"When fascism comes to America, it will be wrapped in the flag and carrying the cross."
-- Sinclair Lewis
Sunday, June 08, 2014
Ghost of Sunday Classics: Nocturne!
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MENDELSSOHN: Notturno from A Midsummer Night's Dream (incidental music), Op. 61
Concertgebouw Orchestra (Amsterdam), George Szell, cond. Decca, recorded Dec. 2-4, 1957
Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra, Otto Klemperer, cond. Broadcast performance, May 23, 1969
by Ken
A much-loved little piece latched onto my brain this weeko. It was the "Nocturne" from Mendelssohn's Midsummer Night's Dream incidental music, and it really still hasn't let go. That's the sort of thing that might once have triggered a post, especially since we don't seem to have spent as much time as I remembered with the incidental music. The only traces I can find are from a November 2008 Mendelssohn post, where we heard the Szell-Concertgebouw recording of the commonly played four-movment grouping of the Overture, Scherzo, Notturno, and Wedding March. and a more expanded suite that I drew from a Klemperer-Bavarian Radio Symphony broadcast performance of a generous selection from the incidental music.
I've re-extracted just the "Notturno" from those performances, as heard above.
AS LONG AS WE'RE REHEARING THE SZELL AND
KLEMPERER "NOTTURNO" PERFORMANCES --
I thought we might as well listen again to the full selections from the MSND music we heard back in 2008.
Sunday Classics: What comes after Mozart's and Beethoven's minor-key symphonic opening movements?
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What comes after the monumental, mysterious opening movement of the Beethoven Ninth Symphony, which we heard last week? At the link, Christian Thielemann conducts the Vienna Philharmonic in what seems to me a grindingly prosaic rendering of the thunderingly dramatic scherzo.
by Ken
I realize I should have been saying more about this amazing music we've been hearing, dipping into the two symphonies apiece for which Mozart and Beethoven composed opening movements in the minor mode. But really, when it comes to an incandescent movement like the opening one of Mozart's great later G minor symphony, No. 40, could I really have said anything more helpful than, say, "Wouldja listen to that?" And ditto when it comes to the opening movements of Beethoven's Fifth and Ninth Symphonies. I mean, we're talking here about two of the monuments of human civilization, and I thought talking should take distant second place to listening.
My point was, if we accept that writing a minor-mode symphonic first movement is an uncommon and nervy thing to do, and is likely to happen only if a composer has been seized by some gripping musical material that requires it, where does he want to take his audience next?
Sunday Classics: There's no reason to couple "Exsultate" and the "Sinfonia concertante" -- except that they "play" fabulously together
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Soprano Arleen Augér sings the "perky," Figaro-esque slow movement and the "Alleluja" from Mozart's motet Exsultate, jubilate, with Leonard Bernstein conducting the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra some months before he died in 1990. (The opening movement and connecting recitative can be seen here.)
by Ken
We have no great theme this week, just two singularly wonderful works, the motet Exsultate, jubilate (Rejoice and be glad) and the Sinfonia concertante for Violin, Viola, and Orchestra, which are kind of orphans in Mozart's vast output, in that neither has an obvious "companion" work for (for example) disc-coupling purposes.
FIRST: EXSULTATE, JUBILATE
In Friday night's preview we sampled the uniquely joyful concluding "Alleluja" of this relatively early piece. Now I think we're ready to hear the whole thing. There's nothing really fancy about the form, which is basically your good old-fashioned fast-slow-fast sequence. The materials just happen to be crafted by one of the supreme musical geniuses. First we'll hear it broken down into its component parts. I think the appeal of the first and last movements is pretty obvious; the perky central Andante, by a good margin the work's longest movement, is a quintessentially Mozartean operatic aria that makes it sound as if the composer is on the brink of composing The Marriage of Figaro.
MOZART: Exsultate, jubilate (motet), K. 165
i. Allegro, "Exsultate, jubilate"
Rejoice and be glad, ye blessed spirits, singing sweet songs; the heavens join with me echoing your chant.
ii. Recitative, "Fulget amica dies"
The friendly day is shining now that clouds and storms have fled; sudden calm has risen on the just. Dark night reigned all around; but now arise in gladness, ye who until now were afraid, and offer leaves and lilies with a generous hand, rejoicing in the happy dawn.
iii. Andante, "Tu virginum corona"
Thou crown of virgins, give us peace; and console our minds and our heavy hearts.
iv. Allegro, "Alleluja"
Alleluja! [and so on, and on]
Sylvia McNair, soprano; English Baroque Soloists, John Eliot Gardiner, cond. Philips, recorded March 1993
And in case you'd like to hear the whole thing put together:
MOZART: Exsultate, jubilate, K. 165
i. Allegro, "Exsultate, jubilate" ii. Recitative, "Fulget amica dies" [at 4:34] iii. Andante, "Tu virginum corona" [at 5:33] iv. Allegro, "Alleluja" [at 12:02]
Cecilia Bartoli, mezzo-soprano; Vienna Chamber Orchestra, György Fischer, cond. Decca, recorded March-Apr. 1993
NOW, AS TO THE SINFONIA CONCERTANTE . . .
The Sinfonia concertante, which we sampled last night, is basically a double concerto, for violin and viola, which seems like a straightforward and workable enough idea -- you let your two soloists have their own versions of your thematic material, or maybe contrasting materials, and periodically you put them together. Doesn't sound all that daunting, and Mozart made it sound like a snap. Here he is at the height of his creative powers -- each of the three movements seems to me musical perfection of its assigned sort -- and the way he handles his two solo instruments, he makes it sound like anybody could do it. Goodness knows, lots of composers tried it, but really only Brahms produced a real masterpiece, in his Double Concerto in A minor for violin and cello. Beethoven actually pulled off a Triple Concerto (for violin, cello, and piano), but it's really a pretty specialized entry in B's catalog.
IT'S NOT REALLY TRUE THAT THE SINFONIA CONCERTANTE HAS NO MATE IN MOZART'S OUTPUT
In fact, at the very same time Mozart composed another double concerto, in the same key (!), and the two works were clearly connected in his mind. But the two-piano concerto (which wound up being numbered in the sequence of Mozart's piano concertos, as No. 10, K. 365) represents such a different sort of soloist-combining challenge that the actual music doesn't seem to me to mate especially well with the Sinfonia concertante; it winds up being another piece that occupies a genre pretty much of its own -- unless you count the three-piano concerto (which also wound up numbered among the piano concertos, as No. 7 in F, K. 242). While the latter is often paired with the two-piano concerto, it's a notably less adventurous work; again, the two really don't seem to me to have much in common.
First movement
These days the Sinfonia concertante is often lumped together with Mozart's five violin concertos, as is the case with the recording from which we're going to hear the first movement of the Sinfonia concertante. The violin concertos are wonderful works all, but they're from a significantly earlier era in the composer's life and really have little in common with the later work. Note the scale of this first movement as well as the way Mozart distributes the solo activity between the two soloists.
I've had occasion before to express my admiration for Anne-Sophie Mutter's Mozart concerto cycle, which I continue to find a joy. As conductor, Mutter seems to have cast a spell over the London Philharmonic violins in particular, who really seem to be trying to emulate her phrasing. We've also had happy encounters with violist Yuri Bashmet (most recently in Berlioz' Harold in Italy).
Sinfonia concertante in E-flat, K. 364: i. Allegro
Anne-Sophie Mutter, violin; Yuri Bashmet, viola; London Philharmonic Orchestra, Anne-Sophie Mutter, cond. DG, recorded July 2005
Second movement
For this, one of the great Mozart slow movements, note that he has slipped into the minor. Note too how the character of the beautiful principal theme changes character as it's handed off from orchestra to the solo violin and then, most broodingly, to the solo viola -- played especially hauntingly here by Amadeus Quartet violist Peter Schidlof.
In this 1987 photo of the Amadeus Quartet, that's violist Peter Schidlof and first violinist Norbert Brainin standing, with second violinist Siegmund Nissel and cellist Martin Lovett sitting.
It was Schidlof's death in 1987 that ended the remarkable 40-year run of the Amadeus. The quartet had never had a personnel change in its long history, and Schidlof's colleagues couldn't imagine replacing him. As I mentioned last night, when we heard the concluding Presto of the Sinfonia concertante from this recording, it's the last of three recordings of the piece> made by Schidlof and his Amadeus colleague violinist Norbert Brainin. It's an exceptionally broad performance, and its ruminative quality is why I've picked its slow movement -- but if you listen to the complete performance down below, I think you'll notice a remarkable difference between Brainin and Schidlof's 1983 performance and our others.
Sinfonia concertante in E-flat, K. 364: ii. Andante
Norbert Brainin, violin; Peter Schidlof, viola; Scottish National Orchestra, Sir Alexander Gibson, cond. Chandos, recorded Apr. and June 1983
Third movement
We have a pretty standard rondo finale, but one that's exceptionally vivacious even by Mozart's standards. It would be hard to imagine a lither or more buoyant performance than this one by Vladimir Spivakov (conducting as well as fiddling), Shlomo Mintz, and the Moscow chamber orchestra.
Sinfonia concertante in E-flat, K. 364: iii. Presto
Vladimir Spivakov, violin; Shlomo Mintz, viola; Moscow Virtuosi, Vladimir Spivakov, cond. RCA/BMG, recorded c1992
OK, YOU'RE WONDERING WHY THE HECK WE'RE HEARING THESE TWO MOZART WORKS
You mean we need a reason?
Okay, okay. Once upon a time Columbia Masterworks took advantage of their relative orphan status to make an LP of them, in really lively, beautiful performances by George Szell and the Cleveland Orchestra -- with the orchestra's concertmaster and viola principal, Rafael Druian and Abraham Skernick, as soloists in the Sinfonia concertante and the lovely American soprano Judith Raskin as soloist in Exsultate. I really loved that LP, which had the bonus feature that the third movement of the Sinfonia concertante, the Presto we heard in Friday night's preview, was pushed onto the start of the "B" side, before Exsultate, making it a snap to listen just to that irresistible movement.
Naturally with the coming of CD that sublimely improvised coupling was sundered. I already had the Raskin-Szell Exsultate as a filler with the Szell-Cleveland Mahler Fourth Symphony -- in which Ms. Raskin is again the soloist. Just recently, though, I stumbled across a CD on which Sony has coupled that Sinfonia concertante with the Szell-Cleveland Mozart Clarinet Concerto (with the orchestra's clarinet principal, Robert Marcellus), a perfectly agreeable coupling that more importantly makes the old Columbia whole for me on CD.
Just so you can hear these performances sort of the way I still hear them in my mind, here they are. (Don't forget to imagine the LP side break between the second and third movements of the Sinfonia concertante.)
MOZART: Sinfonia concertante in E-flat for Violin, Viola, and Orchestra, K. 364
i. Allegro
ii. Andante
iii. Presto
Rafael Druian, violin; Abraham Skernick, viola; Cleveland Orchestra, George Szell, cond. Epic/Columbia/CBS/Sony, recorded Nov. 28, 1963
MOZART: Exsultate, jubilate, K. 165
i. Allegro, "Exsultate, jubilate" ii. Recitative, "Fulget amica dies" iii. Andante, "Tu virginum corona" iv. Allegro, "Alleluja"
[i. 0:00; ii. 5:25; iii. 6:19; iv. 13:04] Judith Raskin, soprano; Cleveland Orchestra, George Szell, cond. Columbia/CBS/Sony, recorded May 11, 1964
WANT TO HEAR MORE OF EXSULTATE, JUBILATE?
We hear first the veteran soprano Eleanor Steber, bringing to the music a voice of considerably larger format, yet singing it with plenty of panache. Then we've got a simply lovely all-around performance in the Hendricks-Marriner.
MOZART: Exsultate, jubilate, K. 165
i. Allegro, "Exsultate, jubilate" ii. Recitative, "Fulget amica dies" iii. Andante, "Tu virginum corona" iv. Allegro, "Alleluja"
[i. 0:00; ii. 4:44; iii. 5:45; iv. 12:56] Eleanor Steber, soprano; orchestra, Robert Lawrence, cond. VAI, recorded live, 1960
[i. 0:00; ii. 4:58; iii. 5:54; iv. 13:08] Barbara Hendricks, soprano; Academy of St. Martin-in-the-Fields, Neville Marriner, cond. EMI, recorded April 1987
AND THE WHOLE OF THE SINFONIA CONCERTANTE . . .
Here are the complete performances from which we've heard individual movements of the Sinfonia concertante. In addition, along with the 1983 Brainin-Schidlof recording I thought it might be fun to hear their (mostly) 1953 one.
MOZART: Sinfonia concertante in E-flat for Violin, Viola, and Orchestra, K. 364
i. Allegro ii. Andante iii. Presto
Anne-Sophie Mutter, violin; Yuri Bashmet, viola; London Philharmonic Orchestra, Anne-Sophie Mutter, cond. DG, recorded July 2005
Norbert Brainin, violin; Peter Schidlof, viola; English Chamber Orchestra, Sir Alexander Gibson, cond. Chandos, recorded Apr. and June 1983
Norbert Brainin, violin; Peter Schidlof, viola; London Mozart Players, Harry Blech, cond. EMI/Testament, recorded Jan. 20-21, 1953, and April 1954
Vladimir Spivakov, violin; Shlomo Mintz, viola; Moscow Virtuosi, Vladimir Spivakov, cond. RCA/BMG, recorded c1992
BONUS: HERE ARE THE FIRST MOVEMENTS OF THOSE THREEE OTHER WONDERFUL MULTIPLE CONCERTOS
BRAHMS: "Double" Concerto in A minor for Violin, Cello, and Orchestra, Op. 102: i. Allegro Henryk Szeryng, violin; János Starker, cello; Concertgebouw Orchestra, Bernard Haitink, cond. Philips, recorded September 1970
BEETHOVEN: "Triple" Concerto in C for Violin, Cello, Piano, and Orchestra, Op. 56: i. Allegro Renaud Capuçon, violin; Mischa Maisky, cello; Martha Argerich, piano; Orchestra of Svizzera Italiana, Alexandre Rabinovich-Barakovksy, cond. EMI, recorded live, June 2003
MOZART: Concerto in E-flat for Two Pianos and Orchestra (Piano Concerto No. 10), K. 365: i. Allegro Murray Perhahia and Radu Lupu, pianos; English Chamber Orchestra, Murray Perahia, cond. CBS/Sony, recorded June 23-24, 1988
Sunday Classics: Remembering Maureen Forrester, Part 2: Mahler
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A lot of Maureen Forrester's Mahler is actually available. An unfortunate exception is the RCA coupling of the Songs of a Wayfarer and Kindertotenlieder ("Songs on the Death of Children," the cycle based on poems by Friedrich Rückert) with Charles Munch conducting the Boston Symphony. Happily, they're all available on YouTube, though unfortunately in mono. Here's the final song of the Kindertotenlieder. Even if you don't know the cycle, or the song, the situation should be clear enough, and you're bound to note the devastating switch from the minor to the major for the final stanza.
"In diesem Wetter, in diesem Braus" ("In this weather, in this bluster")
In this weather, in this bluster, never would I have sent the children out. They were taken out. I had nothing to say about it.
In this weather, in this storm, never would I have sent the children out. I would have been afraid that they would catch sick. Those are now idle thoughts.
In this weather, in this horror, never would I have sent the children out. I worried they might die tomorrow. That's now not to be worried about.
In this weather, in this bluster, never would I have sent the children out. They were taken out. I had nothing to say about it.
In this weather, in this storm, in this bluster, they're resting as if in their mother's house, not frightened by any storm, by God's hand protected.
by Ken
One immediately striking feature of Mahler's writing for the female voice is a clear preference for the lower types over the soprano. Christa Ludwig has explained that Mahler's songs were a treasure bequeathed to her by her mother, also a mezzo-soprano -- a legacy that had to be guarded closely during the Third Reich, when the music of the Jewish-born Mahler was taboo. Yet a precious gift it was. Ludwig and Mahler became one of the greatest of all matches of performer and composer. But Mahler's "low voice" songs are equally accessible to a true contralto, and if I had to choose between Christa Ludwig's Mahler -- of which we've heard quite a lot in our Mahler explorations -- and Maureen Forrester's, well, I simply couldn't.
One distinction I can make, though: While there are lots of excellent mezzo performances, including some that can be said to rival Ludwig's, beyond Forrester (1930-2010) the true-contralto option is hardly represented. There's the too-little-appreciated Lili Chookasian (born 1921, retired 1986), who recorded Das Lied von der Erde with Eugene Ormandy for Columbia and later, somewhat past her prime, with Walter Susskind for Vox. There's the fine Czech contralto Véra Soukupová. And that's about it.
(I guess I should make clear that I'm not a great fan of the English-style contralto, which tends to substitute hooting for the lower-range fullness and lushness we expect in a true contralto, and I'm afraid that includes the much-loved but to me hooty and flutter-toned Kathleen Ferrier, especially in Mahler. I will say, though, that I really like what Ferrier does in a miraculously preserved -- except for the first seven bars -- 1952 broadcast performance by John Barbirolli and the Hallé Orchestra finally released in 2003,which also features tenor Richard Lewis sounding like I doubt you've ever heard him, in fact rather lovely -- I kid you not.)
JUST WHAT IS A CONTRALTO ANYWAY?
I suppose we ought to provide some definition for "contralto." It's the deepest of the female vocal ranges, anchored in those rich vocal depths. Here's a commonsense way to distinguish it from the next-upward female voice type: If you have to wonder whether a voice is a contralto or a mezzo-soprano, odds are it's a mezzo-soprano.
"DER ABSCHIED" ("THE FAREWELL")
In our numerous Mahler explorations to date (see the post listing), we've stuck mostly to the relatively early period; I don't think we've ventured beyond the Fourth Symphony (1900). This has seemed to me quite an enormous enough bite to try to chew. Now we're jumping ahead, jumping in fact right over the fullest expression of the composer's artistic self-confidence, the monumental Eighth Symphony with its philosophically triumphant conclusion drawn from Goethe's Faust.
After completing the Eighth Symphony, however, Mahler learned (in 1907) that he had a terminal heart condition, and the transformation in his artistic outlook was startling. In his new relationship to the finiteness as well as the preciousness of mortal existence, Mahler found in a copy he had been given of Hans Bethge's The Chinese Flute, translations (or more likely adaptations) of Chinese poems, both the inspiration and the actual texts for what became in all but name his ninth symphony, Das Lied von der Erde (The Song of the Earth).
The first, third, and fifth movements of Das Lied are set for tenor solo; the second, fourth, and sixth for alto (or alternatively for baritone, singing the music an octave lower -- an alternative that sounds interesting but in my experience doesn't work very well). That last movement, "Der Abschied" ("The Farewell"), is roughly equal in length to the first five movements combined, and has always been recognized as one of Mahler's supreme achievements. Even though he was by no means finished with his life or work (still to come were the whole of the sublime Ninth Symphony and the considerable work he achieved on the Tenth by his death in 1911), there's no question that this is in part Mahler's own farewell to the earth.
One of these days we'll talk more about and hear more of Das Lied, but for now, quite madly, we're just plunging into the half-hour expanse of "Der Abschied." Conveniently for our purposes, this CD issue of the Berlin tour performance by George Szell and the Cleveland Orchestra, with Forrester and Richard Lewis (who seem to have been joined at the hip in this music), has track points that enable us to commit the appalling barbarity of splitting the thing apart and separately registering its component parts, which more or less correspond to stanzas.
MAHLER: Das Lied von der Erde (The Song of the Earth): vi. "Der Abschied" ("The Farewell")
Maureen Forrester, contralto; Cleveland Orchestra, George Szell, cond. Live performance in Berlin, Apr. 21, 1967 (mono)
The sun is going down behind the mountains. In every valley evening is descending, bringing its shadows, which are full of coolness. O look! where like a silver bark afloat, the moon through the blue lake of heaven soars upwards. I sense the shivering of a delicate breeze behind the dark fir trees.
There aren't many more beautiful moments in music than the refrain "O sieh! Wie eine Silberbarke schwebt der Mond am blauen Himmelsee herauf" ("O see! Like a silver bark the moon soars over the blue heavenly lake"), at 2:48 of the Szell performance, and just about the same point in the Forrester-Reiner and Forrester-Walter below.
Let's continue now.
track 2, "Der Bach singt voller Wohllaut durch das Dunkel"
The brook sings, full of melody, through the darkness. The flowers grow pale in the twilight. The earth is breathing, full of rest and sleep; all desire now turns to dreaming. Weary mortals wend homewards, so that, in sleep, forgotten joy and youth they may learn anew. The birds huddle silent on the branches. The world is falling asleep!
track 3, "Es wehet kühl im Schatten meiner Fichten"
It blows cool in the shadow of my fir trees. I stand here and wait for my friend. I wait for him, to take the last farewell. I long, O my friend, to be by your side, to enjoy the beauty of this evening. Where are you lingering? You leave me long alone! I wander to and fro with my lute on pathways that billow with soft grass. O beauty! O eternal life- and love-intoxicated world!
Orchestral interlude
After the magnificent orchestral interlude, when the soloist resumes her song we've actually switched to a second poem, by a different poet, which Mahler cunningly amalgamated with the first.
track 4, "Er stieg vom Pferd und reichte ihm den Trunk"
He alighted from his horse and handed him the drink of farewell. He asked him whither he was going, and also why, why it had to be. He spoke; his voice was veiled: "You, my friend -- In this world fortune was not kind to me! Whither I go? I go, I wander in the mountains, I seek rest for my lonely heart! I journey to the homeland, to my resting place; I shall never again go seeking the far distance. My heart is still and awaits its hour!
The dear earth everywhere blossoms in spring and grows green again! Everywhere and eternally the distance shines bright and blue! Eternally . . . eternally . . .
THE COMPLETE "ABSCHIED"
Having taken the movement apart, we surely need to put it back together. We're going to hear it now in two performances that are bound historically.
When Bruno Walter, who had conducted the premiere of Das Lied in November 1911, some six months after the composer's death, gave his last concert performances of the work, with the New York Philharmonic in April 1960, his soloists were Maureen Forrester and (who else?) Richard Lewis. Happily, Columbia chose to make a studio recording, but unfortunately Forrester and Lewis had just recorded Das Lied the previous November with Fritz Reiner and the Chicago Symphony. Here is the "Abschied" from that wonderful RCA recording.
Das Lied von der Erde (The Song of the Earth): vi. "Der Abschied" ("The Farewell")
Maureen Forrester, contralto; Chicago Symphony Orchestra, Fritz Reiner, cond. RCA/BMG, recorded Nov. 7 and 9, 1959
So Walter and Columbia had to find replacement soloists for their recording. They did so so successfully, with the American mezzo Mildred Miller and the Swiss tenor Ernst Häfliger, and Walter himself was in such inspired form, that the result was not just -- it seems to me (if not many other music lovers) -- one of the conductor's finest recordings but one of the most memorable recordings ever made. We do, however, have an aural record of the Forrester-Walter collaboration in Das Lied, from the radio broadcast. Here's that "Abschied."
Maureen Forrester, contralto; New York Philharmonic, Bruno Walter, cond. Music & Arts, recorded live in Carnegie Hall, Apr. 16, 1960 (mono)
MAHLER: Rückert Songs
In addition to the cycle of Kindertotenlieder poems (of which we heard the final one at the top of this post), Mahler set five other poems by Friedrich Rückert. We're going to hear the anxiety-ridden "At Midnight" and the famously valedictory "I have lost touch with the world."
v. "Um Mitternacht" ("At Midnight")
At midnight I awoke and looked up at the sky. No star in the galaxy smiled at me at midnight.
At midnight my thought went out to the barriers of darkness. No thought of light brought me comfort at midnight.
At midnight I paid attention to the beating of my heart; a single pulse of pain was roused at midnight.
At midnight I fought the battle, o Mankind, of your sorrows; I couldn't decide it with my powers at midnight.
At midnight I gave my powers into your hand. Lord! Over death and life you keep watch at midnight.
Maureen Forrester, contralto; Berlin Radio Symphony Orchestra, Ferenc Fricsay, cond. DG, recorded Sept. 16, 1958
i. "Ich bin her Welt abhanden gekommen" ("I have lost touch with the world")
I have lost touch with the world, with which I formerly wasted much time. It has for so long heard nothing of me, it may well think that I have died.
And for me it doesn't matter at all if it takes me for dead. I can't even say anything against it, for really I am dead to the world.
I am dead to the worldly tumult, and rest in a quiet place. I live alone in my heaven, in my loving, in my song.
Maureen Forrester, contralto; Berlin Radio Symphony Orchestra, Ferenc Fricsay, cond. DG, recorded Sept. 16, 1958
MAHLER: "Urlicht" (from Symphony No. 2)
The setting of "Urlicht" ("Primal Light"), from the collection Des Knaben Wunderhorn (The Youth's Magic Horn), which Mahler incorporated into the Resurrection Symphony as fourth-movement lead-in to the heaven-storming finale, is one of the composer's most beautiful songs, and something of a Maureen Forrester signature piece. The first Forrester recording I'm aware of of "Urlicht" is the 1957 video version with Glenn Gould conducting (yes, conducting! and conducting left-handed!) that we saw way back when (It doesn't get more eloquent than Maureen Forrester singing Mahler's "Urlicht"). Her first commercial recording followed soon thereafter, when Bruno Walter chose her for his New York Philharmonic performances and studio recording of the Resurrection Symphony.
O rosebud red! Man lies in the greatest need. Man lies in the greatest anguish. Far rather would I be in heaven.
Then I came to a broad path. Then a little angel came and wanted to send me away. But no! I didn't let myself be sent away.
I am from God, I want to return to God. Dear God will give me a little light, will light me all the way to eternal blessed life.
Maureen Forrester, contralto; New York Philharmonic, Bruno Walter, cond. Columbia/CBS/Sony, recorded Feb. 17-21, 1958
We heard Forrester's next-to-last recording of "Urlicht" (again as far as I'm aware) in our Forrester pre-preview last week. Now we're going to hear the last, made some 30 years after the TV performance with Gould, when rich-guy Resurrection aficionado Gilbert Kaplan made his second recording of the symphony. Note how much broader the pacing is than Walter's -- much harder for both the conductor and the soloist to sustain. It's tantalizing to imagine how the young Forrester would have risen to this challenge. Still, for a 57-year-old singer this seems to me a pretty astonishing piece of singing.
Maureen Forrester, contralto; Vienna Philharmonic, Gilbert Kaplan, cond. DG, recorded July 1987
SONGS FROM DES KNABEN WUNDERHORN
Finally, we return to the world of the folk-poetry anthology Des Knaben Wunderhorn, which provided Mahler with so much inspiration, of such varied sorts, in the early part of his career. First is a song we've heard a great deal of (and a performance we've heard too), "Anthony of Padua's Fish Sermon." Then, finally, we hear one we haven't heard, a haunting specimen from Mahler's "military" group, "Where the Beautiful Trumpets Blow," a mournfully appropriate parting glimpse of this special singer.
"Des Antonius von Padua Fischpredigt" ("Anthony of Padua's Fish Sermon")
Antonius, arriving for his sermon, finds the church empty. He goes to the rivers and preaches to the fishes;
They slap their tails, glistening in the sunshine.
The carp with roe have all come here, have their mouths wide open, listening attentively.
No sermon ever pleased the carp so.
Sharp-mouthed pike that always fight have hurriedly swum here to hear the pious one;
No sermon ever pleased the pike so.
Also those fantastic creatures that are always fast, the stockfish, I mean, appear for the sermon;
No sermon ever pleased the stockfish so.
Good eels and sturgens that banquet so elegantly even they took the trouble to hear the sermon:
No sermon ever pleased the eels so.
Crabs too, and turtles, usually such slowpokes, rise quickly from the bottom, to hear this voice.
No sermon ever pleased the crabs so.
Big fish, little fish, noble fish, common fish, all lift their heads like sentient creatures:
At God's behest they listen to the sermon.
The sermon having ended, each turns himself around; the pikes remain thieves, the eels, great lovers.
The sermon has pleased them, but they remain the same as before.
The crabs still walk backwards, the stockfish stay rotund, the carps still stuff themselves, the sermon is forgotten!
The sermon pleased. They remain as always.
Maureen Forrester, contralto; Vienna Festival Orchestra, Felix Prohaska, cond. Vanguard, recorded May 27-June 1, 1963
"Wo die schönen Trompeten blasen" ("Where the beautiful trumpets blow")
"Who then is outside and who is knocking, waking me so gently?"
"It is your heart's beloved, and let me in with you! Why should I stand here longer?
"I see daybreak rising, daybreak, two bright stars. I surely wish I were with my sweetheart! With my sweetheart!"
The girl got up and let him in. She also bids him welcome.
"Welcome, my dear boy! You've been standing so long!" And she gives him her snow-white hand. In the distance the nightingale sang. The girl began to weep.
"O do not weep, my beloved! By year's end you will be my own. My own you will certainly be, as no other is on earth! O love, on the green earth. I go off to war on the green heath; the green heath, it's so far!
"There where the beautiful trumpets blow, there is my house of green turf."
Maureen Forrester, contralto; Vienna Festival Orchestra, Felix Prohaska, cond. Vanguard, recorded May 27-June 1, 1963
[Note: I have to say, I'm not thrilled with what I hear coming out of these audio tracks of the Forrester-Prohaska performances, which sound metallic and fake-echoey, certainly not what I recall from my exceedingly well-played LP. I'd like to think that this is a quirk of the processing chain I've subjected them to rather than (admittedly more likely) a lousy CD transfer -- not what you'd hope for one of the all-time great recordings.]
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which also features tenor Richard Lewis sounding like I doubt you've ever heard him, in fact rather lovely -- I kid you not.)
