangements are by Patrick Rimes, who also plays a variety of different instruments, from piano to fiddle to whistle. The whole disc has an atmosphere of companionship, as if a group of friends just got together to reminisce and make music, almost as if they’d gathered in a portside pub one evening, though I doubt one would ever come across quite such accomplished music making by chance. The songs range from the rumbustious to the gently nostalgic and, whether singing in Welsh, Breton, Norn or English, Terfel’s diction is so crisp you can all but taste the words. Terfel’s bass-baritone may have acquired a slightly rougher edge when singing out full voice, but in the quiet songs, he can still spin out a gently caressing legato line of great beauty, and, in any case, that touch of roughness is not out of place in songs like Whisky, Johnny and The Green Willow Tree on which he duets with Sting. A word of praise too for all the various musicians and backing singers not mentioned by name in the recording details above.

I suppose one would call this a crossover album, not a genre I particularly enjoy opera singers doing but, like Agnes Baltsa singing the songs of her native Greece, Terfel makes no concessions to the music and sings with a sincerity and a big open-hearted personality that I found thoroughly disarming. In some of the gentler songs, like Codi angor or the plaintive Unst Boat Song, this time accompanied simply by piano and melodeon, I found it hard to suppress a tear. Though this is not a disc I would probably have considered buying if I were not reviewing it, I was very pleasantly surprised and I enjoyed it immensely.

Surely a disc to be enjoyed by all but the most curmudgeonly, but beware. These songs are purposefully catchy. I had several ear worms rattling round in my head for days after just a couple of listens.

Eilika Wünsch – Romantic Songs

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There are times when one wonders how a record came to be released.

According to the accompanying notes, the premise for this album would appear to be “a completely new approach to our lieder recital repertoire … in which voice and piano are enhanced by another melody instrument”. Whether this enhancement is either desirable or necessary is a moot point, but I suppose the idea of the cello taking over the second vocal line in the adaptation of duets is one solution to the non-availability of a second singer. The accompanying notes would also seem to suggest that these arrangements improve in some way on the originals, even of the two songs from Strauss’s Vier letzte Lieder, which of course were written for full orchestra.  I can assure you they do not.

However, the greatest impediment to enjoyment is not the arrangements themselves but the solo singer. According to the biographical notes, Eilika Wünsch has been active since around 2010, when she worked with Jörg Demus. She would appear to have a fairly extensive discography, though I can’t find a single review on the internet for any of her discs, or for any of her public appearances. We are also told that she has sung the roles of Butterfly, Konstanze, Donna Anna, Violetta, Gilda and the Queen of the Night, about all of which I am faintly incredulous.  The first few notes of the opening song, Nacht und Träume, are sung in a white, vibrato-less tone, but thereafter any single sustained note emerges unfocused and unsteady. She struggles so much with the execution of the notes that any attempt at interpretation is completely absent. The cover photo shows us an attractive young woman, but the sounds coming from the speakers are those of a (very) old soprano. I am sorry to be so negative, but I really can’t find anything positive to say about this recital. Listening all the way to the end proved quite a trial, but listen I did, right through to the final song, which is a vocalise arrangement of Schubert’s famous Impromptu, Op.90, no.3. The arrangement takes her well up above the stave, where the sound that emerges is somewhere between a whistle and a theremin and quite unpleasant – to my ears at least.

This is one of those cases where comparisons are irrelevant. One to be avoided, I’m afraid.

Contents, in case anyone is interested.

  1. Schubert: Nacht und Träume
  2. Brahms: Wie Melodien zieht es mir
  3. Reger: Nachts
  4. Schumann: Wenn ich ein Vöglein wär
  5. Brahms: Am Strande
  6. Schumann: In der Nacht
  7. Liszt: O komm im Traum
  8. R. Strauss: Im Abendnrot
  9. Reger: Abendlied
  10. R. Strauss: Beim Schlafengehen
  11. Schumann: Mondnacht
  12. Schubert: Auf dem Strom
  13. Impormpti, Op. 90 no. 3 (as Vocalise)

Love’s Lasting Power – Schubert Lieder

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The English soprano, Harriet Burns, still in her early 30s, has been getting some great reviews in the music press of late, some of them for this recital of Schubert Lieder, and indeed there is a great deal to celebrate here. She and her accompanist, Ian Tindale, were recent winners of the Contemporary Song Prize in the International Vocal Competition at ‘s-Hertogenbosch and this is their debut recital. They have put together a group of Schubert Lieder on the subject of love in all its guises, from, as the notes tell us, “many-splendoured and joyous to tragic and rejected.” Some of the songs will be familiar, some maybe less so, but it is a very well-considered and thoughtful programme.

First impressions are of the sheer beauty of Burns’ voice, which is a full, lyric soprano. Its creamy richness would no doubt be perfect for Strauss’s soaring soprano lines, and I see she is soon to add the Vier letzte Lieder to her repertoire, though initially in a recital with piano accompaniment. I would also highlight her musicality and her thoughtful response to the text, though here I would appreciate crisper diction. Sometimes the words are not clear enough. However, all in all, there is a great deal of pleasure to be derived from this recital and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

That said, when getting a little more specific in my listening, one or two doubts started to creep in. Take for example the longest song on the disc, Viola. This song, which is almost 13 minutes long, is in the nature of a mini-scena, its many  changes of attitude signposted by the accompaniment and masterfully managed by Tindale. These changes of mood cry out for a change of colour or attitude from the singer but Burns rarely responds accordingly and when one turns to the same song as sung by Anne-Sophie von Otter, it is to hear a much more specific response to the text and the accompaniment.

Comparisons are invidious, but perhaps inevitable, and it was the same story with most of the other songs I sampled in different performances. I would like more characterisation and personality in Die Männer sind méchant and that is what we get from, for instance, Lotte Lehmann and Janet Baker. There is also much more complexity to be found in Suleika I. Though the sounds of nature depicted in the poem are gentle and reassuring they don’t quell the anxiety in the poet’s heart in the absence of his lover. We hear this in the accompaniment, and we hear it in the voice of Janet Baker, but not in the voice of Burns.

I sampled a few more versions of one of the most well-known songs here Der Jüngling and der Quelle and it was to find that Elisabeth Schumann, Lottle Lehmann, Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, Elly Ameling and Lucia Popp are all more communicative with the text and much more specific in their response to it. Burns is beautiful, expressive, but more generalised and this is the only criticism I have of a recital which is, in all other respects, more than promising from an artist, who is no doubt still developing.

The final song is Seligkeit, one of those songs which is often taken much too fast, but for which she and Tindale find the perfect tempo here.  Burns is delightful, responding well to its note of blithely carefree happiness. A perfect way to end a highly enjoyable recital. Both soprano and accompanist are clearly ones to watch.

Reflet – Sandrine Piau sings French orchestral songs

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I know Sandrine Piau principally as a singer of Baroque and Classical music, but she has recently been venturing into the nineteenth and twentieth centuries and this is the second disc in a series, which began with a disc of orchestral songs by Strauss, Berg and Zemlinsky entitled Clair-Obscur. The notes accompanying the disc tell us that that earlier disc sought to explore “the confrontation between shadow and light,” whilst this one “evokes the nuances and transparencies of the French mélodie.”

Essentially what we have here is a nicely put together programme of French orchestral song, starting with Berlioz and taking us through to Britten’s early Ravelian Quatre chansons Françaises via Duparc, Koechlin, Debussy and Ravel himself. The programme is not long (under an hour) and is fleshed out with André Caplet’s orchestration of Debussy’s Clair de lune and Ernest Ansermet’s of the sixth of his 6 Epigraphes antiques. Admirably as the orchestra plays throughout under Verdier, these add very little to the programme and I would have welcomed more songs, maybe something by Chausson, Delage or Canteloube, or more by Koechlin, who is not so well represented in the catalogue. If I’m honest, I prefer the Debussy items in their original piano guise. Unlike Ravel’s orchestrations of his own piano pieces, the arrangements don’t really improve on the originals.

The Koechlin songs were new to me, and I rather wish Piau had explored more than the three we have here. If they pique your curiosity, as they did mind, then they are available sung by Juliane Banse, along with a lot more of Koechlin’s vocal works with orchestra, in a two disc set in Hänssler’s Koechlin edition. What we have here is two songs from his early 4 poèmes d’Edmond Haraucourt. Op.7, and one from the slightly later 3 mélodies, Op. 17. If they lack some of Duparc’s natural melodic gift, they are nonetheless lushly orchestrated and rather beautiful  and make an excellent partner for the two Duparc songs.

If the Koechlin songs afforded me the most pleasure, that could be because I didn’t know them before and therefore had no point of comparison, whereas I know all the other material rather well. I’ve loved the Britten songs since they were first recorded in the 1980s. Admittedly one can hear the influence of Ravel, particularly of Shéhérazade, but they are remarkably assured from a boy of fourteen and they do not feel out of place here, whilst the sparer textures of Ravel’s Mallarmé settings, written for two clarinets, two flutes, piano and string quartet, provide a nice contrast to the lush orchestrations of the rest.

Piau is now in her fifties and the voice has lost a little of its bloom on high. She also uses what the late John Steane once referred to as a squeeze-box method of vocal production, a tendency to move note by note rather than in a long line, which, once noticed, is hard to ignore. I also hear a slight sense of strain in the Britten songs, particularly at the close of the final song, which is not as radiant as it should be, and as it is in the performances of Jill Gomez, who made the first recording of them for EMI under Simon Rattle, and Felicity Lott, who recorded them for Chandos under Bryden Thomson.

The opening Berlioz Le spectre de la rose is taken a mite too fast for my taste and is a little on the cool side, but it does rather set the general tone of the recital. If you like it, then you will no doubt like the whole disc, but I found Piau a little lacking in involvement, a little detached.

I don’t want to belabour the point too much, because this is a very enjoyable programme, well considered and well put together and, for the most part, Piau’s singing is quite lovely, but, in the Berlioz, Duparc, Ravel and Britten, I found myself inwardly hearing the voices of some of those who have preceded her. Still, if you’re looking for a mixed programme of nineteenth and early twentieth century French orchestral song, then this disc will provide a lot of enjoyment.

 

Diana Damrau sings Operetta Arias

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Operetta is probably not as popular now as it was around the middle of the last century when amateur productions of popular operettas were ubiquitous. Indeed, back in the 1950s and 1960s my father was musical director of several local operatic societies, conducting a regular fare of Lehár, Strauss and Offenbach alongside American musicals by Rodgers and Hammerstein and the like. Nowadays you’d be more likely to encounter shows by Lloyd Webber or Schönberg & Boubil, or one of the now popular jukebox musicals. Even The Merry Widow and Die Fledermaus, once in the regular repertoire of our professional opera companies, are seldom performed, at least here in the UK.

Maybe the tradition is more alive in Germany and Austria because the Münchner Rundfunkorchester under Ernst Theis here put in splendidly stylish performances of all the chosen arias and duets, sounding totally idiomatic in a wide-ranging programme of music mostly from Vienna, but also taking in Berlin and Paris. There is also some wonderful solo violin playing from, I presume, the leader of the orchestra, notably in the aria from Lehár’s Zigeunerliebe, which exudes a fiery, gypsy passion.

The booklet notes take the form of a (slightly twee) conversation between Damrau and her childhood friend Elke Kottmair, who spent 12 years with the Dresden State Operetta and upon whose expertise and knowledge Damrau drew when compiling this collection. Kotke and mezzo-soprano Emily Sierra join Damrau for a trio from Johann Strauss’s little-known Das Spitzentuch der Königin, and she has also enlisted the support of Jonas Kaufmann for a duet from the same operetta, as well as duets from Stolz’s Im weißen Rössl and the famous Im chambre séparée from Heuberger’s Der Opernball, which some of you may know better as a soprano solo.

These help to add a bit of welcome variety to the programme and here I have to make something of a confession. I have never really liked Damrau’s voice, finding it rather hard and unrelenting. It has never been a particularly luscious instrument, but, to my ears, it is now sounding rather dry and, in the middle register, a little shrewish, where one really wants something more sensuous. Furthermore, when she tries to be charming, she can become excessively coy. Comparing her and Susan Graham in J’ai deux amants from Messager’s L’Amour Masqué, (included in her disc of French Operetta arias) it is to find Graham much warmer and more sexily playful.

When it comes to the Viennese items, you only have to listen to Elisabeth Schwarzkopf in Ich schenk’ mein Herz from Millöcker’s Die Dubarry or in Im chambre séparée to understand the real echt-Viennese style. I doubt there has ever been a finer recital of operetta arias ever recorded, though I also recall a lovely disc by Barbara Bonney, accompanied by solo piano, which is also well worth investigating.

For those who respond better to Damrau’s voice than I do, I have no doubt you will find much to enjoy. I did too. I just wish I had a more positive reaction to the singing.

Dreams Desires Desolation – and Diffidence.

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Dreams Desires Desolation

English Song

Trevor Alexander (baritone), Peter Crockford (piano)

Rec. 2021 Henry Wood Hall, London.

This is a disc of English song which re-creates an evening of Parlour Ballads, such as one might have heard in an Edwardian aristocratic home. Even the more contemporary songs fit quite comfortably into this category and in fact the most forward reaching and original song is by Frank Bridge; his last song, Journey’s End,written in 1925 to a text by Humbert Wolfe. Startlingly, the song almost sounds as if it might have been written by Bridge’s pupil, Benjamin Britten and in fact Pears did record the song with Britten at the piano in 1963. Some of the songs are old favourites, that we don’t hear very often these days, though we might know them from older recordings, whilst others are brand new. Indeed, Peter Gelhorn’s Autumn and two songs by Clive Pollard (b. 1959) are here receiving their first commercial recordings. However they are tuneful and tonal and do not sound out of place in a programme of songs mostly written in the early part of the last century.

As you would expect with a title like Dreams. Desires, Desolation the mood is mostly melancholy or dreamlike and I can’t help feeling one or two more lively songs would have created a little more variety in the programme. What would also have helped to enliven the recording is a bit more energy in the performances. Trevor Alexander has a pleasant, light, tenorish baritone and he has excellent diction. Though his is obviously not the voice of a man in the first flush of youth, it is mercifully free of excessive vibrato or wobble. Unfortunately, it is also a little lacking in colour and personality. The performances are somewhat diffident, rather lacking in substance and imagination. Take the opening song, Butterworth’s Is my team ploughing? Alexander commendably attempts to differentiate between the ghost and the young man, but whereas his ghost is convincingly eerie, the young man’s responses need to be more healthily robust. It is also true that many of the older songs tap into a vein of sentimentality that is perhaps not so fashionable today.  Even so, one wants a more open-hearted, outgoing emotional response to both words and music, such as we can hear in some of the old recordings of Jonn McCormack, Richard Tauber, Rosa Ponselle and Kathleen Ferrier. Where their voices and personalities fly out from even the crackliest old 78s, Alexander remains earthbound, nice but dull.

Reading the notes that come with the disc, one appreciates that it was obviously a labour of love for the two artists involved and one doesn’t doubt their sincerity for a moment, but, though there are some interesting discoveries (and re-discoveries) here, the performances need a little more personality and variety to sustain interest throughout a whole disc.

Contents

  1. George Butterworth (1995-1916) – Is my team ploughing?
  2. Frank Bridge (1879-1941) -Come to me in my dreams
  3. Charles Marshall (1857-1927) -I hear you calling me
  4. Roger Quilter (1877-1953) – Now sleeps the crimson petal
  5. Clive Pollard (b.1959) – Go, song of mine
  6. Richard Hageman (1881-1966) -Do not go my love
  7. Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872-1958) -Silent noon
  8. James Frederick Keel (1871-1954) – Remembrance
  9. Victor Hely-Hutchinson (1901-1947) – Dream song
  10. Frank Bridge (1879-1941) – What shall I your true love tell?
  11. Haydn Wood (1882-1959) – Love’s garden of roses
  12. Peter Gelhorn (1912-2004) – Autumn
  13. John Ireland (1879-1962) – If there were dreams to sell
  14. Cecil Armstrong Gibbs (1889-1960) – Silver
  15. Clive Pollard (b. 1959) The cloths of heaven
  16. Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872-1958) – The sky above the roof
  17. Cyril Scott (1879-1970) – Lullaby
  18. Amy Woodforde-Finden (1860-1919) – Kashmiri song
  19. Roger Quilter (1877-1953) – I arise from dreams of thee
  20. Frank Bridge (1879-1941) – Journey’s End
  21. Lucy Elisabeth Simon (1940-2022) – How could I ever know (from the Secret Garden)