‘Mummy, I’ve heard this before!’ crowed my friend’s alarmingly
astute small son as we settled in to road-test Jonas Kaufmann’s
new album a few weeks ago and the distinctive strains of the
German tenor ardently extolling the joys of Vienna filled their
sitting-room. He has a point: in many respects Wien (out today
on Sony) is a welcome sequel of sorts to Du bist die Welt für
mich, the moreish collection of light music which Kaufmann
released in 2014, and the opening number ‘Wien wird bei Nacht
erst schön’ bears a striking similarity to his mother’s
favourite track from that earlier album, ‘Grüß mir mein Wien’
from Kálmán’s Gräfin Mariza.
However, if I might disagree
with our budding four-year-old critic for a moment, the first
difference registers loud and clear after a few seconds: this
time round Kaufmann has the luxury support of the Wiener
Philharmoniker, and whilst the Rundfunk-Sinfonieorchester Berlin
did a fine job five years ago, the gloss and glamour of the
Viennese musicians’ sound really is one of the glories of this
new disc. Violins shimmer and swoon with portamenti that hover
on just the right side of tasteful, and Ádám Fischer (who seems
to be enjoying a rather marvellous Indian summer at the moment
with his ongoing Düsseldorf Mahler cycle and superb recent
Beethoven set on Naxos) steers them with understated panache and
imagination throughout.
With a programme dominated by
Johann Strauss II & Co., the risk of waltz fatigue setting in
early on in the proceedings is dangerously high, but the
Hungarian conductor has such a way with rubato that even long
strophic songs like Rudolf Sieczyński‘s ‘Wien, du Stadt meiner
Träume’ feel like real unfolding narratives rather than just a
perfunctory whirl around a gilded ballroom. Kaufmann’s subtle
word-painting helps: in an insightful interview in the booklet
he’s quizzed on the music’s Schubertian qualities, and he shades
these texts with the same care he takes in his recordings of the
great song-cycles, often drawing audible inspiration from the
many and varied colours which Fischer summons from the
orchestra.
Another delight is that nothing sounds too
manicured or homogenous: after the full-fat appeal of the first
few tracks, it’s a lovely surprise to hear orchestra and singer
shift into bierkeller mode for Hans May’s hearty ‘Heut' ist der
schönste Tag’ (the programme intersperses operetta favourites
with popular Viennese stand-alone songs), and there’s no
over-egging of the pudding in Hermann Leopoldi’s low-key little
vignette ‘In einem kleinen Café in Hernals’ towards the end of
the album.
Kaufmann keeps most of his operatic fire-power
on ice for the Léhar and Strauss evergreens in which he’s joined
by the zäftig-voiced soprano Rachel Willis-Sørensen, who taps
into the elegant sensuality which makes her one of the best
young Marschallins around - the two have an easy chemistry which
makes the couple’s discussion of the delights of an open
marriage in ‘Wiener Blut’ and the erotic intrigue of the Watch
Duet from Die Fledermaus seem genuinely, overtly sexy rather
than well-mannered (check out Willis-Sørensen’s libidinous
coloratura in the latter and you’ll see what I mean…).
Consuming the album in one sitting feels rather like indulging
in a sumptuous dinner consisting entirely of desserts (no bad
thing once in a while in my book), and after a main course of
Sachertorte in the form of six Johann Strauss numbers we get a
string of bitter sorbets, beginning with a remarkable,
unexpectedly bleak aria from Kálmán’s Die Zirkusprinzessen in
which a broken-hearted clown laments his calling - it’s
essentially an Austro-Hungarian take on ‘Vesti la giubba’, and
packs quite a punch after what’s gone before. And the final
track, Georg Kreisler’s ‘Der Tod, das muss ein Wiener sein’
(‘Death must be a Viennese’), is a macabre little master-stroke:
scored for voice and piano alone, it underlines the darkness
lurking behind much of the fin de siècle hedonism elsewhere, and
made me see several of the earlier tracks in quite a different
light.
Overall verdict? Have some Andrews Liver Salts to
hand, but indulge yourself. And if someone could invite Fischer
to Vienna for New Year’s Day at some point, I’ll stand them a
flute of champagne.