Imagine: twenty-seven short pieces by the same composer, curated for an entire evening’s entertainment. What are we thinking here? Sonatas by Scarlatti, waltzes by Chopin? Grieg’s Lyric Pieces or Bartók’s Mikrokosmos? No, these twenty-seven are just a small fraction of more than 600 such items that Schubert wrote for the human voice and piano accompaniment, grouped under the German word for songs, Lieder. Would it work, a casual observer might ask? Well, it can, provided certain conditions are met. Crucially, the project as a whole largely depends on realising the breadth and depth of Schubert’s inspiration.
The breadth is implicit in the wide range of texts which the composer uses, here and elsewhere too, drawing on the field of German Romanticism in its first full flowering and encompassing Mayrhofer, Novalis, Schiller and Schlegel (Shakespeare’s translator). On the basis of word clusters, it’s easy to see which images are strongly in focus in this selection: water and the waves and currents it produces; lakes; the sea; human tears. The linden tree, a Romantic preoccupation, also features prominently. Then there is darkness: the physical phenomenon of night itself, and the exclusion of all light as experienced by a young boy stricken with blindness. And, as always with Schubert, Death constantly stalks in the background.
The depth comes from the way in which the composer explores the human condition and the range of emotions and torments to which it is prey: despair, disillusionment, heartache, pain and suffering. And, on rare occasions, pleasure too. As important as the voice in throwing open these windows into the soul is the piano accompaniment. Before Schubert this was seen as a supportive role, often providing mere harmonies. He changed all that: the piano then became an active storytelling partner, setting the scene and advancing the action.
Now in his mid-fifties, Christian Gerhaher has developed a solid reputation for his interpretations of art song, though he still occasionally performs in opera and other vocal productions. Even if you are a doctor of medicine and know how to look after your most precious instrument, you cannot quite avoid the ravages of time. Fine though it still is in some respects, there is no disguising the greying in his voice. Judging by the furtive use of a handkerchief, Gerhaher was slightly under the weather during this recital given in Wigmore Hall.
A judicious choice from Schubert’s vast compendium of song matters too. Rather like some New Year’s Day concerts in Vienna for which a good number of Strauss waltzes seem to be pulled out of the lowest drawers of a chest or the deepest recesses of a wardrobe, there were few familiar friends and quite a lot of strange faces on display here. This did little to lighten a relatively heavy load. However, a firm favourite, Auf dem Wasser zu singen, was given an outing here, an example of Schubert at his very best with a rhythmic 6/8 metre reminiscent of a barcarolle, and a wholly satisfying transition from A flat minor at the start to A flat major at the close.
Though Gerhaher’s voice has lost much of the velvety sheen that once gave it an aristocratic quality, the crystal-clear articulation married to magisterial breath control (in Gondelfahrer, for instance) still impresses, with no hint of syllable-swallowing that can be observed elsewhere. Every word matters to this artist, even if I questioned some of the emphasis in his delivery. There was something rather professorial in his demeanour, with hands only very occasionally raised from the music-stand in front of him, the head sometimes turned sharply to the left and then to the right; this musical lecture was conveyed to the audience with absolute authority. A graininess in vocal quality was most evident in Vom Mitleiden Mariä, which in the image of the suffering Stabat Mater failed to tug at the heart-strings. Excessive sentiment is to be avoided, to be sure, but so too is a matter-of-factness for lines such as “Das ganze Leiden Christi stand/Gedruckt in ihrem Herzen” (All Christ’s suffering/Was impressed upon her heart).
Gerhaher’s stage experience served him well in a song like Der Unglückliche with its emphasis on dramatic narration, contrasting gloom with agitation, and there was impressive power in fortissimo anguish at the closing of the second stanza, the words “Lass deine Wunden bluten, armes Herz” (Let your wounds bleed, poor heart) flung to the far corners of Wigmore Hall.
Not all the stretches in tessitura were negotiated seamlessly, as in Der blinde Knabe, and despite a fine demonstration of a secure upper register for much of Im Abendrot, the bass elements in Im Walde lacked solidity and weight. The song that suited Gerhaher perhaps most obviously was Lebensmut, lying mainly in the middle of the baritonal range, where the progression was rapid, amplifying the jaunty spirit, and I particularly warmed to the note of defiance he injected into the raging of the powers that opposed him. I also liked the quiet resolution and acceptance of fate which he found for Im Abendrot, which ended the first half.
Not all the opportunities for colour were exploited. There should surely have been more radiance in Rückweg for a line such as “Die Frucht an ihren Strahlen schwillt” (The fruit will ripen in their light); there was insufficient emphasis, both in Fahrt zum Hades for “Da leuchten Sonne nicht, noch Sterne” (Neither sun nor stars shine there), and also in “schlangengleich gewunden” (twisting snake-like), which carried no touch of malice. Gerhaher equally underplayed the reference to serpents writhing deep in the poet’s heart in the only song which drew on mythology, Memnon.
When it comes to unlocking a complete package, a singer can only be as good as their accompanist. Gerhaher’s stalwart companion was Gerold Huber, who apart from a few instances where he covered the soloist, was quite magnificent. Together they encompassed much of the emotional territory in Der Unglückliche, from the tempered start through the stabbing chords of the second stanza down to the eminently judged falling cadences at the close. For Im Walde Huber captured in the rippling accompaniment and quickening of pace all the suggestions of danger; for Fahrt zum Hades the throbbing triplets intensified the sepulchral colouring; for the sunset glow of Im Abendrot he found some wonderfully warm tones as well as delicate wateriness for Auf dem Wasser zu singen.
And then right at the very end there was a little more of those shafts of sunlight I had earlier craved. Gerhaher’s only encore was Seligkeit D433, which opens with the line “Freuden sonder Zahl” (Joys without number) and ends with the repeated “Bleib’ ich ewig hier!” (I’d stay forever here!”). As with Robert Browning, “God’s in his heaven/All’s right with the world!”.
Alexander Hall
Lieder by Schubert
Die abgeblühte Linde D514; Der Jüngling an der Quelle D300; Der blinde Knabe D833; Liane D298; Der Unglückliche D713; Vom Mitleiden Mariä D632; Rückweg D746; Im Walde D708; Der Einsame D800; Memnon D541; Der Strom D565; Fahrt zum Hades D526; Im Abendrot D799; Der Fluss D693; Am See D746; Nachthymne D687; Schiffers Scheidelied D910; Auf dem Wasser zu singen D774; Lied des gefangenen Jägers D843; Lob der Tränen D711; Leiden der Trennung D509; Gondelfahrer D808; Todesmusik D758; Lebensmut D883; Die frühen Gräber D290; Der Herbstabend D405; Schwanengesang D744
Christian Gerhaher (baritone); Gerold Huber (piano)
Wigmore Hall, London, 20 January 2026
Top image: Christian Gerhaher and Gerold Huber (Photo © Nikolaj Lund) courtesy of Wigmore Hall