A poem that's "not strikingly original" in a setting that's "conventional in every way save for its greatness" -- let's welcome back Schubert's "An die Musik"

Or: "Speaking of Schubert's 'An die Musik,' Strauss's 'Zueignung,' and the Ariadne Prologue, a few (eventually) final questions, Part 1X"

"The poem . . . is not strikingly original . . . . [T]he setting is conventional in every way . . . save for its greatness. Sincerity and heartfelt devotion seem to emanate from every note, and also a type of exaltation which enable us to glimpse for a moment the transfigured state, remarked on by his contemporaries, in which Schubert wrote his music."

-- from Graham Johnson's commentary on "An die Musik,"
in Vol. 21 of the 37-volume Hyperion Schubert Edition

"I always think of this song as a prayer, an expression of deep gratitude, felt deeply at a time when there is so much suffering elsewhere."

-- Lotte Lehmann, in her introduction to her broadcast
performance of "An die Musik" on Oct. 8, 1941

Lotte Lehmann, soprano; Paul Ulanowsky, piano; with spoken introduction by the singer. American radio broadcast, Oct. 8, 1941

by Ken

Yes, we're still technically engaged in the stretched-out post that began last week with "Speaking of Schubert's 'An die Musik,' Strauss's 'Zueignung,' and the Ariadne Prologue, a few (eventually) final questions, Part 1." If the classification is important, we might call this "Part 1A," or maybe "Part 1X" (as I've styled it provisionally above), since it's not only an interlude of sorts but actually a prelude to the interlude -- it won't become clear, or clearish, till next week, why suddenly we're listening to Lotte Lehmann's October 1941 broadcast performance of the song.

My original thought, when I decided we ought to spend more time with "An die Musik," was to make this a brief pre-post to a later-today fuller follow-up post devoted to this unique Schubert song, to be finished up in time to get to a Sunday-afternoon walking tour. However, to give myself a better shot at getting to the tour and getting some Saturday-night sleep, I decided to cut myself even more slack and defer the fuller rehearing of "An die Musik" to next week, which then will be Part I-don't-know-what in this series.

The Lotte Lehmann performance above is from the second of the 15-minute radio broadcasts the 53-year-old singer did on 13 consecutive Wednesday evenings in the fall of 1941, backed by trusted accompanist Paul Ulanowsky. The programs, generally consisting of three or four songs by a single composer (weighted toward his best-known, and introduced by the singer, as "An die Musik" is here), kicked off on October 1st with Beethoven. On October 8th, after "An die Musik," she sang the beloved "Serenade" from the Schwanengesang collection and, for a big finish, the harrowing "Erlkönig." (I'm thinking maybe we should hear the rest of this little broadcast group. Yes, stay tuned, I think we can work it in.)


IT'S LUCKY THAT THE E-ROOM IS MOSTLY CLEARED,
AS I'M ABOUT TO OWN UP TO A DEEP CHARACTER FLAW

Namely, I'm not much of a Lehmann enthusiast. And I mean even when she was in her vocal prime. This is possibly a topic for another time; for now, let me just say that while I've certainly gotten enjoyment from a number of her recordings, I can't think of any that, either vocally or temperamentally, rouse enough enthusiasm in me to make me want to go back to them. Still, there are a number of reasons why I thought it might be interesting to kick off today with this 1941 broadcast performance of "An die Musik."

For one thing, I kind of like these fall 1941 broadcasts, which have a certain intimacy I find appealing: a sense of Lehmann sharing, communing directly with her radio listeners. In fact, going back to the first program in the series, the October 1st one devoted to Beethoven songs, I note that she began by saying:

Good eve-ning! I'm so glad to be with you all. There is always something particularly heart-warming for me in singing over the radio. I think then of all those people who cannot go to concerts -- the sick, and the old, and those who live in lonely places. I think of all those people into whose lives the radio and the phonograph have brought music, and it makes me happy to know that you may repeat for yourself on records whatever gives you pleasure in these broadcasts.

Now, please, think of yourself as guest in my home, in my own music room. You can hear my accompanist, Paul Ulanowsky, playing now. He plays well, doesn't he? [Yes, Lotte, he does! -- Ed.]

So maybe we should hear the whole of the October 8th Schubert program, beginning with a reprise of "An die Musik." I can imagine wanting to rehear in particular this "Ständchen" and "Erlkönig."

"An die Musik," D. 547

"Ständchen" ("Serenade"), from the posthumous
collection Schwanengesang (Swan Song), D. 957

"Erlkönig," D. 328

Lotte Lehmann, soprano; Paul Ulanowsky, piano; with spoken introductions by the singer. American radio broadcast, Oct. 8, 1941

For another thing, these fall 1941 broadcast performances -- again, spanning the period from October 1 to December 24 (the final one consisting, reasonably enough, of Christmas songs) -- really do have a sense of time and place, the time being a really grim one in world events and the place being one that, by the end of the series, would have been drawn directly into the horror but would never, through the course of World War II, know the kind of suffering enduring by so many people "elsewhere" -- i.e., those living in the actual war zones.


"I ALWAYS THINK OF THIS SONG AS A PRAYER" -- DOES
THIS HELP MME LEHMANN WITH HER PERFORMANCE?

To be sure, Madame Lehmann specifies that she has in mind a prayer of thanks -- linked particularly to the time and place in which she was broadcasting. Still, a prayer. The question I have isn't whether this is "right" (a pretty tricky word in any case) but whether it leads the singer to a richer performance. This of course is for the listener to decide

All the same, while I'm not saying that what we're about to do is "fair" (an even more loaded word than "right"!), given the sheer vocal oomph of the performances we're about to rehear, let's bring back our reigning "An die Musik" champs, Fritz Wunderlich and Pavel Lisitsian, noting first how different their performances are. In neither case do I have any idea what was in the singer's mind at the time he made his recording, but I doubt it was thinking of the song as a prayer.


Fritz Wunderlich, tenor; Hubert Giesen, piano. DG, recorded November 1965

Pavel Lisitsian, baritone; Naum Valter, piano. Melodiya, recorded 1961

[POSTSCRIPT: I meant to suggest keeping this whole prayer business under advisement, because we are going to come back to it -- eventually. -- Ed.]


FINALLY, LET'S GO BACK TO THE OBSERVATIONS BY
GRAHAM JOHNSON WE SAMPLED ATOP THIS POST

Next week we're going to have Graham help lead us through "An die Musik." For now, let's just have a fuller version of the observations I teased you with at the top of this post," from the voluminous annotations he contributed as commentator as well as artistic director and pianist for the Hyperion Schubert Edition.

This song has become the composer's very theme song -- and few have argued against its use as such. . . . [T]here is no denying that Schubert has worked a miracle and engineered a triumph of pure feeling using only the most modest of musical means. The poem . . . is not strikingly original, however beloved and familiar its words may have become. In the absence of a narrative or a range of poetic imagery to encourage harmonic exploration, the setting is conventional in every way (it is even strophic) save for its greatness. Sincerity and heartfelt devotion seem to emanate from every note, and also a type of exaltation which enable us to glimpse for a moment the transfigured state, remarked on by his contemporaries, in which Schubert wrote his music. It is a paradox that a song which has long been taken to be an unforced and intimate portrait of Viennese Gemütlichkeit should also be one of the most daunting songs to sing and play because of the profundity and simplicity of its message. The music has the force of the still, small voice which can hush the world.

And we don't we finish up this week by hearing Graham play "An die Musik"? This is from a volume of the Hyperion Schubert Edition devoted to songs from the years 1817-18, where he partners the by-now-veteran soprano Edith Mathis.


Edith Mathis, soprano; Graham Johnson, piano. From Vol. 21 of the Hyperion Schubert Edition, recorded Oct. 21-23, 1992


NEXT TIME: As already suggested, we'll have the proper "interlude" to our still-ongoing (sigh!) "An die Musik"-"Zueignung"-Ariadne Prologue series, taking a closer listen to the Schubert song, with guidance from Graham Johnson.

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