Composers › Alban Berg › Programme note
4 Lieder Op.2 (1909-10)
Gerald Larner wrote 2 versions of differing length — choose one below.
Schlafen, schlafen
Schlafend trägt man mich
Nun ich der Riesen Stärksten
Warm die Lüfte
The advance in sophistication between the Sieben frühe Lieder, written not long after Berg started his studied with Schoenberg in 1904, and the Vier Lieder Op.2, completed towards the end of that crucial period in 1910, is a vivid indication of both the technical and stylistic influence the master had over his pupil. From the first song to the last there is a clear progression from the diatonic harmonies characteristic of the Sieben frühe Lieder to the atonalism of Schoenberg’s recent monodrama Erwartung – to which Warm die Lüfte deliberately aligns itself on more than just the technical level. At the same time, while it would be stretching the definition of the term to describe the Op.2 set it as a cycle, it does hang together on a slender poetic thread of “sleep.”
Beginning with a slow rocking rhythm in the pianist’s left hand and a yawning sixth in the vocal line, the Hebbel setting Schlafen, schlafen finally, after a fitful middle section, sinks into sleep in the D minor harmonies and the rhythm postulated in the opening bars. Short though it is, Schlafend trägt man mich, the first of the three Mombert settings, is intricately worked both harmonically and thematically. The melodic shape of the first line, with its rising sixth, echoes throughout the song on every level of the texture as it finds its way home to a sleepily uncertain E flat. Much of the drama of Nun ich der Riesen Stärksten derives from the defiant motif first heard in octaves on the first entry of the piano and then in nearly every bar before it tumbles into a clear E flat major in the closing bars.
In Warm die Lüfte sleep is replaced by death - in spite of the comforting presence of the nightingale in the first stanza - and the sacrifice of tonality to expressionism is symbolised by the violently dissonant climax of the song as the voice climbs to its highest point on “Er lässt mich warten” and falls to its lowest on “Stirb” over a heavily pounded monotone at the bottom of the keyboard. throughout the piano part. While Um Mitternacht is more varied in expression, as it must be with the intervention of the streams singing of the day that has passed, it too depends (in its very much more elaborate way) on the harmonies rather than the vocal line for its nocturnal effect. There are night-time associations also in Auf eine Christblume. A comparatively long song, it is regularly criticised as “diffuse” although – taking into account the the left-hand paino line that enters with the deer and reappears with the elf at midnight – it falls into a regular double-binary pattern concealed though the underlying structure might be by the magical transformations on the surface.
The last two items, which have nothing of the night about them, are both associated with Mörike’s novel Maler Nolten, which includes a shadow-play set on the poet’s magical island of Orplid and a scene where, in her madness, the heroine Agnes climbs to the top of a hill to “sing the wind song.” No two Lieder could be more different from each other than the goddess Weyla’s mystic hymn to Orplid, accompanied by harp-like chords in a ritually regular rhythm, and Agnes’s dialogue with the wind so vividly represented by the deranged harmonies and stormy virtuosity of the piano part.
Gerald Larner ©
From Gerald Larner’s files: “Lieder op2/w355”
Schlafen, schlafen
Schlafend trägt man mich
Nun ich der Riesen Stärksten
Warm die Lüfte
Although he was entirely self-taught when he started taking lessons with Schoenberg in 1904, Berg had written as many as eighty songs in the preceding three years. In fact, as Schoenberg discovered, he could write nothing else. It wasn’t until after years of coaching and five failed attempts that he was able to complete his single-movement Piano Sonata Op.1 in 1908. Even then he went on composing songs: the Sieben frühe Lieder (Seven Early Songs) were written with at least twenty others during the first part of his time with Schoenberg and the Vier Lieder Op.2 were completed towards the end of that crucial period in 1910.
The advance in sophistication between the Sieben frühe Lieder and the Op.2 set is not only a tribute to Schoenberg’s teaching of the technique of composition but also a vivid indication of the stylistic influence he had over his pupil. From the first song, Schlafen, schlafen, to the last, Warm die Lüfte, there is a clear progression from the diatonic harmonies characteristic of the Sieben frühe Lieder to the atonalism of Schoenberg’s recently completed monodrama Erwartung, to which Warm die Lüfte deliberately aligns itself on more than just the technical level. At the same time, although it would be stretching the definition of the term to describe the Op.2 set it as a cycle, it does hang together on a slender poetic thread of “sleep.”
Beginning with a slow rocking rhythm in the pianist’s left hand and a yawning sixth in the vocal line, the Hebbel setting Schlafen, schlafen finally - after a fitful middle section - sinks into sleep in the D minor harmonies and the rocking rhythm postulated in the opening bars. Short though it is, Schlafend trägt man mich, the first of the three Mombert settings, is intricately worked both harmonically and thematically. The melodic shape of the first line, with its rising sixth, echoes throughout the song on every level of the texture as it finds its way home to a sleepily uncertain E flat. Much of the drama of Nun ich der Riesen Stärksten derives from the defiant motif first heard in octaves on the first entry of the piano and then, except where the bells toll in the fifth line, in nearly every bar before it tumbles into a clear E flat major in the closing bars.
In Warm die Lüfte sleep is replaced by death - in spite of the comforting presence of the nightingale high in the pianist’s right hand in the first stanza - and the sacrifice of tonality to expressionism is symbolised by the violently dissonant climax of the song as the voice climbs to its highest point on “Er lässt mich warten” and falls to its lowest on “Stirb” over a heavily pounded monotone at the bottom of the keyboard.
From Gerald Larner’s files: “Lieder op2/w463”