ionreviews

ionreviews Music, Art, Literature—the good stuff
Eye on Arts

6.3.04

Lohengrin Sings Schumann, cont. — by Jens Laurson
Contributed by Charles T. Downey at 12:45 AM | Link to this article
Part Two (of three) showcased Beethoven's (1770–1827, Google count 683,000 to 2,960,000) greatest achievement in the Lieder repertoire after the marvelous song Adelaide. Just how difficult it must be to substitute at short notice was shown by Mr. Jelasic in these pieces. Auf dem Hügel sitz' ich, spähend showed some difficulties with the piano accompaniment. Jon Lackey's sound is strangely nasal at times. His pronunciation was rather fine for my picky German ears, but the diction was not at all. It simply takes too much effort to understand any of the words, and the acoustics can only be blamed for so much.

This all sounds terribly negative, and perhaps that is the curse when An die ferne Geliebte is etched into your brain with Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau singing it impeccably. But the songs are so good that a good performance is sufficient to make them highly entertaining. It is a joy just to hear them live and have a singer—Dieskau or not—give his all in this traversal that is so much more uplifting than for example Schubert's gloomy Winterreise.

By Es kehret der Maien, my ears have adjusted a bit better to the loudness, and the last of the six songs, Nimm sie hin denn, diese Lieder takes me captive. At home, I cannot supress the urge to ruin this wonderful Lied by singing along and so it was nice to sit through the whole song without my vocal noise distorting what is a perfectly proportioned song. It was certainly worth every bit of applause. And while no one could distinguish if the applause went more towards Mr. Beethoven or Mr. Lackey, it is clear that there and then the performance could not have been done without either. During the intermission I talked to people sitting in different locations in the West Garden Court to get their impression of the balance of singer and piano. Apparently, the back rows got a more evenly distributed sound. A little probing found people perfectly delighted with the balance. In the interest of full disclosure, those audience members also were Mr. Lackey's church choir members.

Just as I was about to scribble down some very lovely things the Washington Post said about Jon Lackey's performance of Dichterliebe, by Robert Schumann (1810–1856, Google count 268,000), Lackey ruined Im wunderschönen Monat Mai (In the wonderfully beautiful month of May) thoroughly. It seemed affected, weak, and narrow in the high registers, too strong in the lower, and erratically accentuated.

Aus meinen Tränen sprießen (From my tears sprout forth), one of my favorite songs in this cycle, didn't win me over either. The breakneck-speed Die Rose, die Lilie, die Taube (The rose, the lily, the dove), however, was very nicely done. It is simply too fast to allow for indulgence and emotional emphasis of the kind from which some of the other songs suffered. The deep, dark, and Ur-German Romantic Im Rhein, im heiligen Strome (In the Rhine, in the holy stream) was not badly done at all, but the piano playing was mechanical and clumsily uninspired. Ich grolle nicht (I carry no grudge), an absolute favorite for the punch it packs and the bitter, unrelenting force of admonishment with which it portrays a gargantuan . . . grudge should be packed to the top with suppressed energy to be released at certain points. Solidly done, it is a pleasure to hear, no matter where and when.

I noticed that looking at Mr. Lackey distracts more than it adds to the experience. In fact, when I looked at his contortions, stretching and otherwise grimacing along with the music, I was more critical than when I simply listened to his singing and looked down on my notepad. While the declamatory style of Dieskau or the wonderfully felt and sung Bostridge account fought in my head, I enjoyed the concert despite my constant quibbles. Quibbles that were soon much more annoying to me than the performance's shortcomings themselves. It would be sad if musical snobbery and comparison to recorded standard-bearers should deny me the enjoyment of a concert experience. "Live" adds so much to the enjoyment over the "canned" version in any case that it is always worth going out to see and hear a performance. When it is for free, and of usually outstanding quality as at the National Gallery of Art (or Library of Congress), even better! Now if only a venue could be found for the Gallery that were not so grossly inept for performances!

I trailed with Messrs. Lackey and Jelasic through the rest of the songs and enjoyed myself, almost delighting in a few and finding myself a lot more gently disposed. The warm applause was well deserved for both. Jumping in with only 48 hours or less of notice makes the performance all the more notable. Finally, a look through the program notes unearthed to my amusement a mention of Jon Lackey's "unique blend of Heldentenor and lyric tenor qualities." Now I know why I thought of Lohengrin serenading a distant beloved in a manner that she would actually hear it. One of the quoted critics was right when he mentioned "penetrating power."

The concert turned out to be one of quicksilver spirit, leaving me fresh and ready to go out and about, rather than to home and sleep. In this sense, it had been one of the finest. It was also one of the more forgettable concerts and, in that sense, obviously less impressive. But if unfortunate circumstance and a tad less quality collude to such a program at the Gallery, it is actually a most encouraging sign. It is one of the few places in town that could try to present a bad program and still have it be worthwhile.

Back to Main Page.

Want to keep reading? Go to the Ionarts Archives.