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Operetta Research Center, 31 August, 2014
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Kevin Clarke |
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Deep Throat: Jonas Kaufmann Sings 1920s Operetta |
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When
a PR-savvy superstar of the Jonas Kaufmann caliber issues a
“cross-over“ album filled with operetta goodies, people take
notice. So, whatever you might think of the 16 tracks on Du bist
die Welt für mich – released by Sony on September 19 – you have
to acknowledge that most of the opera world will see this as a
positive highlight and a statement about the current (positive)
state of operetta affairs. But is it really anything of the
sort?
Let’s start with the two most striking features:
any modern-day opera singer who can look like Glee’s Matthew
Morrison with a seductive stubble on the cover of an operetta CD
gets all the bonus points we can distribute. Because this “look”
frees the genre visually from the stuffy image it generally has.
Then there is the focus of the album on German language titles
from operettas associated with Berlin rather than the usual
Vienna waltz “fluff” most other tenors opt for. Because of this
focus, some of the numbers selected by artistic advisor Thomas
Voigt and Mr. Kaufmann are from the heyday of Berlin operetta,
the 1920s and early 30s, i.e. the notorious jazz era.
As
a consequence, you hear some really snappy arrangements and
dance interludes that you will not find in any other modern-day
operetta album by a star tenor.
Yes, there are the
various Richard Tauber standards that no tenor can do without
and should not have to do without, but the novelty is the
inclusion of titles such as Abraham’s “Diwanpüppchen” from Die
Blume von Hawaii or Benatzky’s “Es muss was Wunderbares sein”
from Im weißen Rössl in the recently reconstructed original
orchestrations. These reconstructions, by the team of Grimminger
& Hagedorn, have so far not been commercially recorded, except
in the context of radio broadcasts from Cologne (WDR).
The Rundfunk-Sinfonieorchester Berlin under the direction of
Jochen Rieder might not get the required “Schlager” style
one-hundred percent right, but they have a more than competent
go at it. It’s a delight to hear these evergreens in these
versions. The same can be said about the Tonfilmoperetten hits
by Werner Richard Heymann. His “Irgendwo auf der Welt,” from Ein
blonder Traum, is presented here in a dance band arrangement by
Andreas N. Tarkmann. Another joyfully bouncy moment.
To
have such rhythms included gives the album a freshness usually
missing for operatic “cross-over” albums. And it’s great to see
that there has been a rethinking in the record industry as to
how one can present operetta in the new millennium. It’s
certainly a welcome alternative to, let’s say, Christian
Thielemann’s Deutsche Grammophon discs from Dresden which are
still stuck in a 1970s aesthetic of interpretation.
Given
the orchestral joys and the smart song selection, it’s a bit of
a shame that Jonas Kaufmann never quite sounds fully at ease in
the syncopated world of Weimar Republic operetta. He sings well,
don’t get me wrong, with a throaty sensuality that is more than
fitting. Also, his diction is crisp and flawless. But he doesn’t
play with the words in the self-ironic way the original stars of
that repertoire did.
As is Marta Eggerth singing
“Diwanpüppchen.” Kaufmann is never noticeably ironically
inclined, he approaches this repertoire with the seriousness of
a Lieder singer where more liberty, casualness and even
coarseness would be called for.
When he moves onto the
famous Tauber tunes – “Gern hab’ ich die Frau’n geküsst” and
“Hab’ ein blaues Himmelbett” – his mezza-voce singing is
relaxed. You might even say Kaufmann, at times, sounds so
relaxed he seems under-energized, where by comparison Tauber’s
pianissimo renditions “burn” right through your ears. Because a
laid-back rendition of “Gern hab’ ich die Frau’n geküsst” comes
first on this album, you might get a wrong impression at the
start of what will follow.
Because, rest assured, some
true glories follow. For me, personally, the greatest track on
the disc is the moment where Kaufmann lets loose and unleashes
the Wagnerian beast within. His “Freunde, das Leben is
lebenswert” from Lehár’s Giuditta is not only overwhelming, it
even surpasses Tauber’s own version because of the sheer impetus
of the singing. Assisted by an orchestra ready to rip, Kaufmann
proves he would be an ideal Ottavio if ever someone were to
decide to do the whole show as a concert version (and record
it). To have him and Anna Netrebko or Diana Damrau in a complete
Giuditta would be a wet dream. And isn’t operetta all about wet
dreams?
The other pull-all-the-stops-out track on this
album is “Das Lied vom Leben des Schrenk” from Künneke’s Die
große Sünderin. It’s a show written for Helge Rosvaenge in Nazi
times, and it presents a different aspect of Berlin operetta in
the post-Weimar years. The Rosvaenge version of this tour de
force number is probably familiar. Kaufmann aims for the same
hyper-dramatic singing and delivers the goods – accompanied by a
blasting horn section that makes you sit on the edge of your
chair. Considering that Kaufmann generally sounds best on this
album when he can turn up the drama – rather than whisper sweet
seductions – it’s a shame the producers didn’t include the other
glorious number from Große Sünderin, the duet “Immerzu singt
mein Herz deinem Herzen zu,” originally sung and recorded by
Rosvaenge and Tiana Lemnitz. To hear Kaufmann with this
expansive declaration of love would have been a treat.
Instead, we get a much less expansive duet with Julia Kleiter,
who teams up with Kaufmann for “Reich mir zum Abschied noch
einmal die Hände” and the boisterous “Diwanpüppchen.” She is
also his partner for the final track, Korngold’s “Glück das mir
verblieb.” You might, rightly, wonder what Die tote Stadt is
doing on this album. It’s an opera not particularly associated
with Berlin, but with Tauber who was probably the most famous
Paul of the 1920s. Kaufmann doesn’t copy Tauber’s
interpretation, however, but Elisabeth Schwarzkopf’s, which is
fun to hear and probably not surprising when you have a
(critical!) Schwarzkopf worshipper as your artistic advisor.
Considering that Korngold rewrote Eine Nacht in Venedig for
Tauber, it’s sad that “Sei mir gegrüßt mein holdes Venezia” is
not included. You could also argue that more Berlin operettas
from the Nazi era would have been interesting, to balance the
program out, for example a track from Nico Dostal’s Clivia which
contains glorious tenor music. Also, the famous Berlin
production of Romberg’s Student Prince at the Großes
Schauspielhaus would have been a welcome addition, sung in
German with the original Berlin translations, as a nod to
American audiences.
But instead of lamenting what isn’t
there, let’s enjoy what is. You get all the expected standards,
including “Dein ist mein ganzes Herz” (of course) and “Grüß mir
mein Wien,” you get a few more Tonfilmoperettenschlager such as
“Frag nicht warum ich gehe” (Robert Stolz) and “Heute Nacht oder
nie” (Mischa Spoliansky). But the all-and-all knock-out remains
“Freunde das Leben ist lebenswert” – and the dance interlude
from “Diwanpüppchen.”
As is the case with many artists
today, Mr. Kaufmann will go on tour with this program starting
April 2015. Since he’s a dazzling stage animal, it will be
interesting to see audiences swoon when he serenades them with
these treasures. Some tracks on the disc are taken from a
session recorded in the “Sendesaal Nalepastraße” (the former
radio head quarters of Socialist Germany) in Berlin, in front of
a live audience. If you buy the deluxe edition you get a bonus
DVD which includes three video clips from this semi-public
Berlin session. The entire concert will be issued on DVD later
this year. As a bonus, that DVD will include a documentary about
“Berlin in 1930;” it’ll show Kaufmann following the steps of
Tauber, Schmidt, Kiepura, Stolz and Abraham. The documentary was
made by none other than Thomas Voigt. Which means it will most
likely be good.
On a special You-mean-the-world-website
Sony set up for promotional purposes you can also hear and see
Kaufmann during these recording sessions; in addition he talks
about this repertoire and how he learned about it from his
grandfather who grew up in Berlin. The interviews are available
in English, too.
The syncopated operettas from Berlin and
the 1920s were an international phenomenon; they demonstrate the
cosmopolitan side of the German capital at the time, its
worldliness and openness, its diversity and its across-border
appeal.
This means audiences from outside of Berlin, and
Germany, bought the records with these songs and went to see the
films these songs come from, often in English language versions.
In turn, it’s only fitting that Jonas Kaufmann will sing six
tracks in English for the international release of You Mean the
World to Me. As a bonus, there is a 17th track with “Je t’ai
donné mon Coeur.” Such global thinking captures the true spirit
of “Golden Age” operetta to perfection; it’s a way of global
thinking lost after 1933. It does not apply to Künneke’s Große
Sünderin anymore, the latest show on this album, which never
travelled around the world like its predecessors. Sadly, German
operetta later never recaptured that openness and global appeal
again after World War 2. It’s good to know that Jonas Kaufmann
wants to remind the world of it, in as many languages as
possible.
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