Coincidence brought a copy of this release in the mail just as I was reading a fascinating book, George Newton's Sonority in Singing, A Historical Essay (New York; Vantage, 1984). Mozart's famous observation about the aim of music had just been brought up for discussion: "Music. .. must never offend the ear, but must please the hearer, or in other words must never cease to be music. .. "
It struck me that Mozart's words aptly describe the music he wrote to set the poems of such literary figures as Baumberg, Haggedorn, Holty, Jacobi, Schmidt, Sturm, Weisse, and even the great Goethe. My thoughts went back some 30 years to the Mozart songs I met in the Atlanta studio of soprano Inge Manski, for whom I was the eager (but unaccomplished) accompanist. Later, in the Tallahassee studio of mezzo-soprano Elena Nikolaidi, others came under my more confident fingers. More recently, I played through all 35 or so of them on one of my fortepianos and performed some in recital with soprano Mary Louise Leeds for Miami's Pro-Mozart Society.
Whether in my teens, 20s, or 40s, I have felt the radiant charm of these songs. Every word, phrase, melody, and harmony, even the simplest keyboard pattern, seems to exist for the sole purpose of aural pleasure. The effect is hard to describe. Like everything from Mozart's pen, the longer the period of acquaintance, the more cherished the next encounter. Thus, my keen interest in hearing Roberta Alexander sing the half of Mozart's songs contained on this release, although I put it on the turntable with some trepidation.
Miss Alexander is, after all, a big-time opera star with a big voice. Puccini's La boheme and Verdi's La traviata find her as much at home as Mozart's La finta giardiniera, La clemenza di Tito, Cost fan tutte, and Don Giovanni. Her lungs are known to fill the cavernous opera houses of New York, London, Amsterdam, and the Berlins. Would she blast away at these precious little gems? Would she smother them in a prima donna's vibrato or histrionics?
I needn't have worried. Her intelligence and taste, coupled with so redoubtable a partner as Glen Wilson, have resulted in first-class performances. Everything is scaled to suit the music. Miss Alexander is right in line with what Prof. Newton's research has shown to be appropriate: a light voice, placed forward and unmarred by the wide vibrato which became ubiquitous in the late 19th century. Mozart's 18th-century requirements are met to a tee. The fortepiano, by Germany's firm of J.C. Neupert after an original ca. 1790 by Stein and Konicke, abets the cause. Its period timbre blends with the singer's voice delightfully-whether the texts being sung are Italian, French, or German.
Songs in three languages were Mozart's legacy. These he wrote between 1777, when he was 26, and 1791, the year of his death at 39. They run the gamut from the sweetness of love in An Chloe, the pangs of separating lovers in Das Lied der Trennung, and the bittersweet charm of a crushed violet in Das Veilchen, to the comic reminiscences of the "good old days" by an old woman in Die Alte (a funny piece of business which Mozart directs to be sung "ein bisschen <lurch die Nase" [somewhat nasally]), and much more. Included are two works which, strictly speaking, are more little arias than songs, Un moto di gioia (about joy) and Ah, spiegarti (about longing), but I wouldn't let so pedantic a distinction cause offense.
The ear is ever pleased, as Mozart intended.
