Acht Gedichte von Glim, Op. 10

German lieder may have attained a relative highpoint in the work of Franz Schubert, whose 600+ individual songs and organic song cycles deserve pride of place. However, those achievements must not overshadow the later evolution of the genre in the generations from Mendelssohn to Schoenberg. Great lieder are distinguished by psychological commentary provided by purely musical means, whereby details of range, harmony/chromaticism, and the role of the accompaniment provide deeper reflection on quite superficial love poetry. Such opportunities for richer exploration only increased in the late 19th century as poets—along with philosophers and psychologists—probed ever deeper into the human psyche. Two of the greatest practitioners of High Romantic art song were, not surprisingly, also exceptional opera composers: Richard Wagner (1813-1883) and Richard Strauss (1864-1949). While the former cultivated all-encompassing music dramas to the near exclusion of everything else, the latter worked successfully in genres ranging from chamber music to grand symphonies.

Despite the success of Strauss’ operas, including Salome and Der Rosenkavalier, and symphonic tone poems, some critics believe his songs provide a better, more intimate picture of the man. These songs show Strauss in the milieu of the fin-de-siècle salon, a place where he was comfortable to be himself and reveal a penchant for striking oppositions: noble and intellectual but prone to low humor, reserved but at times giving vent to strong sensual impulses. As a whole, Strauss’ songs encompass the entire span of his career—from juvenilia written as a teenager to the profound Four Last Songs (1948) composed the year before he died.
Strauss was just 21 when he completed Acht Gedichte aus ‘Letzte Blätter’ von Hermann Gilm, Op. 10, in the span of three months in autumn 1885. At the time, he was being groomed to succeed Hans von Bülow as conductor of the Meiningen Court Orchestra. Strauss had discovered Wagner’s music while still a boy, and von Bülow’s mentorship furthered that connection. However, his father forbid him to compose in what was considered a decadent, progressive manner, and the youth retreated to dutifully work in a traditional style redolent of Schumann and Brahms (whose Symphony No. 4 was premiered by the Meiningen Orchestra that same autumn).
These Eight Songs reside firmly in the Schubertian mold: strophic, tonal, and deftly utilizing the piano to develop ideas heard in the voice. Echoes of other composers sound from nearly every page, but Strauss was not parodying. Rather, his traditional upbringing meant that imitation of important models would inevitably midwife this first song collection into existence. And as for Hermann Gilm, he was never a significant literary presence; he worked primarily as a lawyer, dabbling in poetry on the side. But as is often the case with lieder, words become simply a springboard to musical imagination. Mediocre and even banal poetry underlies some of the finest songs.
The collection opens with one of Strauss’ most frequently performed songs, “Zueignung”. But for the voice, it sounds like a lovely “song without words” in the vein of Mendelssohn. Note how Strauss colors the refrain “Habe Dank” differently on each of its appearances: first, the melodic pitches, G and B-flat, cause an unexpected tonal shift; at the second occurrence, the same pitches are reharmonized in F major / D minor; finally, near the end, the gesture becomes a triumphant leap from G to E, landing on the sweet chordal third.
“Nichts” inhabits a spritely world and could be mistaken for a scene from Schubert’s Die schöne Müllerin but for occasional irregular rhythmic groupings and a few unusual modulations. Similarly, the lovely “Die Nacht” makes no pretense to technical innovation, but the pacing is assured and the striking use of a deceptive cadence (involving flat-VI) at the final word earns its power by virtue of the preceding simplicity.
“Die Georgine” turns a corner, breaking free of the strophic form and relying on a Brahmsian three-against-two rhythmic buoyancy. Strauss revels in the rare vocal outburst (as at “die Liebe” in the final stanza), but the ending—without any piano postlude—is both tender and grim. The following song, “Geduld,” sounds fully contemporary. Major-minor oscillation unsettles the opening 6/8 dance, and an extended chromatic slide governs the final page.
The next two songs are quite short (the shortest in the collection, in fact) but highly contrasting. “Die Verschweigenen” flits between genuine anger and childish excess, and Strauss’ music neatly captures the mercurial mood with short, isolated, and skipwise vocal gestures. “Die Zeitlose” is equally brief but far darker, particularly in the Schubertian piano postlude. In final position Strauss places “Allerseelen,” perhaps the finest and most developed song of them all. His attention to the rich accompaniment and careful control of vocal register is notable. This is still a young man’s song; one day, Strauss would likely disavow the indulgent sentimentality of the final phrase. But if nothing else, “Allerseelen” foreshadows a composer with a keen dramatic sense and awareness of vocal music’s emotional directness.

(c) Jason Stell