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music OMH, 17 Feb 2018
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by Melanie Eskenazi |
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Wolf: Italienisches Liederbuch, London, 16. Februar 2018 |
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Damrau / Kaufmann / Deutsch @ Barbican Hall, London
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Auch kleine Dinge können uns entzücken… the opening line of Hugo Wolf’s
Italienisches Liederbuch – ‘Even small things can delight us’ – is the
perfect epigraph to these 46 vignettes of courtship, devotion, anger, loss
and reconciliation, set out here as a cycle showcasing the varying moods of
lovers in which the soprano is often the coy, coquettish, even waspish one,
and the tenor the romantic Italianate lover. The evening felt like a mini
opera, with the two singers reacting to one another – theirs is a
partnership of some standing (take a look at the YouTube video of them doing
Lehar’s ‘Lippen schweigen’ – dance and all) so the style was a natural
choice. Some of us might prefer a more traditional ‘Wigmore Hall’ approach
to Lieder, but it worked in this context, did not hinder our appreciation of
some wonderfully subtle singing, and the audience absolutely adored it.
Helmut Deutsch’s playing was most certainly not a ‘small thing,’ since
this peerless accompanist, never ‘too loud’ yet not remotely self-effacing,
bound the singers and poems together with the kind of mastery one is only
rarely privileged to hear. From matching the intensity of Kaufmann’s ardour
in ‘Gesegnet sei,’ to the wonderfully apt piano comment on Damrau’s superbly
evoked girl whose lover is too delicate for war in ‘Ihr jungen Leute,’ his
playing was a constant joy. His sense of humour, too, brought out the
occasional wicked hilarities in Wolf’s compositions, most notably in the
virtuoso nachspiel to the final song, ‘Ich hab’ in Penna,’ and the hilarious
depiction of a hopelessly inadequate violinist in ‘Wie lange schon.’ Both of
these were brilliantly sung by Diana Damrau, whose bright silver tone is the
perfect counterpart to Kaufmann’s darker, more naturally sombre sound.
That superb intimacy between voice and piano was heard again in ‘Nun
lass uns Frieden schliessen,’ where Kaufmann’s characteristic sweetness of
tone and nuanced phrasing were complemented by the gently rocking piano, and
in ‘Benedeit die sel’ge Mutter’ which was presented with absolute simplicity
and directness, almost as a hymn to the beloved. ‘Sterb’ich, so hüllt in
Blumen meine Glieder’ typifies the atmosphere of the ‘male’ songs in the
collection; ‘If I should die, then shroud my limbs in flowers’ might suggest
a rather mawkish request but the poem makes clear the lover’s devotion in
lines such as ‘Ich sterbe lieblich, sterb’ ich deinetwegen’ (Death is sweet
if it is for your sake), and Kaufmann’s diminuendo in the final line was a
classic example of his subtle and understated art.
Understatement was
not always needed, however, and we heard some entrancing full-blown drama
from Damrau in ‘Schwig’ einmal still’ and ‘Wenn du, mein Liebster,’ and from
Kaufmann in ‘Wie soll ich frolich sein,’ the impassioned ending reminding us
of the tremendous power of this voice. Damrau’s characterization of the
hard-to-please girl in songs such as ‘Mein Liebster ist so klein’ was as
vivid and memorable as Kaufmann’s impersonation of the besotted lover in
‘Dass doch gemalt all’ deine Reize wären’ with its beautifully shaped
conclusion.
An enthusiastic audience would probably have hung around
for more encores, but the one given, Schumann’s ‘Unterm Fenster,’ perfectly
encapsulated, in duet form, the profound sense of joyful unity which had
characterized this recital. Why, they even got lots of laughs – you could
have imagined yourself in church during the more sombre songs, but with the
lighter ones it was a case of genuine enjoyment rather than the embarrassed
mutter one usually hears in such recitals. Singers, pianist and audience,
actually joining in merriment? Whatever next?
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