The Lied and how to sing it

For some five years now I have been a regular attendee at the Wigmore Hall of a Monday lunchtime, taking in the BBC Radio 3 concert of the day. The standard of chamber music making is consistently high, but what has been relatively new to me in this period is the world of classical song.

Early on I really struggled with vocal or operatic classical music. "A lot of shouting in a foreign language" is how I heard opera described on the radio once, and that stayed with me for a long time as I struggled to get past the barrier of not knowing the words or, worse, not being able to hear them. And now, thanks largely to the Wigmore concerts, things have changed.

A composer's songs are, perhaps not surprisingly, among the most expressive parts of their output, and it is amazing how helpful it is to either follow the text or preview it beforehand, perhaps along with a synopsis of the piece itself.

My gradual thawing through the world of song has its roots in England and France. A study of Benjamin Britten's 'Serenade for tenor, horn and strings' at university revealed this incredibly emotional music, beautifully structured and orchestrated, with plenty of room given for Peter Pears to project the words. A few years later for a birthday present I was given Anne Sofie von Otter's album 'La Bonne Chanson', and loved the Ravel setting of three Mallarmé settings – more, it has to be said, for the instrumental colour, but gradually the wonderful voice above it shone through.

Yet it's the Wigmore concerts that have really made the difference, and have gradually opened my eyes to the writing of the 'Lied' composers, Schubert, Schumann and Wolf especially.

Five of those concerts really stick out in my mind. Firstly Mark Padmore, singing 'Winter Words' in a way that brought through Britten's stunning Hardy settings, vividly pictorial. Then Gerald Finley sang a concert of Schumann and Grieg, concentrating on settings of the poet Heinrich Heine, and giving a remarkable account of the former composer's 'Belsatzar'.

Then it was Anne Schwanewilms, with the best vocal concert I have yet seen, showing amazing control of the long phrases in Debussy's 'Proses Lyriques' before the same in some sumptuous Richard Strauss. Just as important in this respect was accompanist Roger Vignoles, who proved capable of realising the quasi-orchestral textures on the piano.

Christopher Maltman also proved a surprise hit, with an imaginative program of Richard Strauss, Korngold and four songs by Gustav Holst, an unexpected source. The timeless 'Betelgeuse' was by far the strangest of the quartet, a kind of shorter cousin to 'Saturn' from 'The Planets' in its cumbersome old age, but one that resonated for long afterwards. Finally Véronique Gens, performing the Berlioz song cycle 'Les Nuits d’été', gave an especially sparkling performance of the opening song, 'Villanelle'.

So why am I sharing these five special experiences? To show, I think, that with repeated attempts to get to know a style of music better, it can on occasion be possible to achieve a breakthrough and to grow to love it, especially given the right performers and venue.

I have been very lucky in this case, though I can't yet see how this is going to happen with Country & Western!

Hyperion and 30 years of musical exploration

Something about Hyperion Records brings out the record collecting anorak in me. Of all the new release listings that I get to look at in a month, few give as much anticipation as Hyperion's.

Added to that, none have inspired so many purchases from the cover image alone! A few people would say that's the worst way to buy things, but some of my very best musical discoveries have been made that way. So as the independent record label celebrates its 30th anniversary this month, I thought I would take a bit of time to consider how influential it has been on my musical life. Bear with me while I self-indulge a bit…

The first Hyperion record I bought was a tape – of Frank Bridge works for piano trio and quartet. I'd heard the 'Phantasie Trio' on Radio 3 and liked it – and it seemed perfect Autumnal music. Beautifully presented, performed and recorded, it has a special place in my collection. With such an auspicious start it wasn't long before more followed – and next up was the revelatory John Scott CD of Dupré organ works. I have known few moments as thrilling as when the 'Prelude and Fugue in B major' erupts from the speakers, a wall of euphoric sound that few can rival, music played at the highest possible voltage. Extra enjoyment is added on headphones, when turning the volume right up reveals the background sound of St Paul's Cathedral coming in to focus, before the organ sound blazes a trail across the sky.

Two more revelatory discoveries followed - firstly the sumptuous sound of Granville Bantock's 'Celtic Symphony', with massive string orchestra and twelve harps turning their hand to some infectious folk-inflected material - and then Tatiana Nikolayeva's recording of Shostakovich's '24 Preludes and Fugues', written for her and played with strong personality. Over 3 hours the sense of a musical voyage being made, through each major and minor key, is inescapable.

For me, Hyperion has excelled on pretty much every level it turns its hand to, though chamber and instrumental music is a real specialty. The Domus Piano Quartet recordings of Fauré are terrifically exciting, absolutely on the money technically but also deeply emotional. I have also greatly enjoyed the Salomon Quartet's recordings of Mozart and Haydn, which are currently hard to find but contain great personality and humour, proof that period instrument recordings don't have to be stripped back too far. On the piano I have especially enjoyed Steven Osborne's Debussy 'Préludes', Angela Hewitt's Schumann, and the bits I have heard of Leslie Howard’s monumental traversal of the complete piano works of Liszt. Yet among their piano canon one set of recordings stands out, that made by Howard Shelley early on in the label's history of the complete Rachmaninov piano works. These are not necessarily the most fiery of recordings, but have an honesty and clarity that I really warm to.

More recently my discoveries on the label have been vocal ones. Hearing a sensational concert of Richard Strauss at the Wigmore Hall by Anne Schwanewilms prompted me to go in search of her disc on the label, and I was not disappointed. Where Hyperion have triumphed in this respect is giving creative license to their accompanists, and building a series of songs around their direction. Roger Vignoles has done it for Strauss, and each disc is a winner, presenting the composer’s vocal output sensibly and in the company of great singers such as Christine Brewer, Christopher Maltman and Andrew Kennedy.

Choral music is another strong Hyperion preserve, and here I'd go for the Corydon Singers' recordings of Vaughan Williams (especially the Dona Nobis Pacem) and Rachmaninov (the Vespers, an outstanding performance). The Holst Singers have also charmed, and earlier recordings of Poulenc and Janacek by the New London Chamber Choir have proved very striking.

Early music is another field in which the label excels, and many Kings Consort recordings have brought this field alive for me. Chief among them is Handel's 'Water Music', coupled with an equally pictorial 'Water Music' by Telemann. I tried to play the cello part for this once and couldn't, so it was great to hear a cello section that could master it! Meanwhile Gothic Voices, under the leadership of Christopher Page, have made several cleverly themed CDs that celebrate the music of Mediaeval times. 'Music for the Lion Hearted King' was one that especially left its mark.

The gathering at a recent party to celebrate the label's achievement told its own story. Artists such as Stephen Hough, Steven Osborne, Angela Hewitt and Leslie Howard were all clearly delighted to be celebrating the label’s achievement, the boundaries between their administration, marketing and creative sides completely blurred.

So a very happy birthday Hyperion – and here's to another 30 years of musical exploration. My bank manager might not like you, but you're a real asset to classical music listeners in this country!

Diaghilev and the Ballet Russes

If you are in any way connected with 20th century classical music, the Diaghilev exhibition running for the rest of the year at London's Victoria & Albert museum is a mandatory visit.

On a walk round the generously filled tableaux, a vivid picture emerges of life on and off stage with the Ballet Russes in Paris, and it was certainly no place for shrinking violets or introverts!

There are many great things to see in the exhibition, but none have the impact of the backdrop used for later performances of Stravinsky's 'Firebird'. Walking round the corner to see this huge piece of cloth is a genuinely breathtaking moment.

What also becomes clear is the sheer number of ballets commissioned and staged by Diaghilev, and all are given plenty of exposure here. As well as the obvious examples - the Stravinsky trilogy of 'The Firebird', 'Petrushka' and 'The Rite Of Spring', Debussy's 'Jeux' or Ravel's 'Daphnis et Chloé', there are other startling pieces of modernism. Erik Satie's 'Parade' features strange, mechanistic figures, two of which stand silently towards the end of the exhibition. Prokofiev's 'Chout', a noisy rabble of a piece, is represented by garish costumes, while other composers we might consider minor are also covered - Liadov, Hahn, Nikolai Tcherepnin and Florent Schmitt all writing stage works for the impresario.

There are more artefacts, with commendable space given to Diaghilev's love of arranging 'old' music. One of the masters in this discipline, Respighi, is represented by a florid letter, while there is a page from 'The Firebird', a backdrop from Milhaud's 'Le Train bleu', and four murky impressions of the 'Rite' itself. A beautiful blue background adorns the design for Stravinsky's 'Apollo', while blazing oranges and yellows stand behind Rimsky-Korsakov's 'Golden Cockerel'.

Inspired by the exhibition I turned to Spotify for a musical complement, which can be found here as a playlist:

http://open.spotify.com/user/benjammin22/playlist/594U5AK8jXv3KPxQvCnbCB

On listening to this it was a delight to rediscover the melodically attractive Poulenc suite for 'Les Biches' and Igor Markevitch's masterly conducting of Rimsky's brilliant suite for 'The Golden Cockerel'. Even without the obvious figures of Stravinsky, Ravel and Debussy, these two alone show how Diaghilev was capable of bringing out the best from his composers.

As something to brighten up the Autumn and provide creative inspiration, this is an hour incredibly well spent - and I will certainly return for more before the exhibition ends in January.