The basic song recital format in America is rather simple: one set each in German, Italian, French, and English—and maybe one in Spanish or Russian or Czech—all from different periods of time. The seminal work—The Art of the Song Recital, by Shirlee Emmons and Stanley Sonntag—presents many sample programs, all of them following this format. Yes, there are exceptions, but most of us younger singers present what amounts to the same recital.
I don’t know about you, but I get a little bored hearing the same 100 songs over and over again.
My Fulbright project has to do with introducing little-known and unknown German repertoire to Americans, in the hopes that those same 100 songs aren’t the only ones every undergraduate and graduate voice student in the States presents. It’s not that I have something against Schubert or Schumann (there is a reason Schubert’s songs are still sung, 200 years later), but as singers we need to do something different to keep music and song recitals fresh.
I purposely avoid singing the same stuff everyone else sings. For example, instead of just singing Strauss’ Ständchen, I sang all six songs that comprise Opus 17, five of which are, for the most part, unknown. Instead of singing Poulenc’s Fiançaille pour rire or Le courte paille, I did the four Air chantés, which most of my friends and colleagues have never heard of. Simply put, singing out-of-the-way songs has been my thing.
Of course, there are exceptions to every rule. As a first-year graduate student, I heard Samuel Barber’s Hermit Songs at least three times. I went on to sing them during my second year, and I was one of two singers to perform them that semester. I felt a little like I’d sold out, but I figured the song cycle was such an important work that I really should do it.
Everyone at my school took Hermit Songs for granted as a staple of the repertoire, so I never bothered to think that the composer’s nationality might have something to do with its success.
When I was asked to perform the Hermit Songs on recital here in Leipzig, I immediately agreed. I took the music to two of my coaches, to get in as much work as possible in the four weeks I was given. To my great surprise, neither one of them knew more than three of the 10 songs, and even the ones they knew were iffy.
When I asked my fellow students about the cycle, they had no clue what was I talking about. When I asked them about Samuel Barber, only a few of them even knew who he was.
I couldn’t believe it. This great example of the song cycle was unknown to them, and so was its composer, who is one of America’s greatest.
After further questioning, I learned that a lot of songs I know (and I really don’t know that many), in a number of languages, aren’t known in Leipzig, which I have to take as an indication of a larger trend in Germany. Essentially, if it’s not German, there’s a good chance the students don’t know it. To my surprise, I found that they, too, have that list of 100 songs that gets performed over and over. It’s just that their list has a lot more Brahms and Schumann, and a lot less Barber and Copland.
I realize Germans have an amazing catalog in their native language from which to choose, and Americans don’t—but I don’t think that should matter. Good music transcends language, right? Yes, language is important to a song, because it is a song, but language shouldn’t determine what we sing, should it?
In response, I’ve decided that my little project here isn’t enough. I’ve made it my mini-mission to introduce as much American repertoire to these Germans as I can. I want to show them that a lot of great music comes from outside of Germany. I’m asking them to listen to and be open to performing songs in a language they may not feel comfortable singing in, or music they may not fully understand or appreciate. In return, I’m going to learn a lot of their music, whether it’s mainstream or obscure. My predilection to sing only obscure repertoire is a neat selling point, but it doesn’t make a well-rounded singer.
One person learning their music, while here in their country, isn’t enough, however. Learning more than those 100 songs (whether the standard rep list in America or Germany) should be a worldwide movement. Go into your music library, pull out an LP or a CD with songs you’ve never heard, and listen to them. If you like them, learn them, and teach other people about them. This could be amazing, if we—whether we’re in Germany or America—learn as much about each other’s music as possible.
