Wigmore Hall, London
The brainchild of pianist Malcolm Martineau, the Wigmore's Decade by Decade series reached the 1870s with a recital by baritone Florian Boesch that was prevented by circumstances from being the great occasion it could have been. The 1870s saw Hugo Wolf composing his first songs and found the elderly Liszt looking back on his youthful sexuality from a perspective of spiritual contentment: Brahms's Op 57 set, finished in 1871, meanwhile, is one of the greatest declarations of love ever composed. Boesch, a charismatic vocal actor of immense subtlety, is second to none at conveying this repertoire's emotional content and erotic frankness. Unfortunately, the first half was sabotaged by someone's mobile phone.
The damn thing went off not once, but five times, and its owner, unbelievably, simply let it ring and ring. Attempts to locate the perpetrator proved inadequate. Displaying tremendous willpower, Boesch and Martineau battled on and gave their all, but there were pauses between songs, which threatened the emotional trajectory of Brahms's Op 57. Unbewegte laue Luft had to be repeated. "It is one of the greatest things Johannes Brahms ever composed," Boesch hissed. "And this is what it should sound like." He was given a hero's reception when it was over.
The second half, mercifully, was uninterrupted, and we were finally able to admire both men's artistry. There was more Brahms ? later songs, tinged by pessimism and despair, and delivered with almost shocking expressionism. Liszt's aphoristic thoughts on desire and God had a drastic simplicity, as if both passion and virtuosity were all spent. Boesch's ability to lay bare the workings of the human psyche mark him out as truly outstanding. Martineau's playing, meanwhile, was exemplary, thrilling and infinitely sensitive, in Brahms above all.
Charlies Angels Rose Byrne Willa Ford Desiree Dymond Teri Polo
No comments:
Post a Comment