Serenade by Judith Leyster (1609-1660), in the Rijksmuseum
Let's see how these randomly chosen serenaders make out --
and how they handle, er, lack of response (oops, spoiler!)
Brigitte Fassbaender, mezzo-soprano; with women of the Bavarian State Opera Chorus, Munich; Erik Werba, piano. EMI, recorded in the Bürgerbräu, Munich, June 18-20, 1973
Sarah Walker, mezzo-soprano; with male vocal ensemble (6 tenors, 5 baritones and basses); Graham Johnson, piano. From Vol. 8 of the Hyperion Schubert Edition, recorded May 29-31, 1989
Peter Schreier, tenor; András Schiff, piano. Decca, recorded in the Mozartsaal of the Vienna Konzerthaus, August 1989
Håkan Hagegård, baritone; Emanuel Ax, piano. RCA, recorded in RCA Studio A, New York City, Oct. 31-Nov. 2, 1984
Matthias Goerne, baritone; Alfred Brendel, piano. Decca, recorded live in Wigmore Hall, Nov. 5 & 7, 2003
by Ken
To recapitulate: We have slid through a wormhole into the world of Schubert's serenades. We came by way of matters larkish -- originally my fondly remembered old trio of larks: Haydn's Lark Quartet (Op. 64, No. 5), Nicolai's setting of Shakespeare's "Hark, hark, the lark" in Act II of The Merry Wives of Windsor, and Vaughan Williams's "rhapsody for violin and orchstra The Lark Ascending. (The relevant posts are "Just so you know what we're up to: Three familiar larks, a bonus lark, and (oh yes!) Death and a maiden," Oct. 16, and "If we're musical-lark-harking, we really need to count the number of: (1) 'hark's and (2) stanzas ['finally' (?) updated version]," Nov. 21.
THEN I REMEMBERED THAT SCHUBERT
TOO HAD SET "HARK, HARK, THE LARK"
It had never struck me as more than a pleasant little song, but Graham Johnson argues a mighty persuasive case for the Schubert Ständchen "Horch, horch, die Lerch' im Ätheblau" -- in both his voluminous commentaries and his performance in the Hyperion Schubert Edition. (About the "littleness" of the song, though, you'll recall that Graham is particularly insistent. Not only are the posthumously added second and third stanzas bogus, he notes, but they wreak havoc with one of the song's miraculous qualities: its brevity.)
In the post that's not quite ready we'll be listening again to "Horch, horch" again. Meanwhile it seemed only sensible, while we were dealing with this Schubert serenade, to remember that it's really the "other" Schubert serenade, not to be confused with the Rellstab setting "Leise flehen meine Lieder" ("Lingering quietly, in the dark's nighttime stillness"). The Rellstab Ständchen, after all, part of the groups of Rellstab and Heine settings that were clearly intended to be the basis of some kind of song collection , is merely one of the most loved pieces of music ever written. (Here the relevant posts are "When you think 'Schubert Serenade,' isn't this the one -- 'one of the most beloved of melodies' -- you're thinking of?," Part 1 and Part 2, both Dec. 4.)
And yet, as Graham J argues, "The cost of such fame to the music has been high. It has become so hackneyed, and such a symbol of Schubert in his Lilac Time incarnation, that one must always make a constant effort to hear it with fresh ears." Among the many things he points out about the song, perhaps the most glaring obliteration is the simple fact that this serenade fails -- the serenader, so desperate for any kind of attention from his beloved, gets none at all, and is devastated, all of which is easily lost in the wash of the beautiful tune.
This seems worth remembering as we extend our inquiry to the other "other" Schubert serenade, which we've heard as well, in the "temporary post "From the Loose Ends Dept.: Yet another Schubert serenade." So as we approach a hearing of all three Schubert serenades, I thought it worth thinking in terms of their outcomes -- after all, a serenade doesn't happen unless the serenader is looking for some kind of response from the object of the serenade.
It's not an issue with "Horch, horch, die Lerch'," where there's no reason to expect an unsatisfactory outcome. Interestingly, it so happens that the outcome is very much an issue with "Zögernd leise," the other "other" serenade. We still have a lot to talk about regarding its creation, its two versions, and its place in Schubert's output, but for now I thought it might be interesting to focuse just on the outcomes of "Zögernd leise" and "Leise flehen," which is why we've heard their final stanzas -- the former's fourth, the latter's second. One point already crying for notice is that word "leise--softly, quietly, gently. Not an altogether surprising word for a night song like a serenade, but a word worth paying attention to in both songs.
To get back to what we've actually heard, I thought about including the third stanza of the four that make up "Zögernd leise," but here the serenader is still merely importuning the object of the serenade not to sleep; it's left to the final stanza to deal with the reality that the serenade has produced no response from the beloved. So that's what we heard; the final stanza.
The structure of Leise flehen" is more complicated. As Graham points out, in "Leise flehen" Schubert begins by combining two of Rellstab's five stanzas into a single strophe, then makes of Rellstab's third stanza what seems like the start of a matching second strophe, until everything starts going haywire. The serenader ratchets up the urgency of the plea -- now the subject is "Liebeschmerz," the pain of love, and with the continuing lack of any response, the extra stanza from the poem is merged into the now-supersize second musical strophe. So in the case of "Leise flehen" I've presented the whole of this "superstrophe," and gone back to the whole of the interlude, which occasioned so such eraptured comment from Graham.
IT SEEMS ONLY FAIR TO HEAR THE PERFORMANCES
EXCERPTED ATOP THE POST IN THEIR ENTIRETY
And I can say that a number of factors went into their choosing.
"Zögernd leise"
As I mentioned in the "temporary post" presenting our originally four, then six, performances of the two versions of "Zögernd leise" I really like all of them. For once we get to choose, not so much among betters-and-worses, but among interestingly different performances, and even managed to include a specimen of each of the two versions. Among the soloists, Brigitte Fassbaender respresents the fuller-voiced type mezzo-soprano (also represented in our group by Christa Ludwig), while Sarah Walker, to some extent holding back for interpretive reasons, I think, respresents a lighter-voiced importuner (which in our group would also include Janet Baker and Anne Sofie von Otter).
In addition, the performances we've sampled here represent the fastest (Fassbaender-Werba) and slowest of our six (Walker-Johnson). Indeed, Graham's performance really stands apart from the others -- gentler in pace and temperament, with a quite distinct kind of loveliness. I also love Erik Werba's accompaniment, though; he was just such a good song partner. That said, the quality of the accompaniments of all six of our performances is remarkably high. Interestingly, two of the most striking accompaniments -- along with Graham's -- come from performers we think of more as conductors, Wolfgang Sawallisch (with Fassbaender, in her first recording of the song) and Raymond Leppard (with Janet Baker). Overall, you get the feeling that this is a song singers like to sing and pianists like to accompany.
SCHUBERT: Ständchen (Serenade), "Zögend leise in des Dunkels nächt'ger Hülle" ("Lingering quietly in the dark's nighttime stillness"), D. 920 and 921
Brigitte Fassbaender, mezzo-soprano; with women of the Bavarian State Opera Chorus, Munich; Erik Werba, piano. EMI, recorded in the Bürgerbräu, Munich, June 18-20, 1973
First version, for alto with men's voices, D. 920
Sarah Walker, mezzo-soprano; with male vocal ensemble (6 tenors, 5 baritones and basses); Graham Johnson, piano. From Vol. 8 of the Hyperion Schubert Edition, recorded May 29-31, 1989
"Leise flehen"
In the earlier posts in this series we've heard a whole bunch of performances of "the" serenade, and now we're starting with an entirely new group -- and again a pretty diverse one, starting with three very different sorts of voices. Let's listen to the three performances we've already sampled, and then I'll say just a bit more.
SCHUBERT: Schwanengesang (Swan Song), D. 957: No. 4, Ständchen (Serenade), "Leise flehen meine Lieder" ("Softly my songs implore through the night to you")
Peter Schreier, tenor; András Schiff, piano. Decca, recorded in the Mozartsaal of the Vienna Konzerthaus, August 1989
Håkan Hagegård, baritone; Emanuel Ax, piano. RCA, recorded in RCA Studio A, New York City, Oct. 31-Nov. 2, 1984
Matthias Goerne, baritone; Alfred Brendel, piano. Decca, recorded live in Wigmore Hall, London, Nov. 5 & 7, 2003
I think Peter Schreier is only the second tenor we've heard sing "Leise flehen," the first having been John Mark Ainsley -- with Graham J! Not an accident. Even though "Schwanengesang" has seemed largely the property of baritones, the songs seem generally to have been written with tenor range and perhaps also vocal sensibility in mind, so it's not surprising that Graham went that way with his "casting." He divvies up the collection between two tenors: the seven Rellstab songs to Ainsley and the six Heine songs, prevailingly darker and more dramatic, a tougher sell for a tenor, plus the Seidl setting "Die Taubenpost," Schubert's last song, possibly also intended for whatever collection he had in mind, and often thought of (as in some early published editions) as part of the Schwanengesang set, to Anthony Rolfe Johnson.
Here's A.R.J. in "Am Meer," certainly not as vocally deep or dramatically charged as "Der Atlas" or "Der Doppelgänger" -- and for comparison, well, how about Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau? (Over a two-decade interval!) And while we're at it, maybe we could hear our other tenor, Peter Schreier?
SCHUBERT: Schwanengesang (Swan Song), D. 957:
No. 12, "Am Meer" ("By the Sea")
The sea glimmered, boundless,
in the dying sun of evening;
we sat by the fisherman's solitary hut,
silent and alone.
The mists rose, the water surged,
the gull flew to and fro;
from your loving eyes
the tears did flow.
I saw them fall upon your hand,
and sank down on my knees;
from your white hand
i drank the tears away.
Since that hour my body is consumed,
my soul dies with longing;
that unhappy woman
has poisoned me with her tears.
-- poem by Heinrich Heine, translation by Friedel Becker
Anthony Rolfe Johnson, tenor; Graham Johnson, piano. From Vol. 37 of the Hyperion Schubert Edition, recorded in 1998-99
Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, baritone; Gerald Moore, piano. EMI, recorded in Abbey Road Studios, London, Oct. 3-7, 1951
Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, baritone; Gerald Moore, piano. DG, recorded in UFA-Ton-Studio, Berlin, March 1972
Peter Schreier, tenor; András Schiff, piano. Decca, recorded in the Mozartsaal of the Vienna Konzerthaus, August 1989
As it happens, I love Schreier's "Leise flehen." This was never an especially lush or beautiful tenor, but listen to how much lyrical quality he brings to music that would be lost without it, and there's all kinds of connection to the situation in his singing. And I love András Schiff's beautifully judged contribution I can't say, though, that I love their "Am Meer," or Anthony Rolfe Johnson's with Graham J, for that matter. Whatever the theoretical case for a tenor, I don't think it's entirely surprising that baritones have largely taken over Schwanengesang, especially when it comes to the Heine songs. Also, in a song like "Am Meer" it's sure nice to have both the pianistic strength and the tonal precision and delicacy of Gerald Moore.
And the other baritones whose "Leise flehen we've heard? I think Håkan Hagegård delivers a highly serviceable account. I included him here specifically for the second stanza, to hear a singer who is at least noticing the "Liebesschmerz" our Serenader is suffering, and especially for the truly hopeless-sounding final "Beglücke mich." You may recall the point Graham J made of the two "Liebchen, beglücke mich"s -- the second one sung loudly, as if the singer is bluffing taking charge, and then the utterly forlorn simple "Beglücke mich." I've included Matthias Goerne here as a more contemporary example of the kind of baritone voice we're used to hearing in Schwanengesang, and maybe a little for Alfred Brendel's agreeable, sensible playing.
MOVING FORWARD --
We still need to pull the three Schubert serenades together, and set them in the context of this amazing final flowering Schubert experienced. Knowing his time was running out, as the syphilis gradually wore down his physical resources, he nevertheless he thought he had more time than it turned out he did. Still, to nearly the very end his mind retained its astonishing powers, almost up to the very end. There really isn't anything like the music he produced in this period.
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