Songs for Low Voice
STEPHEN FRANCIS VASTA takes an up-close look at the virtues and vices of nine top lieder baritones
Though its mainstream repertoire encompasses works intended for a number of different voice types, many listeners almost reflexively associate lieder performance with the baritone voice. The prominent achievements of twentieth-century artists such as Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, for some listeners the touchstone, and his predecessors Gerhard Hüsch, Friedrich Schorr and Hans Hotter -- not to mention such non-native exponents as Charles Panzéra and Gérard Souzay -- have reinforced this impression. This association remains vital, as exemplified by a spate of activity from German, Austrian, North American and British practitioners of the form.
The meaning and underlying mood of a lied text are, of course, crucial in fashioning its interpretation. An equally important, though less clearly understood, factor is a sense of the language. Beyond projecting the text's literal meaning, the interpreter should phrase with an authentic inflection, a feel for the stresses and rhythm of the spoken and literary forms of the language. This encompasses the use of subtle variations in timing and weighting the words to emphasize key thoughts -- similar to the agogic delays with which an organist simulates accents -- though not the sort of superficial, overemotive chewing and spitting of text favored in some quarters. This elusive quality, requiring a well-honed grasp of grammar and quotidian usage, distinguishes a bland, "correct" performance -- as if by a student learning a word-for-word translation -- from one that communicates urgently and directly. One might expect the native German-speakers to have an advantage here, but in fact no such clear pattern emerges: some Brits prove equally accomplished.
In some respects, the sense of a musical phrase -- the feel for its natural emphases, its rise and fall in intensity, its progress toward a musical destination or point of arrival -- is analogous to the linguistic sense just described. Each of the great song composers used his distinctive stylistic "fingerprints" to complement his text setting, consciously or otherwise. Consider Schubert's way of sliding smoothly into a new, unrelated key (usually a third away) to change the mood instantly; or Schumann's reliance on the secondary dominant chords that give his music its appealing sweetness, verging on sentimentality; or the way Wolf's slithery, ambiguous chromatic passages set off other, more diatonic ones in sharp relief. Sensitivity to these various harmonic formulas is a pronounced asset; the singer needn't apply "expression" externally like a sauce but can find and realize what the composer has already built into the music.
Then there is the matter of the singer's actual voice. Beauty of tone per se is not absolutely essential, though in so intimate an art form it's hardly a drawback. More important is the handling of the voice as an instrument, its capacity for finesse and control. One can't effortlessly reproduce a language's natural inflection, after all, if one's voice brightens and darkens arbitrarily according to the combination of pitch and vowel, or doesn't produce a firm note-to-note legato, nor can such a singer color a text or a harmonic progression. Similarly, as a phrase moves upward or downward, a conspicuous vocal shift caused by imperfectly balanced registers will compromise its shape.
In any discussion of today's leading lieder baritones, Matthias Goerne, who includes the redoubtable Fischer-Dieskau among his teachers, offers a logical starting point. Goerne's dark, vibrant timbre, evincing plenty of richness and depth even on record, is certainly among the most intrinsically appealing here. His best singing is smooth and virile; as in his Bach cantatas, sustaining the long line poses him no problems.
THE UNDERLYING MOOD OF A LIED TEXT IS CRUCIAL IN
FASHIONING ITS INTERPRETATION.But that gorgeous sound proves insufficient in four Schumann cycles, which tend instead to point up Goerne's limitations. He's stuck in a single, mostly unvaried color. There's no smile in his "Schöne Fremde"; the repeated "Niemals" in "Morgens steh' ich" doesn't intensify; and an inappropriately menacing tone intrudes on the fourth strophe of "Mit Myrten und Rosen." Strophic songs such as "Berg' und Burgen" require greater variety. The coloristic limits go hand in hand with dynamic ones. The Zwölf Gedichte, Op. 35, offer the few instances where he brings off a mixed voice securely; elsewhere, he must choose between an uneasy, tremulous head register ("Intermezzo") or one propelled by an admixture of breath (fatally breaking the spell at "Euer Wogen" in "Sehnsucht nach der Waldgegend"), while his full voice is tight in the climaxes. Even so, Goerne is most affecting where the music evokes a tender or caressing mood, and one can reasonably hope for more from him as his artistry matures.
By contrast, Welsh bass-baritone Bryn Terfel is a lied singer in the line of Hotter and Schorr, noted Wagnerians who regularly adapted their larger-framed voices to the smaller dimensions of the art song. A 1991 Schwanengesang from Wales and a 1994 DG recital attest to Terfel's longstanding affinity for the lied even as he made his international name on the opera stage. Not unexpectedly, his operatic amplitude allows for a real projective power in overtly rhetorical, dramatic songs ("An die Leier," "Erlkönig") and at the most intense climaxes ("Rastlose Liebe"). Sensibly, he reserves his power for the most important statements: he's not afraid to sing piano, or to scale down to a nice internal quality, as in "Du bist die Ruh'." Nor will you hear so suggestive a Wagnerian darkness in anyone else's "Kriegers Ahnung" and "Aufenthalt." And Terfel can inflect music and text with an apt rubato when he chooses, as in the fifth strophe of "Abschied."
Of course, Terfel's strengths bring complementary drawbacks, perhaps exacerbated by operatic wear and tear. Upward leaps are smooth when he has time to prepare them, as in the earlier "Das Fischermädchen," but become ungainly in faster music ("Liebesbotschaft"). The firmly supported piano he deploys in "Litanei" and "Schäfers Klagelied" apparently eluded him in Meeres Stille (airy) and parts of "Der Wanderer" (bodiless), and the occasional stagy whisper ("Die Taubenpost" and the end of "Erlkönig") is a gratuitous effect. Conversely, the sustained "Alliebender" in "Ganymed" betrays a slow beat. Terfel's sensitive, intelligent interpretations are both musically and vocally satisfying nonetheless.
What I've heard of the contributions of another Brit, Simon Keenlyside, to Hyperion's Schumann edition is most impressive. His clean, handsome sound stays more consistently focused than Terfel's and is more mobile as well (for example, in the Drei Gedichte von Emanuel Geibel). Keenlyside commands a wide dynamic range efficiently: his gently touched piano loses color as it ascends ("An die Türen"), but he can exploit in-between levels to express the emotional ambivalence of "Erstes Grün," and to shape vividly the peculiar narrative of "Die Löwenbraut." He is equally at home in the extroverted, ringy Vier Husarenlieder and the fervent, contained eloquence of "Stille Liebe." Only a tendency for his narrow focus to become a constricted snarl at the bottom -- especially noticeable in the repeated low Gs at "in ihrem," in the last of the Husarenlieder -- distracts from Keenlyside's otherwise polished, communicative work.
In vocal weight and projection, Danish baritone Bo Skovhus stands between Terfel and Keenlyside. His unusually mellifluous singing can draw on a wide range of colors. The voice that caresses the ear in "Morgengruss" and in Clara Schumann's "Der Mond kommt still gegangen" turns plangent and vulnerable in "Aus meinen Tränen spriessen," which also benefits from his keen instincts for verbal timing; and his varying intensity levels and timbre conjure a "spoken" immediacy in "Am Feierabend." His particular gift, unique among these baritones, is a most impressive knack for giving the impression, from his initial attack, of generating entire phrases as a unit, leading the ear onward.
THE LIEDER SINGER NEEDN'T APPLY "EXPRESSION" EXTERNALLY LIKE A SAUCE. Given these tangible strengths, Skovhus's flaws are the more disappointing. His technique functions best in the lower-middle register, where the timbre stays attractive and the legato flows undisturbed: "Hör ich das Liedchen klingen" is wonderfully delicate, "Schöne Wiege" full of deep feeling, "Die stille Lotosblume" enchantingly intimate. But Skovhus's head register isn't ideally integrated, so some phrases rising out of the rich low range betray strain, shifting or "reaching up" awkwardly, losing support or quality (as in "Am leuchtenden Sommermorgen"). The opening of "Aus alten Märchen" clearly lies higher than Skovhus's optimal tessitura, and he sounds uncomfortable. And, for all his exemplary musicianship, harmonic feeling (displayed in "Der Müller und der Bach") and rhythmic point, he occasionally miscalculates: his energy obscures some pitches in "Warte, warte," and he punches out the offbeat scansion of Wolf's "Liebesglück" to jerky, counterproductive effect. Still, the dignified concentration he brings to the final portion of Die Schöne Müllerin is more than ample compensation.
Although Thomas Quasthoff has until recently limited his activities to the concert stage, his baritone is of an operatic caliber comparable to those of the artists just discussed. His simple, direct manner and delivery perhaps reflect a philosophical attitude born from coping with difficult circumstances. His intrinsically warm, soft-grained instrument, a natural fit for the music and text of "Das Fischermädchen," opens up to clear, ringy, unforced climaxes in "Der Atlas." His mastery of head-voice integration permits him lovely shadings and colorings of both text ("Kriegers Ahnung") and music ("Wenn ich mit Menschen und mit Engelzungen redete"), and his clear articulation doesn't impede his handsome legato, or vice versa. The only apparent room for improvement lies, paradoxically, in his already keen attention to musical detail. His first entry in Brahms's Vier Ernste Lieder is slightly too loud after the piano's quiet foreboding; he colors the shift to major in "Ihr Bild" sensitively, but scants the similar one earlier on in the familiar "Ständchen," almost swallowing the critical word "feindlich." Quasthoff's already mature, insightful artistry surely will only deepen with time.
Among those singers specializing in lieder, Wolfgang Holzmair represents a curious case. Working his way through the standard song cycles for Philips, he gives the impression of husbanding severely limited resources. His basic volume level is low, sometimes underenergized ("Am Feierabend"), and his projective capacity is doubtful: even on record, many phrases diminish to inaudibility, and numerous soft attacks are indistinct. He is unable, or perhaps unwilling, to support the voice through full phrases; he does bring more legato to the last three songs of Die Schöne Müllerin, though still to rather inhibited effect. His attempts to open up the voice sound forced ("Tränenregen," "Der Doppelgänger") or acquire a "noisy," unsteady vibrato ("Aufenthalt").
Yet even this restricted instrument has its virtues. Holzmair sets the scene well for each song, particularly where fragility ("Trockne Blumen") or delicacy is called for; small effects, as in the tender second strophe of "Des Müllers Blumen," come off well. His phrasing is musical and natural -- allowing for his propensity to play with small points of articulation -- with a good feeling for the expressive weight of dissonances. His rather bright, heady quality in the higher-lying bits of "Das Fischermädchen," compared with the hollow, husky sound down below, suggests that Holzmair might equally well have been trained as a tenor, perhaps with more salutary, forthright results.
Other baritones bring more conventional vocal equipment to their tasks. In eight selections on Hyperion's 1827 Schubertiad, Canadian-born Gerald Finley impresses me as most closely resembling Fischer-Dieskau in terms of both his basic vocal endowment and its technical handling. His smooth transition into a heady coordination without sacrificing brilliance and ring ensures an exceptionally even note-to-note connection. As his voice moves up the scale in the "Jägers Liebeslied," its timbre lightens without losing its unmistakably baritonal quality. The "Schiffers Scheidelied," with its bracing dotted rhythms, affords him ample expressive opportunities: he portrays the storm with ominous intensity, then softens the color for the eighth strophe's salute to friendship, maintaining a solid core of sound throughout. Three Metastasio settings in Italian draw on a reserve of hearty Italianate irony, though Finley's voice, in "L'Incanto degli Occhi," negotiates the short runs more easily than the turns. Finley is definitely an artist worth watching.
Stephan Genz, in Wolf's Eichendorff Lieder, evinces technical accomplishments similar to Finley's, deftly balancing smooth singing and clear enunciation, coloring the vocal line of "Nachtzauber" subtly as it snakes through the range, changing shadings "on a dime" between words (Genz's distinctive strength). He deploys his smaller-boned instrument sensibly, so that his intimate dynamic range never sounds restricted, and he realizes the more extroverted moments -- in "Der Schreckenberger," for example -- without violating the overall sense of scale.
Christopher Maltman's clear, forward timbre and clean attacks are assets, and his Schumann performances show a distinctive feel for the long, arching line ("Ich will meine Seele tauchen") and the precise timing of musical rests for emphasis (the second of the "Tragödie"). But there is room for greater polish: the firm, tenory head voice he uses in "Die Lotosblume" loses projective energy elsewhere; in the louder, more assertive moments, his timbre becomes shallow, or tightness intrudes (Clara Schumann's "Die Lorelei").
IN SO INTIMATE AN ART FORM, BEAUTY OF TONE PER SE
IS HARDLY A DRAWBACK.If we were to take, say, Fischer-Dieskau at midlife as a paradigmatic exponent of the lied -- not a bad standard in any event -- none of the current crop of lied baritones, by the recorded evidence, quite reaches that ideal, but each of them approaches it from his own peculiar strengths. Terfel's vocal sweep and impact, Keenlyside's point and intelligence, Quasthoff and Finley's freedom to vary and blend their timbral palettes -- all illuminate distinctive and diverse aspects of their material. Even those singers battling more obvious shortcomings have much to offer: Skovhus and Goerne make the best use out of their dark, burnished instruments; Holzmair, operating within potentially crippling technical limits, calibrates textual nuance to perhaps the finest degree. All in all, with this variety from which to choose, heady times lie ahead for the German art song.
STEPHEN VASTA is a New York-based conductor and coach.
WOLFGANG HOLZMAIR
SUPPORTING PLAYERS
It's gratifying to see the degree to which, post-Gerald Moore, the art of accompanying, which barely existed as such a century ago, has progressed. Not only are the pianists on these recordings accomplished technicians one and all, but each of them sets off the various singers' assets strikingly. Holzmair's small-boned singing, for example, finds its ideal complement in the well-balanced, refined textures of Imogen Cooper's playing. Skovhus and Terfel benefit from having regular longtime collaborators -- Helmut Deutsch and Malcolm Martineau, respectively -- who provide them with more aptly full-bodied support. Graham Johnson, the guiding spirit of the Hyperion series, fashions from the accompaniments attractive, layered textures such as one might hear from a good recitalist; yet he adapts chameleon-like to the various participants -- his playing never calls attention to itself, except by its insightful musicianship.
Only the peculiar pairing of Goerne with Vladimir Ashkenazy, in the Dichterliebe and the Op. 24 Liederkreis, raises questions. Ashkenazy, unquestionably an outstanding player, is a less experienced and responsive vocal accompanist. He seconds Goerne's broad intentions, but his stiff playing here, surprisingly unvaried in texture, reflects all too clearly his lack of familiarity with the material. This particular collaboration suggests not a spontaneous meeting of musical minds but a match made in A&R heaven.
S.F.V
GRAHAM JOHNSO
CHOICE CUTS
Matthias Goerne
"Schumann: Liederkreis Op. 39, 12 Gedichte"
With Eric Schneider. Decca 460797. "Schumann: Dichterliebe, Liederkreis Op. 24" With Vladimir Ashkenazy. Decca 458265
Bryn Terfel
"An die Musik" With Malcolm Martineau. DG 445294. "Schubert: Schwanengesang" With Malcolm Martineau. Marquis MAR 257
Simon Keenlyside
"The Songs of Robert Schumann 2"
With Graham Johnson. Hyperion CDJ 33102
Bo Skovhus
"The Heart of the Poet: Songs of Robert and Clara Schumann" With Helmut Deutsch. Sony 62372.
"Wolf/Korngold: Eichendorff Lieder" With Helmut Deutsch. Sony 57969 (hard to find)
Thomas Quasthoff
"Schubert: Schwanengesang; Brahms: Vier Ernste Lieder" With Justus Zeyen. DG 471030
Wolfgang Holzmair
"Die Schöne Müllerin" With Imogen Cooper. Philips 45681. "Schwanengesang" With Imogen Cooper. Philips 442460 (hard to find)
Gerald Finley
"An 1827 Schubertiad" With Graham Johnson. Hyperion CDJ 33036
Stephan Genz
"Wolf: Eichendorff Lieder" With Roger Vignoles. Hyperion 66909
Christopher Maltman
"The Songs of Robert Schumann 5" With Graham Johnson. Hyperion CDJ 33105
CHRISTOPHER MALTMAN
2425: © Ken Howard 2003 (Holzmair), © Hansgeorg Schöner 2003 (Goerne); 26: © Malcolm Crowthers 2003 (Finley), © Hansgeorg Schöner 2003 (Quasthoff); 27: © Johannes Ifkovits 2003; 2829: © Johannes Ifkovits 2003 (Terfel), © Malcolm Crowthers 2003 (Johnson and Maltman);
OPERA NEWS, August 2003 © 2003 The Metropolitan Opera Guild, Inc.GOERNE PHOTO: HANSGEORG SCHÖNEROMAS QUASTHOFF
FINLEY PHOTO: MALCOLM CROWTHERS / QUASTHOFF: HANSGEORG SCHÖNER
JOHNSON AND MALTMAN: MALCOLM CROWTHERS
TERFEL PHOTO: JOHANNES IFKOVITS
KEENLYSIDE AND SKOVHUS: JOHANNES IFKOVITS
THE UNDERLYING MOOD OF A LIED TEXT IS CRUCIAL IN FASHIONING ITS INTERPRETATION.
THE LIEDER SINGER NEEDN'T APPLY "EXPRESSION" EXTERNALLY LIKE A SAUCE.
IN SO INTIMATE AN ART FORM, BEAUTY OF TONE PER SE IS HARDLY A DRAWBACK.