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REVIEW: Martin Dreyer’s verdict on Elizabeth Llewellyn & Simon Lepper, Howard Assembly Room, Leeds, March 28

Elizabeth Llewellyn: Bringing her radiant soprano to more intimate surroundings

HARD on the heels of her triumphant Opera North run in the title role of Ariadne auf Naxos, Elizabeth Llewellyn brought her radiant soprano to more intimate surroundings in a recital celebrating the late Dr Keith Howard, the most generous benefactor in Opera North’s history. Simon Lepper’s piano was her deft partner.

Her programme was an eclectic mix of Verdi and Puccini songs that played to her operatic strengths, lieder of Brahms and Strauss, and songs by two English composers, Coleridge-Taylor and Stanford.

Llewellyn’s debut recording, Heart And Hereafter in 2021, was devoted to songs by Coleridge-Taylor, eight of which she offered here, opening each half of the evening with them. She clearly has a special feel for this music. The best of three from 1896 was a setting of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s sonnet Tears, an intimate view of grief.

Even more affecting were four settings of Christina Rossetti from Sorrow Songs, Op 57 (1904), with a passionate “Let me be” in Oh What Comes Over The Sea?.

There is often a touch of Brahms in the music of Stanford, Coleridge-Taylor’s teacher, even when he is trying to be Irish, as in A Sheaf Of Songs From Leinster. Llewellyn gave a spirited account of The Bold Unbiddable Child. In three lieder by Brahms himself, she tried to keep her tone intimate and succeeded best with Auf dem Kirchhofe (In The churchyard), with its telling rhymes, ‘Gewesen’ (deceased) and ‘Genesen’ (released).

She was wise to keep her Italian songs and her Strauss to the end of each half: they allowed her to open out her naturally rich tone. She found it easy to convey the adoration of Du Meines Herzens Krönelein (You My Heart’s Little Crown) and the rapture of the evergreen Ständchen (Serenade). They also allowed Lepper to break out more and he took full advantage of Strauss’s lush accompaniments, highlighting pianistic details.

Llewellyn’s Italian projection was even smoother still. The lullaby Sogno d’or (Sweet Dream, 1912) reappeared in the opera La Rondine; she covered her tone beautifully at its close. She cleverly paired it with another ‘ninna-nanna’ (lullaby), E l’uccellino, an amusing little bird. The remainder of the Puccini songs were stand-alone numbers, which rarely get a recital airing.

In three Verdi songs at the close, she really cut loose, finishing with a vivaciously carefree gypsy girl in La Zingara. As she spends more time in recital halls, she will perhaps not feel the need to fall back on operatic styles so much and she will tailor the intimate side of her tone accordingly.

She has all the charm and charisma you could ask for. For the time being, however, she will do herself – and her audiences – an immense favour by dispensing with her music stand and learning the songs as she would an operatic role. Only then will she establish that direct communication with her listeners that is so crucial to the full success of a song recital.

Review by Martin Dreyer

Elizabeth Llewellyn & Simon Lepper’s CD of songs by Coleridge-Taylor is on Orchid Classics ORC 100164.

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REVIEW: Martin Dreyer’s verdict on Winter’s Journey, Roderick Williams & Joseph Middleton, Howard Assembly Rooms, Leeds, 11/3/2022

Roderick Williams: “Hurled verbal darts at the traveller’s ex-lover”

IF you are a lover of Schubert lieder, you may bridle at hearing them sung in English. If you are an even more dyed-in-the-wool purist, you will want to hear his great song-cycle Winterreise sung in the original keys, in other words by a tenor.

So, if you experienced the cycle in English, sung by a baritone – two removes from the original – you might think it beyond the pale. In which case, you probably hadn’t heard these two musicians perform it.

The Jeremy Sams translation, written at the invitation of accompanist Christopher Glynn (of Ryedale Festival), has no airs and graces. It reflects the relatively simple language of Wilhelm Müller’s original, which is not by any yardstick a masterpiece of German literature.

Instead it sticks to a basic story-line about a jilted lover and paints in simple terms the emotions he feels as he travels through a wintry landscape that reflects his inner world. This man is a loner, an outsider – and angry at the way the world has mistreated him.

Such a reading of Sams/Müller inspired Williams’s response here, and Middleton was hand in glove with his vision. After rueful reflection in the final, major-key stanza of Gute Nacht (Goodnight), we were straight into bitter resentment with Die Wetterfahne (The Weather-vane), Middleton pecking at the keys as Williams hurled verbal darts at the traveller’s ex-lover. In Gefrorne Tränen (Frozen Tears) I part company with Sams, who translates ‘Eis’ into snow, where ‘ice’ is much more biting. Doubtless rhyme demanded it, but still.

We felt the comfort from the linden tree’s rustling leaves and the traveller’s tears “guzzled by the thirsty snow” – a telling metaphor – before Williams suggested that the journey was taking a toll on the lover’s sanity in Rückblick (Turning Back); here his anger had been presaged by the piano’s violent prelude.

Then came a masterpiece of characterisation in Frühlingstraum (Dreaming Of Spring), where the duo conjured three distinct moods, its light-hearted start jolted into reality at cock-crow and thence into bitterness that happiness can never be recaptured.

There were sadly unfulfilled hopes that the post would bring a comforting message, although, again, the English ‘heart’ did not carry quite the bite that the German ‘Herz’ delivers with its final consonant. Flowing triplets well captured the friendly crow’s flight, but the temporary ease was soon dissipated in the baritone’s hint of mental disintegration in Letzte Hoffnung (Last Hope).

Sams imagines a ‘proper witches’ brew’ from Der Stürmische Morgen (Stormy Morning) – not really in the original text – but Williams obliged with some really vicious tone, complementing it immediately in the major/minor anguish of Täuschung (Delusion) and a beautifully pianissimo ending.

The tempo sagged a little in Das Wirtshaus (The Inn – actually a graveyard), although it was given a really bold postlude. That prepared the way nicely for some real swagger in Mut! (Courage!). Self-doubt re-emerged in a cleverly mood-wavering account of Die Nebensonnen (Phantom Suns). For the final song, Der Leiermann, Williams walked to the end of the piano and faced sideways, treating the pianist as the organ-grinder of the title. It was a telling move.

So much of the cycle had these moments that revealed a real depth of engagement on the part of this admirable duo. If Williams was more relaxed and thus more immediate in his colours, Middleton was a touch more deliberate, occasionally trying to inject more into Schubert than the composer really intended to convey. Nevertheless, it was a moving – and memorable – evening.

Review by Martin Dreyer