These three works are just forty years apart in origin yet offer a range of styles: Richard Strauss in 1895 at the peak of late Romanticism; Berg’s 1908 touching farewell to that world and a glimpse of what lay ahead; and Shostakovich in a stylistic rethink in response to mid-1930s state pressure (maybe). Of course in European history terms, and in music history terms, it was no ordinary forty years.
Strauss’ Till Eulenspiegel is more than a mere prelude to mightier fare, being brilliant, bold, and virtuosic. That 14th-century lord of misrule is brought to vivid life by the composer. After the strings’ gentle ‘once upon a time’ opening – strictly matter of fact in Rafael Payare’s phrasing – Till peeped round the pantomime curtain with his theme on solo horn and his adventures began. Each was neatly characterised and deftly executed by the BBC Symphony Orchestra players, with Payare cueing them all with precision. A conductor is sometimes a traffic policeman, the great example being perhaps the late Lorin Maazel, so demonstrative in letting each section or soloist know exactly when they should proceed. This particular piece hits rush hour when Strauss’ invention becomes more exuberant, and there was temporary traffic congestion as some lines struggled to find the right lane in terms of relative audibility. But that is always a hazard in the Barbican, and for the most part this was a stirring account of Till’s rumbustious life right up until the heavy brass announced his summary execution. Solo horn, clarinet and lead violin each deserved the acknowledgment the conductor – and audience – gave them.
Berg’s Seven Early Songs were culled from the hundred or so examples the composer wrote before and during his apprenticeship with Schoenberg, variously set down between 1905 and 1908. The orchestral version though is from 1928, so we hear the mature master helping out the novice with a rich and varied backdrop to his youthful inspirations. Various sources suggest we can hear the influence of Brahms, Debussy, Mahler, Wolf and Puccini(!) here, but somehow it all comes out sounding like Bergian expressionism, if embryonic at times. The superb soloist was German soprano Dorothea Röschmann, no less. This was quite a cycle to choose for what was her debut with the BBCSO, though she did win an award for her 2015 disc containing the piano version. It sounded like her ideal calling card (she needed no score), for she was completely inside the idiom from the outset, her diction suggesting she had come to regale the audience with some of her favourite German poems, as much as songs. She has a soaring silvery line when needed (she is a famous Marschallin), which in Nacht blossomed rapturously at the opening of its second stanza with the line Weites Wunderland ist aufgetan. In fact that phrase “A boundless Wonderland is revealed” could serve as a description of her singing at its best, and even of these Berg songs, harbingers of a new world of vocal expression.