Composers › Hugo Wolf › Programme note
Der Gärtner 1888)
Gerald Larner wrote 2 versions of differing length — choose one below.
5 Lieder
Der Feuerreiter (1888)
Der Gärtner 1888)
An die Geliebte (1888)
Fussreise (1888)
Der Rattenfänger (1888)
“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. Surely, the song to die for in this group, bearing in mind its subject matter, is Der Feuerreiter. Mörike’s macabre ballad (based on an 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.
As delightful as Der Feuerreiter is gruesome, Der Gärtner is animated by nothing more demonic than a gentle trotting rhythm as the Princess rides along the adoring gardener’s sand-strewn paths, her feathered hat bobbing up and down with every bar. The lover’s adoration in An die Geliebte is not only far more intimate but also far more profound and at the same time of such intensity that by the end of the sonnet it amounts to religious devotion. The extent of the poet’s love is anticipated in the first stanza where the pianist’s quiet left-hand syncopateations rise to the surface on “Atemzüge” and stay there through the ever more ecstatic next quatrain. At the beginning of the sestet (“Von Tiefen dann zu Tiefen”) they are replaced by low left-hand tremolos to appear again, but now in an ethereal transformation high in the right hand, on “da lächeln alle Sterne.” If Tannhäuser religiosity is called to mind here it is in no way inappropriate to Mörike’s vision.
The composer’s pride in Fussreise, which presents a wanderer figure at one with God and nature, is entirely understandable, not only because its irresistible melodiousnes but also for the variety of harmonic and colour detail that catches the morning sun while the exhilarating march-time step remains unchanged throughout. Wolf liked his setting of Goethe’s Der Rattenfänger no less. Writing to a friend about a concert given by Eugen Gura in Munich he deplored the “rubbishy” programme, noted the feeble applause and added, “If Gura had sung a rousing piece, like my Rattenfänger or even Fussreise, all the people would have gone mad with delight.” Certainly, Der Rattenfänger is a brilliant inspiration – in its provocatively dissonant piano prelude, the magically tuneful word setting of its three stanzas and, after a repeat of the first, the beautifully contrived evanescence of the ending.
From Gerald Larner’s files: “Rattenfänger”
5 Lieder
Der Feuerreiter (1888)
Der Gärtner 1888)
An die Geliebte (1888)
Fussreise (1888)
Der Rattenfänger (1888)
“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. Surely, the song to die for in this group, bearing in mind its subject matter, is Der Feuerreiter. Mörike’s macabre ballad (based on an 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.
As delightful as Der Feuerreiter is gruesome, Der Gärtner is animated by nothing more demonic than a gentle trotting rhythm as the Princess rides along the adoring gardener’s sand-strewn paths, her feathered hat bobbing up and down with every bar. The lover’s adoration in An die Geliebte is not only far more intimate but also far more profound and at the same time of such intensity that by the end of the sonnet it amounts to religious devotion. The extent of the poet’s love is anticipated in the first stanza where the pianist’s quiet left-hand syncopateations rise to the surface on “Atemzüge” and stay there through the ever more ecstatic next quatrain. At the beginning of the sestet (“Von Tiefen dann zu Tiefen”) they are replaced by low left-hand tremolos to appear again, but now in an ethereal transformation high in the right hand, on “da lächeln alle Sterne.” If Tannhäuser religiosity is called to mind here it is in no way inappropriate to Mörike’s vision.
The composer’s pride in Fussreise, which presents a wanderer figure at one with God and nature, is entirely understandable, not only because of its irresistible melodiousnes but also because of the variety of harmonic and colour detail that catches the morning sun as the exhilarating march-time step goes on unchanged. Wolf liked his setting of Goethe’s Der Rattenfänger no less. Writing to a friend about a concert given by Eugen Gura in Munich he deplored the “rubbishy” programme, noted the feeble applause and added, “If Gura had sung a rousing piece, like my Rattenfänger or even Fussreise, all the people would have gone mad with delight.” Certainly, Der Rattenfänger is a brilliant inspiration – in its provocatively dissonant piano prelude, the magically tuneful word setting of its three stanzas and, after a repeat of the first, the beautifully contrived evanescence of the ending.
From Gerald Larner’s files: “Fussreise/dif”