I only do, in
principle, one thing a day. At my age, that’s quite enough. So, for many weeks, 15 March has been marked down for ‘Concert: Pianosalon’. Piano (Daniel Heide),
our favourite accompanist (family excluded), and mezzo-soprano Britta Schwarz in
a delightfully and sufficiently adventurous programme of late 19th and early
20th century songs. Just my tasse de thé. Rest up for the day, and then out for
a late night in the wilds of Wedding.
Rest up? Off at
midday to Holmes Place for Day 5 of my re-rehabiliation. Why did I go at my 40
minutes so hard? Aqua-exercise, sauna and the hardest massage I’ve ever had in
my life. Home for a weeny feet up, a lovely lentil curry and cocktail at the
delicious Asman restaurant, a trip to Rewe to stock my food cupboards … and it
was time to set out, a bit limply, for the banks of the Panke and our concert.
We didn’t know we
were also going to an Occasion. As I’ve said before, the Pianosalon has become
our favourite concert venue in Berlin, and we are regular visitors. But fate
and landlords decide, and this wonderful, atmospheric concert room has to go.
Not far. The new premises are right nearby. But tonight was the last concert in
the original venue. The place, denuded of the 120 old pianos, in various stages
of disrepair, which gave it its character, was saying farewell. Well, it
couldn’t have said it in better style. The room was packed, and the
entertainment was excellent. And so were the artists.
I have already
spilled my superlatives over my ‘five star’ acccompanist Daniel Heide, on stage
and disc. For me, he is everything an accompanist should be: strong,
supportive, accurate and feeling. A couple of weeks back we heard him play for
a pleasant viola concert, but here, in a Liederabend, given his sympathy with
voice, he was at his very best.
The singer was new
to us. Tall, statuesque (you could tell she was a mezzo the moment she walked
on), daringly clad in an attractive lilac number, she turned out to be a
copybook Lieder singer. A smooth, vibrato-less, genuine mezzo-soprano – no
shrill top, no plunging bass bottom, a lovely even sound from end to end.
Perfect intonation. And, best of all, a total immersion in and interpretation
of the material. Every word came clearly across. Paul said it was like a poetry
recital, and he was absolutely right.
And the programme?
Brahms, Schreker, Berg, Korngold (pause) Mahler, Zemlinsky, Strauss. I’ll admit
my biases: I’ve never liked Korngold, and am not mad about Berg. But this was
Korngold juvenilia and early Berg, so, better. I also admit to my lack of
knowledge: only two songs on the whole programme were well-known to me. But so
much the better: a voyage of discovery!
The first half was
nice and, to my surprise, the pieces I enjoyed easily the most were the two
songs by Franz Schreker. But Brahms didn’t quite get a fair go. Three Brahms
songs opened the evening, and the singer was quite evidently not yet going at
cruising speed. The audience clearly enjoyed Berg’s ‘Die Nachtigall’ the most,
perhaps because they knew it. The half ended with the Korngold. I’m glad we
were told he wrote them at age fourteen: that’s really what they sounded like.
The first resembled Ivor Novello, the second gave signs of over-indulgence in
‘Der Erlkönig’. Oh, they weren’t ‘bad’, just, well, a bit trivial. I felt that
they should have opened the concert, a little jeu d’esprit, leaving us to come
to our mid-concert pause and glass of wine on the high of Brahms …
The second half,
on the other hand, was perfect. Quite perfect. The group of Mahler songs ended
with a delicious rendering of his ‘Rheinlegend’, and then we had Zemlinsky. His
Sechs Gesänge are based on
Maeterlinck words. During my career, my brother and I translated M Maeterlinck
into English for … I have forgotten which publisher. It was almost as bad as
translating Genet. I infinitely prefer him set to music. Especially music like
this. And in German, so that I don’t wholly get every word. Anyway, the songs
were quite beautiful, dramatic, expressive, and they were undoubtedly the hit
of the night with the extremely enthusiastic audience.
To close this
perfect half, what more normal than Strauss? When the strains of ‘Allerseelen’
sounded forth, I melted. The relief of hearing a song I knew (and used to
sing)? Maybe a little bit. But just the pure beauty of it. And grand to hear it
sung by a pure Liedersängerin, rather than an operatic voice.
I said to myself,
I feel like a well-heeled Victorian gentleman, hosting an entertainment in his
Park Lane drawing-room … singer and pianist were performing, tonight, just for
us.
As the thunders of
applause (and I exaggerate not!) pealed forth at the end, Paul whispered ‘I
wish they’d do ‘Morgen’ for an encore’. And they did. And the singer did
something I’ve never seen before: she sang that beautiful song, quite
beautifully, holding her finale flowers to her breast. Fabulous picture. Alma
Tadema. A memorable ending to a special occasion. The last night at the
Pianosalon (Mark 1).
As we left,
popping our donation in the cardboard tube at the door, I asked Christoph, the
soul behind the whole place: ‘keep in touch?’. If it’s a nice adventurous
programme, perhaps we can be there for the opening of Pianosalon Christophoroi
(Mark 2).
A small aside:
A memento mori of
the night. Just to stop everything being perfect. We arrived, as ever, early,
so Paul could get me to my seat before the push and shove. End of the row.
Perfect for an elderly gent. And he supplied me with a glass of wine, and a
glass of water for the concert. I was settled. Then down the aisle stomped a
grossly fat slob in green, clasping a beer bottle: wham! On to my foot. Wine
and water soaked my cotton trousers, my ex-broken toe protested violently, and
Herr Schlob? He stared at me and said (in German) something like ‘get your foot
out of the aisle’. Here he is. In the background. Lest I forget.
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