Another Wigmore triumph: Christian Gerhaher and Gerold Huber in Schubert
Schubert Lieder Christian Gerhaher (baritone); Gerold Huber (piano). Wigmore Hall, London, 20.1.2026
Die abgeblühte Linde, D 514 (?1817). Der Jûngling an der Quelle, D 300 (c. 1817). Die blinde Knabe, D 833 (1825). Liane, D 298 (1815). Die Unglûchliche, D 713 (1821). Von Mitleiden Mariä, D 632 (1818). Rückweg, D 476 (1816). Im Walde,D 708 (1820). Der Einsame, D 800 (1825). Memnon, D 541 (1817). Der Strom, D 565 (1817). Fahrt zum Hades, D 526 (1817). Im Abendrot, D 799 (1824/5).
Der Fluss, D 693 (1820). Am See, D 746 (?1822/3). Nachthymne, D 687 (1820). Schiffers Scheidelied, D 910 (1827). Lied des gefangnen Jägers, D 843 (1825). Lob der Tränen, D 711 (1818). Leiden der Trennung, D 509 (1816). Gondelfahrer, D 808 (1824). Todesmusik, D 758 (1822). Lebensmut, D 883 (1826). Die frühen Gräber, D 290 (1815). Der Herbstabend, D 405 (1816). Schwanengesang, D 744 (1822).
I do get the impression Christian Gerhaher has a Fischer-Dieskau-like breadth of repertoire. And, like the Great Man before him, success follows his every repertoire and programming choice. This all-Schubert recital was beautifully constructed – the second such virtuoso display in short days, after Devieilhe's recital last week.
It was surely no accident that Gerhaher and Huber chose a song with aan extended piano opening with which ot launch the evening: he almost operatic Die abgeblühte Linde (The faded linden tree). Another parallel with Fischer-Dieskau: Gerhahers' diction is perfect. The equality of voice and piano at the close of the Wigmore account was perfectly honoured, Gerhaher's voice in perfect duet with Huber's treble.
The pogramme was a healthy mix of the lesser-known with the very familiar: the latter acted as “landing places” almost, familiar territory that both punctuated and anchored the evening. The first was Der Jûngling an der Quelle. How simple Huber made the opening seem (a lullaby-like plateau); and yet, of course, what compositiomal genius it contains. The singer's final, restrained cries of “Louise” (for whom the protagonist sighs) were most tender. Far less known is Die blinde Knabe, D 833 (The blind boy). Foreground rhythm is the handmaiden of harmonic/dramatic/structural rhythm in Schubert, and we heard how this works perfectly this song, and what import the music performd in his manner can bring to the poetry (the first line of the third stanza, for example, 'Ich mach mir selbst so Tag und Nacht' (I make my own day and night).
The song Liane, D 298 was new to me. Composed in 1815, it sets one of Schubert's favoured poets, Johann Mayhofer. A young man asks has anyone seen his sweetheart: Gerhaher tended more towards parlando, and highly effectively for those opening questions, allowing his golden legato in the third stanza ('Liane fährt auf einem Kahn'; Liane glides along in a boat).
The choice to move to he darker regions of Schubert's psyche in the programme was exquisitely timed. He piano's obsessively-repeated rhythm underpins the poem – a story within a story, for it appeared as part of Caroline Pichler's 1821 novel Oliver. It is also a remarkably impassioned song, especially as it asks the protagonist to reflect on 'lost happiness' and to 'count all the flowers in paradise'.he penultimate stanza Schubert sets almost as an orchestral reduction, to maximise the contrast to the sudden shift for 'How all the sweet bonds are torn asunder' of the final paragraph. A remarkable song, and Gehaher and Huber did it full justice.
A wnch to religious territory then: Von Mitleiden Mariä, D 632 to Friedrich von Schlegel's poem, a sort of Stabat mater in Lied form, but set in three-part counterpoint. The song is a little miracle (but aren't they all?). There are a number of ways to approach this: a very Bachian touch on piano places it further back, but Gerhaher and Huber opted for a more post-Baroque approach, to fine effect. Tempo, too, plays a hige part. (remember Gundula Janowitz and Irwin Gage's funereal recording of D 632?:
Again, Gerhaher and Huber pitched it just right; more Mayrhofer followed, with Rückweg (The way back), D 476. It is a matter of Huber's excellence that just the very tiniest of miscalculations of weighting in the piano's final gesture was audible when heard in such perfect surroundings. But again, this was a song of story-telling, in which the protagonist moves from countryside to town. No such compromise in Im Walde, a poem after Schlegel with a text by Ludwig Stark. The weather's inclemency ('Windes Rauschen”) is graphically painted in sound by the composer. The song is a long one, though, and contains big contrasts; it almost sounds like Wolf a times (surely Der Feierreiter is not far away); and yet at others - the voice/piano left-hand duet of the third stanza - there are reminders of Nature's beauty. An astonishing song, beautifully done. Respite was needed: not the interval, not yet, but Der Einsame offered fine breather, what with Huber's ever-so-crisp left-hand. One of those famous songs dotted here, suddenly the evening seemed happier, complemented by the sure beauty of another Mayrhofer song, Memnon, D 541. The imagery in the poem is both brilliant and profound; Schubert's setting echoes this perfectly.
How perfectly the final triad of songs of the first half catapulted us into the interval: the unstable Der Strom, D 565 (not to be confused with Auf der Strom, which has an instrumental obbligato). Huber in magnificent form, the velvety blackness of Fahrt zum Hades, D 526 (Gerhaher almost indulging in recitative at one point) and the crepuscular glow of Im Abendrot, D 799, Schubert at his most transcendental via a ostensibly simple setting.
Here's Gerhaher's recording of D 799:
... and here's Der Strom:
The second half (and thy wee almost exactly halves: 13 songs, then 14) continued this journey of highest beauty, starting with another Schlegel setting: Der Fluss (The River, D 693).The opening almost sounded like Chopin in Huber's hands (interestingly, in Gerhaher's recording, with Andreas Haefliger, it does not). It did, however, sound like it was picking up from he sunset glow of the end of the first part: perhaps the river's flow is viewed at dawn? . The song is expansive, and how Huber's legato right-hnd octaves reflected his, for a moment the piano's percussive mechanism forgotten. More water: Am See (By the lake), D 746, as Richard Stokes' excellent notes pointed out, a 'watey barcarolle,' Gerhaher's legato impeccable, before the dark glow of Nachthymne, D 687. The poem was written by Novalis after the death of his fiancée of tuberculosis. Gerhaher and Huber's performance went straight to the soul, Schubert using the simplest of means with absolute genius. A very interiot song (and performance), it stood in high contrast to the urgency of Schiffers Scheidelied, D 910. A late song (1827), Schiffers Scheidelied is a song of separation notated in graphic terms. It was powerful reading, but laudably without recourse to hysteria (as Fischer-Dieskau invoked in his recording with Gerlod Moore, for example; less so in that with Demus).
The next 'landing place' is the familiar Auf dem Wasser zu singen, D 773. rarely have I heard the pano part so perfectly articulated (positively bejewelled, in fact); rarely have I heard the dots in the vocal line so effortlessly honoured. And the pair called on just the perfect rubato here, while ushering in the perfect intimacy.
So far, many of Schubert's (and Romanticism's) tropes had been heard. No hunters, though. Schubert's D 843 rectified that with Lied des gefangenen Jägers. The piano part sounded something like an orchestral reduction again; and, to an extent, Gerhaher and Huber's rendition put me in mind of Schumann's Heine setting, Die Beiden Grenadieren.
It was in Lob der Tränen (In Praise of Tears) that the odd issue with Gerhaher's upper register seemed to make themselves known; a pity, as Huber's contribution was perfectly judged lyricism (and Schubert's use of the upper reaches of his piano meant we could listen in awe to the perfectly prepared Steinway: a pity piano technicians are not listed!).
It is interesting that Schubert set Metastasio (better-known via the operatic route): the Lied der Trennung of 1816, a song ridden with sorrrow, and appropriately heavy here. The darkness of the Mayrhofer Gondelfahrer seems a prolongation of sorrow, dark with only mild brightening at its second stanza, only to sink back into musings on death for Todesmusik, written in the shadow of Schubert's diagnosis of syphilis. This last does hold hope towards its end, though; and one of Schubert's surely strangest songs, Lebensmut (Courage of Living) followed.
While on might more immediately associate Klopstock with Mahler, Schubert set Die frühen Gräber in 1815. Klopsock wrote it in memory of his wife, who died in labour; Schubert realised that simplicity can be especially potent in a portrayal of grief. Gerhaher and Huber captured this perfecly before Gerhaher's silken cantabile graced Der Herbstabend, effortlessly connecting the intervallically-displaced notes of the opening phase. A shadow passes when the text invoked storm-tossed linden branches.
Finally. Schwanengesang the song, not the song-cycle, sometimes known as 'Schwanenlied'. How perfect was the warmth of Huber's opening, Gerhaher's line almost intoned.
Schubert's ambivalent attitude to the great unknown seemed to close the evening with a question mark, as if saying that when it comes to Death, there are no hard-and-fast answers.
An ideal complement to Devieilhe's recent evening, then, and a stunning exploraion fo Schube Lieder in is own right.
Gerhaher's Schubert discs e available via Amazon: Nachtviolen is available new at the astonishing cheap pice of £4.56!; Abendbilder is also reasonable £8.44.