In his introduction to the programme for this delectable
evening, Graham Johnson remarks that ‘the Wigmore, thank God, has not
been a temple for the uplifting and sublime every night of the week,’
and whilst one has to say that this concert certainly fitted his definition
of ‘less highbrow musical experiences of the highest quality,’ such
was the sheer class of the singing and the presentation of highlights
from Hahn’s fascinating life, that it would be difficult to imagine
anyone not emerging from the hall feeling elevated. Although the evening
was not lacking in humour, the overall experience felt elegiac, stemming
not only from the nature of much of the material but also from the remembrance
of times past in this hall, when the ‘Songmakers’ Almanac’ was so much
a staple of the programming; alas, all the original singers as well
as the inspirational Johnson having moved on, we are only rarely treated
to such evenings as this, in which one not only hears fine singing and
playing but enjoys true ensemble performances as well as having one’s
knowledge of the music enriched.
The programme was structured as chronological scenes
from Hahn’s life, including not only his own works but those of composers
influential or important to him, interspersed with astutely selected
spoken parts: while Graham Johnson provided the introductory passages
to set each ‘scene,’ the singers took a variety of parts, with the voice
of Hahn himself provided by John Mark Ainsley, who presented the character
with great sensitivity and feeling, especially in the cadence of such
phrases as ‘do not speak of my misfortunes.’ The first half was based
around music of Hahn’s years in Paris, and offered superb performances
of some exquisite songs.
Felicity Lott is second to none in her deep intimacy
with, and understanding of, the nuances of French song, and she caught
exactly the right heady tone for ‘C’est à Paris’ and gave a beautifully
languid rendition of ‘L’heure exquise,’ even though she was taxed here
and there by some of the wider divisions. Whenever Dame Felicity is
scheduled to sing I always anticipate the evening as a whole with delight,
modified by the thought of the small amount of cringing which I know
I’ll be doing during certain songs; well, that’s fine – plenty of other
singers choose material that makes me cringe - I’m just easily embarrassed,
but on this evening I found the more frivolous material surprisingly
easy to take. A song with a title like ‘Mais…vous m’avez pincé
le derrière!’ would seem calculated to have me heading for the
door, but I actually found Lott and Ainsley’s performance of it genuinely
entertaining, and even managed not to close my eyes and think of Schubert
during the various antics required by the lines.
The ‘title song’ of the recital, ‘Si mes vers avaient
des ailes’ was sung with touching directness by Ainsley, the many leaps
in the vocal line negotiated with skill; Proust said of Hahn’s work
that ‘never since Schumann has music painted such sorrow,’ and the melancholy,
introspective note emerges clearly in even so early a song when it is
given a performance of such romantic intensity. Christopher Maltman
also provided some finely eloquent singing in ‘Maid of Athens’ and ‘Chanson
d’Automne,’ shaping his phrases with real sweetness; it has been such
a pleasure to watch this singer grow in musical stature over so relatively
short a period of time. The first half ended on a rousing note with
Saint-Saëns’ ‘El desichado,’ a trio in which the voices intertwine,
the desolate message of the words counterpointed by the virtuosic nature
of the vocal writing.
Hahn said of himself ‘I love Taste: I hate Exaggeration…’
and Johnson referred to his music as possessing ‘Elegance and charm
which did not preclude deep feeling,’ and these qualities were shown
in abundance by Ainsley’s singing of ‘A Chloris,’ which to me is the
finest of all Hahn’s songs. This miraculous little work has a Bach –
like accompaniment which Johnson played superbly, and Ainsley sang with
the most perfect, unforced candour and sincerity. It was followed by
Maltman’s word – sensitive, direct, and beautifully buoyant ‘Quand je
fus pris au pavillon,’ revealing his excellent French diction – a rare
thing in an English – speaking baritone - and his direct, unfussy singing
of ‘The swing.’
The centrepiece of the second half was the songs of
Hahn’s Venetian period, composed in the city and first sung in a Gondola,
complete with piano, gondoliers and friends, all ‘well lit,’ a phrase
with which Ainsley somehow inspired many of the audience to chortling.
Hahn said of the ‘Chansons en dialecte Vénetien’ that when he
first performed them, ‘I felt that emotion which reverberates in any
composer’s heart when the music has been truly shared and understood
by those around him,’ and it was easy to see why: they may not be what
might be termed highly serious, but they are ravishingly beautiful,
and when sung and played as they were by Ainsley and Johnson, they are
unforgettable. ‘Sopra l’acqua indormenzada’ balances a rather coquettish
vocal line with a gently rocking piano sound (it’s that ‘well lit’ gondola,
not to mention the gondolier…) and it presents many vocal challenges,
most of which were surmounted with ease although there was a little
strain at some of the more taxing moments. ‘La barcheta’ is probably
the best known of this group, and it was beautifully sung, every line
invested with elegance and languid charm.
Lott gave a winning performance of the well – known
set piece from ‘Mon bel inconnu,’ ‘C’est très vilain d’être
infidèle,’ showing once more that she has few, if any, equals
when it comes to the dramatic presentation of French words and the engagement
with an audience so essential if such material is to make its full impact,
and all three singers joined in a most enjoyable (yes, really) performance
of ‘La dernière Valse,’ not only managing to execute a few graceful
steps on this tiny stage, but evoking the bittersweet experience that
is the hallmark of this composer: ‘Mais ce soir vaisons ensemble, C’est
pour la dernière fois.’
Hahn believed that the piano accompaniment should be
the natural resonance of the vocal line, and Johnson’s superbly sympathetic
playing reflected this throughout, just as Lott’s exquisite singing
of the single encore ‘D’une Prison’ gave a perfect example of the composer’s
desired ‘Balance, Restraint and Elegance,’ qualities which characterized
the whole of this wonderful evening. More, please, both of Hahn and
of the ‘Songmakers’ Almanac,’ in whatever new guise it may appear.
Melanie Eskenazi
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