Festival review: Trifonov & Goerne – Swan Songs
Two of today’s foremost concert artists Schubert’s last song cycle in a festival highpoint.
For many listeners, Matthias Goerne is the definitive Lieder singer since Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau. Some will mention British tenor Ian Bostridge in the same breath, but this German’s artistry is formidable and really only comes around once in a generation.
Much the same goes for his Russian colleague Daniil Trifonov, one of today’s titans of the keyboard whose reputation for playing larger Romantic works is second to none. While he was out here to perform with Goerne in Schubert’s Schwanengesang, it was strange not have him present a solo recital or make a concerto appearance with the ASO.
Half an hour of children’s music had to come first, and this might not have sounded the greatest enticement to begin with, except that Tchaikovsky’s Children’s Album, Op.39, is a gem of a collection. It turned out to set the stage ideally for the Schubert — both composers speak with utter simplicity, and both retain the child within.
It was a different side of Trifonov than one might have imagined. The super-charged virtuoso known for playing Liszt and Rachmaninov with flamboyant power metamorphosed into the quietest, most internalised artist. The 24 pieces that comprise the Children’s Album are all short, with some less than 30 seconds. And yet, vistas of sublime imagination opened up in his playing.
Concentrating on subtly varying the pulse and shape of melody, he seemed to give endless space to each piece. A quiet hymn-like piece, ‘Morning Prayer’ possessed the most beguiling fluidity. With all the innocence of a child humming a tune to themself, each new chord felt like a discovery.
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To keep this sense of wonder undisturbed, Trifonov kept the dynamics and energy level consistently down, rising only when occasion demanded it, such as in the vivacious ‘Playing Hobby-Horses’ and ‘March of the Wooden Soldiers’.
Elsewhere, he lent a dreaminess to melody that maintained an unbroken spell to the end. ‘Mama’ is so naively captivating when played like this: Trifonov is a master of control who knows less is more with music like this. Others can fall into the trap of overplaying it to try to make it more interesting, when that really isn’t the point.
Melancholia frequently seeps into Tchaikovsky’s music, and Children’s Album shares obvious similarities with Schumann’s nostalgic Kinderszenen. ‘The Sick Doll’ does so unmistakeably with its broken melody, and ‘The Doll’s Funeral’ even more so with its grave solemnity.
Schubert’s Schwanengesang is naturally a whole bigger test, and here the partnership between Trifonov and Goerne was exceedingly interesting. It is built on the latter’s preference for performing not with ‘accompanists’ but with pianists who are high-level concert soloists and who control their own creative vision.
Is that even possible? How can two equal creative egos work in total agreement?
The answers came soon enough. The opening song, ‘Liebesbotschaft’, describes how a babbling brook becomes a messenger of love, and its swirling arpeggios in the piano certainly bring this to mind. But Trifonov’s rippling smoothness was mesmerising; and above him, Goerne rose in magnificently rich, dark-hued phrases, and with an agility that felt like he was being swept along by the water.
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Funereal gravity immediately took hold in ‘Kriegers Ahnung’ (set to words by Ludwig Rellstab), in which anxious confusion sweeps the mind. Trifonov gave a sense of enormity to its halting chords, letting Goerne open out with his resonant baritone in deepest profundity. Their shared sense of pulse seemed to stretch into the infinite.
Fascinatingly, Trifonov kept to a restrained dynamic level, working with timing and melodic flow just as he had done in the Tchaikovsky. It was up to Goerne to provide explicit passion – and that he did. In ‘Frühlingssehnsucht’, one could smell his nostalgia for spring and admire his cleanly sculpted vocal lines.
How these two artists were able to think in precise tandem while apparently allowing themselves complete freedom was remarkable.
The chiefest joy in Schwanengesang is ‘Ständchen’, and this felt a shade faster than usual, but happily so. This serenade should move with unforced charm, and more than any other song in this cycle, it depends on an easy flow of dialogue between voice and piano. Their exchange felt effortless.
When the temperature ratchets up, Goerne is the most powerful of Lieder singers, as was about to be witnessed in ‘Aufenthalt’. After admonishing one audience member for taking photos during the performance, he launched into this song with a heated emotion verging on rage. Its description of a wild river equating to the poet’s pouring tears felt acutely real yet elevated to the highest artistry.
So intense was this performance that the most serious songs, such as ‘Die Stadt’ (set to Heinrich Heine), felt like the end of the world had come. Rumbling octaves in the piano and Goerne’s radiant utterances combined in an aura of strange but alluring beauty. Every moment was filled with quaking expectation. Then in ‘Der Doppelgänger’ it was like staring into the abyss. In this song, the poet imagines seeing himself, tormented with pain, and realises he is dead. Nothing is left.
Intriguingly, they added one more song. ‘Die Taubenpost’ lays claim to belonging to Schwanengesang as possibly Schubert’s very last song, and as an encore it could not be more fitting. With unfailing optimism, Schubert turns to the carrier pigeon for ultimate solace.
Here was one of the great Adelaide Festival experiences, one that will be remembered for years.
Trifonov & Goerne – Swan Songs was performed at Adelaide Town Hall on March 14, and Continues at UKARIA on March 16
Read more 2025 Adelaide Festival coverage here on InReview