LINCOLN CENTER GREAT PERFORMERS--MARK PADMORE AND PAUL LEWIS

Paul Lewis and Mark Padmore at Alice Tully Hall

There were four people onstage last night at Alice Tully Hall, as part of Lincoln Center's Great Performers series.  There was the veteran interpreter of art song Mark Padmore, there was the sensitive collaborative pianist Paul Lewis, there was the 19th c. Romantic poet Heinrich Heine, and there was the remarkable 19th c. composer of art song Robert Schumann.

How wonderful to have an entire evening devoted to the Schumann settings of Heine's poetry, so movingly interpreted by Mr. Padmore and Mr. Lewis, whose intense sensitivity to the music and to the singer contributed greatly to an evening of pure delight. We confess to being completely mesmerized.

Mr. Padmore made a few opening remarks about Schumann sending his songs to Clara as a means of communicating his feelings. Surely the young Robert did not mean to communicate the negativity toward love and toward women that we read in Heine's text. We know not what romantic injury Heine suffered to inspire such anger.

We have been reading the poetry aloud and reveling in its astute use of the German language, it's rhythm and its rhyme. Would that a contemporary American poet could so inspire a contemporary American composer!

In any event, Schumann's melodic vocal lines and luscious piano accompaniment went a long way toward softening the harsh sentiments found in Heine's poetry, poetry that inspired so many 19th c. composers.

In the performances of Mr. Padmore and Mr. Lewis, we barely noticed the superlative technical aspects and chose to dwell on the communicative aspects. Mr. Padmore has had a long and illustrious career to focus on communicating emotions to the audience. By virtue of alterations of color and dynamics, and by means of sensitive phrasing, every ounce of emotion was conveyed.

Mr. Lewis' attention to both the piano part and the vocal line made him the perfect partner for Mr. Padmore. He is the type of collaborative pianist that we most enjoy, always light of touch and leaving the final note suspended in the air. There was no mention of his collaborative work in the biography in the program but it was evident that there is a great deal more to his artistry than his solo performances and those with orchestras.

The program included two cycles Schumann composed in 1840. As Mr. Padmore pointed out, they were never meant to be performed in a concert hall, but rather to be played and sung at home. We have observed the incredible intimacy they elicit when performed by students in recital at small venues. To our surprise, Mr. Padmore evoked the same feeling in the vast reaches of Alice Tully Hall.

Liederkreis, Op.24 comprises nine songs about love and loss and was less familiar to us than the cycle that closed the program, Dichterliebe which we have heard countless times.

In "Ich wandelte unter den Bäumen" we loved the tender coloration and the way the quotation of the bird song was differentially colored. In terms of piano and voice working together, we favored "Lieb Liebchen" which not only enjoys a memorable melody but also a piano part that recreates the hammering of the heart. 

The passionate "Warte, warte, wilder Schiffman" is remarkable for its scale passages in the piano and the touch of humor at the end. As a matter of fact, in almost every song Schumann employed a graceful postlude to somewhat undercut Heine's bitterness. He seems to want us to feel consoled.

The familiar Dichterliebe is another story altogether; we have always thought of it as a spurned young man reflecting on the sanguine origin of his romance and the final despair when his beloved marries someone else. In the resolution of the final song, he buries all his sad songs in a coffin and sinks it in the Rhein, a fitting way to find what today is called "closure".

One could not keep from being charmed by the melodious introductory lied, "Im wunderschönen Monat Mai", or puzzled when the song just trails off without the lovely piano postlude referred to earlier. It segues immediately into the tearful "Aus meinen Tränen sprießen", followed by the exuberant "Die Rose, die Lilie, die Taube".

Love is like that, especially in the young. Observe any teenager with his cyclothymia!  She loves me, yay!  She loves me not, woe is me! In "Im Rhein, im heiligen Strome", the poet sees his beloved everywhere, even in a portrait in the cathedral in Cologne!

We were waiting to hear what Mr. Padmore would do with "Ich grolle nicht". He held back on the bitterness until the end, a valid and interesting interpretation. 

We heard such rapid figures in the piano in "Und wüsten's die Blumen" and in the bitter "Das ist ein Flöten und Geigen" that the quiet spare piano part of "Hör' ich das Liedchen klingen" came as a surprise. 

Also of interest was the contrast between the jolly piano part of "Ein Jüngling liebt ein Mädchen" and the painfully ironic text. Perhaps our favorite song was "Ich hab' im Traum geweinet" in which the voice begins a capella and the piano part comprises a punctuation of chords. We think of the evanescence of dreams and Mr. Padmore conveyed the intimacy of a confession.

In between these two major Schumann cycles we heard some of Brahms' settings of Heine's poetry. It seemed to us that Brahms, a protegé of Schumann, chose texts of less emotional import. Truth to tell, we mostly prefer Brahms' settings of folk songs and cannot say why. There was nothing wrong with the later life songs we heard last night but presenting them in between two such major cycles probably did not give us a chance to appreciate them fully.

(c) meche kroop

THEY CAME FOR THE SONATA...

Jonathan Biss and Mark Padmore at Zankel Hall

"They came for the sonata and stayed for the lieder" was the thought we entertained last night at Zankel Hall . It is rare that we attend a vocal recital without knowing at least a dozen people in the audience; last night there was a different audience from the one we see at vocal recitals and we had wondered whether they would enjoy the Schubert lieder on the second half of the program.  We needn't have concerned ourselves. The audience was held spellbound by Mr. Padmore's artistry and if they were not fans of lieder before the recital they surely will now be converts.

Although Mr. Padmore is a mature artist, the timbre of his voice is very youthful whilst his interpretive skills have been earned by experience. Moreover, he addressed the audience in a most gracious manner and spoke about the program, something we always appreciate.

The generous program comprised songs written toward the end of Schubert's tragically interrupted life with his full awareness that his time on earth was limited. A case has been made for how this influenced his song output but we cannot add to that argument.  All we can say is that we found a wide range of emotion in the chosen songs and that Mr. Padmore colored them with subtlety and communicated a depth of feeling.  And, for us, that is what lieder singing is all about.

A case was also made that Schubert's late songs give less melody to the vocal line.  Frankly, if modern composers paid half as much attention to a melodic vocal line we might enjoy contemporary music considerably more. The melodies are swirling around in our head even now. Some credit must go to the poets he chose to set--Johann Gabriel Seidl, Karl Gottfried von Leitner, Ludwig Rellstab, and, of course, Heinrich Heine.

Taking a closer look at our personal favorites, Rellstab's "In der Ferne" employed a dactyl meter in short punchy phrases that rhymed throughout, lending an impressive unity to the song, emphasized by Schubert's rhythmic setting. Rellstab's "Aufenthalt" followed the dactyl unit with a final stressed syllable, giving the song an insistent and propulsive feeling that echoed the rushing stream, the falling tears, and the beating heart.  In his "Herbst", the rhythm of the piano reminded one of "Gretchen am Spinnrade".  We are not suggesting that these songs sounded alike. Mr. Padmore made each song his own.

Von Leitner's poetry is different altogether and Schubert responded to it differently. In "Der Winterabend", so appropriate for last night, von Leitner wrote about the moonlight slipping lightly into his solitary room, spinning and weaving a shimmering veil ("schimmerndes Schleiertuch"); Shubert's music, as interpreted by Mr. Padmore, similarly spun and wove a shimmering veil over the audience.  We were transfixed!

In his "Des Fischers Liebesgluck", the piano introduces the strophic barcarolle in a minor key and plays the same theme as an interlude  between each stanza, a theme that once heard can never be forgotten. Mr. Padmore colored it beautifully and negotiated the upward leaps effectively. Strophic songs can become boring but not this one!

In Schubert's setting of Heine's "Die Stadt", the composer conveys both breeze and moisture by some kind of compositional legerdemain and the two artists ensured that we felt both. This was tonal painting at its apex!

The program ended with a setting of Seidl's cheerfully charming "Die Taubenpost".

The first half of the concert belonged to Jonathan Biss alone as he performed Schubert's Piano Sonata in A Major, D. 959 which was published posthumously. Mr. Biss' fingers literally flew over the keys in virtuosic splendor. It's always impressive when a superstar of the piano can also perform equally well as a collaborative pianist.

(c) meche kroop

TRIBUTE OR DESECRATION?

Mark Padmore, Sir Simon Rattle, and Ensemble Connect

We long ago lost count of how many times we have thrilled to Schubert's Winterreise. The grief in Wilhelm Müller's poetry comes in varied shades of grey and at the end we feel a tremendous catharsis.  We have heard the magnificent cycle sung by the famous and by students at Juilliard. Almost always, the intimacy of the connection has touched us deeply.

There have been only two performances that failed to thrill us.  One involved lots of distraction by a troupe of modern dancers who shall remain unnamed; the other performance was by an elderly croaker who should have known better.

Yesterday's performance at Zankel Hall sounded tempting--an "interpretation" of the work by Hans Zender--composed for tenor and small orchestra.  No doubt the generous applause at the conclusion of the 90 minute work indicated that many people did enjoy the work. We did not.

Admittedly, the orchestral writing was original and involved a plethora of unusual sounds. The instrumentation included accordion, harp, contrabassoon, chimes, two wind machines, alto flute, piccolo, and a great variety of percussion. The young musicians of Ensemble Connect, under the baton of Sir Simon Rattle, did what was asked of them. They played up and down the aisles, from the second level, and from outside the doors of the parterre. This was more distracting than artistic, especially when the doors creaked.

Schubert's melodies were altered in multiple ways with motifs often repeated. The various sound effects were meant to reproduce the natural elements mentioned in the text--the posthorn, the crow, the wind. There was much scraping and banging. At one point we heard arhythmic hammering coming from backstage and wondered what was being constructed.

Tenor Mark Padmore, who was "on the book" was requested to shout at times, or whisper, or use sprechstimme. His performance, in any case, was overshadowed by all the elaborate effects. We couldn't keep from thinking of hyperactive children, each screaming for attention.  Obviously Mr. Zender had no idea of "Less is More".

The cycle was completely robbed of its intimacy and seemed wrongheaded to us. We imagine that lovers of modern music who had never heard nor developed affection for the cycle, might have enjoyed it more than we did.  For us it was like adding arms to The Venus de Milo!

(c) meche kroop

RULE BRITTANIA

Billy Budd at the Brooklyn Academy of Music (photo by Richard Termine)

The Brooklyn Academy of Music is doing a yeoman's job filling the gap left by the demise of the New York City Opera.  Every opera we have seen there has been excellent with Benjamin Britten's Billy Budd perhaps being the best.  We personally go to the opera to be transported to another time and place.  In this case, the transport (to a British man o' war called Indomitable) was so successful that we lived through the trials and tribulations of the morally troubled Captain Vere (tenor Mark Padmore) and the impressed and oppressed sailors in rapid succession.

It is the late 18th c., the Age of Enlightenment, but there is no enlightenment in the British Navy.  As we learn in Scene 2, Great Britain is at war with France.  (Interestingly, the war was an economic one, involving whose ships would be allowed to enter whose ports, creating problems for the Jeffersonian presidency.)  The Brits refer to the French having killed their own king and perhaps planning to kill the British king next.  They want nothing to do with the rights of the common man.

Discipline is unduly harsh with common seamen being impressed by so-called "press gangs", a recruitment procedure common to that era; lashings were meted out for such trivial "offenses" as slipping or not moving fast enough.  Men had to obey mere striplings in fancy uniform who achieved their position by virtue of fortunate birth.  Mere boys were used as "powder monkeys".  This is NOT your HMS Pinafore!

The officers (bass David Soar as Mr. Flint and baritone Stephen Gadd as Mr. Redburn) have further concerns because other ships had suffered mutinies based on this cruel treatment and that is as great a concern as chasing down French ships.

Into this world enters Billy Budd (baritone Jaccques Imbrailo), a merchant seaman (from a ship significantly called "Rights o' Man"!) who seems not to mind being impressed and who shows every evidence of being an enthusiastic and talented sailor.  He is also young, beautiful, innocent and good-hearted, becoming the darling of his shipmates.

His nemesis Master-at-Arms John Claggart (bass Brindley Sherratt) is evil personified.  He delivers a chilling soliloquoy indicating that he is self-aware of his evil.  Iago wanted revenge for being passed over; Richard III wanted power; Claggart is just evil for its own sake and is determined to destroy Billy by entrapment.  Billy's fatal flaw is his innocence; although warned by an older shipmate Dansker (bass-baritone Jeremy White) of Claggart's evil intent, Billy laughs it off.

Billy also suffers from stammering and when called upon to defend himself against Claggart's trumped up charges of fomenting mutiny, he cannot speak and strikes Claggart who dies.  Captain Vere, while knowing that Billy is innocent, must call a court martial and does nothing to save Billy's life.  Just think about the cover-up that would take place in today's navy in the USA!  Under the Articles of War, Billy must hang for striking and "murdering" a superior officer.  No such thing there as "manslaughter".  Hang he does, but not without an aria in which he achieves inner peace and courage.

In later years, Capt. Vere also finds peace as we learn in the epilogue of this stunning 2010 production from Glyndebourne.  Director Michael Grandage and Ian Rutherford, the revival director, brought Melville's tale to vivid life.  We cannot give enough credit to designer Christopher Oram for the incredibly realistic sets and apposite costuming, augmented by Paule Constable's fine lighting.

If we have focused excessively on the story and the production it is in no way critical of Britten's powerful music and the fine voices that inhabited the characters to perfection.  Nor would we shortchange the superlative playing of the London Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Sir Mark Elder nor the contributions of The Glyndebourne Chorus.  It's just the power of the drama and its sense of reality that overwhelmed us.  During the interludes we were aware of some very interesting harmonies occurring in the orchestra, especially the chords that indicated Vere's moral indecision.  But we confess that the reality of the production is what we will remember of this incomparable evening.

© meche kroop