SCHUBERT LIEDER DER WANDERER
RODERICK WILLIAMS IAIN BURNSIDE
DER WANDERER
RODERICK WILLIAMS BARITONE IAIN BURNSIDE PIANO
Rellstab-Lieder from Schwanengesang D957
Recorded on 21-24 October 2015
in St Mary’s Parish Church, Haddington, East Lothian
Producer/Engineer: Paul Baxter
24-bit digital editing: Adam Binks
24-bit digital mastering: Paul Baxter
Session photography © Delphian Records
Piano: Steinway, model D, serial number 589064
Piano technician: Norman W. Motion
Design: John Christ & Drew Padrutt
Booklet editor: Henry Howard
Delphian Records Ltd – Edinburgh – UK www.delphianrecords.co.uk
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Auf dem Wasser zu singen D774
Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good night till it be morrow.
One of Shakespeare’s most famous oxymorons sets the tone for this recital of Franz Schubert songs of journeying and farewell. For much as lieder audiences always enjoy the occasional comic song or upbeat number, the real crux of the affair comes in the heartache, the heartbreak and the fall of tears. Even in the midst of the most joyous moments, we crave a reminder that tragedy is just around the corner and in that juxtaposition lies the intensity, the poignancy of which Schubert is the undisputed master.
As for the journeyman himself, the Wanderer or noble Vagabond, this could hardly be said to describe Schubert from his personal experience, centred as he was within Vienna and the immediate countryside around. Yet his imagination would roam free to a truly extraordinary degree, so that he could, through song, describe majestic mountain ranges, tempestuous seas and alien foreign lands with vivid clarity, as this programme of songs demonstrates. It was somewhat easier for him to identify with the idea of the Wanderer as outsider, loner, exile, or as it is in German, ‘Fremdling’. This was, after all, the spur for Schubert’s most revered song cycle, Winterreise, as well as a driving element in
Die schöne Müllerin. And yet there is a noticeable revelling in that alienation, a glorious self-indulgence experienced even in the depths of loneliness. As Robert Louis Stevenson’s anti-hero puts it;
Wealth I seek not, hope, nor love, Nor a friend to know me;
All I seek, the heaven above, And the road below me.
Willkommen und Abschied begins the recital in brisk mood and at full gallop. Goethe’s poem describes an impetuous, night-time horse ride during his days as a student in Strasbourg, to court a young girl in a village twenty miles away. The song is breathless and relentless in its energy and even though Goethe bids a bitter-sweet farewell come morning, one is still left with the impression that he has been riding all night.
The Wanderer of Georg Schmidt’s poem is altogether a darker, lost soul and all at once the epitome of the Romantic, Byronic hero. Few songs can match such portentous brooding in the piano introduction, an impulse that the vocal line interrupts with listless complaint. All those feelings of loneliness in exile eventually come to a head in that word again: ‘Ich bin ein Fremdling überall’ (‘I am a stranger, the whole world round’). Many a touring musician, away from home too long, can identify with this verse. Even though the song finds new vigour
as it describes the land left behind, this energy evaporates as the opening pessimism returns. In a typically Schubertian masterstroke, the pay-off line, whispered on the wind, that happiness can only be found elsewhere and never here, is set in the major key. It is a punchline to which we will return later.
Goethe’s Rastlose Liebe and Wandrers
Nachtlied are polar opposites, the former a headlong rush into the arms of love, ignoring all obstacles and defiant of the consequences (again, a theme to which we shall return) while the latter is a glorious contemplation of eventual, well-earned and final repose. In between is another archetypal song of the Wanderer, Der Wanderer an den Mond, to a poem by Johann Seidl. This begins with a trudging piano introduction that calls to mind Ralph Vaughan Williams’ setting of Stevenson’s The Vagabond. But here Schubert effects a magical transformation as the poet’s gaze rises to regard his companion in the night sky. The music switches to the major and the trudge melts into liquid semiquavers. This Wanderer finishes with a spring in his step and, for now, warmth in his heart.
We must brace ourselves for Johann Mayrhofer’s Aus Heliopolis II, an invocation of ancient mythology to urge the artist towards profound creations. Here the image of Caspar Friedrich David’s famous
painting Wanderer above the Sea Fog floats irresistibly to mind, particularly when Schubert paints the swirling mists in doubled piano octaves, briefly reminiscent of Brahms’ second piano Rhapsody, before hurling us into the final verse.
A few months after Schubert’s death in November 1828, the publisher Tobias Haslinger decided to make the best use he could of some leftover, unpublished Schubert songs, grouping them together as the composer’s final, posthumous collection, calling them Schwanengesang (‘Swansong’) and publishing them with an attractive, commemorative title plate. The first seven songs of this collection set poems by Ludwig Rellstab, a Berlin-based poet and music critic who had sent some of his work to Beethoven in the hope that the ageing master composer might do him the ultimate honour of immortalising them in song. In the end, probably owing to ill health, Beethoven was unable to comply and the poems found their way to Schubert. Though they have no narrative thread in the way that Schubert’s two previous cycles had done, they do share a common theme, one encapsulated by coincidence in the title of the single, groundbreaking song cycle that Beethoven did write, An die ferne Geliebte : ‘To the Beloved Afar Off’. Separation and departure are our theme once again.
Liebesbotschaft asks the babbling brook, so completely familiar to Schubert from his Die schöne Müllerin settings, to carry off a message of love. If you didn’t know that this song was written in the last months of Schubert’s life, as his symptoms became intolerable and unmistakable, you could be forgiven for hearing a touch of hope within this beautiful melody and in the fluttering, youthful heart murmurs of the accompaniment. Any such hope is extinguished as the scene jump-cuts to a military encampment in Kriegers Ahnung, picturing soldiers at rest, exhausted, between battles. Thoughts of the beloved, afar off, transport us to the warmth of her embrace but present discomforts disturb such fancies. In its subject, its dotted rhythms and its play between major and minor tonalities, this presages some of the Knaben Wunderhorn settings by Mahler, whose soldier heroes are equally haunted by ghosts of far away loved ones.
We escape with light feet to the joys of spring in Frühlingssehnsucht as the piano introduction and panting vocal line remind us of the headstrong Willkommen und Abschied or Rastlose Liebe. Except here, at the culmination of every verse, the song is brought up short as though at a cliff edge, each time with a searching question, never more so than when the last verse veers to the minor briefly, leaving
the final return to the major on ‘nur du, nur du’ sounding desperate and hollow.
By beginning the Italianate serenade that is Ständchen with four bars of the most ominous quasi-mandolin playing in dark, minor harmonies with the bass line sinking woefully below, Schubert effortlessly turns a swaggering lothario into a forlorn, empty figure. Cole Porter observed ‘how strange the change from major to minor’; on the contrary – rarely has the change from minor to major been so painfully, devastatingly bitter-sweet. As the piano postlude comes to an end, I imagine our serenader in ruins.
The next song, Aufenthalt, brings us back to the rocky outcrops of Heliopolis II, but all the former, Beethovenian self-confidence has disappeared. This is instead a hermit’s life, as the singer rejects the comforts of so-called civilisation and resigns himself instead to a rugged life at the mercy of nature. This could have been the companion song of Stevenson’s Vagabond were it not for the final melismatic cry in the vocal line, echoing the cantabile cello melody in the piano introduction, that belies the pain of this solitary existence.
Things are about to become more bleak. I can’t think of many individual songs that have quite such an emotional impact as In der Ferne, or are as emotionally draining to perform.
Whatever reserves of positivity one possesses are extinguished by the three gestures in the piano that preface each verse. The vocal line edges agonisingly, trying vainly to escape a monotone, halting frequently as though lacking the will to continue, then sliding down to the depths at the end of the verses, having lost the battle. The change in the third verse, once again from minor to major, is inexpressibly poignant, the gently rumbling piano figuration as inviting as the Miller’s brook at the close of Müllerin. The final challenge between major and minor brings the song to a searing close; which is followed by a song so superficially chirpy at its opening as to be shocking. Once again we are on horseback but this is a very different journey, a very different horse even, to Goethe’s student jaunt in Willkommen. Here, in Abschied, each verse carefully and systematically bids farewell to everything that was once held dear, promising without rancour never to return. The horse plods amiably on. Only with an unexpected shift to a dark, flattened-sixth key for the final verse does a hint of a different, underlying emotion poke through, when the stars are asked to cloak themselves so as not to observe this escape. Whatever feeling this may evoke is not allowed to last for long, however, and the former resolve returns for the final few lines–although, in the piano postlude, rarely has a simple tonic–dominant–tonic progression sounded so hollow, or made for so pyrrhic a victory.
If Schubert ever took to a boat on the lakes or rivers around Vienna, he certainly never ventured too far along the Danube or embarked on a sea voyage. And yet for the Danube was busy with boatmen making long-distance trips from faraway countries, their presence one of the most obvious points of contact for a Viennese native with international travel. The heroes from this sequence of songs about the Sea Voyager come in all different types. There is the rugged, fearless sailor of Mayrhofer’s Der Schiffer, railing against the elements as in Rastlose Liebe, relishing the battle against the foaming waves, like Peter Grimes howling in the eye of the storm. Then there is his opposite, the indolent boatman of Schlegel’s Der Schiffer, who is at times too lazy even to guide his own tiller, happy to let his craft take him where it will as he daydreams about a possible, charming boating companion. You even hear him idly humming, unique in a Schubert song. Meanwhile Claudius in An eine Quelle isn’t even a sailor, necessarily; just someone who has learned that by sneaking up to the water’s edge he can spy on his sweetheart, Daphne, as she bathes. Perhaps fortunately for her, this is as far as the relationship goes, for he finds himself completely tongue-tied whenever he meets her face to face, presumably fully dressed.
Two songs to texts by Mayrhofer take a more metaphorical view of the waterways.
Am Strome likens the river to the course of a person’s life, the soul sometimes placid, sometimes buffeted by storms, but always destined to be subsumed by the distant ocean. Schubert responds with an Italian-style cantilena of real elegance. Auf der Donau describes the same narrative arch, beginning in relative ease but journeying inescapably towards oblivion. The vocal line copies the piano’s dignified opening but this mood does not survive the series of rhetorical questions Mayrhofer poses and the melody takes a final plunge to the depths on the repeated word ‘Untergang’ – doom.
Only a song like Auf dem Wasser zu singen can follow such a sentiment, not because it lifts the spirits particularly, but because its twilit, gently rocking textures provide just the right, bitter-sweet comfort that lieder audiences seek at such moments. The key signature for this song declares that it is in the major but one does not hear any hint of this until the final few bars of each verse. The majority of the song is played in the minor key. The gentle rushing in the piano, mirrored by the singer, becomes almost obsessive, at least until the vocal line breaks free at the climax of each verse on a soaring, sustained note as the piano magically finds that major key. The final bars of the song maintain the wistful smile of the major, though perhaps with a tear in the eye.
It falls to the mighty German poet Schiller to lift us properly out of this mood, and he begins his poem Der Pilgrim with all the youthful resolve of Tamino at the opening of The Magic Flute. Young, pure and noble, our hero has rejected his due inheritance and a life of ease in order to answer a call to seek adventure and discover his true destiny. Schubert’s hymn-like opening theme suits the mood exactly. Despite all of nature’s obstacles in his path, our hero presses ever onwards, the course of the flowing river his guide. Thus the music passes through many torturous harmonies until arrives in a new, heroic key with the hymn theme. But the earlier promise dwindles as the horizon opens into emptiness and our hero realises what Schmidt’s Wanderer heard in the wind’s call: there is no gold at the end of the rainbow, for There is never Here. Once again Schubert is torn between ending in the major or the minor and all hope is wrenched away in the final chords. Mercifully, Mayrhofer’s hymn to the twin guiding stars, Lied eines Schiffers an die Dioskuren, begins and remains a heartfelt paean on behalf of all sailors. From its opening arpeggiated chords, deep in the bass with low, doubled thirds, this song radiates compassion and trust. Those rippling semiquaver arpeggios that have been a feature of Schubert’s wavethemed song accompaniments have rarely sounded so supportive and comforting as they do in the final verse.
This recital ends as it began, with the poetry of Goethe and with another of Schubert’s moto perpetuo settings in Der Musensohn. This has a similar, light tread to Frühlingssehnsucht, even though in a different time signature, but without the doubtful questioning. No need for horses here either; this nimble, ankle-winged demigod spreads the joy of music wherever he roams and, as with Orpheus, no one is immune to his song, be they young lovers or rustic villagers. The very seasons themselves respond. Only in the last verse is there a brief sting of pathos as he reflects that there is no one he can call his own, with whom he can share this innate gift. Is it any wonder then that the poem struck such a chord with Franz Schubert?
©
2016 Roderick Williams
1 Willkommen und Abschied
Es schlug mein Herz, geschwind zu Pferde! Es war getan fast eh’ gedacht.
Der Abend wiegte schon die Erde, Und an den Bergen hing die Nacht; Schon stand im Nebelkleid die Eiche, Ein aufgetürmter Riese, da, Wo Finsternis aus dem Gesträuche Mit hundert schwarzen Augen sah.
Der Mond von einem Wolkenhügel Sah kläglich aus dem Duft hervor, Die Winde schwangen leise Flügel, Umsausten schauerlich mein Ohr; Die Nacht schuf tausend Ungeheuer, Doch frisch und fröhlich war mein Mut: In meinen Adern welches Feuer!
In meinem Herzen welche Glut!
Dich sah ich, und die milde Freude Floss von dem sußen Blick auf mich; Ganz war mein Herz an deiner Seite Und jeder Atemzug für dich. Ein rosenfarbnes Frühlingswetter
Umgab das liebliche Gesicht, Und Zärtlichkeit für mich – Ihr Götter! Ich hofft’ es, ich verdient’ es nicht!
Doch ach, schon mit der Morgensonne Verengt der Abschied mir das Herz: In deinen Küssen welche Wonne!
In deinem Auge welcher Schmerz!
Reunion – Farewell
My heart was pounding – Quick, to horse!
No sooner thought than it was done. Already twilight lulled the land
As night took hold up in the hills.
The oak, clad in a shroud of mist, Reared up, a towering giant there
Where darkness peered out from the scrub, A hundred eyes, black, all aware.
The moon, behind a bank of cloud, Looked palely downward through the haze, The winds swung by on silent wings, Brushed chillingly against my ear; The night brought forth a thousand fiends, And yet my mood was full of cheer; Blood of fire flowed through my veins, My heart, aglow, my pace sustained.
I saw thee and such gentle joy
Flowed from thy darling eyes to me.
My heart, so closely at thy side, Each breath I took was meant for thee.
The rosy light of new-born Spring Was framing thy dear face, And tenderness, ye gods, for me!
I’d wished, but never thought I’d find such grace!
Alas, the sun at break of day told
My aching heart ’twas time to leave.
In thy kisses, oh what bliss!
And oh, to see thy poor eyes grieve!
Ich ging, du standst und sahst zur Erden, Und sahst mir nach mit nassem Blick: Und doch, welch Glück, geliebt zu werden! Und lieben, Götter, welch ein Glück!
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749–1832)
2 Der Wanderer
Ich komme vom Gebirge her, Es dampft das Tal, es braust das Meer. Ich wandle still, bin wenig froh, Und immer fragt der Seufzer, wo?
Die Sonne dünkt mich hier so kalt, Die Blüte welk, das Leben alt, Und was sie reden, leerer Schall, Ich bin ein Fremdling überall.
Wo bist du, mein geliebtes Land, Gesucht, geahnt, und nie gekannt?
Das Land, das Land so hoffnungsgrün, Das Land, wo meine Rosen blühn,
Wo meine Freunde wandelnd geh’n, Wo meine Toten aufersteh’n, Das Land, das meine Sprache spricht, O Land, wo bist du?
Ich wandle still, bin wenig froh, Und immer fragt der Seufzer, wo?
Im Geisterhauch tönt’s mir zurück, „Dort, wo du nicht bist, ist das Glück!”
Georg Philipp Schmidt von Lübeck (1766–1849)
I left; thou, standing, looking down, Observing me with tearful eyes; And yet, what fortune to be loved And ye dear gods, what fortune ’tis to love.
The Wanderer
I come from the mountains over there
The misty vales, the roaring sea. I wander softly, know little of joy And sighing, always ask, where to?
The sunshine here to me is cold, Blossoms fade, and life seems old, People’s voices are empty sounds, I am a stranger, the whole world round.
Where are you, my beloved land?
Sought, foreshadowed, never known. That land, that land, all green with hope, That land where still my roses bloom;
Where my friends go wandering, Where the dear departed rise again, That land where people speak my tongue, O Land – where are you?
I wander softly, know little of joy, And sighing, always ask, where to?
A ghostly breeze breathes back to me, ‘There, where bliss dwells, is far from thee.’
3 Rastlose Liebe
Dem Schnee, dem Regen, Dem Wind entgegen, Im Dampf der Klüfte
Durch Nebeldüfte, Immer zu! Immer zu!
Ohne Rast und Ruh’!
Lieber durch Leiden
Wollt’ ich mich schlagen, Als so viel Freuden
Des Lebens ertragen.
Alle das Neigen
Von Herzen zu Herzen, Ach, wie so eigen
Schaffet es Schmerzen!
Wie, soll ich flieh’n?
Wälderwärts zieh’n?
Alles vergebens.
Krone des Lebens, Glück ohne Ruh’, Liebe, bist du!
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
4 Der Wanderer an den Mond
Ich auf der Erd’, am Himmel du, Wir wandern beide rüstig zu:
Ich ernst und trüb, du mild und rein, Was mag der Unterschied wohl sein?
Ich wandre fremd von Land zu Land,
Restless Love
’Gainst snow, ’gainst rain
’Gainst roaring wind
In clouded chasms
Through streaming mist Ever on! Ever on!
No rest, no peace!
It seems better to me
To strive in misery
Than to have to face
All life’s joy and grace.
All of that turning, Of heart towards heart, Oh, how it creates
A sorrow apart!
What? Shall I flee?
Maybe into the woods?
But all is in vain!
Crown of all life, Joy without peace, Oh love, that is you.
The Wanderer: To the Moon
On the earth – I, and in heaven – you: I wander on stoutly and you do too; I, grave and sombre, you, bright and pure, Of the difference between us I cannot be sure.
A stranger, I wander from land to land
So heimatlos, so unbekannt; Berg auf, Berg ab, Wald ein, Wald aus, Doch bin ich nirgend, ach! zu Haus.
Du aber wanderst auf und ab Aus Ostens Wieg’ in Westens Grab, Wallst Länder ein und Länder aus, Und bist doch, wo du bist, zu Haus.
Der Himmel, endlos ausgespannt, Ist dein geliebtes Heimatland; O glücklich, wer, wohin er geht, Doch auf der Heimat Boden steht!
Johann Gabriel Seidl (1804–1875)
5 Wandrers Nachtlied
Über allen Gipfeln
Ist Ruh’, In allen Wipfeln
Spürest du Kaum einen Hauch; Die Vögelein schweigen im Walde. Warte nur, balde Ruhest du auch.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
6 Aus Heliopolis II
Fels auf Felsen hingewälzet, Fester Grund und treuer Halt; Wasserfälle, Windesschauer, Unbegriffene Gewalt.
Without a home, I’m known to no man, Up and down peaks, and through woods I go But nowhere I visit, a home do I know.
But up you wander, and down again soon, East is your cradle, and west is your tomb Into and out of the nations you roam And wherever you visit, you’re always at home.
In wide expanse the heavens stand
And all are your own dear homeland; Oh lucky the man, wheresoever he’s found, Who always stands on his home-ground!
Wanderer’s Night-Song
In the hills
All’s still. In the trees
Barely a breeze And no bird song. Wait awhile, before long You too’ll be at ease.
From Heliopolis II
Rock heaved against rock
Firm foundation, strong foothold, Waterfalls, and windy showers Sheer unfathomable power.
Einsam auf Gebirges Zinne, Kloster wie auch Burgruine, Grab’ sie der Erinn’rung ein!
Denn der Dichter lebt vom Sein.
Atme du den heil’gen Äther
Schling die Arme um die Welt, Nur dem Würdigen, dem Großen Bleibe mutig zugesellt.
Lass die Leidenschaften sausen
Im metallenen Akkord, Wenn die starken Stürme brausen, Findest du das rechte Wort.
7 Liebesbotschaft
Rauschendes Bächlein, So silbern und hell, Eilst zur Geliebten So munter und schnell? Ach, trautes Bächlein, Mein Bote sei du; Bringe die Gruße Des Fernen ihr zu.
All’ ihre Blumen, Im Garten gepflegt, Die sie so lieblich
Am Busen trägt, Und ihre Rosen
In purpurner Glut,
Alone on the mountain’s peak
A monastery and ruined tower: Embed them in your memory, For the poet lives through Being.
Breathe, then, the holy ether, Fling your arms around the world, With the worthy, with the grand Boldly and united stand.
Let passions now soar With a metallic chord, When great tempests roar You will find the right word.
A Message of Love
Rushing stream
So silvery and bright, Are you hurrying to my darling With such speed and delight?
Oh, trusty little stream, My messenger be Bringing her good wishes From as far as can be.
And all her garden flowers
Which she tends with such care, Which she wears so prettily
On her bosom, in her hair, And her roses With their deep crimson glow,
Bächlein, erquicke Mit kühlender Flut.
Wenn sie am Ufer, In Träume versenkt, Meiner gedenkend, Das Köpfchen hängt; Tröste die Süße Mit freundlichem Blick, Denn der Geliebte Kehrt bald zurück.
Neigt sich die Sonne Mit rötlichem Schein, Wiege das Liebchen In Schlummer ein.
Rausche sie murmelnd
In süße Ruh, Flüstre ihr Träume Der Liebe zu.
Ludwig Rellstab (1799–1860)
8 Kriegers Ahnung
In tiefer Ruh liegt um mich her Der Waffenbrüder Kreis; Mir ist das Herz so bang und schwer, Von Sehnsucht mir so heiß.
Wie hab ich oft so süß geträumt
An ihrem Busen warm!
Wie freundlich schien des Herdes Glut, Lag sie in meinem Arm!
May your life-giving waters Cool and help them to grow.
When at the bank side, Sunk in a dream, Thinking of me Her head bowed, by the stream, Then console my sweetheart With a glance opportune Because her beloved Will be coming home soon.
As the sun is setting And red fills the sky, Cradle my beloved Till slumber draws nigh. Lulled by your murmurs, In a sweet state of peace, Whisper love’s dreams To her ear without cease.
A Warrior’s Premonition
Deeply at peace about me lie My band of brothers in arms; But my heart is so fearful and heavy, Aflame, I long for her charms.
How many times have I found sweet repose Lying on the warmth of her breast, How friendly was the glow of the hearth When she lay in my arms there at rest.
Johann Mayrhofer (1787–1836)
Hier, wo der Flammen düst’rer Schein
Ach! nur auf Waffen spielt, Hier fühlt die Brust sich ganz allein, Der Wehmut Träne quillt.
Herz! Daß der Trost dich nicht verläßt!
Es ruft noch manche Schlacht.
Bald ruh’ ich wohl und schlafe fest, Herzliebste! Gute Nacht!
Ludwig Rellstab
9 Frühlingssehnsucht
Säuselnde Lüfte wehend so mild
Blumiger Düfte atmend erfüllt!
Wie haucht ihr mich wonnig begrußend an!
Wie habt ihr dem pochenden Herzen getan?
Es möchte euch folgen auf luftiger Bahn! Wohin?
Bächlein, so munter rauschend zumal, Wollen hinunter silbern ins Tal.
Die schwebende Welle, dort eilt sie dahin!
Tief spiegeln sich Fluren und Himmel darin. Was ziehst du mich, sehnend verlangender Sinn, Hinab?
Grüßender Sonne spielendes Gold, Hoffende Wonne bringest du hold.
Wie labt mich dein selig begrußendes Bild. Es lächelt am tiefblauen Himmel so mild
Und hat mir das Auge mit Tränen gefüllt. Warum?
Here, where the dim light of flames Plays only on weapons of war, Here the heart feels quite lonely, Sheds a tear of unhappiness, raw.
My heart, may solace not desert you, There’s still many a battle to fight. Soon I’ll find rest, will sleep soundly, My dearest, I wish you good-night.
Springtime Yearning
Whispering breezes blowing so softly, Suffused with the breath of flowery scent, How joyful the greeting you waft o’er me! But what have you done to my pounding heart? It now wishes to follow your heedless path! Where to?
Little brooks, so lively, silvery, Murmur, resolved to discover the valley. There the rolling swell speeds its way, Field and sky mirrored in its depths.
Why, my longing, desirous senses do you drag me
Down?
Welcoming golden play of the sun, You bring hope of the joy I desire. How your welcoming image restores me! It smiles so sweetly from the deep blue sky And has filled my eyes with tears. Why?
Grünend umkränzet Wälder und Höh’, Schimmernd erglänzet Blütenschnee.
So dränget sich Alles zum bräutlichen Licht, Es schwellen die Keime, die Knospe bricht, Sie haben gefunden, was ihnen gebricht.
Und du?
Rastloses Sehnen! Wünschendes Herz, Immer nur Tränen, Klage und Schmerz?
Auch ich bin mir schwellender Triebe bewusst, Wer stillet mir endlich die drängende Lust?
Nur du befreist den Lenz in der Brust, Nur du!
Ludwig Rellstab
10 Ständchen
Leise flehen meine Lieder
Durch die Nacht zu dir; In den stillen Hain hernieder, Liebchen, komm zu mir!
Flüsternd schlanke Wipfel rauschen
In des Mondes Licht; Des Verräters feindlich Lauschen
Fürchte, Holde, nicht.
Hörst die Nachtigallen schlagen?
Ach! sie flehen dich, Mit der Töne sußen Klagen
Flehen sie für mich.
Sie versteh’n des Busens Sehnen, Kennen Liebesschmerz, Du lächelst,
Greenery wreathes the forest and hills, A snowfall of blossom gleams, shimmering. Everything tends closer to that bridal light, Seeds sprout, the buds swell, They have found what they need. Have you?
Restless longing, a yearning heart, Nothing but tears, sorrow and pain? I too am aware of growing passions. Who will finally calm my insistent desires? Only you can free the springtime locked in my breast. Only you!
Serenade
Softly beseeching my songs Pass through the night to you; Come, my dear, down to me To the quiet woodland, do!
Whispering, slender treetops rustle In the clear light of the moon. Don’t fear that malicious gossips Should overhear our words, my boon.
Do you hear the nightingales singing? It is you that they beseech With sweet notes that my sorrow To your darling ears may reach. They understand our heart’s longing, That pain in love does play its part,
Rühren mit den Silbertönen
Jedes weiche Herz.
Lass auch dir die Brust bewegen, Liebchen, höre mich, Bebend harr’ ich dir entgegen, Komm, beglücke mich!
Ludwig Rellstab
11 Aufenthalt
Rauschender Strom,
Brausender Wald,
Starrender Fels
Mein Aufenthalt;
Wie sich die Welle
An Welle reiht, Fließen die Tränen Mir ewig erneut.
Hoch in den Kronen
Wogend sich’s regt, So unaufhörlich
Mein Herze schlägt.
Und wie des Felsen
Uraltes Erz, Ewig derselbe
Bleibet mein Schmerz.
Ludwig Rellstab
That with their silvery tones they touch, May move every tender heart.
Allow your heart too to be moved, Hear, darling, what I say.
I tremble as I wait for you, O, make me happy on this day!
Taking Stock
By a seething river, A roaring in the trees, Intractable rock; So ill at ease.
As when wave After wave appears I shed new Floods of tears.
High in the trees, A constant surge, The beat of my heart An unending scourge.
And like the rocks’ Primeval ore, Ever and always My pain as before.
12 In der Ferne
Wehe dem Fliehenden, Welt hinaus ziehenden! Fremde durchmessenden, Heimat vergessenden, Mutterhaus hassenden, Freunde verlassenden
Folget kein Segen, ach! Auf ihren Wegen nach.
Herze! Das sehnende, Auge, das tränende, Sehnsucht, nie endende, Heimwärts sich wendende!
Busen, der wallende, Klage, verhallende, Abendstern, blinkender, Hoffnungslos sinkender.
Lüfte, ihr säuselnden, Wellen sanft kräuselnden, Sonnenstrahl, eilender, Nirgend verweilender:
Die mir mit Schmerze, ach!
Dies treue Herze brach, Grußt von dem Fliehenden, Welt hinaus ziehenden.
Ludwig Rellstab
Far Away
Woe to him who takes flight Out into the wide world, Across foreign parts, Forgetting his homeland, Hating his home, Deserting his friends. Alas, no blessing goes with him As he passes on his way.
The yearning heart, The tearful eye, The endless longing To look back homeward, The breast wrought, Its lament fading, The evening star gleaming, Setting without hope. You whispering breezes, You gently ruffled waves, You, hurrying sunbeam, Settling nowhere, Give her who brought the pain That broke this faithful heart Greetings from him taking flight Out into the wide world.
13 Abschied
Ade! Du muntre, du fröhliche Stadt, ade!
Schon scharret mein Rösslein mit lustigen Fuß; Jetzt nimm noch den letzten, den scheidenden Gruß.
Du hast mich wohl niemals noch traurig geseh’n, So kann es auch jetzt nicht beim Abschied gescheh’n, ade!
Ade! Ihr Bäume, ihr Gärten so grün, ade!
Nun reit’ ich am silbernen Strome entlang, Weit schallend ertönet mein
Abschiedsgesang,
Nie habt ihr ein trauriges Lied gehört, So wird euch auch keines beim Scheiden beschert, ade!
Ade! Ihr freundlichen Mägdlein dort, ade!
Was schaut ihr aus blumenumduftetem Haus
Mit schelmischen, lockenden Blicken heraus! Wie sonst, so grüß’ ich und schaue mich um, Doch nimmer wend’ ich mein Rösslein um, ade!
Ade! Liebe Sonne, so gehst du zur Ruh, ade!
Nun schimmert der blinkenden Sterne Gold, Wie bin ich euch Sternlein am Himmel so hold, Durchzieh’n wir die Welt auch weit und breit, Ihr gebt überall uns das treue Geleit, ade!
Ade! Du schimmerndes Fensterlein hell, ade!
Du glänzest so traulich mit dämmerndem Schein
Und ladest so freundlich ins Hüttchen uns ein.
Farewell
Farewell, oh you lively town, farewell!
My horse champs already, expectant his hoof, Now take you this last, this final salute. Never in life have you seen me disheartened So let it not happen now at our parting.
Farewell!
Farewell you trees, you green gardens, farewell!
I ride now along the silvery stream Far and about sounds my song of adieu; Never before have sad songs reached your hearing
So I won’t grant you one at the hour of my leaving. Farewell!
Farewell you friendly maids there, farewell! What can you spy from the flower-scented house, As your impish, encouraging faces peer out? I do as before, and look round in greeting But never will I turn my horse back about.
Farewell!
Farewell, dear sun sinking to rest, farewell! Now the shimmering stars are twinkling gold. How fond I am of you stars in the sky; Although we travel the world far and wide, Wherever I go, you are my faithful guide. Farewell!
Farewell, you bright little window, farewell!
You twinkle so snugly with dusky glow And warmly invite us to join you inside;
Vorüber, ach, ritt ich so manches Mal, Und wär’ es denn heute zum letzten Mal?
Ade! Ihr Sterne, verhüllet euch grau, ade!
Des Fensterlein trübes, verschimmerndes
Licht
Ersetzt ihr unzähligen Sterne mir nicht, Darf ich hier nicht weilen, muss hier vorbei, Was hilft es, folgt ihr mir noch so treu? Ade!
Ludwig Rellstab
14 Der Schiffer
Im Winde, im Sturme befahr ich den Fluss, Die Kleider durchweichet der Regen im Guss; Ich peitsche die Wellen mit mächtigem Schlag, Erhoffend, erhoffend mir heiteren Tag.
Die Wellen, sie jagen das ächzende Schiff, Es drohet der Strudel, es drohet das Riff. Gesteine entkollern den felsigen Höh’n, Und Tannen erseufzen wie Geistergestöh’n.
So musste es kommen, ich hab es gewollt, Ich hasse ein Leben behaglich entrollt; Und schlängen die Wellen den ächzenden Kahn, Ich priese doch immer die eigene Bahn.
Drum tose des Wassers ohnmächtiger Zorn, Dem Herzen entquillet ein seliger Born, Die Nerven erfrischend – o himmliche Lust, Dem Sturme zu trotzen mit männlicher Brust.
Johann Mayrhofer
But so often now I have ridden on by, And is today then to be the final time? Farewell!
Farewell you stars, veil your light, farewell! The window’s clouded, diminishing light
You cannot replace, oh uncountable stars, I cannot stay here, I must be on my way, What help can it be, though you faithfully follow? Farewell!
The Boatman
In wind and in storm I travel the river, My clothing sodden in torrents of rain. With powerful blows, I beat the waves In the hope, in the hope, of fairer days.
The waves, they hunt the groaning ship Threatened by maelstrom, threatened by reef; Stones tumble down from the rocky heights And the fir trees sigh like ghostly wights.
So must it be, so have I desired, I despise life comfortably rolling along, And were the groaning boat swallowed by waves
To choose my own path is all I would praise. Let water roar with powerless rage, From my heart arises a blessed spring
Refreshing the nerves – ’tis joy heaven-born With manly heart to brave the storm.
15 Der Schiffer
Friedlich lieg’ ich hingegossen, Lenke hin und her das Ruder, Atme kühl im Licht des Mondes, Träume süß im stillen Mute; Gleiten lass’ ich auch den Kahn, Schaue in die blanken Fluten, Wo die Sterne lieblich schimmern, Spiele wieder mit dem Ruder.
Säße doch das blonde Mägdlein
Vor mir auf dem Bänkchen ruhend, Sänge schmachtend zarte Lieder. Himmlisch wär’ mir dann zu Mute, Ließ mich necken von dem Kinde, Wieder tändelnd mit der Guten.
Friedlich lieg’ ich hingegossen, Träume suß im stillen Mute, Atme kühl im Licht des Mondes, Führe hin und her das Ruder.
Friedrich von Schlegel (1772–1829)
16 An eine Quelle
Du kleine, grünumwachsne Quelle, An der ich Daphne jüngst gesehn!
Dein Wasser war so still und helle!
Und Daphnes Bild darin, so schön!
O, wenn sie sich noch mal am Ufer sehen lässt, So halte du ihr schönes Bild doch fest; Ich schleiche heimlich dann mit nassen Augen hin,
The Boatman
Stretched out, I lie peacefully
Guiding the oar to and fro, Breathing coolly in moonlit glow, Dreaming sweetly in tranquil mood; Then I let the boat drift on, Gazing at the glistening flow
Where the stars shimmer pleasantly, And I take the oar playfully.
If the golden-haired young maiden Sat quiet before me on the bench
Singing sweetly songs of yearning, Heavenly then would be my mood, I’d let the young one tease me so, With that good girl I’d flirt anew.
Stretched out, I lie peacefully, Dreaming sweetly in tranquil mood; Breathing coolly in moonlit glow, Guiding the oar to and fro.
At a Spring
You little spring, grown round with green, Nearby was Daphne lately seen!
Your water was so calm, so light! And Daphne’s likeness fair and bright!
O, when again she is seen on your shore
Then remember her likeness forever more, I'll secretly steal there, eyes moist with tears
Dem Bild meine Not zu klagen; Denn, wenn ich bei ihr selber bin, Dann, ach! dann kann ich ihr nichts sagen.
Matthias Claudius (1740–1815)
17 Am Strome
Ist mir’s doch, als sei mein Leben An den schönen Strom gebunden; Hab’ ich Frohes nicht an seinem Ufer, Und Betrübtes hier empfunden?
Ja, du gleichest meiner Seele; Manchmal grün und glatt gestaltet, Und zu Zeiten herrschen Stürme Schäumend, unruhvoll, gefaltet.
Fließest zu dem fernen Meere, Darfst allda nicht heimisch werden; Mich drängt’s auch in mildre Lande, Finde nicht das Glück auf Erden.
Johann Mayrhofer
18 Auf der Donau
Auf der Wellen Spiegel schwimmt der Kahn, Alte Burgen ragen himmelan, Tannenwälder rauschen geistergleich, Und das Herz im Busen wird uns weich.
Denn der Menschen Werk sinken all’, Wo ist Turm, wo Pforte, wo der Wall, Wo sie selbst, die Starken, erzgeschirmt, Die in Krieg und Jagden hingestürmt?
And unto her likeness, lament my fears, For when at last I am at her side Then in her, in her, I cannot confide.
By the Stream
It seems that the course of my life Is bound to this shining stream, For on her banks, have not strife And delight been ever mingled for me?
Yes, indeed, you reflect my soul, Sometimes patterned green and smooth, And then at times, the tempests roll, Frothing, noisy, crumpling, move.
You flow down to the distant sea And even there you’re not at home; I too am urged to gentler lands Finding no joy where I roam.
On the Danube
On the waves’ mirror the boat now glides, Old towers rear up into the sky, Firwoods, ghostly, sigh and wail, And in our breasts, our hearts do quail.
For man’s work is doomed to fall, Where is the tower, the gate, the wall, Where are they, strong, armoured knights, Storming onwards in hunt and strife?
Trauriges Gestrüppe wuchert fort, Während frommer Sage Kraft verdorrt: Und im kleinen Kahne wird uns bang, Wellen drohn wie Zeiten Untergang.
Johann Mayrhofer
19 Auf dem Wasser zu singen
Mitten im Schimmer der spiegelnden Wellen
Gleitet, wie Schwäne, der wankende Kahn:
Ach, auf der Freude sanftschimmernden
Wellen
Gleitet die Seele dahin wie der Kahn; Denn von dem Himmel herab auf die Wellen
Tanzet das Abendrot rund um den Kahn.
Über den Wipfeln des westlichen Haines
Winket uns freundlich der rötliche Schein;
Unter den Zweigen des östlichen Haines
Säuselt der Kalmus im rötlichen Schein;
Freude des Himmels und Ruhe des Haines
Atmet die Seel’ im errötenden Schein.
Ach, es entschwindet mit tauigem Flügel
Mir auf den wiegenden Wellen die Zeit; Morgen entschwinde mit schimmerndem
Flügel
Wieder wie gestern und heute die Zeit, Bis ich auf höherem strahlendem Flügel
Selber entschwinde der wechselnden Zeit.
Friedrich Leopold zu Stolberg-Stolberg (1750–1819)
Gloomy thickets rampant grow
While fabled virtue is brought low And in little boats we catch our breath, Like the times, waves threaten death.
To Sing on the Water
In the midst of the sparkling, mirroring waves
Drifting, like swans do, the quivering boat:
Ah! on the joy of the soft-glinting waves
My soul drifts away now, just like the boat; Then descending from heaven onto the waves, The sunset now dances all red round the boat.
Over the tops of the westerly grove
Beckons us kindly, the reddening glow; Under the boughs of the easterly grove
The reed beds sigh, in the reddening glow; Joy of the heavens and quiet of the grove
My soul breathes deep in the red-blushing glow.
Ah, they escape me on dewy wing
On swaying waves, the time and the tide; Let tomorrow escape on shimmering wing
As today and before, the time and the tide, Until I go too, on high, radiant wing, Myself escaping the time and the tide.
20 Der Pilgrim
Noch in meines Lebens Lenze War ich, und ich wandert’ aus, Und der Jugend frohe Tänze Ließ ich in des Vaters Haus.
All mein Erbteil, meine Habe Warf ich fröhlich glaubend hin, Und am leichten Pilgerstabe Zog ich fort mit Kindersinn.
Denn mich trieb ein mächtig Hoffen
Und ein dunkles Glaubenswort, „Wandle,” rief’s „der Weg ist offen, Immer nach dem Aufgang fort.
„Bis zu einer goldnen Pforten
Du gelangst, da gehst du ein, Denn das Irdische wird dorten Ewig unvergänglich sein.”
Abend ward’s und wurde Morgen, Nimmer, nimmer stand ich still, Aber immer blieb’s verborgen, Was ich suche, was ich will.
Berge lagen mir im Wege, Ströme hemmten meinen Fuß, Über Schlünde baut ich Stege, Brücken durch den wilden Fluss.
Und zu eines Stroms Gestaden
Kam ich, der nach Morgen floss; Froh vertrauend seinem Faden, Warf ich mich in seinen Schoß.
The Pilgrim
Once, in the springtime of my life I was, and wandered overseas And left the happy dance of youth Behind me, under Father’s roof.
All my birthright, all I had I left, with joyful faith, behind And with my fragile pilgrim’s stave With childish mind I made my way. By mighty hope I was compelled And darkly-whispered word of faith, ‘Walk on,’ it said, ‘clear is the way Toward the sun at dawn of day.
‘Until a golden gate appears Before your eyes; then enter in And there the things of earth will be Divine and live unfadingly.’
Evening came and then the morning Never, oh never, have I stood still, Yet it remains concealed from view, What I’m seeking or I wish to do.
Mountains lay across my path And torrents swirled around my feet, Over gorges I built pathways, Bridges over savage waves.
And then the banks of a river so wide, Which flowed to morning, I approached; Trusting its course, my heart was bright, I fell in its arms with true delight.
Hin zu einem großen Meere
Trieb mich seiner Wellen Spiel; Vor mir liegt’s in weiter Leere, Näher bin ich nicht dem Ziel.
Ach, kein Weg will dahin führen, Ach, der Himmel über mir
Will die Erde nicht berühen, Und das Dort ist niemals hier!
21 Lied eines Schiffers an die Dioskuren
Dioskuren, Zwillingssterne, Die ihr leuchtet meinem Nachen, Mich beruhigt auf dem Meere Eure Milde, euer Wachen.
Wer auch fest in sich begründet, Unverzagt dem Sturm begegnet Fühlt sich doch in euren Strahlen Doppelt mutig und gesegnet.
Dieses Ruder, das ich schwinge, Meeresfluten zu zerteilen, Hänge ich, so ich geborgen, Auf an eures Tempels Säulen, Dioskuren, Zwillingssterne.
Johann Mayrhofer
22 Der Musensohn
Durch Feld und Wald zu schweifen, Mein Liedchen weg zu pfeifen,
Onwards to a vast, wide sea
By waves’ play I was driven forward; Before me, wide and empty space, No closer is the goal I chase.
Ah, no bridge can lead me there, Ah, the heavens over me Can never touch the earth, though near, And the ‘there’ is never here!
A Sailor’s Song to the Dioscuri
Dioscuri, oh you twin stars Giving light to my barque, You calm me when at sea, Watching gently over me.
He who trusts in himself Undismayed meets the storm, Will still feel in your rays Twice blest and twice brave.
This oar which I flourish To cleave the sea’s flood I will hang, once secure
On your temple's pillar, Dioscuri, oh you twin stars.
Son of The Muses
Sweeping through field and forest, Forever piping my song,
So geht’s von Ort zu Ort! Und nach dem Takte reget Und nach dem Maß beweget Sich alles an mir fort.
Ich kann sie kaum erwarten, Die erste Blum’ im Garten, Die erste Blüt’ am Baum. Sie grußen meine Lieder, Und kommt der Winter wieder, Sing ich noch jenen Traum.
Ich sing ihn in der Weite, Auf Eises Läng’ und Breite, Da blüht der Winter schön! Auch diese Blüte schwindet, Und neue Freude findet Sich auf bebauten Höh’n.
Denn wie ich bei der Linde Das junge Völkchen finde, Sogleich erreg’ ich sie. Der stumpfe Bursche bläht sich, Das steife Mädchen dreht sich Nach meiner Melodie.
Ihr gebt den Sohlen Flügel Und treibt durch Tal und Hügel Den Liebling weit von Haus. Ihr lieben, holden Musen, Wann ruh’ ich ihr am Busen Auch endlich wieder aus?
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
It’s on from one place to another. And, in time to my measure, The world, in time with my beat, Keeps constantly moving along.
I can hardly wait for The first flower of spring, The first blossom to show on the tree; My song’s for their welcoming. And when winter is back once more, I’ll sing to their memory.
I’ll sing the dream as I go abroad The length and breadth of the ice; Here winter is seen at its best, Yet brief flowering has to suffice. New delights are to be found On the uplands where people abound.
For when beside the linden tree I see that youngsters are gathered, I’ll stir them to life immediately; The stolid lad puts on an air, The staid girl does a turn; They’re dancing to my melody.
You lend wings to my heels, Drive over hill and dale Me, your favourite, far from home. Sacred muses, your will prevail, But when at last will I find rest, When lie once more on her sweet breast?
Translations: tracks 1, 5, 7–12, 22 © Uri Liebrecht, www.uritext.co.uk; tracks 2–4, 6, 13–21 © Mary Boyle
Friedrich von Schiller (1759–1805)
Roderick Williams encompasses a wide repertoire, from Baroque to contemporary music, in the opera house and on the concert platform as a recitalist worldwide. He enjoys relationships with all the major UK opera houses and has sung opera world premieres by David Sawer, Sally Beamish, Michel van der Aa, Robert Saxton and Alexander Knaifel. In the autumn of 2016 he will sing the title role of Billy Budd for Opera North.
He sings regularly with all the BBC orchestras and all the major UK orchestras, as well as the Berlin Philharmonic, Deutsches SymphonieOrchester Berlin, Russian National Orchestra, Orchestre Philharmonique de Radio France, Ensemble Orchestral de Paris, Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia in Rome, Cincinnati Symphony, Music of the Baroque Chicago and Bach Collegium Japan amongst others. His many festival appearances include the BBC Proms (including the Last Night in 2014), Edinburgh, Cheltenham, Aldeburgh and Melbourne.
Roderick Williams has an extensive discography. For Delphian he has recorded songs by Martin Shaw, with Iain Burnside, Sophie Bevan and Andrew Kennedy (The Airmen, DCD34105).
He is a composer and has had works premiered at Wigmore Hall and the Barbican, the Purcell Room and live on national radio. In 2015 he embarked on a three-year odyssey of the Schubert song cycles, while in April 2016 he was Artistic Director of Leeds Lieder+. In May 2016 he was named winner in the Singer category at the prestigious Royal Philharmonic Society Awards.
Interweaving roles as pianist and Sony Awardwinning radio presenter with equal aplomb, Iain Burnside is also a master programmer with an instinct for the telling juxtaposition. His recordings straddle an exuberantly eclectic repertoire ranging from Schoenberg and Copland to Debussy and Judith Weir, with a special place reserved for the highways and byways of English song. For Delphian he has curated programmes of Parry, Martin Shaw and others with singers including Ailish Tynan, Sophie Bevan, Irene Drummond, Susan Bickley, Andrew Kennedy, Roderick Williams and William Berger. The three-disc Rachmaninov: Songs (DCD34127),
with seven outstanding Russian singers, won widespread acclaim and was shortlisted for the Vocal award at the 2014 Gramophone Awards. 2015 saw his first Schubert recording for Delphian, Nacht und Träume, featuring Ailish Tynan (DCD34165), while a Medtner project with Delphian is also forthcoming.
Iain has devised and written a number of highly individual theatre pieces. Lads in their Hundreds, an exploration of war songs, played in London and at the Ludlow Weekend of English Song. A Soldier and a Maker, based on the life of Ivor Gurney, was premiered at the Barbican Centre and transferred to the Cheltenham Festival; a version for radio has been commissioned for the BBC’s World War One season. Journeying Boys was performed in November 2013 in Milton Court Theatre.
In demand as teacher and animateur, Iain also works at the Royal Opera House and the National Opera Studio, and enjoys a close association with Rosenblatt Recitals. He is International Visiting Artist at the Royal Irish Academy of Music, Dublin.
Schubert Lieder: Nacht und Träume
Ailish Tynan soprano, Iain Burnside piano
DCD34165
This selection of songs could carry the subtitle ‘Women in Love’. ‘L’Education sentimentale’, perhaps. Ailish Tynan and Iain Burnside have assembled a portrait gallery: a whole bevy of Schubert’s women pursuing different sorts of love, nurturing different Biedermeier dreams. Goethe’s Gretchen finds an intriguing counterpart in Schiller’s Amalia. Ellen gazes out over Loch Katrine, while Serafina looks down affectionately at her fortepiano. A young nun welcomes her destiny as the bride of Christ. The first volume in Burnside’s carefully crafted voyage of Schubert song sees Ailish at the height of her powers, in music that has been her ‘life’s dream’ to record.
‘a partnership of obvious subtlety and sophistication’ — Classical Ear, December 2015
Duet: Schumann – Mendelssohn – Cornelius
Lucy Crowe soprano, William Berger baritone, Iain Burnside piano
DCD34167
Duet singing reached its zenith in the Victorian age, and has since fallen out of fashion. Did artists become concerned with grander solo projects? Did audiences think duets too lowbrow? William Berger’s second Delphian song disc is a programme of duets with the delectably voiced Lucy Crowe that resoundingly demonstrates just how musically rich the genre can be. Published sets and individual songs by Mendelssohn, Schumann and the slightly younger Peter Cornelius span the middle decades of nineteenthcentury Germany, and also represent the literary life of the country in that period. Nestled at the end of the disc, ravishingly beautiful and sad, is Schumann’s memorial to his deceased young son.
‘In casting, revelatory programming and true vocal chamber musicmaking, this CD is a small miracle to be cherished’ — BBC Music Magazine, March 2016, CHORAL & SONG CHOICE
Rachmaninov: Songs
Evelina Dobraceva soprano, Ekaterina Siurina soprano, Justina Gringyte mezzo-soprano, Daniil Shtoda tenor, Andrei Bondarenko baritone, Rodion Pogossov baritone, Alexander Vinogradov bass, Iain Burnside piano
DCD34127 (3 discs)
This first complete recording for twenty years of Rachmaninov’s published song output (with the addition of two delightfully comic occasional pieces) lays two further claims to importance: our seven singers – hand-picked by renowned pianist Iain Burnside – are all native Russian speakers, and every song is performed in the key in which Rachmaninov wrote it, respecting both the specificity of vocal colour and the carefully designed tonal and expressive trajectory within each opus. For the first twenty-five years of his career Rachmaninov regularly expressed himself in song, from Tchaikovskian beginnings to the extraordinarily personal range of vocal and pianistic utterance in his final two collections. Almost a century after exile brought down the curtain on this period of his creative output, Burnside and his singers bring these works to shimmering, gushing, crackling, magnificent life.
‘seven phenomenal young singers … Burnside remains a firm, clear companion throughout’
— BBC Music Magazine, May 2014, CHORAL & SONG CHOICE
‘a richly rewarding and fascinating set … The star of the show is undoubtedly Burnside, playing throughout with unfailing intensity and sensitivity: voice and piano are truly equal partners here, and the results are electrifying’ — Daily Telegraph, February 2014
‘[Burnside] recognises the integral expressive role of the piano in these songs … Sung gloriously with palpable heart and soul’
— Gramophone, May 2014, EDITOR’S CHOICE
Also shortlisted in the Vocal category at the 2014 Gramophone Awards