Greg Stepanich

On the passing of Schwarzkopf

Here’s my Elisabeth Schwarzkopf memory, for what it’s worth:

I remember seeing the great soprano back in the mid-1970s, when she was on a recital tour for the old Community Concerts series. She came to our town with a program of lieder, most of which I don’t recall at this point except for the closing Richard Strauss set.

These were a revelation to the teenaged me, because the only thing I knew about Strauss was that he’d written these big, bloated pieces for orchestra that went on and on and that I didn’t like all that much. But here were these exquisite songs, songs I’d never heard, full of sumptuous melody and — this was important to me — beautiful piano parts.

I can hear right now in my mind Schwarzkopf singing Morgen!, which I now know is one of the most-loved of all Strauss songs, but which to me back then was brand-new and arrestingly gorgeous. The voice I hear now is powerful and firm, and with a darkish quality that somehow made the music more poignant and compelling.

The audience clapped in the middle of the piano postlude, as apparently it always does, according to my piano teacher, who complained about that the next day. “They ruined it!� she said, arguing that this was a well-known song that a good audience would have been familiar with, and which would have waited for the ending to play out.

They didn’t ruin it for me (and I’m sure I clapped early); the proof is that my appreciation for Strauss dates from that Schwarzkopf concert. I also learned something about the beauty of the song recital in general. Here was a format in which a great artist showed up at a hall, pianist in tow, and the two of them would simply create an entire universe of spellbinding music in the plainest of settings.

No bells, no whistles, no cannons, no magic tricks. Just a voice, a piano, and a literature of extraordinary depth and richness.

Not too long ago there was much talk in the classical world of the death of the song recital, and there aren’t enough of them most seasons to make me happy. But it survives, and with the right artist, and with a canny choice of repertoire, few other formats bring you in contact with so much great music in so brief a time.

And so I’m grateful to Elisabeth Schwarzkopf for coming to my town more than 30 years ago and opening my eyes to how much beautiful music there was in the world, and how marvelously it could be sung.

Much later, I learned about the Nazi affiliations of both Schwarzkopf and Strauss, and I admit I can't now hear their names without thinking about that. I didn't know about it at the time I heard her sing, and it hasn't affected my memory of that concert.

But it still makes me terribly sad.

If anyone else has memories of Schwarzkopf, who died Thursday at 90, please post them. Here’s how Pliable remembers her at On an Overgrown Path.