Let us begin by noting
that this year marks the 100th anniversary of the composition of Ein
Heldenleben (A Hero's Life) and that I am writing these words
forty-nine years to the day after Herr Strauss's death, September 8,
1949. A tribute, even a celebration, seems to be in order. But
inasmuch as the composer has already celebrated his own heroic life in
Heldenleben (yes, even the German musical establishment had to
swallow twice), our throwing a party would be comically
anti-climactic.
While we are in the
mood to toss a few wreaths of tribute, let me pay the ultimate
compliment to this new Eiji Oue CD - listening to it several times
over the past weeks has left me feeling much more warmth toward Heldenleben
than twenty-five years of prior acquaintance had accumulated. And
after listening to other performances over the same few weeks for
comparison's sake, I am pleased to report that it is not merely closer
acquaintance with A Hero's Life that has warmed me to it, but
the very passion of the Minnesota Orchestra's performance. To put over
this work, which is at the same time the transfiguration and the death
of the romantic movement, conviction is everything. Oue does not
invite us to think but to feel. Despite very considerable competition,
(Beecham, Barbirolli, Karajan, Reiner, Ormandy, Blomstedt and Kempe),
my ears and heart tell me this is a performance to measure others by.
All six of its movements flow white hot - the only way to
go with this work so we don't have too much time to analyze the
legitimacy of our reactions. This Oue understands, as did Reiner - the
performance clocks in at less than 46 minutes; compare Reiner 43:36
and Barbirolli 50 flat. Even the cacophonous Hero's Battlefield,
plopped most perversely in the middle of some ravishingly beautiful
pages, didn't fatigue me this time (though I still much prefer the
battle hymns of Strauss's disciple, Erich Wolfgang Korngold).
The recording is quite
exceptional, as have been all the Reference/Minnesota recordings I
have heard. Check the gripping opening of Die Frau ohne
Schatten. Certainly we must pause to admire the achievement of the
engineers in capturing with deafening clarity the clatter of the
'kitchenware'1 in Battlefield, and the even more
sensational effect of an entire orchestra simultaneously breaking wind
in Frau! I suspect that Strauss was at his most gleeful when
thumbing his nose (or some other part of his anatomy), notation-wise.
The Strauss of '98 was
as much a child of Nietzsche as of Wagner. The raucous and brief rants
that poked through at moments in many of the early tone poems, had, by
Salome and Elektra, become the dominant voice. But
whereas Wagner and Strauss marched to the edge of the abyss of
atonality, looked down, then pulled back abruptly, Wagner a fair
distance with Parsifal, Strauss all the way with Der
Rosenkavalier, Nietzsche had marched right on over the rim into
nihilism. Unlike the latter, who resented Wagner's compromise with
Christianity, Strauss hedged his bets. Death and Transfiguration,
even Salome, give at least a grudging nod to metaphysics and
the religious urge, though critics have always carped that Strauss is
much less convincing sketching God and good than evil and perversity.
Salome's Jokanaan (John the Baptist), even Strauss admits, has
nobility. In Strauss's world John's not really interesting 'til he's a
head on a platter. George Marek, in his enlightening study Richard
Strauss: The Life of a Non-Hero, makes the point that his subject "lacked
involvement with God. He felt none of the passion of faith". But
the religious instinct, when distorted, bears monstrous offspring.
Wagner may have been, as Strauss was bold to proclaim publicly, 'the
Almighty'2, but those who greeted the first performances
of Ein Heldenleben had no doubt who Strauss's 'hero'
was. In its second section, The Hero's Adversaries, he didn't
bother to hide the identity of the garrulous winds and brazen horns,
so complete was his contempt for those who dared criticize his work.
Yet in comparison to the critical sneer that greeted both Berlioz and
Wagner early in their ascent, Strauss was politely, even
enthusiastically received. But this was post-Nietzsche and
Schopenhauer, and Ubermensch the new Deity would not be blasphemed. As
the composer confided to Romain Rolland, Richard Strauss was at least
as worthy a subject for hero-worship as Napoleon or Alexander. George
Marek notes that Strauss found an even clearer mirror in the title
character of his opera Guntram, who confesses "my life is
governed by my spirit's law; my God speaks to me through myself!".
If God really spoke to
Strauss, it was more often through the larynx of his wife Pauline.
Those who knew the couple intimately marveled at Supermensch's
timidity around his spouse. Once Pauline interrupted the composer
while he worked on Elektra to send him to the village for milk
- the maid was too busy! The Germans have a word for a henpecked
husband -- pantoffelheld, "hero of the slipper". But
Strauss never seemed to mind being Untermensch around his own house,
so that much of the beauty of Heldenleben owes its inspiration
to the woman who was, according to most accounts, a shrew. Her voice
was doubtless seldom as mellifluous as the solo violin which stands in
for her in Heldenleben, and, to the composer's credit, assumes
such prominence in his heroic self-portrait.
In his old age, whether
due to connubial attrition, or perhaps the humbling spectacle of the
destruction of the 'master race', Strauss seems to have found peace,
even as he had predicted half a century before in the autumnal last
movements of Heldenleben. In the sunset glow of late works
like the Oboe Concerto and particularly the Four Last
Songs we witness a new humility and melancholy which add poignancy
to Strauss's last musings. This Superman, unlike his mentor
Nietzsche, left this mortal coil not in defiance but resignation. 1'kitchenware'
was the description of Strauss's father, who preferred "Death and
Transfiguration" to much of his son's other output because it
contained less percussion.
2The
dedication on the last page of Strauss's opera "Feuersnot",
inscribed on Wagner's birthday, reads: "Completed on the birthday
of and to the greater glory of the Almighty ...". |