His debut recording devoted to Schumann offered a brilliant opportunity to discover the name of Samuel Hasselhorn, a young baritone deeply invested in the art of lieder. With his collaborator Joseph Middleton, he now turns to Schubert, in an insightful programme evoking some of the themes dear to the Viennese master of song: nature, night-time, parting, absence, and death. Both essential and less familiar songs are featured side by side in this poignant depiction of profound self-reflection that can rank among the most moving examples of what the Romantic temperament has ever produced. © harmonia mundi

Tenor Karim Sulayman is a charismatic figure who has lent his voice and image to activist causes and been photographed in tattooed, topless states. In this recital of Schubert songs, however, he plays it straight. Sulayman has specialized mostly in Baroque music, and he aims for, and delivers, sheer beauty of tone. It's well suited to this collection of Schubert songs, many of which deal with nocturnal themes and, for the most part, not terribly common items. As a star vehicle, the collection works well for the most part. Sulayman includes some Schubert standards, with Erlkönig, D. 328, being the most standard of all, and here, he's not quite as effective; his voice, at this point, doesn't have the variety to make the narrative songs really come alive. Yet at no point is Sulayman anything less than attractive to listen to, and the quietly confident accompaniment work of Yi-heng Yang is another positive. Sulayman's future may lie in the more flamboyant Baroque, but he has potential as a Schubertian should he choose to go that route.© TiVo

After receiving huge praise for his debut album on Deutsche Grammophon, baritone Andrè Schuen continues his Schubert journey. Schubert's enigmatic final collection of songs, Schwanengesang, is the subject of Andrè Schuen and his longstanding accompanist Daniel Heide's second release for Deutsche Grammophon. Schuen calls Schwanengesang "my greatest love among the Schubert lieder. Especially the Heine settings; they move me the most!". © Deutsche Grammophon

This collection of all of Schubert's songs for low voice is one of the landmark recordings of the 20th century because it features two of the greatest Schubertians of their era, baritone Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau and pianist Gerald Moore. The recordings, made by Deutsche Grammophon between 1966 and 1972, come from Fischer-Dieskau's prime, when he was in his early to mid-thirties, his voice fully mature and its youthful bloom gloriously resplendent. He brought an acute, probing intelligence to everything he performed, as well as a penetrating, unmannered musicality, and those qualities are everywhere apparent in his Schubert lieder. Moore was primarily known as an accompanist, and in that role he was perhaps unsurpassed, but his contribution to the music is no way secondary. His playing has interpretive distinctiveness as well as the instinctive musicality of a performer deeply immersed in Schubert's sound world. The singer and pianist made multiple recordings of many of these songs and while aficionados may prefer a version of a song or cycle other than the one offered here, the version here is never less than superb.The set, which includes 463 songs on 21 discs, should be of utmost interest to any fans of the singer and pianist, and to anyone who loves Schubert, and to anyone who loves collaborative music-making of the highest order. The value of the limited edition set released in celebration of the singer's 85th birthday makes it a terrific bargain. The remastering is mostly exemplary and the sound is immaculate, warm, and present. There are a few technical glitches, like a slight click and skip in the introduction to "Wasserflut," but overall the sound is first-class. The balance is just about ideal; it's easy to shut one's eyes and imagine the performers there in the same room. Very highly recommended.© TiVo

Here are two works composed by Schubert at the very end of his short life. Schwanengesang (Swansong) was written in Vienna in the autumn of 1828. He died on 19 November at the age of thirty-one, and Die Taubenpost (Pigeon post), which closes the collection, is said to be his very last composition. The fourteen songs, by turns light-hearted, sombre and melancholy, are settings of poems by Ludwig Rellstab, Heinrich Heine and Johann Gabriel Seidl. In the summer of the same year he composed his String Quintet in C major, scored for two cellos, which was not premiered until 1850, at the Vienna Musikverein. The power and orchestral dimensions of the work make it a pinnacle of nineteenth-century chamber music. We could not have dreamt of a finer line-up of musicians to record these two Schubert monuments. Fanny Mendelssohn’s Schwanenlied (also to words by Heinrich Heine) completes the programme, along with Felix Mendelssohn’s Song Without Words No. 1 (for solo piano), composed a year after Schubert’s death and Schubert’s own setting of an unrelated Schwanengesang (D. 744, on a poem by Johann Senn). © Alpha Classics

This release by tenor Mark Padmore and pianist Mitsuko Uchida, Schubert specialists both, came with strong recital buzz on both sides of the Atlantic and landed on classical best-seller charts in early 2023. This recording was made at Wigmore Hall in London. It is Schubert's not-quite-cycle Schwanengesang (it was assembled into a set after Schubert's death) that gets top billing in the graphics, but the album opens with Beethoven's An die ferne Geliebte, Op. 98, the first true song cycle, shown on the cover in small print. The piano part in Beethoven's songs had an unprecedentedly major role in the proceedings, and the placement of the set at the beginning may serve to advise the listener of the unusual emphasis on Uchida's piano in the main Schubert attraction as well. Sample Ständchen, the most famous song in the set, or Abschied for a taste of the lively, spritely quality that is Uchida's alone. The piano-driven effect is heightened by the engineering, which puts Padmore's voice somewhat into the background, and it is not at all clear that this needed to be done. Padmore remains, however, a terrific Schubert interpreter. His voice is a bit thin in its middle register by now, but his ability to extract fine shades of meaning through slight alterations of tempo is unmatched. In general, this is a fine Schubert recording that lives up to the hype, and it is especially recommended to Uchida fans; they will discover a new facet of her talent. © James Manheim /TiVo

This 2022 release of Schubert's Schwanengesang, D. 957 ("Swan Song"), which pianist Lars Vogt did not live to see, is one of the pianist's swan songs, and it makes a fitting memorial. This may be one of the factors that propelled the album onto classical best-seller lists in the autumn of 2022, but the album has intrinsic merits on which it can rest. Vogt delivers an exceptional performance as an accompanist in these pieces, which do not form a true song cycle (they were compiled by a published after Schubert's untimely death), but which point to directions Schubert would have explored had he lived and in some cases look deep into the future. To an unusual degree, they emancipate the accompaniment from the melody line, and Vogt's way of setting a whole scene with the introductions is uncanny. Sample the murky opening of Der Doppelgänger for an idea, or the famed Ständchen, which has a unique flavor here. As for the star of the show, tenor Ian Bostridge, those more comfortable with a baritone in these songs may be pleased to note a new richness in his lower register as he approaches his sixth decade, compared with the last time he recorded these songs in 2009. Otherwise, this is trademark Bostridge, with flexible lines tending toward an operatic approach, clear diction, and controlled emotion. One could argue that Vogt made an ideal foil for his style. Another draw is the presence of Einsamkeit, D. 620, a set of connected songs that shows Schubert responding directly to Beethoven's An die ferne Geliebte, Op. 98. The real star here though, perhaps, is Vogt, and it is good to have this release to remember him.© James Manheim /TiVo

Lotte Lenya and Wilhelm Bruckner-Rüggeberg's 1958 recording of Die Dreigroschenoper was the last in a series of albums Lenya made or supervised of her late husband Kurt Weill's music for Philips starting in 1955. The first of these, ultimately released as Lotte Lenya sings Kurt Weill, was made during her first visit to Germany since being forced out by the Nazis in 1934. By the time of the January 1958 sessions for Die Dreigroschenoper, Lenya found herself widowed once again; second husband George Davis collapsed and died of a heart attack three months before the session, just like her first husband. These were especially dark days for Lenya, who had already seen more than her share of dark days. That Lenya was able to pull up herself up by her bootstraps and participate in this recording was nothing short of a miracle, though in terms of performing in the role of Jenny, Lenya was the ultimate pro; she knew it in three languages and, in the end, sang it more than 2,000 times. That, and her desire to carry through a commitment she and Davis had already made together, was probably just enough to get Lenya through this recording, a significant point as she acted in a supervisory capacity over the whole project.The 1958 Die Dreigroschenoper was the first complete recording of this work, and likewise the first to represent Weill's score and instrumentation exactly as it is on the page; seeing to it that this occurred without compromise was one of Lenya's duties in the session. The 1954 Theatre de Lys recording and its 1930 predecessor with the Lewis Ruth Band were heavily cut, condensed, and arranged, though not quite so "ruthlessly" (pardon the pun) in 1954 as in 1930. This is the clearest advantage to this set over many others; Bruckner-Rüggeberg maintains the right sense of dance tempos throughout, and although his pacing is somewhat slow, at least "Die Zuhalterballade" is performed as a true tango as Weill intended. The overall mood of this recording is more sober and reserved than most others. This may partly derive from Lenya's state of mind at the time, but perhaps also due to the notion in 1958 of Die Dreigroschenoper as less of a biting leftist satire and more of a repertory piece; so much water had gone under the bridge since its Berlin premiere in 1928. Although Lenya, of course, is perfect, some of the cast choices are less than ideal -- Johanna von Kóczián is somewhat less than fresh as Polly and Erich Schellow portrays Macheath almost like a secondary operetta character. However, other choices are ideal; Willy Trenk reprises his role as Peachum from the original cast, and Wolfgang Neuss is an ideal Moritatensänger. Neuss' recording was one of at least three utilized by television pioneer Ernie Kovacs in his frequent employment of "Die Moritat" as background music for spot gags; the others were Kurt Gerron's 1930 version and one recorded by Bert Brecht himself.The 1982 CD version of the 1958 Die Dreigroschenoper was one of the earliest CD packages originating from CBS Masterworks in Germany; it reflects the LP-informed production values of that time. While it comes in a fairly big box, it only includes one disc; the box is to help house the 1/8" thick, 96-page booklet included. The printing of the booklet is rather lightly applied, and one may wish to opt for reading glasses or a magnifying glass to enjoy the three-language libretto inside. Nevertheless, for those looking to become acquainted with Die Dreigroschenoper for the first time in its native tongue, CBS Masterworks' issue of Philips 1958 recording remains a first-rate option.© TiVo

It has been frequently observed that 19th century audiences liked to hear opera in their own languages. How true this was for art song is less clear, but poet Jeremy Sams is making a strong case for the procedure. This is the fourth in a series of releases by the present performers, and others have recorded his translations as well. He has a fine feeling for the way Schubert was drawn to simplicity; he has sometimes been charged with setting inferior verse, but what he needed as poetry that stated its basic idea and then, so to speak, got out of his way. Sams gives the texts a natural feeling that is hard to replicate for listeners who are not German, even if they speak the language well. Consider Wild Rose, D. 257, which is the famed Heidenröslein; this title scans easily, and the listener is drawn into the immediacy of the text. There are a couple of Goethe texts, but they are songlike excerpts; Sams and the performers probably do well to stay away from his more philosophical poetry. The singers -- baritone Roderick Williams and soprano Rowan Pierce -- emphasize directness and text intelligibility, and accompanist Christopher Glynn properly keeps close to the meter. Pierce hangs out on the bottom side of the pitch sometimes, and listeners can decide for themselves whether this is troublesome. However, it is hard to escape the idea that, at some level, this recording presents Schubert as non-German audiences of the composer's day might ideally have heard his songs. This album made classical best-seller charts in the autumn of 2023.© James Manheim /TiVo

This compilation of 12 Lieder and Six Moments Musicaux performed by soprano Elisabeth Schwarzkopf and pianist Edwin Fischer is old-fashioned in every sense of the word. Recorded in 1950 and 1952, the sound is old-fashioned: clear but distant, heard across all the intervening decades as if through a dark glass. But, more significantly, the performances are old-fashioned. The slight but sweet quiver in Schwarzkopf's voice was typical of its time but unlike anything any contemporary soprano would attempt. In the An die Musik, she flirts with preciousness. In Im Frühling, she comes close to coyness. In Ganymed, she touches on parody. In Gretchen am Spinnrade, she almost but not quite distorts the music with her breathless delivery. And in every performance, Schwarzkopf seems fond of Schubert but not unreservedly fond, as if Schubert's songs needed special pleading to make them succeed, a truly old-fashioned approach compared to the unreservedly affectionate performances of contemporary singers. Similarly, Edwin Fischer's playing is equally old-fashioned, albeit in an entirely different way. Fischer obviously loves Schubert's music and his playing is warm-hearted and true. Unfortunately, Fischer's playing is technically old-fashioned. He drops notes, slurs lines, fudges arpeggios, and smudges rhythms in a manner that no contemporary pianist would dare let stand in a recording. Whether this approach works depends on the listener. Older listeners full of nostalgia for a time long since past will no doubt love it. Younger listeners with no tolerance for sentimentality may have trouble accepting it.© TiVo