Sunday Classics with Ken (from DownWithTyranny): "An die Musik": How does a musical setting (of a "not strikingly original" poem) that's "conventional in every way save for its greatness" achieve that greatness? (Part A of A-B-C)

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

EXTRA! EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT! In the light of (another) day, I've brazenly added a sixth version, Christa Ludwig's, to the five performances we were already tracking through Graham Johnson's observations about "An die Musik."

"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

"In reality, the song is a dialogue between the voice and the pianist's left hand, the quasi-cello bass line of the music. The right hand is the true accompanist and mediator in this heavenly conversation; it pulsates in a way which is crucial to the mood of the song although the listener may only be subliminally aware of its magic."

-- also from Graham Johnson's commentary

TODAY'S A-B-C POST AT THE TIP
OF YOUR CLICKING FINGER

Part A (nos. 1-3 + other stuff)
Part B (nos. 4-7 + other stuff)
Part C (nos. 8-10 + other stuff)

by Ken

Last week we had an overview of "An die Musik", drawing on the above-sourced commentary on the song by Graham Johnson, who in addition to being one of the day's most acclaimed accompanists served as both artistic director and album commentator for Hyperion Records' invaluable Schubert Edition, a gathering of all the composer's songs in 37 volumes -- by comparison, setting aside the zillion other records he's made, the other song-compendia he's undertaken for Hyperion (of Brahms, Schumann, and Fauré and Poulenc and a number of less prolific French composers) seem like just another day's work. (Hyperion has enlisted other pianists for other song compendia, including Liszt and Richard Strauss.)

I said that this week Graham would be leading us through the song, and so he will -- through its entire vast spaces -- all of three minutes, and at that in strophic form, meaning that its two stanzas (or strophes) are essentially identical musically. And so, while we have a number of issues, both substantive and procedural to address, I thought we would plunge right in with the first of ten specific points Graham makes. (I should add that the pedantic numbering of those points has been added by yours truly, to help us keep track of where we are in this broken-up format.)

WELL, BEFORE WE PLUNGE IN, MAYBE WE SHOULD
HAVE ONE MORE BIT OF OVERVIEW FROM GRAHAM

In reality, the song is a dialogue between the voice and the pianist's left hand, the quasi-cello bass line of the music. The right hand is the true accompanist and mediator in this heavenly conversation; it pulsates in a way which is crucial to the mood of the song although the listener may only be subliminally aware of its magic. Except in the postlude to each verse, these chords have no special thematic significance, but the piano needs to repeat notes in order to sustain a harmonic background, and the accompanist has to find a means of allowing these chords to 'happen' without appearing to strike each one individually -- something which would break the music into a succession of pedantic downbeats. Underneath what should be a gliding stream of harmony, the left hand sings its heart out, warming the voice into action.

©1994 Graham Johnson

AND SHOULD WE MAYBE HEAR THE SONG STRAIGHT
THROUGH AGAIN? YES, I REALLY THINK WE SHOULD

Here are some performances we've heard before.

George London, bass-baritone; John Newmark, piano. VAI, recorded live, Feb. 15, 1957

Olaf Bär, baritone; Geoffrey Parsons, piano. EMI, recorded 1991-92

OH WAIT, WE HAD A BIT OF GRAHAM'S COMMENTARY
LAST WEEK WHICH I THINK WE SHOULD HAVE AGAIN

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.

OKAY, WE'RE ALL SET NOW! LET'S GO! HIT IT, GRAHAM!

[1] "The setting of 'Du holde Kunst', with a touching downward leap of a sixth between the second and the third word, suggests obeisance and reverence."

"Du holde Kunst, in wieviel grauen Stunden"
("Thou lovely art, in how many gray hours")

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

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

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

Christa Ludwig, mezzo-soprano; Geoffrey Parsons, piano. EMI, recorded Nov. 28-30, 1961

Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, baritone; Gerald Moore, piano. DG, recorded 1966-67

[arr. for solo piano, one stanza only] Gerald Moore, arr. and piano. EMI, final encore from the Royal Festival Hall (London) Homage to Gerald Moore, Feb. 20, 1967

[2] "Reference to the bleak hours and life's tumultuous round remain in the bottom part of the stave, earthbound, and difficult in tessitura for many sopranos and tenors."

"in wieviel grauen Stunden, wo mich des Lebens wilder Kreis unstrickt"

("in how many gray hours, where life's wild circle tightened around me")

[after "wo mich des Lebens wilder Kreis umstrickt" (included in the clips]
GJ cits "an eloquent little falling chromatic motif in the left hand (a single bar)"

Edith Mathis, soprano; Graham Johnson, piano

Fritz Wunderlich, tenor; Hubert Giesen, piano

Pavel Lisitsian, baritone; Naum Valter, piano

Christa Ludwig, mezzo-soprano; Geoffrey Parsons, piano

Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, baritone; Gerald Moore, piano

[arr. for solo piano] Gerald Moore, arr. and piano

OKAY, THERE'S JUST THIS ONE OTHER THING, WHICH
I MIGHT JUST POSSIBLY HAVE MENTIONED EARLIER

Sure, you're probably thinking, What can it be like to extract ten bits, some as short as six seconds, from each of five recordings? (Or at any rate ten out of four of the recordings, only eight out of the fifth.) Well, no, I wasn't going to go into that. I still can't believe I actually did it, but that's water under the bridge -- the things we do for Art. No, the thing I might possibly have mentioned is the thing I wasn't reckoning on: that when I loaded those 48 audio files into a post, along with an assortment of other graphic and audio files, the confounded thing wouldn't load! Can you imagine?

So decisions had to be made. Presumably it was the number of audio files that was jamming the works, so I could have cut back on the number of performances we were tracking. But with the consarned audio files already made? Oh, the horror! (Eventually I'll have something to say about why we're tracking these five performances, in case it isn't obvious.)

Or, we could just split the blessed thing up. Never mind that there's maybe one logical "break" point, where we go from the first to the second stanza. As far as I could see, it just had to be done. And for safety's sake (why test the fates?), we're going to break twice, to ensure (let's hope) safe post-loading. All three posts will go up this afternoon, at maybe one-hour intervals -- with, naturally, interlinks galore. (Yes, it means no Hello, Dolly! in 70mm at the Museum of the Moving Image this afternoon for me. Again, it's what we do for Art.)

Which is why we're going to break right here.

STRAUSS-SCHUBERT SERIES POSTS

"Today's sacred word is 'heilig ('holy' or 'sacred'), chez Schubert and R. Strauss -- make of it what you will" [7/15/2018]
"While I toil away at today's post, here's a preview"
[7/22/2018 (1)]
"We have more 'An die Musik,' 'Zueignung,' and 'Musik ist eine heilige Kunst' -- but remember, this only sounds like a 'good news' post [7/22/2018 (2)]
"Speaking of Schubert's 'An die Musik,' Strauss's 'Zueignung,' and the Ariadne Prologue, a few (eventually) final questions, Part 1" [7/29/2018]*
"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'" [8/5/2018]
" 'An die Musik': How does a musical setting (of a 'not strikingly original' poem) that's 'conventional in every way save for its greatness' achieve that greatness? (Part A)" [8/12/2018 (1 of 3)]
" 'An die Musik': How does a musical setting (of a 'not strikingly original' poem) that's 'conventional in every way save for its greatness' achieve that greatness? (Part B)" [8/12/2018 (2 of 3)]
" 'An die Musik': How does a musical setting (of a 'not strikingly original' poem) that's 'conventional in every way save for its greatness' achieve that greatness? (Part C)" [8/12/2018 (3 of 3)]

Sunday Classics with Ken (from DownWithTyranny)

Sunday, August 12, 2018

"An die Musik": How does a musical setting (of a "not strikingly original" poem) that's "conventional in every way save for its greatness" achieve that greatness? (Part A of A-B-C)

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