If you are regular readers of Liederabend, you’ll know that whenever I recommend a song from a cycle, I always suggest listening to the whole thing, because when I present the songs one by one, I inevitably take them out of context. And, in general, if they form part of a cycle, there is a reason for it.
For example, let’s pause over Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen [Songs of a Wayfarer] by Gustav Mahler. The first song I shared, in an article where I explained how the work was conceived after a romantic breakup, was the fourth and final song of the cycle, Die zwei blauen Augen, which has the character of a funeral march. Then we listened to the second, Ging heut’ morgen übers Feld, lively and light, and afterwards the first, Wenn mein Schatz Hochzeit macht, so sorrowful.
Since we’re dealing with a very well-known cycle, many readers already have the full picture. But someone who has never listened to the entire cycle might conclude, based on these three songs, that Mahler took that breakup—which he himself described as so painful—rather serenely. And surely that listener would miss a moment of anger, a vehement reaction.
Of course, because they would be missing the third song! Ich hab’ ein glühend Messer, which in the score has the indication “schnell und wild “[fast and furious]. Indeed, the lied bursts in with violence, speaking of that burning dagger the poetic voice feels lodged in his chest, never leaving him day or night, and the first stanza ends with a desperate “oh weh!”. Then we hear a few piano phrases, a transition that leads us from this anguish to an “oh weh!” that is now a lament and introduces the second stanza. This is the moment of memories, and now the atmosphere resembles that of the songs we already know. Until the third stanza begins, and the song regains the energy and fury of the first, in a search for death.
That is to say, within this four-song cycle, which lasts around twenty minutes, Mahler concentrates all the rage of lost love into barely three minutes. With a fantastic song, it must be said.
The version of Ich hab’ ein glühend Messer I’ve chosen to share is not one of Mahler’s two originals—that is, the versions for voice and piano or for voice and orchestra. We will listen to the arrangement Arnold Schönberg made in 1920 for voice and chamber orchestra, performed by Christoph Prégardien and Ensemble Kontraste. The beloved tenor turned seventy on Sunday, still active and full of energy, and with this article we send him our congratulations.
And remember: if you have even a little time, listen to the whole cycle! Among other things, you’ll be able to appreciate how the opening of Ich hab’ ein glühend Messer is even more striking when heard in its proper place, after Ging heut’ morgen übers Feld.
Ich hab' ein glühend Messer,
Ein Messer in meiner Brust,
O weh! Das schneid't so tief
In jede Freud' und jede Lust.
Ach, was ist das für ein böser Gast!
Nimmer hält er Ruh', nimmer hält er Rast,
Nicht bei Tag, noch bei Nacht, wenn ich schlief.
O Weh!
Wenn ich in dem Himmel seh',
Seh' ich zwei blaue Augen stehn.
O Weh! Wenn ich im gelben Felde geh',
Seh' ich von fern das blonde Haar
Im Winde wehn.
O Weh!
Wenn ich aus dem Traum auffahr'
Und höre klingen ihr silbern' Lachen,
O Weh!
Ich wollt', ich läg auf der schwarzen Bahr',
Könnt' nimmer die Augen aufmachen!
I have a red-hot knife,
a knife in my breast.
O woe! It cuts so deeply
into every joy and delight.
Alas, what an evil guest it is!
Never does it rest or relax,
not by day or by night, when I would sleep.
O woe!
When I gaze up into the sky
I see two blue eyes there.
O woe! When I walk in the yellow field,
I see from afar her blond hair
waving in the wind.
O woe!
When I start from a dream
and hear the tinkle of her silvery laugh,
O woe!
Would that I lay on my black bier -
Would that I could never again open my eyes!
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