Franz SCHUBERT (1797 - 1828)
An die Musik
1. Der Musensohn, D 764 [2:23]
2. Litanei, D 343 [4:35]
3. Auf dem Wasser zu singen, D 774 [4:05]
4. Das Rosenband D 280 [2:06]
Gesänge des Harfners D 478 (5-7)
5. Wer sich der Einsamkeit ergibt [4:06]
6. Wer nie sein Brot mit Tränen aß [4:43]
7. An die Türen will ich schleichen [2:03]
8. Erlkönig D 328 [5:10]
9. An die Musik D 547 [2:33]
10. An die Laute D 905 [1:29]
11. Prometheus D 674 [5:51]
12. Heidenröslein D 257 [1:48]
13. Frühlingsglaube D 686 [3:49]
14. Die Forelle D 550 [2:39]
15. Du bist die Ruh D 776 [3:43]
16. Ständchen D 957/4 [3:36]
17. Der Tod und das Mädchen D 531 [2:48]
18. Schäfers Klagelied D 121 [3:02]
19. Lachen und Weinen D 777 [2:14]
20. Memnon D 541 [4:36]
21. Rastlose Liebe D 138 [1:43]
Klaus Mertens (bass-baritone), Tini Mathot (fortepiano)
rec. September 2011, Zuidervermaning, Westzaan (NL)
Sung text enclosed.
CHALLENGE CLASSICS CC72559 [69:02]
More than six years ago I reviewed a recording of Schubert’s Winterreise
with the same musicians as here (see review).
I found it very interesting for several reasons. Here was a singer with his
roots in baroque repertoire - his teacher was the famous Bach bass Jacob Stämpfli.
His accompanist had also been nurtured in the baroque tradition and played
a fortepiano, brittle in tone with limited dynamics. I drew the parallel then
with the restoration of old paintings that have darkened through the centuries
and then suddenly come out with a revelatory lustre and richness of colours.
At the same time I saw the reverse side of the coin: the greatness of the
music was diminished, it was small scale both due to the keyboard instrument
but also due to the singer’s baroque training with straight tone and
very little vibrato. I can imagine that this approach suited the 1820s Schubertiads,
held in a fairly small venue with the listeners sitting very close to the
musicians. I have a couple of times returned to that Winterreise and
liked it as a concept but in the last resort found it lacking in temperament
and dramatic truth. Even the soft, contemplative songs lose a dimension.
Approaching this new issue I decided to listen through headphones to get as
close as possible to the music, to spend the recital at the feet of the singer
as an attentive disciple of Master Mertens. It didn’t work too well
and the greatest obstacle was the fortepiano, which probably wasn’t
too backwardly positioned but still felt very distant. There was nothing wrong
with the playing of Tini Mathot but there was too little of it. The accompaniment
to Erlkönig, for instance, this perpetual ride through the darkness
of the night and the howling of the wind - but there was a total lack of drama.
It’s not only a matter of the accompaniment. The son is frightened,
the father more and more aware of the unknown threat and the insinuating Erlkönig:
all this is a dramatic scene that surpasses most operatic scenes - yet here
it was lifeless. Mertens relates the story like someone reading a letter,
but he doesn’t impersonate the characters. Better that than exaggerated
histrionics, big gestures and rolling eye-balls, you may object, but I don’t
think so. The whole ballad is so horrible that it must be uninhibitedly lived
in - or not sung at all.
This is not an isolated example. Die Forelle, so effervescent, so full
of life, is just the opposite here. Again it is too prosaic and - dull. These
are two of the best known of any German songs. Even though we have heard them
hundreds of times we have expectations and become disappointed when we get
something that doesn’t live up to those expectations. On the other hand,
as with John Elwes’s bewildering Winterreise (review)
such an approach can put a work into a radically new perspective.
Here things misfire. The recessed accompaniments are partly to blame, discreetly
tinkling in the background instead of being an equal partner. In addition
there is often a sense of Mertens being too anonymous. His enunciation is,
as ever, excellent but he doesn’t always convey the message. Frühlingsglaube
is lethargic. Die Welt wird schöner mit jedem Tag (The world becomes
more beautiful for every day) says Uhland’s poem, but there is no happiness
in the reading. He continues and finishes with confidence Nun, armes Herz,
vergiß der Qual! / Nun muß sich alles, alles wenden (Now,
poor heart, forget the torment! Now everything, everything must change) but
we hear no vision, no joy.
Klaus Mertens is a good Lieder singer and other songs fare much better. Prometheus
has the required power and is suffused with the suffering of the titan. Goethe’s
poem is a masterpiece and, in Edward Kravitt’s words, ‘with his
alternations of ariosos and recitatives Schubert created a miniature oratorio’.
Fischer-Dieskau and many other singers stress the operatic-dramatic qualities
of the text, while Mertens with his oratorio background clearly adopts Kravitt’s
concept. This is a very fine reading.
Der Tod und das Mädchen is also one of the best, not least through
his soft and considerate impersonation of Death: Sei gutes Muts! Ich bin
nicht wold, / Sollst sanft in meinem Armen schlafen! (Be in good heart!
I am not wild. You will softly sleep in my arms!). The nervous eagerness of
the concluding Rastlose Liebe, again a Goethe text, is also very well
caught.
The sung texts are printed in the booklet but for non-German speakers it is
a drawback that there are no translations. I would also have liked the poets’
names attached to each poem.
All in all a mixed recital with some real highlights but also some uncharacteristically
bland readings.
Göran Forsling
All in all a mixed recital with some real highlights but also some uncharacteristically
bland readings.
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