Schumann and Brahms:  Thomas Quasthoff (bass-baritone), Justus Zeyen (piano). Wigmore Hall, London, 25.5.2007.   (ME)

Schumann, Liederkreis Op. 24
Brahms, Die Schöne Magelone Op. 33. 

 

Die Schöne Magelone is unusual among song cycles in that it ends not in despair but in the affirmation of true love, and as Quasthoff remarked during the recital, the music is ‘just gorgeous.’ As, indeed, is his voice, the familiarly rich bass-baritone ideally suited to these narratives of chivalry, adventure and romance, touched with the occasional moments of anguish and loss. Fortunately, Quasthoff and Zeyen had opted to ‘go it alone’ with the work, so one did not have to suffer seemingly interminable readings of associated poetry as with the last time I heard it here, sung by Matthias Goerne with incomparable beauty of tone and matchless sensibility of interpretation, but much hampered by such distractions as poetry being read in a monotone over the piano. No risk of that here, so Zeyen’s idiomatic playing was allowed to speak for itself.

The pianist has some of the most glorious moments in this work, and Zeyen made the most of them, from the delicacy of the vorspiel of ‘Sind es Schmerzen’ to the almost Schubertian gehende bewegung of ‘Wir müssen uns trennen’ and the  rollicking phrases of ‘Wie schnell  verschwindet.’  This is above all genuinely folk music, and Quasthoff, in common with many Lieder singers, occasionally made too much art out of a song, but on the whole he gave these narratives their right blend of straightforward story-telling and innocent hopefulness. ‘Sind es Schmerzen’ was especially successful, the closing ‘Ach! Nur im Licht von ihrem Blick / Wohnt Leben und Hoffnung und Glück’ (Ah! only in the light of her eyes / dwell life and hope and happiness!’) an object lesson in how to evoke powerful emotion without overdoing the emphasis. The final song ‘Treue Liebe dauert lange’ may not be the usual close to a song cycle, with its sense of innocent hope: despite a rather flat beginning, Quasthoff sang it with touching simplicity, as he did the single encore, more Brahms in the shape of ‘Wie bist du, meine Königin.’

Schumann’s Op 24 was less successful: it’s such an intimate work that it really needs more eye contact with the audience than Quasthoff gives: there are times when he seems to be reading the words as well as the music and this hardly helps communication – of course I’ve said this before but it remains as true as ever to me, that whilst it’s fine to have the score in front of you for occasional reminders, it should not be depended upon, since music such as this ought to be a part of you. Of course, there was much to enjoy here, from the relishing of lines such as ‘Das hübsche, golden Wort’ to the sense of deep serenity at the phrase ‘Die ich tief im Busen hegt,’ and the final song was given with plenty of surging emotion, but overall I found this a somewhat coarse interpretation – certainly powerful and committed, but at times rather lazy in phrasing and wanting subtlety. Zeyen often compensated, with playing of loving finesse much developed from his earlier rather studied elegance. The Hall was full – again – of course, as it always seems to be these days, and what a pleasure it is to be able to say that.

Melanie Eskenazi