LONDON - Good, reliable friends have been saying extraordinary things
about the young German soprano Dorothea Roschmann for some time now.
Tonight, after her brilliant recital in Wigmore Hall, I understand why.

Hers is a large, beautiful, bright, young voice, full of color and
light.  Her musical intelligence, simple, effective phrasing, sincere and
convincing love for the music combine to make her the most exciting new
singer I heard since first encountering Thomas Quasthoff - she has that
kind of distinction and unique ability.

The program, with Graham Johnson's superb accompaniment, is now going on
tour:  Antwerp, Hamburg, Cologne, Brussels, Lisbon, Madrid, Philadelphia,
New York and Vienna; if you're anywhere near those locations, make a
special effort to attend.  Running only about 100 minutes, including
intermission, the concert offers a rich, varied fare:  three English songs
by Haydn, Schumann's "Liederkreis," three songs French songs by Liszt, and
Wolf's Seven Morike Lieder.

Roschmann made a slight error both by selecting the Haydn songs and placing
them first on the program.  While "The Wanderer," "The Mermaid's Song" and,
especially, "Piercing Eyes" were musically superb, the soprano's English
diction is inferior to her chrystal-clear German and fine French.  Her
handling of vowels resulted in the word "follow" (used by the mermaid a
dozen times) coming across as fa-low (as in the musical note).  That little
problem, I am glad to say, was one of only two to pop up during the entire
recital - as nearly flawless an event as I heard in recent times.

A large portion of the credit goes to Johnson.  The pianist who has
"lived" in Wigmore for more than a third of this glorious recital hall's
century-long history, sounded so young and fresh tonight as if this was
his first big chance after leaving the conservatory (which, in fact, was
accompanying Peter Pears' first master classes, in 1972.) All evening
long, Johnson made the piano sing duets with the soprano while providing
continuity, cohesion of the music between songs, especially in the
Schumann, and then opening and closing the Liszt "Oh!  Quand je dors"
just melting the heart, but without a trace of sentimentality.

The Roschmann triumph began at the beginning, with Haydn.  It's surprising
that I noticed the diction problem at all so dazzling were her floated
notes in Wigmore's clear acoustic space.  Along with her amazing legato,
it's the genuine charm and those four-colors-in-one-note moments that leave
a good portion of the audience both bug-eyed and grinning madly.

And yet, it was in the "Liederkreis" that she truly hit her stride.
Straightforward, clean and clear, lines sustained every moment, this
was beautiful, perhaps "perfect" Schumann, presented with a musical and
emotional maturity that should make Roschmann proud at twice her age.  With
her June Allison-cute-and-simple appearance, it's hard to say how old she
is, but I'd guess early 30s.

Regardless of where she is in her artistic journey, the final line of "In
der Fremde" - "and no one will remember me here" - was heartbreaking; the
word "Rhein" in "Waldesgresprach" glowed brilliantly; she collapsed time in
"Schone Fremde" and then slowed it down in "Auf einer burg," illustrating,
illuminating the story of ancient old knight turning into stone over the
centuries.  Again and again, Roschmann demonstrated that she is singing not
as a career alternative to heavy lifting but for the joy of it. . .  and
because she cannot do otherwise.

I mentioned two problems when describing her English diction; the second
came in the Schumann, with three problematic notes in "Intermezzo." There
was uncertainty in her approach to the opening note of the song, and then
she was extending, pushing two other notes during an attempted super-legato
- something that sounded like she was trying out a new way of phrasing and
it didn't quite work.  For the rest of the concert, there wasn't a single
instance of anything less than "right" or even better - whatever that may
be.

It's hard to say what was more impressive:  the absolute brilliance of
the Liszt lieder (in her "free time," she created amazing sound effects of
distance in "Enfant, si j'etais roi") or the comedy and simple, unaffected
charm in the Morike Lieder.  In the otherwise thankless (and therefore
rarely performed) "Old Woman's Advice," Roschmann spat out the phrase "what
I say counts!" so convincingly that it was both hilarious-joyful and a bit
scary.  Her talent is so big that it too straddles much joy and a hint of
the devil being at work here.

Janos Gereben/SF
www.sfcv.org
[log in to unmask]