Le baiser - Auguste Toulmouche
The kiss - A. Toulmouche

Songs that leave me unmoved. That I wouldn't add to a list of songs I don't like (a list which, in public, has a single item), but I wouldn't say I like them either. Songs that arouse mixed feelings when included in a recital programme, and I know that the feelings will turn into positive or negative depending on the day. That's to say: it will depend on me, on the artist, on the place it takes during the concert... It's an interesting experiment I do relatively often, because the four or five songs I keep in mind are among the best known of their authors.

I know what causes that uneasiness: too much sugar. I don't have much of a sweet tooth, and, for instance, many deserts that people love are too sickly sweet for me. In fact, I don't usually order dessert at a restaurant. And the thing is that I find those songs too sweet.

"Which songs are you talking about? We want examples!" That's what you're thinking, aren't you? Because I am aware that "too much sugar" is a relative concept. So let's go, here you are: Es muss ein Wunderbares sein, by Franz Liszt, one of his well-known lieder nowadays and in his time. He composed it in 1852, when he was the hofkapellmeister (the musical director at the court) of great duke Karl Friedrich of Saxe-Weimar-Eisenach, a great patron of the arts. Liszt had arrived at Weimar in 1848, and at the time he wrote this song he was mainly focused on conducting and composing his symphonic poems. But princess Augusta, the great duke's sister, suggested that he write it, and he could hardly refuse.

The verses belonged to Amaranth, a lyrical epic poem by Oskar von Redwitz which achieved a huge success when it was published in 1849; just to get an idea, it reached in 1851 the eighth edition. The poem talks about idealized Middle Ages, involving legends, religion and courtly love. The main character is the pious knight Walther (a name that refers to Walther von der Vogelweide, the greatest Minnesänger), who, in his way to Italia, stays in the castle of a noble whose daughter, Amaranth, falls in love with him. But, alas, Walther is engaged and is travelling to meet his fiancée Ghismonda, so Amaranth suffers in silence. When the knight meets Ghismonda, he discovers that the maiden doesn't believe in God, but instead has pantheistic feelings. Walther tries that she returns to faith, but he doesn't get it, so his only painful option is to break off their engagement. Back home, it stops again at the castle, and this time everything runs smoothly and Amaranth and Walther get married. Maybe you're thinking it's not a very exciting story; I think so too, but also think that Amaranth has many points in common with Tannhäuser, an opera (composed in 1845) that moves me every time I see it.

Redwitz's poem is divided into four cycles, each one divided into numerous chapters; we find the verses of Es muss ein Wunderbares sein towards the end of the second cycle, Amaranth; they are the first two stanzas of the chapter Amaranths stille Lieder (The quiet songs of Amaranth), where the young girl sings to an impossible love at the time. As I said, Liszt wrote it at Princess Alexandra's request, it's said that between lunchtime and dinner. Many years later, the composer gave this song as an example of what should be a song: a simple vocal line and a very simple accompaniment, which hardly underlines a few words. In those last years of his life, he revised many of his lieder to simplify them (I spoke here about that, in connection with the Tre sonetti di Petrarca); when he composed Es muss ein Wunderbares sein he already wrote an ideal song according to the criteria that would guide him thirty years later.

I know it's a beautiful song, no wonder it's so well known. But it's sweet, too sweet for my liking, and it remains in a kind of limbo of songs, between the "I like it" and the "I don't like it". Until a few months ago, I heard the version I'm sharing today, that of Jonas Kaufmann and Helmut Deutsch, and I surprised me when I stopped the player to play it again because I loved it. What was different this time? After giving some thought to the matter, I came to the conclusion that Kaufmann has a special connection with this kind of song, as well as other singers connect with contemplative or narrative pieces, and he often gets them to sound natural; I also think that Deutsch is a counterpoint, the pinch of salt that you add when baking to enhance tastes (but not sweetness). At least that's my feeling when I listen to their performance of Es muss ein Wunderbares sein.

Songs that leave me unmoved, that's how I began this article. Do you have songs that you like and don't like? Would you share them with us?

 


Es muss ein Wunderbares sein

Es muss ein Wunderbares sein
Ums Lieben zweier Seelen,
Sich schliessen ganz einander ein,
Sich nie ein Wort verhehlen,

Und Freud und Leid und Glück und Not
So mit einander tragen;
Vom ersten Kuss bis in den Tod
Sich nur von Liebe sagen.

It must be a wonderful thing
for two souls to be in love,
locking each other in so completely,
never concealing a word;

and joy and grief, and happiness and hardship -
enduring these with each other
from the first kiss until death,
speaking together only with love.

(translation by Emily Ezust)

 

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  • This commment is unpublished.
    · 5 years ago
    Bryan, thank you for your comment; I never thought of that wistfulness or sadness in the song, but I must admit you're right :) And that sadness takes some sugar from the song, I agree. Maybe this is the difference between Jonas Kaufmann's performance and other 'more sugary' performances? He's singing a sad song? Nothing to do with sugar, but my favourite performances of Schubert's Ständchen are those that emphasize its sadness...

    'Ich liebe dich', aka 'Zärtliche Liebe' is, in my opinion, a different case; it's written in a time when Sentimentalism was trendy :) Liszt wrote his song more than fifty years later! I would say that 'Ich liebe dich' is more a 'self-controlled' song that a sugary song. Anyway, it's a nice song that turns into a really beautiful song when sang by Fritz Wunderlich (that's the version I shared many years ago).
  • This commment is unpublished.
    · 5 years ago
    I understand exactly what you mean, but nonetheless, I rather like this song. For me, it avoids excess sugar because of the first line, "Es muss ein Wunderbares sein"; in other words, she is not speaking of something she has actually experienced but only of how wonderful it would be to do so. That gives the song a touch of wistfulness, even sadness. Her sentiments are surely an expression of a universal—if rarely attained—desire, and the simplicity of the piano part suggests to me her sincerity and innocence.

    I'm wondering if you feel the same way about "Ich liebe dich," a poem by K. F. Herossee, set by Beethoven around 1797. It's also a very simple song about love, although this time the speaker has actually attained the love he describes. Is it too sugary for you?
  • This commment is unpublished.
    · 5 years ago
    Thank you, C, now I know I'm not alone! It's exactly like you describe it, and I love the idea of songs being a possibility, thanks for the beautiful image.

    Sometimes, opera lover friends that don't particularly like song ask me for recommendations to begin with it, and I usually answer them to try the songs by the opera composers they love (no matter if we're talking about Mozart or Strauss) or the songs that their favourite singers sing. Maybe they aren't my favourite song singers, but that's not about me but about my friends :)), and if they feel with this o that singer the kind of connection you explain, they could also connect with their song singing. At list, just to begin with.

    But Florian Boesch and Elly Ameling... they're great song singers!
  • This commment is unpublished.
    · 5 years ago
    I agree; it depends heavily on my mood as a member of the audience and most certainly on the artist. Hesitantly I confess that Winterreise hasn't been my cup of tea for very long. In fact, it still isn't, really... unless Florian Boesch sings it. His recorded versions make them feel true and unmannered to me, and he steers clear of the common path of "persusation through aggression". The Boesch/Martineau version of "Der Leiermann" is the pinnacle of Lieder-interpretation in my book. Another example of this is a cassette of an art song recital recording with Elly Ameling I was gifted as a student of singing. I found the songs mezmerising and I listened to the recording over and over again, but when I listened to other versions of some of the songs, or even attempted to sing some of them myself (despite having a somewhat heavier voice than Ms Ameling) many of them did not appeal to me at all in that new context. She had made the songs come to life, pouring into them her lyrical heart, soul and voice. Without her voice Haydn's mermaid was just melismas on a page or just became a virtuoso songline used to impress by singers who didn't dare to expose their souls. Coloured by her soul I even immensely enjoyed Beethoven and Loewe who did not speak to me on their own. She became the interpreter who made me see the hidden (and, importantly, possible-to-find) beauty beneath a languange of form that many times put me off at first (and second...) glance. Maybe one can see a song as a possibility, a picture in a colouring book waiting for an artist to add the colours that will bring forward, express or even enhance the unity of words, music and silence of the piece?