The
Polish contralto Eva Podleś first came to my notice
through a Rossini recital (Naxos 8.553543) almost thirteen
years ago. She impressed greatly then with her fruity tone,
her magnificent low notes and an agility that one can’t
take for granted in that voice range. The programme consisted
of some of the most exacting arias in the repertoire and
hers were glorious interpretations, not only technically
but also dramatically. That long ago she was already a
household name in the great opera houses in Europe; today
she has widened the horizon further and conquered the US.
Besides her operatic activities she is a sought after recitalist.
This disc, recorded live at Wigmore Hall just over a year
ago, shows why.
The
excellence of her singing, as described above, remains
in every respect valid today. Browsing through my notes
words like ‘dramatic’, ‘grandiose voice’, ‘magnificent’, ‘stunning
intensity’ are recurrent but also ‘inward concentration’, ‘superb
characterisation’ and ‘communicative’ add to the picture.
After Tchaikovsky’s
Was I not a little blade of grass (tr.
9) I wrote: ‘The ability to express intense feeling even
when singing pianissimo is more or less the essence of
and the secret behind the art of song interpretation. Eva
Podleś has that ability in abundance.’ Sometimes the
intensity is so strong that one wonders if she doesn’t
crosses the border from interpretation to being part of
the song.
The Field-Marshal, the last of Mussorgsky’s
Songs
and Dances of Death, is a song that invariably brings
down the house. It does so here too, but only after a very
long silence where one couldn’t even hear the proverbial
pin drop. The whole audience was obviously so caught by
her identification that even the greatest enthusiasts had
to hold back the applause for a while.
The
Polish-Russian programme is cleverly arranged. Garrick
Ohlsson bridges the three melodists Chopin-Rachmaninov-Tchaikovsky
and the expressionist Mussorgsky by playing the impressionist
Szymanowski’s
Masques. No one with a basic knowledge
of the 19
th century classics could fail to recognise
Chopin in the opening song,
There where she loves.
(I employ the English titles throughout to make it easier
for those who are not Slavists.) It’s a charming waltz
in his inimitable style and when we reach the postlude
we really feel at home.
The ring (tr. 2) is also
a slow waltz while the stormy
The warrior (tr. 3)
gives ample opportunities for Podleś to display her
dramatic potential. The
Lithuanian song (tr. 4)
is a gem, if ever there was one, and in
Handsome lad (tr.
5) Ms Podleś is at her fruitiest. Ohlsson excels in
the prelude, interlude and postlude. After all his international
career was catapulted forward through his victory in the
1970 Chopin International Piano Competition. It’s a pity
that Chopin’s songs are still such rarities on recital
programmes and recordings.
Rachmaninov
is a more frequent visitor to the concert platform, now
that so many international singers are more or less fluent
in Russian. This is not to say that every Tom, Dick and
Harry knows each and every one of the 85 songs he wrote
between 1890 and 1917 but there is a fair number that return
quite often. The complete songs recorded on Chandos in
the early 1990s is available at super-budget price on Brilliant
Classics (see
review).
The three songs on the present disc are sung with an intensity
to challenge even Elisabeth Söderström’s classic readings
from the late 1970s. There is something inevitably right
about the singing of Eva Podleś – nothing superficial
or showy, coming from within and not superimposed.
In
the Tchaikovsky songs it is again Söderström who comes
to mind but Podleś has nothing to fear from the comparison.
I have already touched upon
Was I not a little blade
of grass and the hackneyed
None but the lonely heart (tr.
10) is transformed and ennobled in her reading. On this
issue the title is given as
No, only one who knows longing,
which is a literally more correct translation of Lev Mey’s
Russian interpretation of Goethe’s poem. The Pushkin setting
Zemfira’s
song is again Eva Podleś at her most intense.
Karol
Szymanowski’s
Masques lays claim to be one of his
finest creations and Garrick Ohlsson is a superb advocate.
The first movement,
Shéhérazade, is built around
a habanera theme that dominates the last part of this long
movement. There are however no oriental associations. The
second movement
Tantris le bouffon has references
to the
Tristan und Isolde story – ‘Tantris’ being
an anagram of ‘Tristan’. These are literary references
only since there is no musical connections with or quotations
from Wagner. ‘Tantris the jester’ was obviously chosen
as the title of the scherzo in this composition. The lively
rhythms, played with stunning precision, seem to illustrate
the jester’s caprices – and the habanera appears briefly
here too. As connecting link for the whole composition
it returns still one more time at the end of
Sérénade
de Don Juan, and here it is certainly on home-ground – the
atmosphere of this movement is tangibly Spanish. Whether
Szymanowski’s meeting Ravel and Debussy in Paris on his
way back from Italy in 1914 inspired him to the musical
language of
Masques may be open to debate but few
others have written such brilliant piano music in their
mould. Having heard no other recording of
Masques – though
I am familiar with his symphonies, string quartets, some
other piano works and his vocal output – I may be talking
through my hat, but I can’t imagine it better played.
The
Songs
and Dances of Death has been primarily male territory.
I have isolated songs or the complete cycle with basses
like Chaliapin, Christoff, Kim Borg and Erik Saedén and
baritones like Hvorostovsky and Tom Krause, to name some
favourites. To this list must now be added Eva Podleś.
Her way of bringing out the moods and the feelings through
verbal inflexion and vocal colouring could be likened
to great theatre, provided one doesn’t connect theatre
with artificiality. This is as far from artificiality
as could be imagined. The overriding impression is that
everything is from the singer’s own experience. This
feeling can be achieved through great theatre, but I
would prefer to call it great art. Just one detail to
prove my point: the way her voice in
Trepak loses
its lustre, not because of exhaustion but because Death
is there in front of the singer. Great art indeed. This
judgement also applies to Garrick Ohlsson’s flexible
and assured playing, whether as accompanist or soloist.
There
is only one thing about this recital that bothers me and
that’s the sound. Or rather: there is a metallic edginess
that afflicts the voice, like an extra layer. I have not
been able to identify the reason. My first thought was
that there was something wrong with my loudspeakers but
listening through headphones gave the same result. To ensure
that my CD-player was not at fault I played a couple of
other discs with strong emotional singing and they sounded
OK. Either there are some unfortunate mechanical resonances
that have been amplified or the microphones have caught
some wear on the voice. I hope it is the former. This apart
the disc has to be ranked as one the finest and most captivating
song recitals for a long time.
Göran
Forsling