SCHUBERTIADE: Fleur Barron
Sparks and Wiry Cries is delighted to introduce our new Schubertiade feature: a series of “dream recitals” curated by composers, performers, and scholars that allows us to collectively engage with art song while concert halls are shuttered. First up, Singaporean-British mezzo-soprano Fleur Barron shares selections that have resonated with her during this time.
Over the last six months, I’ve been sitting with the notion of “discomfort” — a fairly universal characteristic of the upheaval presently happening around and within many of us. In this period of social change, of the physical and psychological stress of lockdown, and of general uncertainty about the future, many of us probably feel at sea about how to stay grounded. Discomfort in any form is not usually an enjoyable experience. And yet, this time around, I’ve discovered pockets of beauty and hope welling within the discomfort and am realizing what a powerful invitation it can be to (unexpected) transformation. No surprise, then, that a lot of the music I’ve been listening to over the last six months evokes journeys of change. This Schubertiade expresses shifts from darkness to light in poetry and soundworlds—songs that invite introspection, searching, and (self-) discovery.
Set `1:
The opening song, Charles Ives’ At the River is a remarkable setting of a renowned hymn; instead of the familiar presentation of the text as a statement or assumption of success in the journey to heavenly peace, Ives posits the text as a genuine question: Shall we gather by the river? The musical writing at the start and end suggests the answer is unclear and that the course of the journey is truly in our hands. The vocalist on this recording is one my favourite jazz singers, Cleo Laine, a fellow Brit. She had an incredible range and sang everything from jazz standards, pop and musical theater to Schönberg’s Pierrot Lunaire. I love the almost childlike purity and wistfulness of tone she imparts to this interpretation. The subsequent piece, Schubert’s Totengräbers Heimweh, is one of my absolute favourite songs of all time. It’s an extraordinary journey of transformation from darkness to light via the gravedigger, who bemoans the drudgery of his work aiding departed souls into the beyond even though he, too, longs for peace; after a moment of intense loneliness, he reconnects with inner solace and feels the light beckoning him.
The third song, “Today I realized something very strange,” from Mohammed Fairouz’s cycle Jeder Mensch, comprises settings of excerpts from Alma Mahler’s diaries. There is such vulnerability in the text and an admission of feeling stuck and lost — something many of us have probably experienced during the pandemic. Fairouz’s ominous, wave-like melodies reflect Alma’s inner turmoil and uncertainty. Tom Cipullo’s “Desire” from Another Reason Why I Don’t Keep a Gun in the House closes the set with an ode to a beloved that reflects the speaker’s disarmingly self-conscious struggle to find the “right” words to express loving feelings… until realizing that simply experiencing them is enough. For me, Alma Mahler’s diary excerpt is about the fear of feeling, whereas Billy Collins’ poem “Desire” expresses permission to feel deeply.
Set 2:
Schubert’s An die Leier conveys the protagonist’s efforts to boisterously sing songs of war, which his lyre keeps transforming into songs of love — eventually, the singer declares “Farewell you heroes! Bring forth only sounds of love.” In Nick Phan’s and Myra Huang’s interpretation, the instances of pivot and transformation are so beautifully clear as the intensity/aggression of the bellicose moments dissolve into tenderness and music of the heart. Gustav Mahler’s “Nun seh’ ich wohl” from Kindertotenlieder is ostensibly a song of mourning following the tragic loss of a child — but what I find so remarkable about both Rückert’s poetry and Mahler’s setting of it is the protagonist’s search for the light in the midst of deepest agony. Here, there is nothing static or dirge-like about loss; rather, the experience of pain is coupled with openness to spiritual upliftment. This is a song of a soul transforming.
Margaret Bonds’ setting of Langston Hughes’ poem “I, too” from her cycle Three Dream Portraits is a powerful statement of pain and resilience of identity in the face of oppression. Although the poem and song are over 60 years old, they are disturbingly relevant at a time when our society’s present self-reckoning has revealed key ways in which we have made no humanistic progress at all.
Lastly, Susan Botti’s “Listen my Heart” from Bird Songs (2015), for voice and “nest of percussion,” is one of my favourite pandemic discoveries. Performed here by the incomparable Lucy Shelton, a dear friend and mentor, the piece is based on a pithy one-liner of Tagore’s poetry: “Listen my heart, to the whispers of the world with which it makes love to you.” I can’t imagine a better way to invite an audience to listen deep within ourselves at a time of outer chaos. To me, this piece seems to say: transformation is always only a breath away.
Set 3:
Schubert’s Winterreise became an obsession of mine in 2018, completely out of the blue. I have subsequently performed it four times, with further performances upcoming. To me, this is one of the most deeply human works in the vocal canon. I’ve programmed the first song, “Gute Nacht”, for this Schubertiade (via an excerpt from my maiden performance of the cycle, when I was still on book, in a small church in Dorset two years ago). Schubert’s setting of Müller’s poem is about the essence of Journey: leaving the familiar and setting off into the unknown. Of course, those familiar with the cycle know that the outcome for the protagonist isn’t a happy one, but the first song doesn’t necessarily forecast this; it’s more about the complex reality of many emotions co-existing within us (pain, love, self-recrimination, anger, wounded pride, etc.) and navigating heartbreak.
Speaking of hearts, Florence Price’s beautiful and searingly honest setting of Georgia Douglas Johnson’s The Heart of a Woman is another cherished pandemic discovery, and pairs nicely with Strauss’ iconic Ruhe, meine Seele, about someone coaxing their soul to rest during a time of inner and outer turmoil. Ives’ The World’s Highway is a moment of true calm and contentment in this Schubertiade. Here performed by two former mentors, Dawn Upshaw and Margo Garrett, this song extols the peace that comes from grounding oneself at home as opposed to constantly searching for answers on “the world’s highway.” Bringing this programme to a close is Schubert’s sublime Abschied von der Erde, a spoken text by Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau over a simple melody stunningly played by Gerald Moore. This song is an expression of spiritual transcendence and gratitude for the beautiful complexities that life brings.
Play the video below to listen to Fleur’s entire dream recital as a playlist.
October 30, 2020
