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Opera Today, 30 Mar 2022 |
Colin Clarke |
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Liederabend, London, 29.3.2022 |
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Diana Damrau, Jonas Kaufmann and Helmut Deutsch at the Barbican Hall
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Good to see such a full hall for these two beloved singers with one of the
finest collaborative pianists of them all. This programme was a celebration
of the lives and loves of Robert Schumann and Johannes Brahms, at the centre
of which stands the figure of Clara Schumann (couldn’t she have had a voice,
too, through some of her songs?). As Jessica Duchen points out in her
excellent programme notes, this was a complex three-way dynamic that
included parental opposition against Robert and Clara, Robert’s tragic end
and Brahms’ subsequent close connection with Clara. Hearing this cornucopia
of song: veering towards the tragic in the first part, more optimistic in
the second, was an enriching experience indeed. Interactions between Damrau
and Kaufmann were many and varied, always fitting to the prevailing story.
For this was an evening of stories, Romantic stories shot through with love,
happiness, and pain. The order of songs – chosen, apparently, by Deutsch –
created the most satisfying musical experience imaginable via the medium of
the Lied.
Beginning with one of Schumann’s most famous songs,
‘Widmung’ (like the second, ‘Jemand’, from Myrthen) seemed an act of
generosity; thereafter, the evening was a variegated exploration of the
repertoire. Kaufmann it was who took this outpouring of love both painful
and ecstatic. Interesting to hear the warmth of Helmut Deutsch’s playing,
too – could this be the same piano that Yuja Wang played on (and which
sounded so bright and even brittle) with the Czech Philharmonic recently?
The two pianists certainly have diametrically opposed ways with the
instrument, whatever the case: throughout, Deutsch was a paragon of musical
illumination, each thread carefully considered, how sweet his opening to
‘Resignation’, a song that is pure Schumann; how vocal his baritone line in
Brahms’ ‘Meerfahrt’; how burnished and flowing his contribution to Brahms’
Serenade Op.70 No.3. After the forcefulness of Kaufmann’s delivery of
‘Widmung’, Damrau was beauty itself in the lovely ‘Jemand’ while finding
space for significant passion. Her voice is pure yet substantive, and,
certainly, in ‘Resignation’, capable of the most profound delivery.
Kaufmann initially seemed in his element, particularly in the stormy
‘Geständnis’ (from Schumann’s Spanisches Liederspiel) while the ‘Liebeslied’
from Op.51 emerged as a sophisticated gem: both Deutsch and Kaufmann
highlighted the advanced nature of Schumann’s harmonic writing (it seemed to
veer towards the composer’s wonderful and still woefully under-appreciated
late period; it actually dates from 1840). Fascinating, and complemented by
the golden thread of Damrau’s cantabile in the tenth song, ‘Stille Tränen’,
of one of Schumann’s greatest song-cycles (and again, under-rated
generally), the Kerner-Lieder. This was one of the glorious moments of the
evening: radiant, heart-felt, truly profound.
As we moved to the
first Brahms group, it became clear that something was irritating Kaufmann’s
throat – some audible coughing from him, and some air around his voice;
there seemed to be some strain at the upper end of his range, also. And yet
when the darkly shaded piano part to ‘In Waldeinsamkeit’ underpinned
Kaufmann, we were still transported; the song ended with Kaufmann looking
directly at Damrau, who responded with the magnificently bitter-sweet ‘Die
Nachtigall’ from Op.85. The piano opening to this was perfection itself:
quizzical, enigmatic. Damrau turned away from Kaufmann as he sang the next
song, appropriately enough given that its title is ‘Ach, wende diesen Blick’
(Ah, turn away that gaze) from the Op.57 Lieder und Gesänge). The image of a
serpent stinging the protagonist’s heart was visceral and real, while
Kaufmann took his turn to move away from her for ‘Es träunte mir’, a song
the recipient of the most beautiful sense of stasis, with Deutsch invoking
Brahms’ late Klavierstücke in his delivery.
If the one thing absent
from Damrau’s contribution so far was an indication of the power of her
voice, that was forthcoming in ‘Anklänge’, leading to the final group of
Schumann songs for the first half: the desolate ‘In der Nacht’.
The
decision to take us to the most interior spaces before the interval was
brilliantly conceived: the ‘Tragödie’ from Book IV of the Romanzen und
Balladen is a set of three songs, its highlight the pianissimo (pppp?)
central ‘Es fiel ein Reif in der Frühlingsnacht’, arguably the most powerful
moment of the evening. The set ends with a true duet, simultaneously sweet
and touching, itself complemented by the warm sonorities of the duet ‘An der
Abendstern’, the fourth of the Op.103 Märchenlieder.
The second part
of the concert began in highly contrastive fashion with the decidedly
humorous ‘Vergebliches Ständchen’, Kaufmann sounding somewhat refreshed and
light in tone now. Damrau was in beautifully light tone, too, for ‘Therese’
(it was also beautifully acted between the two – the love dynamic continues
…). The way Deutch found and articulated horn calls in ‘O komme, holde
Sommernacht’ found us transported to archetypical Romantic lands, prolonged
by the glorious flow of Damrau and Deutsch’s ‘Geheimnis’ and the cozy ‘Wir
wandelten’, beautifully delivered by Kaufmann.
It was such a treat to
hear the duets, rarities which, performed by two such musicians, become the
finest of the finest. ‘Er und Sie’ is one such, Damrau’s riposte to Kaufmann
a thing of the utmost beauty. This is Schumann at his most radiant, and we
believed every word of the text. Much darker was Kaufmann’s ‘Mein schöner
Stern!’ with its superb ascent to Heaven (Heb’ auf vielmehr Zum Himmel
mich), itself in maximal contrast to Damrau’s freshness of voice in “Lied
der Suleika” (Myrthen), a performance of breath-taking naturalness.
Kaufmann can project ardour like few others, and did so in Schumann’s ‘Ihre
Stimme’ (a song with another perfectly delivered postlude form Deutsch) and
‘Lehn deine Wang’. Interesting, too, to hear almost Wagnerian harmonies
foregrounded in Schumann’s ‘Liebster, deine Worte stehen’, its rather
complex melodic line negotiated to perfection by Damrau.
The final
Brahms group began with a duet, the lovely ‘Weg der Liebe’, fresh and
sprightly, animated from the piano by Deutsch (who negotiated the difficult
piano part in ‘An die Taben’ superbly). The inexorable move to the close was
now in full swing, with Damrau offering a radiant climax to ‘Die Liebende
schreibt’. If ‘Sehnsucht’ from Kaufmann was ever so slightly anonymous,
Damrau’s ‘Meine Liebe ist grün’ radiated optimism. If Kaufmann seemed a tad
under form in ‘Versunken’, the final two songs offered the perfect ending:
an absolutely hypnotic ‘Von ewiger Liebe’ (with both singers taking part)
and a light-as-a-soufflé ‘Die Boten der Liebe’.
One encore:
Schumann’s delightful duet ‘Unterm fenster’. For all of the vocal excellence
on display, it is difficult to forget that the evening contained one of the
finest piano contributions to a Liederabend this writer has ever come
across.
Texts and translations were available to those who were
willing to print at home from the website, or there were (not entirely
reliable) surtitles.
Colin Clarke
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