Before I developed any interest in opera, I was kind of a Lieder nut. Lieder folks are a peculiar bunch, I admit—sort of like the math nerds of the classical music community. Strangely, the Lieder fascination began before I knew a lick of German (well, I suppose I figured out Das Kind war... tot! on my own), and a primary impetus for studying the Awful German Language was so that I Lieder better understanden could.
Dichterliebe was the first German song cycle to resonate with me. In my early 20s, the eponymous poet seemed like a homie: crazy impetuous in love, easily infatuated, quickly (and quickly!) wounded, melodramatically overreactive, and above all totally self-absorbed. Osmin the Seraglio buffoon I had a hard time identifying with; this guy, not so much.
Earlier this week, SF Performances brought Thomas Hampson to Herbst to perform Dichterliebe—or, more accurately, the 20 Lieder und Gesänge aus dem Lyrischen Intermezzo. To grossly oversimplify a major research project that has occupied him since at least the early '90s, in exploring the significant discrepancies between the manuscript version and the first printed edition Hampson has come to believe that the manuscript version is worthy of championing in its own right. The most easily noticeable difference is that there are four additional songs in the manuscript version, but as he emphatically stated during his 15-minute (!) talk at the start of the concert, his motives for performing this version do not stem simply from the desire to sing some extra tunes.
What emerged out of his performance was a Poet I never imagined in all the years I've been listening to and singing these songs. We toss around the word "revelatory" a lot, but that night Thomas Hampson revealed something new to me about Heine's poetry and Schumann's setting of that poetry. His poet was no youth in love, but a old man trapped in his loneliness and his memories, on a sure path towards madness. There was a timeworn bitterness that came through his portrayal which felt completely different from the petulant anger that usually colors performances of these songs; likewise, the brighter pieces leaned away from exuberance in favor of either mania or nostalgia.
And it was convincing. On a macro level, the additional songs brought out the dramatic arc in a way I had never experienced before. The new juxtapositions set up familiar music in unfamiliar ways, and the drama benefited. On a micro level, numerous phrases were illuminated anew, most memorably the end of "Aus alten Märchen," where the Poet's memory of a joyful time is dispatched like empty foam: I've never felt such sadness in the way Hampson and Wolfram Rieger (at the piano) did "Zerfliesst's wie eitel Schaum" and the short postlude where we hear the memory (delusion?) dissipating.
The amazing thing is, they achieved this on a night when Hampson honestly sounded pretty terrible. Before going into his 15-minute (!) talk at the start of the show, he announced that he was suffering from some serious allergies that had left him parched, and laughingly but seriously offered to refund people's money because he was shortening the program by eliminating some Schubert from the first half to save his voice. And it was true, some of the sounds were not good sounds. Some of the sounds didn't even succeed at becoming sounds—he literally did not phonate the lowest notes at the beginning of "Allnächtlich in Traume," and his voice just cut out before the phrase "du trauriger, blaser Mann" was ready to end. The quiet, high-lying lines had none of his trademark softness and ease, and the transitions to louder dynamics were often not smooth.
In the end, it mattered not a whit. Of course I would love to hear him do this program again in hale voice. But what he and Rieger gave on Monday night was so committed and so well-considered, I feel I have been given plenty to think about. Rieger particularly deserves a shout-out for the extraordinary job he did, filling each song's canvas with such fine-brushed detail.
So a humble thank you to both Messrs Hampson and Rieger for going through with Monday's performance in spite of the trying circumstances. Hampson mentioned during his 15-minute (!) talk that a printed edition of the 20 Lieder will be published soon and that they are going to re-record the cycle, implying through a joke that probably no one but his most devoted fans (i.e., the Crazies) had the first EMI recording. If I didn't think it would be distracting, I would have held up the CD booklet that was in my jacket pocket.




First you reveal you're a lieder queen. Next, you'll be telling us you are a cabaret queen. I'm growing very frightened, especially since I so respect your musical taste. Does this mean I'm going to have to start listening to Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau recital discs followed by Jane Olivor? Please disabuse me of my paranoid musings.
Posted by: sfmike | Jun 09, 2006 at 11:08 PM
"...probably no one but his most devoted fans (i.e., the Crazies) had the first EMI recording. If I didn't think it would be distracting, I would have held up the CD booklet that was in my jacket pocket..."
In these moments, I am so happy to call you my friend.
Posted by: manprano | Jun 10, 2006 at 10:59 PM
yeah, i have it also. although i bought it in for school in my undergrad. i think i still have a Fischer-Dieskau disc also.
Posted by: pbailey | Jun 12, 2006 at 04:47 PM
sfmike, so the plush room is out for our next excursion?
Posted by: M. C- | Jun 13, 2006 at 11:57 PM
You liked Lieder before opera AND before knowing any German? AND you have that old Hampson CD? When were you born? I'm going to ask my mom if I have a twin brother that she's not telling me about.
Posted by: TJM | Jun 17, 2006 at 10:51 AM
I'm going to ask my mom if I have a twin brother
OMG... Am I part Polish?!? That explains my fondness for kielbasa.
Posted by: M. C- | Jun 22, 2006 at 09:24 PM
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