05 Jun 2007
BUSONI : Songs
Doktor Faust eclipses most of Ferrucio’s Busoni’s other work in terms of popularity. Surprisingly, though, he wrote little song. Only 40 pieces remain, many written in his youth.
The Sixteen continues its exploration of Henry Purcell’s Welcome Songs for Charles II. As with Robert King’s pioneering Purcell series begun over thirty years ago for Hyperion, Harry Christophers is recording two Welcome Songs per disc.
In February this year, Albanian soprano Ermonela Jaho made a highly lauded debut recital at Wigmore Hall - a concert which both celebrated Opera Rara’s 50th anniversary and honoured the career of the Italian soprano Rosina Storchio (1872-1945), the star of verismo who created the title roles in Leoncavallo’s La bohème and Zazà, Mascagni’s Lodoletta and Puccini’s Madama Butterfly.
Collapsology. Or, perhaps we should use the French word ‘Collapsologie’ because this is a transdisciplinary idea pretty much advocated by a series of French theorists - and apparently, mostly French theorists. It in essence focuses on the imminent collapse of modern society and all its layers - a series of escalating crises on a global scale: environmental, economic, geopolitical, governmental; the list is extensive.
Amongst an avalanche of new Mahler recordings appearing at the moment (Das Lied von der Erde seems to be the most favoured, with three) this 1991 Mahler Second from the 2nd Kassel MahlerFest is one of the more interesting releases.
If there is one myth, it seems believed by some people today, that probably needs shattering it is that post-war recordings or performances of Wagner operas were always of exceptional quality. This 1949 Hamburg Tristan und Isolde is one of those recordings - though quite who is to blame for its many problems takes quite some unearthing.
The voices of six women composers are celebrated by baritone Jeremy Huw Williams and soprano Yunah Lee on this characteristically ambitious and valuable release by Lontano Records Ltd (Lorelt).
As Paul Spicer, conductor of the Royal Birmingham Conservatoire Chamber Choir, observes, the worship of the Blessed Virgin Mary is as ‘old as Christianity itself’, and programmes devoted to settings of texts which venerate the Virgin Mary are commonplace.
Ethel Smyth’s last large-scale work, written in 1930 by the then 72-year-old composer who was increasingly afflicted and depressed by her worsening deafness, was The Prison – a ‘symphony’ for soprano and bass-baritone soloists, chorus and orchestra.
‘Hamilton Harty is Irish to the core, but he is not a musical nationalist.’
‘After silence, that which comes closest to expressing the inexpressible is music.’ Aldous Huxley’s words have inspired VOCES8’s new disc, After Silence, a ‘double album in four chapters’ which marks the ensemble’s 15th anniversary.
A song-cycle is a narrative, a journey, not necessarily literal or linear, but one which carries performer and listener through time and across an emotional terrain. Through complement and contrast, poetry and music crystallise diverse sentiments and somehow cohere variability into an aesthetic unity.
One of the nicest things about being lucky enough to enjoy opera, music and theatre, week in week out, in London’s fringe theatres, music conservatoires, and international concert halls and opera houses, is the opportunity to encounter striking performances by young talented musicians and then watch with pleasure as they fulfil those sparks of promise.
“It’s forbidden, and where’s the art in that?”
Dublin-born John F. Larchet (1884-1967) might well be described as the father of post-Independence Irish music, given the immense influenced that he had upon Irish musical life during the first half of the 20th century - as a composer, musician, administrator and teacher.
The English Civil War is raging. The daughter of a Puritan aristocrat has fallen in love with the son of a Royalist supporter of the House of Stuart. Will love triumph over political expediency and religious dogma?
Beethoven Symphony no 9 (the Choral Symphony) in D minor, Op. 125, and the Choral Fantasy in C minor, Op. 80 with soloist Kristian Bezuidenhout, Pablo Heras-Casado conducting the Freiburger Barockorchester, new from Harmonia Mundi.
A Louise Brooks look-a-like, in bobbed black wig and floor-sweeping leather trench-coat, cheeks purple-rouged and eyes shadowed in black, Barbara Hannigan issues taut gestures which elicit fire-cracker punch from the Mahler Chamber Orchestra.
‘Signor Piatti in a fantasia on themes from Beatrice di Tenda had also his triumph. Difficulties, declared to be insuperable, were vanquished by him with consummate skill and precision. He certainly is amazing, his tone magnificent, and his style excellent. His resources appear to be inexhaustible; and altogether for variety, it is the greatest specimen of violoncello playing that has been heard in this country.’
Baritone Roderick Williams seems to have been a pretty constant ‘companion’, on my laptop screen and through my stereo speakers, during the past few ‘lock-down’ months.
Melodramas can be a difficult genre for composers. Before Richard Strauss’s Enoch Arden the concept of the melodrama was its compact size – Weber’s Wolf’s Glen scene in Der Freischütz, Georg Benda’s Ariadne auf Naxos and Medea or even Leonore’s grave scene in Beethoven’s Fidelio.
Doktor Faust eclipses most of Ferrucio’s Busoni’s other work in terms of popularity. Surprisingly, though, he wrote little song. Only 40 pieces remain, many written in his youth.
He was a virtuoso concert pianist, and knew most of the top musicians of his time. Yet he was also an extremely learned polymath, with a formidable knowledge of art and literature. His cosmopolitan background made him one of the first “true Europeans” who transcended national boundaries. Indeed, his whole life seems a quest to think “outside the box”. He believed that “music was born free and to win freedom is its destiny”, and that it was just in its infancy as an art form. Ultimately, his legacy may yet prove to be his visionary, liberating theories on art and music. Traditional as Busoni’s own music may seem, no less than the arch modernist Edgard Varèse was to describe him as “a figure out of the Renaissance…….. who crystallised my half formed ideas, stimulated my imagination, and determined, I believe, the future development of my music”.
Busoni left only 40 songs, most of them written in his youth. The earliest piece on this recording, Der Sängers Fluch, was written when the composer was only 12. It’s an ambitious piece indeed, lasting nearly 18 minutes without a break. It sets a long, melodramatic ballad by Ludwig Uhland. To Busoni’s credit he doesn’t set it strophically, but uses the piano line to explore piano techniques, remembering to insert decorative effects every now and then to progress the dramatic line. The young composer naturally engages more with the possibilities for piano, leaving the vocal line straightforward and unadorned, which is perhaps a relief as the text is florid in the overheated tastes of the time. This song, like the others written in the 1880’s, are juvenilia, if reasonably competent juvenilia. He seems to have realised that there was nothing for him in this genre and ceased writing song for another 30 years.
In 1918, after the upheaval of war, he returns to song with a completely fresh approach. The Goethe-Lieder are completely different, their choppy staccato rhythms quite unique. It’s as if Busoni were experimenting with a completely different type of modernism, bypassing Schoenberg altogether, much more attuned to Stravinsky. Busoni, in fact, had pioneered the study of Native American music, and to some extent this music reflects the early 20th century fascination with “primitivism” that led to the work of Picasso, among others. Yet musically, this is still mainstream western, a synthesis of many influences. The manic pace reminds me even of the Flight of the Bumblebee ! Interestingly, Busoni sets the same text of Mephistopheles and the Flea as did Mussorgsky, though in German translation. His version is more wickedly manic, with wonderfully demented circular figures on piano. It’s hardly surprising that this is one of Busoni’s most famous songs.
For Busoni, Goethe’s words had personal resonance. He, too, knew only too well about people who couldn’t tell “Mausedreck von Koriandern” (mouse droppings from coriander) yet are “those who find it most difficult when others are successful”. This perhaps inspires the sharp edge of satire in his setting of Lied des Unmuts, where he shapes the piano part with savage glee. The same wild pace infuses Zigeunerlied, ostensibly an imitation of Gypsy dancing, only much madder, swirling like the dance of a whirling dervish, getting higher and higher on its own andrenalin. Then there’s the tale of seven female werewolves, whom the singer recognises as women from the village. The nonsense chorus, “Wille wau wau wau, Willewo wo wo, Wito hu”
sends up, at the same time, both the bourgeoisie and the gothic genre itself. This is exhilarating, subversive stuff ! Similarly, Busoni understood Goethe’s sardonic wit very well. In Schlecter Trost, ghosts appear to a weeping man, who tells them he used to be someone important, but they couldn’t care less. Not only has his love left him, so too have the ghosts ! Lesser hands might have turned this poem into sentimental mush.
Then, Busoni sends up himself. Reminicenza Rossiniana, from 1924, is based on his own writings on art, music and opera. The result is a glorious pastiche of fake Rossini, and quotes from best selling potboilers like Wilkie Collins novels. It is elegant and stylish, even though it bursts with good humour. It’s a piece which should be performed more often, as the ideas on popular taste still apply.
Sadly, though, the performances on this recording don’t quite match the sparkle of the writing. The quirky impact of the later songs in particular is blunted : these really would benefit from freer, more spirited delivery. The earlier songs don’t present any technical challenges to either Bruns or to Eisenlohr in the same way, but their very ordinariness means that too straightforward an approach doesn’t help. A far better choice would be the recording by Elio Battaglia and Erik Werba, which is still available and infinitely livelier.
Anne Ozorio