It’s time again for the Oxford Song Festival, which means a legion of top classical singers and musicians will be descending on Oxford for two weeks to sing (predominantly) centuries-old Lieder to an audience of those approaching the second century of their own lives. Other than their very favourable student rates, what are the young students of Oxford missing from the strange world of what used to be called the Oxford Lieder Festival? Two very impressive young musicians, Sebastian Hill and Will Harmer, displayed some of the answers last Friday in their performance A Life in Song.
A Lieder performance is a very strange thing, especially for those of us more used to a grand Romantic symphonic musical bath. The singer has to stand facing his audience and sing French or German poetry to a sedate piano backing, usually of quaint and florid love. The first song, ‘Heidenröslein’, written by Franz Schubert before his 21st birthday, saw our three talented young protagonists (a singer, a pianist, and the ghost of a composer) as earnest youths singing obediently to classical tunes on the conventions of love. Hill has a pure voice and Harmer a deft control, and both men harmoniously matched the earnest lightness which Schubert wrote into the piece. I was not, however, left with the impression that Hill, Harmer, or Schubert really were in love with any of the octogenarians to whom they were performing their song of love. All three were performing the stories and styles of others, and, pleasant and accomplished though it was, it was not overly engaging.
The pair also performed a couple of able compositions by Harmer himself. Likewise, they were poetry set to song and piano, but largely avoided the Lieder’s storytelling potential. Harmer’s premier piece ‘Wild Nights’ was stark and thematic but did not end satisfactorily. His excellent ‘Canción de Jinete’, with its shifting accompanying phrases in the piano sliding underneath the twisting modal vocal phrases, substituted story for mystery and then died away with one last fascinating phrase. The highlights of the concert for me, however, were a couple of the old Lieder, ‘Der Tambour’ by Hugo Wolf and ‘Lynceus der Thürmer’ by Carl Loewe.
‘Der Tambour’, placed in the middle-age portion of the life depicted through the programme, showed the mature confidence of composers and performers who were willing to imprint their own characters onto their works. Humorous and bizarre lines from the poet Eduard Möricke were expertly wrought into wry phrases by Wolf to tell in deprecating fashion the fears and desires (mostly a good wurst and a tankard of wine) of a boy soldier on campaign. Hill, his natural sense of humour plain to see, perfectly embodied the wry storytelling humour of Möricke and Wolf. After singing with relish of all the “Wurst” and “Hexen” in this peculiar delight, he won a well-deserved laugh from the audience.
The concert was not quite done before the turn of age and wisdom in ‘Lynceus der Thümer’ (or ‘Lynceus the Watchman’), which showcased the pathos of loss which is at the heart of the Lieder genre. The rich tone of Loewe’s writing, well-rendered in Hill’s pure yet powerful voice, and Harmer’s emotion-laden chords gave the beautiful backdrop necessary to convey the watchman’s moving story of the beauty of life as death approaches.
The best of Lieder provides an experience you cannot otherwise replicate – of poetry told across language through performance and music. I would recommend to anyone that they come and cast aside, as I did, their programme with its ready translation, and instead watch and listen to a strange but powerful art form which has captivated for centuries.
