“A white hand waves
From fairy tales of old,
Where there are sounds and songs
Of a magic land.”
— Aus alten Märchen winkt es, Heinrich Heine
The Liederabend was indeed an entry into a magical land of sounds and songs. Our guides for the evening were Benjamin (baritone) and James (piano), who led us through the poetic worlds of Justinus Kerner, Friedrich Hölderlin, Paul Celan, and Heinrich Heine, carried on a musical flying carpet woven by Schumann and Kurtág.
It was a snowy and windy day outside, and the first Kerner song greeted us with storm and rain — yet also with an invitation to step indoors, into a golden hour of song:
“Here inside it is so sweet to rest
And give oneself to blissful love;
The whole of Heaven’s golden gleam’
Flees hither to this quiet room…
Locked am I in Heaven’s bright embrace!”
— Lust der Sturmnacht
The emotional landscapes were rich and vivid. I loved the unity between nature and feeling. Listening to Benjamin and James, I could see a grove under a starlit night (Frage) and feel the melancholy in Alte Laute. The piano painted atmosphere with delicacy, while the voice moved naturally between intimacy and intensity.
What makes a good song? Or perhaps a better question is: why do we sing at all? Adam burst into song when he first beheld Eve. Miriam sang and danced when Israel was freed from slavery. Mary sang in praise of the child she carried, the promised salvation. Simeon sang in contentment upon seeing the infant Jesus, longing for his heavenly home. Song is the language of the human soul. The voice is an instrument given to all.
This essence remained present in Kurtág’s songs. The atmospheric music and the poetry of Hölderlin and Celan felt as close as life itself. Reflecting on Kurtág’s mourning for his wife and his attempt to make sense of the world through music, I wondered: was Hölderlin ill in mind, or was society itself unwell? Through Benjamin’s brief reflections on his experiences with Kurtág, offering a glimpse into why these songs were composed, and through the marvellous interpretation of each miniature, the performance felt like watching the northern lights dance — fragile, shifting, yet luminous.
Few listeners remain untouched by Dichterliebe; nor does one easily grow tired of it, even after hearing it countless times. I, too, felt like a child at the end of a beloved book, wanting to cry out, “One more time!” That is Dichterliebe to me. And yet, as the hour passes, every Liederabend must eventually “melt away like mere foam.” (Aus alten Märchen winkt es).
Or so it seems.
The true crown of the evening was the encore: Liebst du um Schönheit by Clara Schumann, text by Friedrich Rückert. Every song that evening was beautifully shaped, but this one holds a special place in my heart. Why do I love it? If I could explain the reasons, I would betray the song’s very meaning. I love this song. Full stop. Nothing attached to it — no “because,” no “if,” no “when,” no “only.” It speaks of unconditional love:
If you love for love,
Oh yes, love me!
Love me always;
I shall love you forever.
Liederabend | Schumann & Kurtag
Baritone: Benjamin Appl
Pianist: James Baillieu
Date: 17.2.2026
Venue: Elbphilharmonie