Verklärte Nacht
  Franz LEHÁR (1870-1948)
  Fieber, Tone Poem for Tenor and Large Orchestra [12:29]
  Oskar FRIED (1871-1941)
  Verklärte Nacht, Op. 9 [8:22]
  Arnold SCHOENBERG (1874-1951)
  Verklärte Nacht, Op. 4 [28:50]
  Erich Wolfgang KORNGOLD (1897-1957)
  Abschiedslieder, Op. 14 (Version for Voice & Orchestra) [13:36]
  Stuart Skelton (tenor)
  Christine Rice (mezzo-soprano)
  BBC Symphony Orchestra/Edward Gardner
  Rec. 14-15 March 2020, Phoenix Concert Hall, Fairfield Halls, Croydon, UK
  Reviewed in surround sound
  CHANDOS SACD CHSA5243 [63:36]
	     Here is an intriguing piece of programme-building around 
          a key work of fin-de-sičcle Vienna. Schoenberg’s Verklärte 
          Nacht, in its full string orchestra version, is the departure point 
          and the only well-known work here. It is also the only non-vocal one. 
          Oskar Fried’s 1901 Verklärte Nacht is a setting for mezzo, 
          tenor, and orchestra of the same Richard Dehmel poem that had inspired 
          Schoenberg’s 1899 instrumental piece. The vocal disposition reflects 
          the structure of Dehmel’s poem, which has five sections. Thus 
          the scene setting opening, describing two lovers walking at night, is 
          for both singers. Then the woman ‘speaks’, and the mezzo 
          sings “I am with child, and not by you”. The middle section 
          is another short narration for duet, then the man ‘speaks’ 
          and the tenor sings of how the shimmering night “will transfigure 
          the stranger’s child, you will bear it for me”. The final 
          section describes them walking on through the night.
          
          Fried provides music for this text of a quality that makes one wish 
          he had not abandoned composing for conducting (even though this website 
          must honour the man who conducted the first recording of a Mahler symphony). 
          The five part structure is mirrored in the music, not just by the allocation 
          of voices to sections, but also in the harmonic progress, as the gloom 
          of the opening minor mode is ‘transfigured’ into a glowing 
          major by the man’s transformative response. Stuart Skelton and 
          Christine Rice sing their respective aria-like solos very well, and 
          blend effectively in the narrative duet passages. The BBC Symphony Orchestra 
          have plenty to contribute to the scene also, and while Gardner’s 
          conducting acknowledges the sometimes hothouse post-Wagnerian manner, 
          he keeps this short scene in emotional proportion.
          
          Lehár ‘s Fieber (“Fever”) was initially part 
          of a song cycle Aus eiserner Zeit (“From the Age of Iron”) 
          of 1915 – this orchestral setting came a year later. It seems 
          Lehár’s soldier brother was recovering from war wounds and in 
          some danger, and Lehár commissioned the text, a monologue by a dying 
          soldier in hospital. Lehár called Fieber a Tone Poem for Tenor 
          and Large Orchestra, and there are plenty of motivic signposts for the 
          orchestra, including a waltz, bugle calls and marches including references 
          to both the Radetzky and the Rakoczy marches. This vocal monodrama depicts 
          a final delirium, each stage vividly evoked by these performers, in 
          which the soldier recalls his girlfriend, his military life, imagines 
          his mother is with him, until the final bleak line - spoken not sung 
          - “the cadet in bed eight is dead”. Of course when we hear 
          Stuart Skelton sing this piece so intensely, we recall the delirium 
          of one of his major roles, that of Wagner’s Tristan. Fieber 
          has something of that intensity at times, a world away from the composer’s 
          The Merry Widow. Perhaps the difficulty of programming this 
          splendid twelve minute piece, or the misleading expectations aroused 
          by the composer’s name, keep it off concert programmes. That is 
          regrettable, but it makes this excellent recording all the more valuable.
          
          Korngold’s Abschiedslieder (Songs of Farewell) comes 
          from 1920-21, before he had fled Vienna for Hollywood, and around the 
          time of his opera Die tote Stadt. The first song Sterbelied 
          (“Song of dying” translated from Christina 
          Rossetti’s “Requiem”) sets the gentle , even 
          wistful tone of much of the cycle. The second, Dies eine kann mein 
          Sehnen nimmer fassen (“This my longing will never grasp”) 
          has a text which protests about enforced parting a bit more, and is 
          a touch more animated. The superb nocturne Mond, so gehst du wieder 
          auf (“Moon, so you rise again”) is at times a duet 
          with the celeste, one of many fine orchestral touches. Here and in the 
          closing Gefasster Abschied (“Resigned farewell”) 
          Skelton catches the elusive manner of this cycle surprisingly well. 
          This is not music that plays to his strengths especially, as there is 
          little scope for his Heldentenor upper range, or his dramatic projection, 
          so valuable in Lehár’s Fieber . Instead he has to draw 
          on his more baritonal middle and lower notes, and his affecting quiet 
          singing, which suits the intimacy of the cycle. I prefer his account 
          to the only other one I know, which is also very good, from the alto 
          Linda Finnie (Chandos, 1993).
          
          Schoenberg’s Verklärte Nacht, in its full string orchestra 
          version, is a concert hall staple, but gains much from coming straight 
          after Fried’s vocal setting, since the structure of Schoenberg’s 
          work is as much determined by that of the poem as is Fried’s song. 
          The Schoenberg is helpfully tracked on this SACD to reflect the sections 
          of the score. The BBCSO strings are an excellent group, and the scoring 
          calls on the skill of just a few of them at times, as well as the full 
          band for big climaxes. Egon Wellesz said this work “suffered from 
          an excess of climaxes”, so the conductor needs to graduate and 
          relate them to each other, which Gardner does to the degree that we 
          do not feel that “excess”. He above all has that sense of 
          ebb and flow that holds the attention in this continually evolving work. 
          Even he cannot fully illuminate all of the denser counterpoint - one 
          perhaps needs the sextet original for that - but the fine SACD recording 
          keeps the key strands of the argument easy to follow.
          
          This is a most recommendable disc, and one with a unique programme, 
          so that comparisons hardly apply. The value of the disc lies in the 
          context it gives to the best-known work, and the discoveries that most 
          of the vocal items will be for collectors. For myself, the Fried and 
          Lehár items were quite new, and I shall return to them in particular. 
          Stuart Skelton is in very good voice, taxed only in a couple of passing 
          moments by the demanding writing, but bringing real feeling, even identification, 
          to these pieces. Gardner here continues to demonstrate his mastery of 
          the musical style of the period, as shown before in his Chandos discs 
          of early Schoenberg with his Bergen forces; Gurrelieder, and 
          Erwartung and Pelleas und Melisande. The very good 
          booklet note by Paul Griffiths gives all the background you will need 
          for the more obscure works.
          
          Roy Westbrook
        See also review by 
          Gwyn Parry-Jones