Fritz Wunderlich – The Last Recital

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This CD was released in 2003 and was, I think, the first time this Edinburgh recital was being released in toto. The only known extant recording of it was a BBC recording, a second or third generation mono copy and DG have attempted to correct the pitch which, in previous issues of parts of the concert, was too slow and fluctuated substantially. They were not able to eliminate wow and flutter, which was probably introduced in the first copying process. Nevertheless this is an important document of the last ime Wunderlich ever sang in public and, for anybody used to listening to historical live recordings, the sound won’t be an impediment to enjoyment.

We should of course be careful of attaching too much valedictory significance to this recital. We listen to the final recordings of such as Ferrier and Hunt Lieberson, with the added knowledge that they were aware of their mortality and knew that their time was limited. Wunderlich, on the other hand, was at the height of his powers and his international career was just taking off. He was a few months away from his Met debut as Don Ottavio, and he was finding the performance of Lieder recitals so fulfilling that he wanted to do more in that area. In fact, after this concert, he told Hubert Giesen that they should start working on Winterreise. He had absolutely no reason to think that his life would be prematurely cut short.

Wunderlich was apparently very happy with how the recital went, and Giesen told him after the concert that he thought he had achieved perfection. He had only recently turned to Lieder, making his first studio recordings of Lieder by Beethoven, Schubert and Schumann the previous year for DG, performances that have sometimes been criticised for lacking emotional depth. He evidently took these criticisms to heart for this recording of Dichterliebe is profoundly moving and in a different world of interpretation from his studio recording. It is now my preferred recording of the cycle.

The programme is similar to the one he sang in Sazlburg the previous year, but he is now a much more experienced Lieder singer and his singing now has much more significance and specificity. The first half of the recital consists of Lieder by Beethoven and Schubert, with Adelaide and Nachtstück showing of his superb legato line. His diction is well-nigh perfect throughout, showing that you don’t need to sacrifice verbal clarity to achieve a smoothly lyrical line. The second half, as in his Sazlburg recital of 1965, is taken up with the complete Dichterliebe. This is an extremely intense reading, with the young man  seeming much akin to Goethe’s Werther. True, we as listeners, knowing that he was only to live a couple more weeks, no doubt give some of he lyrics a significance that Wunderlich could not have intended. Nevertheless it adds to the appreciation of this performance.

The encores, as so often at a live recital, are when the performer relaxes most. Thus we get an ebulliently joyful Ungdeduld and a gorgeously sustained Ich trage meine Minne by Richard Strauss, which would surely have changed Strauss’s attitude towards the tenor  voice, though unfortuantely the BBC recording fades out just before the end of the song.

Finally, after a charming bit of banter with the audience, Wunderlich sings his heartfelt tribute An die Musik. Call me sentimental, but I find it impossible to listen to it without tears in the eyes. Though he didn’t know it and his audience didn’t know it, this was the last time the golden voice would  ever be heard in public.

Fritz Wunderlich – Opera Arias and Songs

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I doubt this two disc set is available any longer, but it offers some interesting live performances and unusual repertoire spanning twelve years of Wunderlich’s career, the earliest performance being from 1954, when he would have been just 23 and the last from his final concert in Edinburgh in 1966, recorded shortly before the accident which claimed his life. The insert is missing in my copy and the track listing on the back isn’t quite accurate, for instance it credits Hilde Güden as the Violetta in the excerpts from the 1965 Munich La Traviata under Patané, when the role was actually taken by Teresa Stratas. (I have the complete performance on the Orfeo label.)

Disc 1 starts off with Handel. First we have a couple of excerpts from a 1959 performance of Messiah in German. Comfort ye is nicely done, but a tendency to aspirate his runs is notable in the ensuing Every valley. He must have been aware of this fault, because by the time he sings in Judas Maccabeus, conducted by Rafael Kubelik in 1963, that tendency has virtually vanished. Although this is also sung in German, he is now a much more confident singer and his rendition of Sound an alarm is absolutely stunning. Next we have a couple of excerpts from a 1965 radio performance of Iphigénie en Tauride (also in German) again under Kubelik, with brief contributions from Hermann Prey and Sena Jurinac. More and more of the assured artist is emerging.

Next comes Mozart, and we again go back in time, first to some delightful excerpts from Zaïde from 1956, followed by a performance of the short concert aria Con ossequio, con rispetto. The listing gives no indication of the date, but a little digging reveals that it was probably from 1963 and, again, the mature artist is beginning to emerge. This is followed by six extracts from a 1959 performance of Schubert’s Fierrabras. The other soloists were unknown to me. They are all competent enough but Wunderlich’s superior voice and musicianship are immediately apparent. The disc finishes with three songs from his final concert in Edinburgh in 1966, to which I will return at the end of this review.

Another rarity begins the second disc; Cherubini’s comic opera Les deux journées, sung in German and given the title Der Wasserträger. Wunderlich sings two duets with Hildegard Hillebrecht. The music reminds me rather of Weber’s Abu Hassan, charming and lightweight and Wunderlich is perfectly attuned to its style. Next he makes a perfect Alfredo in the 1965 performance of La Traviata, mentioned above. All Wunderlich’s recordings of Italian opera excerpts were in German and it is amazing how he can still make the music sound italilanate even in the wrong language. Here in the right language, his legato is superb and he is the ardent young Alfredo to the life. He is not quite so impressive in a 1960 performance of Verdi’s Requiem. He tends to slightly oversing, maybe in what he thought was the Italianate method. There is the merest hint of a sob and the occasional aspirate, but I do wonder what he might have made of the part had he been engaged for the 1964 Giulini recording with Schwarzkopf. With Legge and Giulini to guide him, he might just have been the perfect tenor for that enterprise, however good Gedda is in it.

A 1959 exceprt from Strauss’s Die schweigsame Frau would surely have reconciled Strauss to the tenor voice. Strauss’s tenor writing can sound quite torturous, but Wunderlich sings with great beauty, soaring over the orchestra. Unexpected items follow with an exceprt from The Cunning Little Vixen (in German), one from Pfitzner’s Von Deutscher Seele and a short extract from Franz Schmidt’s Das Buch mit Sieben Sieglen, conducted by Dimitri Mitropoulos in 1959, both pieces completely new to me.

The final item is a 1954 recording of hin singing an aria from Robert Stolz’s Venus in Seide. Wunderlich would have been just 23 and, though a little diffident, the golden voice is imediately recognisable. It is instructive, then, to return to the final items on the first disc, the last recordings we have of Wunderlich’s voice, made at a concert in Edinburgh shortly before his untimely death. Before a live audience, he sings Schumann’s Die Lotusblume and Schubert’s Ungeduld with greater senisitivity and freedom than he does on his DG Studio recitals, recorded the previous year, and when it comes to his final encore, Schubert’s An die Musik, he delivers a beautiful, heartfelt rendering, vastly superior to the rather stiff one we hear in the studio. Nobody knew it at the time of course, but this touching tribute to music was the last song he ever sang in public. Two weeks later he tripped on loosely tied shoelaces and fell down the stone staircase at a friend’s hunting lodge in Oberderdingen. He had been due to make his Metropolitan Opera debut in Don Giovanni a few weeks later.

Wunderlich left behind a vast catalogue of studio recordings, of operetta, of opera and of Lieder. He was obviously still developing as an artist. How sad to think that he was only really beginning his international career.

Fritz Wunderlich -Live on Stage

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This issue passed me by when it was first released in 2010, but what a treasure it is. Always a pleasure to hear Wunderlich’s glorious tenor, here we have the added frisson of hearing him live in the opera house.

His Tamino is well known from the Böhm recording. These excerpts are taken from a 1964 Munich performance, where he is joined by Anneliese Rothenberger as Pamina and Karl-Christian Kohn as Sarastro under the baton of Fritz Reiger. As on the Böhm recording, he is an ardently lyrical but also heroic Tamino and remains my touchstone for the role. Don Ottavio’s two arias from a performance of Don Giovanni, conducted by Karajan in 1963 are also superb and Ottavio emerges as a more positive character than he often does, benefiting from Wunderlich’s golden tone, his superb breath control and ease of movement. Not surprisingly his singing of Il mio tesoro is given a fabulous reception. As in the Jochum recording he is also an ideal Belmonte in Die Entführung aus dem Serail.

The excerpts from Il Barbiere di Siviglia, with Eberhard Wächter as Figaro, are unfortunately sung in German, but the language does not impede Wunderlich’s superb legato, nor the warmth of his tone, and we get to hear his wonderfully light touch in comedy. He is notably more fluid in fast moving music than Wächter, but the two singers play well off each other.

For me, though, the Strauss items are the biggest eye opener. I feel sure that, had Strauss heard them, it would have reconciled him to the sound of the tenor voice. The duet for the Italian Singers in Capriccio (with Lucia Popp, no less) has probably never sounded more gloriously, well, italianate, so beautiful that it elicits a spontaneous round of applause from the Vienna audience. The same could be said for his singing of Di rigori armato from Der Rosenkavalier, which is sung with burnished tone. I doubt any Italian tenor could sing it better. So too, in the excerpts from Daphne and Die schweigsame Frau his liquid legato stays in tact, however tough the going. Did Wunderlich ever make an ugly sound? Somehow I doubt it. Truly he was a prince among tenors.