Schubert’s Winterreise offers what likely is the darkest, most tormented, aesthetically and emotionally compelling journey in the repertoire of Romantic song-cycles. Any singer who takes it on (most often baritones, but frequently tenors and occasionally a female voice) must make the effort to immerse himself in Wilhelm Müller’s poetry and Schubert’s magnificently moody, unreservedly honest representation of its darkly human sentiment. (For a more detailed description of the cycle, see my earlier review.)
Some observers would say–and already have said–that tenor Mark Padmore’s innately beautiful voice actually works against his interpretation of these songs, modifying his dramatic range, rendering the pain and regret something less than convincing, and leaving listeners swooning when they should be brooding. I don’t agree, because that beauty lies outside of, while remaining totally complementary to, Padmore’s sincerely felt and conveyed dramatic sensibility; over and over again he depicts the emotional contrasts between experiencing the world’s glory (and love’s promise) and the realities of life’s cruel turns. His usual dead-on intonation is sacrificed for pitchless exclamations in the most agitated utterances of “Der Lindenbaum”, followed by a most impressively controlled mastery of the considerable expressive and technical challenges of “Wasserflut”. “Auf dem Flusse” and “Irrlicht” show Padmore’s sensitivity and ability to capture the unique atmosphere of a song, of course in close collaboration with his piano partner Paul Lewis.
In addition to Padmore’s lovely singing, Lewis’ piano is a joy to hear; not only is it beautifully recorded with vibrant, demonstration-quality naturalness, but Lewis seems to articulate the keyboard’s significant role with particular sensitivity to the singer’s nuances and inflections, using the Steinway’s timbre to complement and contrast–and occasionally even imitate–the voice.
The sense of resignation is appropriately firm in the next to last song, “Die Nebensonnen”, and in the final song, time seems to stop, the lonely, wearied interplay of dispirited singer and unloved, “numb-fingered” hurdy-gurdy player a sad, slow dance eventually drifting away, unfinished for now, but leaving no doubt as to the singer’s unhappy fate. Bravo! to all concerned with this first-rate production (and did I mention that the sound is phenomenal?). [8/18/2009]
