5 Mörike Lieder (1888)

Auf einer Wanderung

Das verlassene Mägdlein

Begnegung

In der Frühe

Elfenlied

If there was ever a systematic song composer, as distinct from an occasionall one like Mozart, it was Hugo Wolf. He was surely unique in an application to the art so obsessive that he could complete major collections in just a few weeks – like his 53 Mörike Lieder written between February and November 1888, sometimes more than one on a single day. As it happens, the composition of the first in this group, Auf einer Wanderung, one of the longest in the Mörike set, was spread over a few days. Unusually searching in harmony, even for Wolf, and flexible in tempo, it both magically reflects the enchantment experienced by the poet and ingeniously preserves the musical unity through the multiple variants of the piano ritornello introduced as he first trots into the little town at sunset.

Das verlassene Mägdlein is as uniform in rhythm as Auf einer Wanderung is many-sided, its unremittingly repeated dactyls joining with its cramped harmonies to create a sense of claustrophobia. Another morning scene, Begegnung reverses the situation, the girl apparently unmoved by the whirlwind encounter of the night before even though the storm still rages not only in a wonderfully vivid piano part but also in the memory of the boy. In der Frühe, yet another morning scene, relates more closely to Auf einer Wanderung in that the rhythm of the opening bars recur throughout, but not without some variety and, crucially, not without changes of harmony that transform the atmosphere. Elfenlied, on the other hand takes place at night and is a delightful combination of verbal pun (untranslatable, since the German for eleven is “elf”) and miniature scherzando tone poem

Fussreise

Heimweh

Der Feuerreiter

Um Mitternacht

Begnegung

Abschied

“When you have heard this song,” said Wolf of the recently completed Fussreise in March 1888, “you can have only one wish - which is to die.” Clearly intoxicated by the inspiration he was finding in the poetry of Eduard Mörike - he had written over twenty Mörike songs in the last five weeks and was to write thirty more before the end of the year - the composer might just have been overstating his case. But, certainly, marching along in a briskly regular rhythm, whatever the changes of harmony in the more thoughtful second stanza, Fussreise is a stirring expression of the exhilaration of feeling at one not only with nature but with God too. Heimweh, though another song of travel, could scarcely be more different. The traveller’s sense of displacement is most poignantly reflected in harmonies that stray far from home, finding a brief illusion of comfort in the murmuring of the stream and returning to the tonic only in the closing bars of the piano part.

The song to die for in this group is surely Der Feuerreiter. Mörike’s macabre ballad (based on old legend) inspired a setting of such extravagant virtuosity that the voice-and-piano version - Wolf enjoyed setting his friends’ hair on end with it - is no less effective than the chorus-and-orchestra arrangement made four years later. Again, the following song is complete contrast. Um Mitternacht is a profound meditation on night-time tranquillity offset by the rustling of the springs in the gentle ostinato of a piano part that discreetly supports the harmonically liberated vocal line.

Begnegung and Abschied are two little situation comedies - one an acutely observed character study, the other a grotesque exercise in wish-fulfilment. Begnegung is set in the morning-aftermath of a whirlwind encounter, the storm still raging both in a wonderfully vivid piano part and in the memory of the boy - but apparently not in the heart of the girl, who just disappears round the corner. Abschied is nowhere near as subtle. Indeed, in keeping with the anarchic scenario of Mörike’s poem, it runs out of control. Ending in a key quite different from that in which it begins, it has no harmonic or even motivic unity imposed on it. The most vivid musical images are instinctive reactions to events in the story ending with the tumbling octaves that accompany the kick downstairs, the spontaneous snatch of waltz song in an irrelevant key and its exuberant repeat in the piano postlude.

Fussreise

Heimweh

Der Feuerreiter

Um Mitternacht

Begnegung

Abschied

“When you have heard this song,” said Wolf of the recently completed Fussreise in March 1888, “you can have only one wish - which is to die.” Clearly intoxicated by the inspiration he was finding in the poetry of Eduard Mörike - he had written over twenty Mörike songs in the last five weeks and was to write thirty more before the end of the year - the composer might just have been overstating his case. But, certainly, marching along in a briskly regular rhythm, whatever the changes of harmony in the more thoughtful second stanza, Fussreise is a stirring expression of the exhilaration of feeling at one not only with nature but with God too. Heimweh, though another song of travel, could scarcely be more different. The traveller’s sense of displacement is most poignantly reflected in harmonies that stray far from home, finding a brief illusion of comfort in the murmuring of the stream and returning to the tonic only in the closing bars of the piano part.

The song to die for in this group is surely Der Feuerreiter. Mörike’s macabre ballad (based on old legend) inspired a setting of such extravagant virtuosity that the voice-and-piano version - Wolf enjoyed setting his friends’ hair on end with it - is no less effective than the chorus-and-orchestra arrangement made four years later. Again, the following song is complete contrast. Um Mitternacht is a profound meditation on night-time tranquillity offset by the rustling of the springs in the gentle ostinato of a piano part that discreetly supports the harmonically liberated vocal line.

Begnegung and Abschied are two little situation comedies - one an acutely observed character study, the other a grotesque exercise in wishful thinking. Begnegung is set in the morning-aftermath of a whirlwind encounter, the storm still raging both in a wonderfully vivid piano part and in the memory of the boy - but apparently not in the heart of the girl, who just disappears round the corner. Abschied is nowhere near as subtle. Indeed, in keeping with the anarchic scenario of Mörike’s poem, it runs out of control. Ending in a key quite different from that in which it begins, it has no harmonic or even motivic unity imposed on it. The most vivid musical images are instinctive reactions to events in a story ending with the tumbling octaves that accompany the kick downstairs, the spontaneous snatch of waltz song in an irrelevant key and its exuberant repeat in the piano postlude.

Fussreise

Heimweh

Der Feuerreiter

Um Mitternacht

Begnegung

Abschied

“When you have heard this song,” said Wolf of the recently completed Fussreise in March 1888, “you can have only one wish - which is to die.” Clearly intoxicated by the inspiration he was finding in the poetry of Eduard Mörike - he had written over twenty Mörike songs in the last five weeks and was to write thirty more before the end of the year - the composer might just have been overstating his case. But, certainly, marching along in a briskly regular rhythm, whatever the changes of harmony in the more thoughtful second stanza, Fussreise is a stirring expression of the exhilaration of feeling at one not only with nature but with God too. Heimweh, though another song of travel, could scarcely be more different. The traveller’s sense of displacement is most poigantly reflected in harmonies that stray far from home, finding a brief illusion of comfort in the murmuring of the stream and returning to the tonic only in the closing bars of the piano part.

The song to die for in this group is surely Der Feuerreiter. Mörike’s macabre ballad (based on old legend) inspired a setting of such extravagant virtuosity that the voice-and-piano version - Wolf enjoyed setting his friends’ hair on end with it - is no less effective than the chorus-and-orchestra arrangement made four years later. Again, the following song is complete contrast.

Begegnung is another morning-after scene. In the aftermath of a whirlwind encounter the storm is still raging both in a wonderfully vivid piano part and in the memory of the boy - but apparently not in the heart of the girl, who just disappears round the corner. The piano follows her.

Abschied is even more daring. Indeed, in keeping with the anarchic scenario of Mörike’s poem, it runs out of control. Ending in a key quite different from that in which it begins, it has no harmonic unity imposed on it. It has no motivic unity either apart from the descending phrase introduced by voice and piano in unison in the opening bars and later repeated and accelerated but forgotten less than half-way through. The most vivid musical images are instinctive reactions to events in the story - the intrusively dissonant knocks on the door, the critic’s heavy descent into a chair, his ponderous thinking low in the piano part, the grandiose harmonies matching the “world-sized nose,” the mumbling tremolandos, the kick down the stairs, the tumbling octaves, the spontaneous snatch of waltz song in an irrelevant key and its exuberant repeat in the piano postlude.

Zum neuen Jahr

Zitronenfalter im April

Elfenlied

Schlafendes Jesuskind

Abschied

Whatever the attractions of Wolf’s vocal lines - and they are always melodically interesting, often positively tuneful - the heart of his songs is in the piano part. While the same could be said of other composers in the Lied tradition, it applies to none of them, not even Schumann, as consistently as it does to Wolf. It is true that Zum neuen Jahr is a not entirely characteristic example. The melody introduced by the piano at the beginning is vocal in conception: as the voice confirms on its first entry, the theme is directly shaped by the rhythms and pitch inflections of Mörike’s opening line. What, on the other hand, conveys the jubilant message of the song is the bell-like tinkling of the parallel thirds, carried by both hands in the upper half of the keyboard, and the sudden, thudding intervention of the piano’s lower register on the singer’s exclamation of “Herz, jauchze du mit!” At the end of the song, however, after a briefly thoughtful middle section, it is the voice that takes the expressive lead, rising to new heights of elation while the piano recalls the main theme.

There is no more characteristic example of Wolf’s art than Zitronenfalter im April, another of the 53 Mörike songs written in such extraordinary abundance in the spring and autumn of 1888. The essence of the setting is in the minor harmonies and hesitant rhythms of a tiny piano introduction suggestive of the reluctant fluttering of the (brimstone) butterfly awakened too soon. That it does take flight we know from the delicate piano figuration high in the right hand after the harmonies change to the major. Whether it survives we do not know because the last echo of the piano introduction, always recalled in the minor, avoids a definitive harmonic resolution in the closing bars.

Elfenlied is a miniature tone poem, the piano illustrating a story told in a vocal line with more comic than melodic intent. The musical product of the opening, untranslatable pun (the German words for “elf” and “eleven” sound the same) is the falling octave on “Elfe” which then persists in the pianist’s left hand but in ever shorter rhythmic values as the elf stumbles out of his house and into the wood. The octave motif is set aside only for a brief snatch of dance music in the middle and the cuckoo calls at the end. In the meantime, after the elf has bumped his head on a stone, it is taken up by the voice as the piano imitates his uncertain movements by way of a rhythmic motif similar to that of the reluctant butterfly in the previous item in this group.

After three songs in which the piano accompaniment has been restricted largely to the upper registers of the instrument, the bass sonorities in the piano chorale at the start of the next one can only sound all the more profound. Based on a poem inspired by a painting by Francesco Albani - depicting the infant Jesus lying asleep on a cross-shaped piece of wood - Schlafendes Jesuskind is an extraordinary song. It is remarkable not only for its sustained mood of contemplation but also for its melodic and harmonic freedom as Wolf takes up and imaginatively expands on Mörike’s allusion to the baby’s dreams. The recall of the chorale at the end and the repeat of the first line (the composer’s idea rather then the poet’s) give at least an illusion of cyclic shape to a song with, otherwise, no inhibition on its expressive development.

Abschied is even more daring. Indeed, in keeping with the anarchic scenario of Mörike’s poem, it runs out of control. Ending in a key quite different from that in which it begins, it has no harmonic unity imposed on it and, apart from a descending it has no motivic unity either.

Zum neuen Jahr

Zitronenfalter im April

Elfenlied

Schlafendes Jesuskind

Abschied

Whatever the attractions of Wolf’s vocal lines - and they are always melodically interesting, often positively tuneful - the heart of his songs is in the piano part. While the same could be said of other composers in the Lied tradition, it applies to none of them, not even Schumann, as consistently as it does to Wolf. It is true that Zum neuen Jahr is a not entirely characteristic example. The melody introduced by the piano at the beginning is vocal in conception: as the voice confirms on its first entry, the theme is directly shaped by the rhythms and pitch inflections of Mörike’s opening line. What, on the other hand, conveys the jubilant message of the song is the bell-like tinkling of the parallel thirds, carried by both hands in the upper half of the keyboard, and the sudden, thudding intervention of the piano’s lower register on the singer’s exclamation of “Herz, jauchze du mit!” At the end of the song, however, after a briefly thoughtful middle section, it is the voice that takes the expressive lead, rising to new heights of elation while the piano recalls the main theme.

There is no more characteristic example of Wolf’s art than Zitronenfalter im April, another of the 53 Mörike songs written in such extraordinary abundance in the spring and autumn of 1888. The essence of the setting is in the minor harmonies and hesitant rhythms of a tiny piano introduction suggestive of the reluctant fluttering of the (brimstone) butterfly awakened too soon. That it does take flight we know from the delicate piano figuration high in the right hand after the harmonies change to the major. Whether it survives we do not know because the last echo of the piano introduction, always recalled in the minor, avoids a definitive harmonic resolution in the closing bars.

Elfenlied is a miniature tone poem, the piano illustrating a story told in a vocal line with more comic than melodic intent. The musical product of the opening, untranslatable pun (the German words for “elf” and “eleven” sound the same) is the falling octave on “Elfe” which then persists in the pianist’s left hand but in ever shorter rhythmic values as the elf stumbles out of his house and into the wood. The octave motif is set aside only for a brief snatch of dance music in the middle and the cuckoo calls at the end. In the meantime, after the elf has bumped his head on a stone, it is taken up by the voice as the piano imitates his uncertain movements by way of a rhythmic motif similar to that of the reluctant butterfly in the previous item in this group.

After three songs in which the piano accompaniment has been restricted largely to the upper registers of the instrument, the bass sonorities in the piano chorale at the start of the next one can only sound all the more profound. Based on a poem inspired by a painting by Francesco Albani - depicting the infant Jesus lying asleep on a cross-shaped piece of wood - Schlafendes Jesuskind is an extraordinary song. It is remarkable not only for its sustained mood of contemplation but also for its melodic and harmonic freedom as Wolf takes up and imaginatively expands on Mörike’s allusion to the baby’s dreams. The recall of the chorale at the end and the repeat of the first line (the composer’s idea rather then the poet’s) give at least an illusion of cyclic shape to a song with, otherwise, no inhibition on its expressive development.

Abschied is even more daring. Indeed, in keeping with the anarchic scenario of Mörike’s poem, it runs out of control. Ending in a key quite different from that in which it begins, it has no harmonic unity imposed on it. It has no motivic unity either apart from the descending phrase introduced by voice and piano in unison in the opening bars and later repeated and accelerated but forgotten less than half-way through. The most vivid musical images are instinctive reactions to events in the story - the intrusively dissonant knocks on the door, the critic’s heavy descent into a chair, his ponderous thinking low in the piano part, the grandiose harmonies matching the “world-sized nose,” the mumbling tremolandos, the kick down the stairs, the tumbling octaves, the spontaneous snatch of waltz song in an irrelevant key and its exuberant repeat in the piano postlude.