From unfashionable to exquisite
Barbican Jonas Kaufmann and Diana Damrau
He may cut a dashing figure in doublet and hose, but “the world’s greatest tenor” Jonas Kaufmann possesses only modest gifts as an actor, and I’ve always found his artistry more impressive in the concert hall than on the opera stage.
Here he was quite at home: a recital of Hugo Wolf ’s Italianisches
Liederbuch, given in collaboration with his regular pianist Helmut Deutsch and fellow Bavarian, the soprano Diana Damrau. It was the happiest of occasions, and one hopes that their superb performance will be recorded.
This is music that has rather fallen out of fashion – a collection of 46 disparate songs, based on short anonymous Italian poems and composed in two batches in 1890-1 and 1896. Free of any obvious narrative thread, they chart the agonies and ecstasies of love from both male and female viewpoints – sometimes tender in mood, sometimes ardent, sometimes flirtatious, they amount to a wonderful kaleidoscope of human emotions expressed through music of great subtlety, charm and character.
Singing entirely from memory (and altering the conventional order), both tenor and soprano were enchanting. The warmth of Kaufmann’s musicianship glowed throughout: a highlight was the moving eulogy Benedeit die sel’ge mutter, incidentally offering an unforgettable masterclass in the art of legato.
Damrau’s voice is less inherently beautiful – there’s a slightly nasal quality in the timbre – but she is the most vividly intelligent of singers and the girl’s mercurial energies and caprices in such numbers as Schweig’ einmal still and Mein Liebster ist so klein were painted with unfailing wit and grace.
Wolf ’s piano parts are richly complex, sometimes almost dominant over the text: Deutsch played them with a magical lightness of touch, combining crystalline clarity with absolute ease. One couldn’t ask for more.
Kaufmann’s modest histrionic skills were evident in the way he and Damrau sketched out a little pantomime of grimaces and gestures to accompany their singing. This divided opinion: some found the effect twee and coy; others felt it gently animating. I vacillated, but never felt in any doubt that this was music-making of the most exquisitely refined kind.