Critic’s Notebook: Andrè Schuen and the Lied, A Triumph of Youthfulness

Also reviewed for Die Presse: Triumph der unbändigen Jugend

F.Schubert, Die Schöne Müllerin A.Schuen & D.Heide DG

F. Schubert, Schwanengesang A.Schuen & D.Heide DG

Boisterous and rough and beloved

Hard to believe that Andrè Schuen was already a Don Giovanni in Niklaus Harnoncourt’s Theater-an-der-Wien production, a decade ago! He seems still so young; on the cusp of an (actually already great) career. And what more could he want? A lusciously-wild shock of hair, athletic build, and an exclusive contract with DG in his pocket – and a large, certainly loud voice, to boot. The Brahms Hall of the Musikverein was full for his Liederabend on December 16th, which may also been owed to the darkness of his voice, the untamed, impetuous quality about it. He had certainly scored big with that, a month earlier, when he was the youthful, guileless Schwanda in Jaromir Weinberger’s terrific Schwanda the Bagpiper (Theater an der Wien). He’s a kind of Siegfried of art song, more brash than subtle, more hero than thinker – and as such he took to Mahler and Schubert.

Is it a problem for Lieder singers, that in the age of GerhaherHuber™ (one word) we’ve come to expect goose-bump-inducing psychological explorations of song texts – to the point where merely singing very well and accurately is no longer enough? Or does it actually add to the attractiveness, to have someone simply jump into the subject matter without giving evidence of having pondered the scope and import of every syllable? The response in the Musikverein suggested as much, even as South Tyrolian Schuen put it on a little thick here and there (“Sei mir gegrüßt” – Schubert, not Tannhäuser) or went for all-out treacle (“Du bist die Ruh”). Daniel Heide was, as always, his accompanist and undoubtedly an invaluable asset to Schuen, but limited in his expression to dynamic differentiation. (Incidentally, he is also a dead-ringer for Southpark's Mr. Mackey.)

Despite the near-triumphal reception, not everything was perfect. The Schubert was theatrical to a breaking point; the breathy pianissimo was daring but surprisingly unstable, not every corner was smoothly taken, and the heights sounded stretched. Mahler took better to the histrionics and yodeling, especially in a hymn of self-pity like “Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen”. (Which Gerhaher gave such a different spin, a few months later; review to follow.) Schuen sounded his best whenever things got boisterous, be it in the Songs of a Wayfarer or Schubert’s “Schiffer” or “Musensohn”. Encores – Mahler, Strauss, and a Ladin folksong – were de rigueur.

Photo © Clemens Fabry

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