In the March/April 2017 edition of Fanfare magazine James Altena wrote the following:
“Remember back around 1960, when the bootleg TAP record label issued an LP of 40 different tenors in historic recordings of ‘Di quella pira’ from Verdi’s Il trovatore ? (Well, to be honest, I don’t remember it either, being less than two years old at the time. But the friend who introduced me to historic vocal recordings when I was 20 owned a copy.) Well, here we have nothing so obsessively single-minded, but rather quite a good idea indeed: a collection of eight different historic recordings of Schumann’s beloved song cycle, set down over a 23-year span….
– Lotte Lehmann (sop), Paul Ulanowsky (pn), 2/20/1946 (live, New York – Town Hall recital)….
…Choosing a favorite version from this embarrassment of vocal riches risks being a churlish exercise; but if forced to do so, I would unhesitatingly plump for the opening account with Lotte Lehmann (1888–1976). Hers is a magisterial reading of the widowed subject of the poems looking back over her life, rendered with sovereign majesty over her art and unmatched degrees of subtle shading and inflection of the texts. Although she was one week shy of 58 when she gave this recital, her voice is in pristine condition, and the excellence of this rendition is heightened by the sensitivity of her longtime accompanist, Paul Ulanowsky. Richard Caniell has rightly chosen to employ only minimal filtering of somewhat noisy acetates (though these are no worse than many 78-rpm discs from the same period) in order not to impair Lehmann’s tonal coloration. Despite being a live performance, no audience noise is perceptible; applause is not included. The sound is vastly superior to that on an Eklipse release from 1995.”
Record Reviews #2
In the November 2022 edition of Music and Musical Performance, Stephen Hastings wrote “Ten Portraits in Sound of Beethoven’s Leonore.” Though the complete article is an interesting read, here are the Lotte Lehmann references:
After a positive response to Lilly Hafgren’s recording of the major soprano aria from Beethoven’s Fidelio, he writes: “For those who do prefer a more classically poised approach, the disc made four years later by the slightly older Helene Wildbrunn (described by Lord Harewood in Opera on Record as “the best of the acoustics”) or Frida Leider’s famous 1928 electrical recording may offer greater satisfaction, but the only other version from the 1920s that can compare with Hafgren’s in terms of freshness of tone and immediacy of feeling is Lotte Lehmann’s 1927 recording conducted by Manfred Gurlitt, made in the centennial of Beethoven’s death, about eight months after her debut in the role (on March 31) at the Vienna Staatsoper. There is no recitative here, unfortunately, and the Berlin orchestra is unremarkable, but the electrical recording lends exceptional presence to a voice of rare beauty and unique communicative directness. Her reading matches Hafgren’s in its urgency but goes one step further, lending an even stronger emotional resonance to individual words. The nouns “Liebe” and “Müden,” the adjective “fern,” the verb “komm,” and the pronoun “du” are all vividly alive, evoking a clearly defined physiognomy and enabling us to share Leonore’s imaginative life at the deepest level. This ability has much to do with the singer’s capacity for feeling, but the responsiveness of the voice as an emotionally expressive instrument is equally decisive. Lehmann is not the only soprano here to invest the word “Liebe”—featured five times in the Adagio—with particular warmth, slowing the tempo and building a crescendo when the first syllable is sustained for more than a whole measure. Yet in her case the emotional impact is strengthened by a broadening of vibrato achieved much in the manner of a string player, for Lehmann’s is one of those voices that seem to be able to vary the vibrato at will, while the warm caress of her diction makes us more aware than with any other singer that this word often coincides with a return to the tonic and therefore represents the emotional keystone of the whole scene. No Leonore on record is more loving than this one. The German soprano—who was thirty-nine at the time—also surpasses Hafgren in the strength of her legato. Although her relatively short breath spans—a technical defect that she never overcame—force her to break some phrases (including the one at the end of the Adagio) that the Swede sings without interruption, she demonstrates how a strong emphasis on consonants (witness the eloquent initial k in “komm” and the much-repeated ch sounds: softer and more drawn out than in any other performance here) can reinforce, rather than weaken, the binding of vowels within a phrase. The portamentos written by Beethoven become an integral part of the expressive mood of the Adagio: a prayer to hope (“Hoffnung”) in which that abstract concept seems to acquire a tangible presence. It really sounds as if Leonore’s life depends on every word that is uttered, and her repetition of “erhell’ mein Ziel” (instead of the written “erhell’ ihr Ziel”) in mm. 60–61 seems to reflect the intensely personal character of her prayer—although in this case (unlike Lilli Lehmann’s similar “error”) there is no textual basis for the variant. The almost breathless intensity of the soprano’s verbal articulation explains why dynamics lean more toward forte than piano, with no sustained use of the mezza voce. In the score there are in fact no dynamic markings in the vocal line, and although the indications for the orchestra offer useful hints, they should not necessarily be respected by the singer in every phrase. The opening of the Allegro con brio—“Ich folg’ dem innern Triebe”—needs to be attacked with a certain vigor (and Lehmann undeniably achieves this): here the piano in the instrumental parts is surely designed to guarantee the voice sufficient audibility on the multiple low Es, a tricky note for a soprano. Lehmann’s voice in fact sounds healthy and easily produced throughout the two-octave range (from the B below the staff to the one above it) and we are never aware of any awkward technical maneuvers, although in the Allegro the soprano has to slow down to cope with the wide-ranging pairs of eighth notes in “mich stärkt die Pflicht der treuen Gattenliebe” and takes a conspicuous breath between the two ascending scales leading to the final cadence. The top B is radiant, however, and she approaches the conclusive E by means of a heavily weighted appoggiatura that lends the ending an emotional effusiveness that contrasts with Hafgren’s baldly heroic resolution. And nine years later, in a shortwave radio broadcast of a Salzburg Festival performance under Arturo Toscanini on August 16, 1936, she retains the appoggiatura but otherwise executes the penultimate measure of the vocal part almost exactly as printed in the score, where the top B is followed by an arpeggio ascent to an A before resolving on the tonic—only that these notes are in fact transposed half a tone downward (as is the whole scene beginning with the words “der spiegelt alte” in the recitative). Beethoven writes ad libitum above this cadence—suggesting that an alternative cadenza (there are fermatas on both the B and the A) could be inserted if one wished—but it is rare indeed for a singer to introduce a personal flourish here and most prefer to sing the simplified version of what is written (with the B followed—via the leading tone—by the return to the tonic), which is undeniably effective if the risky top note turns out to be sufficiently resounding. The live broadcast with Lehmann is in poor sound, but once again verbally vivid, with more gently tapered phrasing in the Adagio, where the soprano establishes a stronger contrast between the thirty-second and sixteenth notes in the long upward scale: a contrast highlighted also by Greeff-Andriessen and Wildbrunn. The recitative is sung with great vigor and beauty of tone, with all the appoggiaturas in place and a portamento linking the first two syllables of “Farbenbogen”: an image (of a rainbow) that naturally benefits from a binding effect. There are no unwritten portamentos in Kirsten Flagstad’s recordings of this scene. (She was always a rather literal-minded singer.) Nor, in spite of her limpid pronunciation of the text, is her word-painting anything like as vivid as Hafgren’s or Lotte Lehmann’s. Yet it was the Norwegian soprano who dominated the role internationally from the late thirties to the early fifties and the reasons are very clear in the 1950 Salzburg Festival broadcast, where the soloist is recorded at a greater distance than in her earlier and later Met airchecks (1936–51) but reveals an exceptional musical empathy with Wilhelm Furtwängler (arguably the finest Beethoven conductor of the twentieth century) and the Vienna Philharmonic: an ideal orchestra for this music. The performance the conductor draws from the soprano is less rich in dramatic contrasts than the one she gave at the Met under Bruno Walter in 1941, but Walter—who probably considered Lotte Lehmann his ideal—felt that Flagstad’s Leonore remained “emotionally unconvincing” in spite of his guidance—…”
Record Review #3
In the May/June 2013 issue of Fanfare magazine, Henry Fogel writes of the “Immortal Performances” release of Die Walküre.:
“Richard Caniell’s restoration of this 1939 broadcast surpasses all previous issues in quality, even including the Met’s own lavishly produced (and lavishly priced) LP set. The sound is fuller, the voices truer and more natural, the sonic grit minimized to a degree I would not have thought possible…The sound is now listenable to anyone with an ear attuned to ‘historic’ recordings, in a way that it never has been.
So why can you not be without this? Primarily, but not solely, Lotte Lehmann in one of her greatest roles, caught in terrific voice and in a real performance….Her Marschallin is one of the truly great operatic characterizations, worthy of mention with Chaliapin’s Boris and Caruso’s Canio, and to have it in this form is to have a treasure. In addition we get the young Risë Stevens’s deftly characterized and beautifully sung Octavian, a relatively unknown Sophie in Marita Farell, but one who sings with the pure silver tone this music wants.
This is a hugely important release to anyone who cares about this opera; even if you have the performance in an earlier incarnation, replacement is urgently recommended.”
Record Review #4
In the Spring 1999 edition of International Opera Collector Hugh Canning wrote of a Rosenkavalier recording:
“The most famous of pre-war Marshallins was unquestionably Lehmann, one of the great Elsas and Sieglindes of her day, who created the lyric soprano role of the Composer in the Vienna premiere of Ariadne II and the dramatic soprano role of the Dyer’s Wife in Die Frau ohne Schatten. Lehmann’s voice must have developed gradually into the heavier parts, for she is the first of several celebratedRosenkavalier ‘hat-trick’ holders: sopranos who have progressed from Sophie to Octavian to the Marshallin….Lehmann was clearly one of the sopranos who served as inspirational muse to Strauss: in addition to the Composer and Dyer’s Wife, she was also entrusted with the creation of one of his most individual and beloved protagonists, Christine Storch in Intermezzo, a thinly disguised portrait of Strauss’ wife Pauline. [One shouldn’t forget that his Arabella was written with LL in mind].
Lehmann’s dramatic conception of the [Marschallin] manages to convince despite her age: she is coquettish with both Octavian and Ochs, using a sly portamento (‘Du, Schatz!’) to convey her amusement at the Mariandel disguise, and she seems more tolerant than most of her successors of her ‘aufgeblasene, schlechte Kerl’ of a cousin. Indeed, from the histrionic point of view, Lehmann maintains the melancholic and frivolous sides of the Marschallin’s personality in carefully balanced equilibrium: the dry eye much in evidence in her teasing of her lover and remonstrations with Ochs, the wet one in her nostalgic reminiscences of ‘die kleine Resi’ fresh from the convent in the Act 1 monologue and especially in the ‘Heut’ oder morgen’ section the the succeeding duet with Octavian. Long experience of the opera has evidently led to a deep understanding of the Marschallin’s mercurial temperament: her tears are not self-pitying ones and they do not for long dull the twinkle in her eye…”
Concert Appearances
Opera companies have great archives that show us who performed what on any given night. Concerts and recitals are a different matter. People who write chronologies depend on newspaper announcements such as the ones below from a radio magazine called TheMicrophone, the Otago Daily Times (New Zealand), and the Daily Illini.
A concert appearance by Lehmann on January 23, 1935A recital by Lehmann on June 15, 1939Announcing Lehmann’s recital for March 21, 1946
Canadian Recital
After Lehmann had sung one of her encores after a February 1946 recital at His Majesty’s Theatre in Montreal, Canada, an audience member called out “Ich liebe dich”. Whether he meant “I love you” as words of affection or whether he was suggessting an encore known by that name, Lehmann and Ulanowsky (the latter without the music!) performed Beethoven’s Zärtliche Liebe (aka Ich liebe dich). BTW the other encores were: Wolf’s Anakreons Grab, and two by Brahms: O liebliche Wangen and Mein Mädel hat einen Rosenmund.
Sydney Recital
1936 Ad with Reviews
Lehmann Centennial Review
This is from a Los Angeles Times review of the 1988 Lehmann Centennial held at UCSB.
Centennial Celebration for a Singing Actress
By MARTIN BERNHEIMER
June 5, 1988 12 AM PT
SANTA BARBARA — Contrary to popular myth, she wasn’t the only great Germanic soprano of her time.
The stately Kirsten Flagstad had a much bigger voice and a better technique. Frida Leider commanded the heroic challenges–Isolde and Brunnhilde–that eluded her. Maria Jeritza was more glamorous, more temperamental. Elisabeth Rethberg mastered the lofty Verdi heroines that she avoided.
Still, Lotte Lehmann was unique.
Tenors loved her. “Che bella magnifica voce!” exclaimed Enrico Caruso, who wanted to sing Don Jose to her Micaela. Leo Slezak said “she possessed our secret weapon–the only one we have: heart.” Lauritz Melchior simply called her “ My Sieglinde.”
Conductors loved her. Otto Klemperer, Franz Schalk, Bruno Walter, Richard Strauss and Hans Knappertsbusch sang her praises lustily, and they represented just a small part of a large chorus. Arturo Toscanini found her so appealing, off stage as well as on, that he permitted her the indulgence of a downward transposition in Fidelio’s “Abscheulicher.”
Composers loved her. Citing her “rare fusion of a soulful voice with excellent articulation of the text with genial force of expression and a lovely stage appearance,” Richard Strauss insisted that she sing the premieres of his revised “Ariadne auf Naxos,” his “Frau ohne Schatten” and “Intermezzo.” He was willing, moreover, to temporarily sanction any liberties she would take with the vocal line.
Puccini felt that she was the first soprano who really could validate his “Suor Angelica.” That she did so in the wrong language was irrelevant.
Audiences adored her, from her debut as a bit player in Hamburg in 1910 to her years as a reigning diva in Vienna to her career as a song specialist throughout America to her extended farewells in Southern California.
A final performance of her signature role, the Marschallin in “Der Rosenkavalier,” took place with the San Francisco Opera in Los Angeles on Nov. 1, 1946. (The Times review, dated Nov. 2, doesn’t even mention the milestone.) Her valedictory recital followed five years later in Pasadena. The masses continued to adore her in old age as she performed–the verb is emphatically accurate–in public master classes.
Even critics adored her, most of the time. A Beckmesser or two may have lamented her tendency to approximate pitches or distort rhythms as she sacrificed precision to passion. Others worried about her top tones in later years, or her eagerness to usurp lieder that tradition had assigned exclusively to male voices. A few iconoclasts groused that she conveyed housewifely decency even when she wanted to be very complex and very grand.
But no one doubted her profound poetic instincts or took her interpretive rapture for granted. No one questioned the radiance of her tone or the generosity of her spirit.
Lehmann was capable of disarmingly candid self-appraisal. Possibly protesting too much, she liked to admit that her technique was somewhat erratic, especially in matters of breath control. Although she enjoyed a splendid success at the Vienna premiere of Puccini’s “Turandot” in 1926, she said she took greater pleasure in the performance of Maria Nemeth, her alternate in the strenuous title role.
Still, she knew her strengths. “I am a person,” she declared, “who cannot do anything without being totally, compulsively devoted to the effort.”
The effort eventually embraced lecturing, writing, painting and stage directing as well as singing. After Lehmann died at her beloved home in Santa Barbara on Aug. 26, 1976, aficionados everywhere continued to worship her. Fanatics with long and/or rose-colored memories dismissed such soprano whippersnappers as Reining, Bampton, Varnay, Schwarzkopf, Della Casa, Grummer, Steber, Crespin, Soderstrom, Rysanek, Jurinac and Altmeyer. “Very nice,” they invariably clucked, “but you didn’t see Lehmann.”
The world at large, however, proved somewhat fickle. Much of the huge but in many ways frustrating Lehmann discography lapsed into library limbo. A new, more inhibited generation of performers and audiences tended to find her art oddly effusive and dangerously old-fashioned. The ranks of the devout began to thin.
Lehmann would have been 100 on Feb. 27, 1988. It was, clearly, time for revival and reappraisal. It was time for a centennial celebration. UC Santa Barbara, which houses the exhaustive Lehmann archives, provided just that last weekend.
For three busy, potentially hypnotic days, the cold little concert hall–it happens to be called Lotte Lehmann Hall–in this mirage of a campus by the sea was warmed with lectures, concerts, multimedia presentations, panel discussions, fanciful seances and fancy tributes. An “official” biography was introduced. Paintings were exhibited. Rare recordings were played. Hyperbole flowed in sincere abundance.
Lehmann’s erstwhile students came to the shrine. Her friends, colleagues and associates came. Her disciples came. Who says nostalgia isn’t what it used to be?
Ironically, the people who didn’t come turned out to be the ones who could have benefited most from the illustrious examples and poignant testimonials. The crowds, though vastly enthusiastic, were disappointingly small and distinctly mature. Despite the scholarly ambiance, one saw few young faces.
After the inaugural ceremonies on Friday, Maurice Abravanel took the podium. Now 85, he offered vivid recollections of his collaborations with Lehmann, as conductor and as administrator at the Music Academy of the West. He spoke with extraordinary warmth of her impetuosity and her flexibility. He invoked the poetic excitement of her creations and confirmed the prosaic insignificance of her miscalculations.
He was the first of many speakers to stress the singer’s concern for the word and its telling inflection. “With Lehmann,” he said, “expression was everything.”
Variations on this reverential theme were immediately provided, via videotape, by Dolores M. Hsu, UCSB music department chairman; Gwendolyn Koldofsky, Lehmann’s longtime accompanist, and Frances Holden, Lehmann’s muse, companion, rock of Gibraltar and personal Brangane.
Beaumont Glass, erstwhile assistant to Lehmann at the Academy and now head of the opera department at the University of Iowa, offered a thoughtful preview of his new biography of the soprano (Capra Press, Santa Barbara: $18.95).
Paradox clouded the picture that night when Carol Neblett, who for a short time had coached repertory with Lehmann, offered a recital in her mentor’s honor. Contrary to the exalted Lehmann tradition, Neblett sang over-familiar music of Schubert, Brahms, Debussy and Strauss with much luminous tone and little interpretive insight. The words counted for little, and the subtleties behind the words counted for less.
Ironically, Neblett’s duochromatic delivery and chronically glamorous image suggested nothing so much as a latter-day incarnation of Lehmann’s arch-rival, Maria Jeritza.
The symposium reached its high point Sunday morning with a brilliant paper presented by Richard Exner of the Santa Barbara faculty. This imposing literary authority chose a subject–the strange but mutually enriching relationship between Richard Strauss and his librettist Hugo von Hofmannsthal–that bore only a tangential relationship to Lehmann. However, Exner explored that subject, and its capricious arguments regarding the relative impact of word and music, with probing wit and contextual wisdom.
Edward Downes completed this most stimulating session with personal recollections of the prima donna in Europe. He mentioned that Lehmann claimed to admire Flagstad’s singing but found her Scandinavian colleague cold. He also mentioned, conversely, that the essentially prim and placid Flagstad admired Lehmann’s singing but found that she enacted Sieglinde “as if doing a striptease.”
To belie the notion that Lehmann always had difficulties with her top voice, the visiting musicologist played an early recording of Butterfly’s entrance aria. Lehmann rode the crest of the climax to an effortless, gleaming high D-flat. It elicited a collective gasp.
Betraying his own special fondness for Lehmann, Downes admitted that the heart-bedecked tie around his neck had been an impulsive mid-interview gift from the prima donna some 50 years ago. It elicited wild applause.
The afternoon session found Beaumont Glass returning to recount Lehmann’s concert career. At the end, he played the famous recording of “An die Musik” as sung by the soprano at her final New York recital. Choked with emotion, she was unable to utter the last grateful apostrophe to her art: “Ich danke dir.” Even now, 37 years after the event, this remains a wrenching document of renunciation.
Redundancy began to set in as Alan Rich, music critic of the Herald Examiner, traced the evolution of Lehmann’s art through successive recordings of the same material. One had to admire his sentimental enthusiasm even if one could disagree with his premise–”She became a more conscious singer with age.”
The concert Sunday night, interesting if not entirely successful, was a ghostly experiment devoted to the monumental “Winterreise.” Some 400 slides allowed us to examine Lehmann’s pretty, naive illustrations–in toto and in nervously changing detail–on a big screen. Meanwhile, Lehmann’s isolated recordings of the songs that comprise Schubert’s tragic cycle were pieced together for a less than cumulative sound track. Under these contrived circumstances, the comic-bookish, essentially amateurish paintings somehow managed to overwhelm the pathos of the music and obscure the ardent professionalism of the singing.
On Monday, Gary Hickling, a bassist of the Honolulu Symphony, offered an illuminating, obsessive glimpse into the Lehmann discography. Then the houselights went down and a shadowy, elderly Lehmann appeared in film clips from her famous master classes. She impersonated a melodramatic Ortrud for an innocent student mezzo. With minimal prodding, she enacted the Marschallin’s entire monologue while croaking the vocal line an octave or two below the normal terrain.
She exuded eloquence and savoir-faire. Music and the theater obviously were in her blood. The sound of applause, she often admitted, was irresistible to her. The documents are important.
Still, one must question their educational value. Lehmann reportedly exhorted her students not to copy her. In her classes, however, she seemed to prefer demonstrating to teaching.
Here, she would say, you smile. Here, you take three steps, raise an arm and look upward. . . .
It looked terrific when she did it. It looked silly when those nice, ultra-American kids imitated her.
The symposium closed with seven of Lehmann’s erstwhile students joining in an awe-inspired if not awe-inspiring panel discussion. Significantly, only one of the participants, the soprano Kay Griffel, had gone on from the Lehmann classroom to a reasonably substantial career.
Actually, many singers attended Lehmann’s classes. But none emerged as an artist who could even approach Lehmann’s stature. If Lehmann knew her own secrets, she did not know how to pass them on. [Many successful singers who worked with Lehmann would disagree: Jeannine Altmeyer, Lucine Amara, Karan Armstrong, Judith Beckman(n), Grace Bumbry, William Cochran, Marilyn Horne, Lotfi Mansouri, Mildred Miller, Norman Mittelmann, Thomas Moser, Carol Neblett, Maralin Niska, Harve(y) Presnell, Marcella Reale, and Benita Valente]
The evidence suggests that she was not a great teacher. Nor, for that matter, does she seem to have been a great writer or a great painter. It doesn’t matter.
She was a great singing actress. That is enough.
We can see it clearly now.
Review before the Recital
This Montreal Daily Star article of 19 February 1947 gives one an idea of the esteem in which Lehmann was held.
Enthusiastic Review
Lehmann’s agents and promoters could hardly have written a more positive review than this one from Sydney, Australia’s Wireless Weekly where Curt Prerauer wrote the following for the section called “The Music Critic”.
SYDNEY: Friday, May 7, 1937. THE MUSIC CRITIC
LOTTE LEHMANN gave her first recital in the Town Hall, Thursday, April 22. Any expectations, however high they may have been, were surpassed by the singer’s art. We have been hearing many artists, some of them of the “world-famous” kind, in recent years, but, with the exception of a conductor, nobody came near the impression Mme. Lehmann made upon me. I knew her from Berlin, but the new impression (which I knew only from hearsay) was that Mme. Lehmann is as perfect as a singer of lieder as she is on the operatic stage. Again it struck me how much feeling pulses in every word she pronounces. It is not an expression she has “learnt,” but an expression that she must give, and were it even in spite of herself. But this is not the case either, because Mme. Lehmann emanates such a wonderful personality that nobody can help being impressed by it. Every word emerge in its most secret meaning, she has thought about every tiniest shade of color a vowel, a consonant must get in order to convey the spirit of the music and the words, and it is the highest fulfilment of art I have ever heard. I should not hesitate to make a most daring comparison: Lotte Lehmann is the Toscanini among singers. Her expression, with which I have dealt first, because expression is the main thing in music, while being as perfect as it can be, makes never the impression of coming from the brain. The whole, wonderful, sweet person Lotte Lehmann seems to consist of nothing but expression, whether she sings or talks, or whether you are simply contented with looking at her. Her technique (but this should go without saying) is as perfect as her expression. It shows complete mastership of top, lower, and middle register, as a matter of fact, there are no differences noticeable at all. Her manners with the audience, though she has sung a lot in America, are as natural as possible, and perhaps this forms a part of the terrific impression she makes upon us all: One feels always personally addressed by her, and not from the platform to the audience, but as from one human being to the other. Lotte Lehmann’s art of building a programme is wonderful and corresponds to the highest standards everywhere. That she had to put in two operatic items was not her fault, but that of the A.B.C. [Australian Broadcasting Corporation], which asked her to do so. Lotte Lehmann agreed, of course. Among her items were some of the “old war-horses.” She is right in including them. She leads them back to the time when they were still fresh and young war-horses. Should one sing them? Of course, one should, if one is able to sing them, to interpret them as Lotte Lehmann does. Only in the mouth of the average artist they are unbearable and hackneyed. Let me make it a strong point: Unless you are able to sing them as Lehmann does, keep away. (And you are not able to do it in the same way, you know?) Among her songs, however, were also some which were produced for the first time in Australia; an extra (“Heimkehr vom Feste.” by Leo Blech) proved to be a most charming children’s song (I have wished to hear it again, oh, how long), one item by Emoe Balogh, and one by Emmy Worth, the latter an extra. I should like to write still many things about this greatest singer the world seems to have at present, and yet I do not know where to start. No word of highest praise is adequate to depict the deep, deep emotion which is transferred upon the listener by Lotte Lehmann’s wonderful art. Perhaps we come nearest by saying that she is the impersonation of art itself. Lotte Lehmann’s accompanist is Mr. Ulanowsky. He played Schumann and Brahms. I have often talked, in these columns, about how to play composers of the romanticist period, with a certain amount of freedom (but not licence), and yet so that the original rhythm is not marred. You will know what I mean when listening to Mr. Ulanowsky. Also when listening to him I had the feeling to lean back in my chair (which is too uncomfortable, however) and simply to enjoy myself. As an extra we heard part of a Viennese waltz by Johann Strauss, which was played as only Viennese people can play it, the slight sentimentality, smiling at itself, unpretentious, charming, and incomparably beautiful. As an accompanist, Mr. Ulanowsky is equally perfect, the balance between him and Mme. Lehmann being ideal throughout the night.
Good and Mixed Reviews
The first review (below) of one of Lehmann’s recitals is glowing with positive thoughts on many aspects of her singing. The second one includes some serious complaints but ends upbeat. The first has no attribution, the second only the initials: HTP.
Review of Recital in St. Louis on 13 Jan 1933
“One of the greatest personalities in the field of music made her first appearance in St. Louis last night when Lotte Lehmann, dramatic soprano, gave a song recital in Howard Hall, the Principia. The size and scope of her artistic gifts become apparent as soon as she starts singing but the impression deepens as song succeeds song until finally it has become a transfiguring experience. The voice by itself, with its depth, resonance and power, is galvanic in its effect, but the voice as an agent of her intellect and temperament brings an exhilaration that immediately makes all of the life about one more intense and more significant.”
Review of Recital in Boston on 8 or 9 March 1934
“…Mme. Lehmann’s singing of Brahms’ ‘Meine Liebe ist grün’, and his ‘Der Schmied’ …were examples of overpossession and over-projection to the detriment of voice and song. So also with Schumann’s ‘Ich grolle nicht’ which is one of her battle horses, to be ridden a little harder each time she mounts it. In a song that moves quick-paced, full-toned and in high emotion, Mme. Lehmann may hardly resist the temptation to force the note. There were as many songs in which she sang with an equal fineness of perception and tone, of matter and manner – – – say her simplicity with Schubert’s ‘An eine Quelle’; her musing grace with Franz’s ‘Für Musik,’ her light and tender humor with Wolf’s ‘In dem Schatten meiner Locken,’ her nostalgic melancholy with Strauss’s autumnal ‘Aller Seelen.’ In other pieces there were phrases and periods that she turned with apt and instant felicity; in which she gained both depth and sweep of tone – – – as in Wolf’s ‘Gesang Weylas’; once more in which she evoked passing images graphically; wrought them as well into an ever-expanding whole. The excesses and the shortcomings may stand as written, but the concert, by and large, was restoration of the art of lieder singing to a public that here or elsewhere in America may now seldom enjoy it.” H.T. P.
Review with a Cold
Lehmann sang many recitals at New York’s Town Hall shortly before the “Farewell” one on 16 February 1951. Here’s a review of one of them that appeared on 29 January 1951.
Reviews with Sound
New on this site: Reviews of Lehmann‘s Lieder recordings along with the actual recording. For example: Alan Blyth writes about “Ständchen” by Strauss: LotteLehmann in her 1941 record (Odyssey BRG 72073) – I haven’t heard her earlier version – transposes down a semitone. She follows most of the injunctions in her book (More than Singing), enjoying the ”Sweet secrecy” of the poem and its “Glowing desire”, but doesn’t quite fulfill what she so rightly describes as “its stealthily gliding quality”, using rather too much tone for its pp start, but the relishing of the text is more pointed than in any other performance, particularly “die Nacht”, also the sensuality of “von uns’ren Küssen träumend”. As always, one falls in love with this singer all over again.
Ständchen
Met Debut Review
The “Parterre Box” celebrated the 11 January 1934 night that Lehmann made her Metropolitan Opera debut in what was called “the ideal Sieglinde” in Wagner’s Die Walküre with the review written by Leonard Liebling for the New York American:
Previously known here as a finished exponent of German Lieder in recital, Lotte Lehmann made her local operatic debut last evening at the Metropolitan as Sieglinde in “Die Walkuere.” Mme. Lehmann is no newcomer to the lyric stage, for at the Vienna Opera she has long been one of the adornments in Wagnerian and lesser soprano roles. Other European theatres and the late Chicago Civic Opera Company also are acquainted with Mme. Lehmann’s striking gifts in the realm of costumed song.
To tell the story of her achievement last night is to report a complete triumph of a kind rarely won from an audience at a Wagnerian occasion. The delighted auditors vented their feelings in a whirlwind of applause and a massed chorus of cheers. At the end of the first act Mme. Lehmann had half a dozen individual recalls and on every side one heard excited and rapturous comment. The stir made by the artist was in every way justified. Of statuesque figure and attractive features, Mme. Lehmann appealed to the eye as irresistibly as she wooed the ear. She has a full, rich voice, brilliant in the upper range and sensuously tinted in the middle register. It is a lyric-dramatic organ, ideal for the role of Sieglinde, and gives forth power as easily as it sounds the gentler accents.
More expressive, emotional, lovely singing has not been heard from any soprano at the Metropolitan for many a season, and, better still, Mme. Lehmann is musical and stylistic in the highest degree. A true Wagnerian artist whom the most diligent fault-finder would be estopped from faulting. In her acting, Mme. Lehmann interprets the impulsive, romanticist rather than the scheming woman who coldly plots the sleeping potion for her husband. Lissome, clinging, impassioned, here was the ideal Sieglinde to inflame Siegmund and sweep him to heroic deeds.
TIME ad 1950
A Lehmann photo not previously seen, in an ad in TIME magazine, just a few months before her Farewell Recital in Town Hall.
Final CBS Program
In 2021 I emailed friends the following: “It was exactly 80 years ago that Lotte Lehmann’s radio program was cancelled after the Pearl Harbor attack etc. Since we’d declared war on Germany, Lehmann became an enemy alien and CBS could hardly broadcast her any more. They allowed her to finish with her Christmas program and one of the selections she chose was the following”:Lehmann sings “Es ist ein Ros’ entsprungen”
Lehmann sings “Es ist ein Ros’ entsprungen”
Here are some of the responses I received:
I join Lotte Lehmann and Paul Ulanowsky in wishing you a wonderful Christmas holiday!
Thank you for the LL song and the fascinating background story. Unbelievable, that this happened 80 years ago. It must have been a difficult situation for Lotte Lehmann as a German in the US, when the war began.
How wonderful this recording is! Thanks so much for sending it. And the little tale about canceling her show etc. I’m not sure we’ve moved much beyond that…and maybe gone way backward…since then.
..thanks for the `Es ist ein Ros entsprungen` wunderbar gesungen von Madame Lehmann
What a lovely song. I figured out that she was 53 then, and her voice sounds very much like it did on the recordings I have of her. Thank you so much for sending it. It’s a perfect time of the year to hear such a song from such a great artist.
A familiar hymn to me. And a performance with a historical link between Lotte Lehmann and Pearl Harbor.
I just listened to this lovely rendition. I hope that Rose can Bloom again for this troubled world.
Thank you for the lovely Lehmann greeting!
Thank you for this gem from Lehmann. I am going to save it and play it on Christmas day as a special gift from you.
Thank you for sharing this beautiful music! It definitely puts me in the holiday spirit…
Thank you for the wonderful performance by Lotte. Thanks to you we honor her work and her achievements.
The first time that a Christmas Carol has stirred me as much as that.
I have listened to Ms. Lehmann’s song several times, as Eric and I snuggle in our cozy Minnesota bed. It brings a tear to my eye, to think of that radio program 80 years ago and the heartbreak that followed.
Thank you. That takes me back to a quiet and more sincere celebration of Christmas, in contrast to the big commercial thing it has become nowadays.
Thank you so much for this beautiful and very old song. Yes, this is one we always sing at Christmas time.
Lotte Lehmann’s singing was exceptional in the recording! You don’t hear many singers with that range and warmth nowadays.
What a touching holiday treat to hear Lotte Lehmann singing one of my favorite Christmas songs with all the deeply felt emotions she had to be feeling.
A lovely song and a beautiful rendition.
So beautiful with her warm and rich mature voice.
Absolutely perfect. Now it is Christmas!
Boy, she comes about as close to “The Voice of Humanity” as one can get, doesn’t she? It’s probably the best thing I’ll hear this Christmastime.
Now that is a Christmas card! So beautiful.
Her voice is so pure, so lovely——and yet there is a hint of sadness in “Es ist ein Ros’ entsprungen” that I’ve never quite noticed elsewhere, when people sing that song. Now I know why. It must have been very difficult to be a German living in the United States at that time.
This is one of my preferred Christmas-Songs. Very often I don’t like the interpretations of those songs by opera singers, but Lehmann is simply overwhelming. She was not a young woman when this song was recorded, but what wonderful voice, what moving interpretation; simply, ideal to transmit the emotion of this Weihnachtslied.
Bad Review: Tosca
• Lehmann gets a bad review from B. H. Haggin in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle on 22 March 1935
Fanfare Reviews of 9 Lehmann iBooks
Fanfare magazine has reviewed all nine volumes of my Lotte Lehmann & Her Legacy in Apple Books. You can read their reviews (there are three).
This is the ad that appeared in Fanfare magazine.
Review of Marston Lehmann Box
Here is a personal review of Marston’s latest Lehmann box by Henning Bert-Biel, a German who has lived most of his life in France.
I had time enough to listen to all the 6 CDs of the Lehmann-Box that is really a miracle. The presentation is extraordinary. Good articles and a lot of wonderful photographs, with many detailed explanations. One can’t give a better homage to Lehmann.
This wonderful soprano will be forever in the memory of humanity. It is important to edit CDs like that because our époque easily forgets great things.
I know well the records of Lehmann. When I compare the first discs to the records of 1927-33, I dare say that I love them all. The first group gives all the splendor of a unique voice, the second gives the maturity of a voice with an intelligence of musical expression and pronunciation. The timbre of Lehmann is unique. I like her especially in the German roles (Agathe, Rezia, Elisabeth, Elsa, Eva, Marschallin, Ariadne, Arabella). But that doesn’t mean that the other sides of her repertoire don’t please me. Her Rosalinde is great. Technically Schwarzkopf or Güden are perhaps a little bit more adapted to the great aria of Rosalinde, but none has this natural charm and sensuality of Lehmann. The Italian roles are wonderful. It is regrettable that she didn’t record them in Italian. I was every time astonished that Lehmann didn’t sing more Verdi. I imagine Lehmann as a wonderful Amelia (Ballo in Maschera).
The records of Lieder are sensational. I prefer it when they are accompanied only by piano, but even with the little orchestras Lehmann manages to give an outstanding interpretation. The two Christmas-Songs were for me a revelation. Very often opera singers don’t manage very well to sing those Weihnachtslieder. Lehmann is unbelievable. She sings the songs with simplicity and reveals all the charm, all the magic of those melodies. It sends me back to my childhood and I had a great emotion. It is one of the great marks of Lehmann –this simplicity which in fact is not simplicity. There is no sophistication like Schwarzkopf, but it touches me more. (In spite of that Schwarzkopf is with Grümmer one of my darlings).
The Marschallin of Lehmann is a miracle. She is a woman who knows love, who is sensual and at the same time sensible, ironic, with a good heart and a good sense of reality. Her monolog from the first act is the best interpretation I know.
For me there is another role I cherish about all: Sieglinde. The records of acts 1 and 2 with Walter are monuments. Often I dream that –without Hitler and the Third Reich– they would have been a complete record of Die Walküre with my dream-cast: Lehmann, Melchior, Schorr, List, Leisner (or Branzell) and my beloved Frida Leider.
There are yet so many things to say: The “Wiegenlied” of Strauss, “Der Nussbaum” of Schuhmann, and, and, and…. It’s a pity that “Der Erlkönig” should have sung so quickly (even like this– Lehmann managed it well)…
The songs of her era are interpreted with a lot of charm. I understand that people loved those records. Unterhaltungsmusik (light music) is very difficult to interpret. Many singers do too much; Lehmann or Tauber do just what is necessary for those songs.
I could speak hours and hours about Lehmann and for sure I will read once more her autobiography and the other books I own: My Many Lives and More than Singing. The book by Wessling is interesting, but I prefer the other books. [Wessling’s books on Lehmann are filled with errors.]
Gary, you have accomplished a great thing. All my congratulations!!! If there is a life after the dead (I don’t believe it) Lehmann will be happy about this wonderful edition.
Listening through the Lens by Christopher Nupen
Christopher Nupen, best known for his many videos of classical musicians at work has written a book: Listening Through the Lens. Its longest chapter is all about meeting Lotte Lehmann in 1955 as a 19 year old. It was she who influenced him in the direction of the arts when he was still a young man. The book is available at Amazon.
Ward Marston has made all of Lehmann’s Acoustics available in great sound.
Technologically advanced sound for the acoustic recordings of Lotte Lehmann (plus some electrics) is available from Marston Records. Here’s what Ward Marston wrote:
Lotte Lehmann is today revered for her stellar portrayals of Sieglinde and the Marschallin with commercial recordings and Metropolitan Opera broadcasts giving testament to her in those roles. These highly regarded historic documents have been continuously available together with her no less admired performances of lieder. But most of the recordings now available of this great singer were made during the second half of her forty-year career, by which time she was no longer in her absolute vocal prime. Lehmann is sometimes now remembered as a consummate interpreter and musician, but one with a less than perfect vocal technique. Such judgments are incorrect: In her early recordings we can discover the ease and beauty of her vocal production, her voice fresh and youthful. Lehmann’s earliest records also give us a better idea of her extensive repertoire during the first half of her career. As noted in Dr. Jacobson’s essay, Lehmann sang a large range of roles during her years in Hamburg and Cologne. We are fortunate to get a glimpse of those portrayals through her acoustic recordings, made for Pathé, German Grammophon, and Odeon, between 1914 and 1926.
Lehmann’s first records were made for Pathé—just two sides recorded in 1914. In a hand-written letter from Lehmann to the Pathé administration in February 1915, she confirmed the extension of her contract until February 1916, also requesting payment of 400 Goldmarks. If Lehmann made any additional Pathé records, none were released. In fact, more than three years would pass before Lehmann would again make records. This lone Pathé disc is surely one of the most elusive of all records; in my forty years of collecting, I have never seen a copy offered for sale. We are grateful to Christian Zwarg for making a transfer of this great rarity available for this compilation.
With the outbreak of war in 1914 came a huge upheaval in the record industry in Germany. Relations between the German branch of the Gramophone Company Ltd. and the parent company in London ceased, but the German company continued to make records using the Gramophone Company name. During the first months of 1917, however, the company officially severed all connection to the Gramophone Company, reconstituting itself as the Deutsche Grammophon Gesellschaft. The new company began recording operations in September 1917 with Lotte Lehmann as one of their first artists. DGG also claimed the right to continue selling any Gramophone Company recordings made before the separation. In 1917, DGG began assigning new numbers to each disc, not only to their newly-produced discs, but also to any earlier Gramophone Company discs. This is why one finds Deutsche Grammophon pressings of records of artists such as Melba, Battistini, and Chaliapin with newly assigned numbers. To make matters more confusing, DGG continued using the old Gramophone Company catalog number system, printing these numbers on the record labels together with their new order numbers. Sometime in 1920, however, they stopped using the old catalog numbers, replacing them with new numbers that began with a letter prefix that denoted the city of location. Therefore, Lehmann’s later DGG discs all bear catalog numbers that begin with the letter B for Berlin. For this compilation, we have listed three numbers for each of Lehmann’s DGG recordings: first, the matrix number is given in parentheses; next is given the DGG order number followed by the company’s internal catalog number in brackets. The first three DGG sessions use the old Gramophone Company catalog numbers, while the fourth, fifth, and sixth sessions use the new DGG numbers.
Many of Lotte Lehmann’s DGG records were issued as single-faced discs, but by the early 1920s, all of her forty-six issued acoustic DGG records were coupled on double-faced discs with new order numbers. These later pressings are preferable because of their quieter background noise. For this compilation all transfers were made from such late pressings.
Lotte Lehmann’s acoustic Odeon discs were issued only in double-faced format, but pressings dating from the late 1920s sound far quieter than the earlier pressings from 1924–1926. We have made every effort to locate late pressings, but they are scarce and, in some cases, we had to use earlier, slightly noisier pressings. For the Odeon recordings especially, the choice of stylus was critical in bringing Lehmann’s voice into focus. In remastering all of the discs, obtrusive clicks, pops, and undesirable noises have been eliminated, and we have made an attempt to remove the harshness caused by horn resonance. The electric recordings chosen for the appendix are all available in beautiful, quiet copies with almost no restoration necessary. We hope that interest in this set will permit us to continue the Lotte Lehmann series with a second volume of her complete electric Odeon recordings.
iBook Reviewed
Here is the interview and reviews of my Lotte Lehmann & Her Legacy iBook thatappeared in the May/June 2016 issue of Fanfare magazine.
Town Hall Recital 1938
Here’s a review of a Town Hall recital from 27 March 1938.
Review of Music & Arts Box
Fanfare magazine reviewed the Lehmann Music & Arts box set:
LOTTE LEHMANN: A 125th Birthday Tribute • Lotte Lehmann (sop); various pianists; various conductors; various orchestras • MUSIC & ARTS 1279 (4 CDs + CD ROM: 295:05) Producer Gary Hickling, a friend of Lehmann’s, the creator and maintainer of her discography, and a generous enthusiast of her art, approached Music & Arts to issue 19 previously unreleased recordings of the singer. This is the result. In all honesty, there’s nothing revelatory about the fresh material, here. The unissued live selections, in particular those recorded at a Los Angeles school auditorium in 1949 and parts of Town Hall recitals from 1943 and 1946, are a delight to hear, but not mandatory in the sense that they shed new light on her gifts, expertise, or repertoire. Indeed, two of the 19 are short speaking excerpts by Lehmann and Bruno Walter, while a third has Lehmann reading a poem of hers. But for the completist it provides yet further examples of the soprano’s intensity, radiant voice, and exceptional interpretative skill. And of course, by being extended to four very full discs, it not unintentionally furnishes an excellent entry point for the new listener curious about the singer.
The emphasis is not on opera, though we do get one selection a piece from Der Rosenkavalier, Ariadne auf Naxos, Lohengrin, and Tosca. (Hickling’s web site is the place to go to sample much more opera, from a rapturous “Alles pflegt schon längst der Ruh’” [Der Freischütz] of 1929, to a delightfully flirtatiously “Mein Herr, was dächten Sie von mir” [Die Fledermaus] of 1931.) Instead, there’s a great deal of Wolf, Schubert, Brahms, and a fair amount of Beethoven and Mendelssohn. Given that there’s so much of Lehmann available, Hickling was able to focus on some of the very best: “Der Doppelgänger,” “Wenn ich in deine Augen seh’,” a remarkable “Der Wanderer,” and Mendelssohn’s “Schilflied” in a performance that demonstrates a careful expending of breath to create a seamless legato—not a usual feature of this passionately expressive artist. We also get some choice rarities, including a test pressing of Beethoven’s “Wonne der Wehmut” from 1941 that was never released on 78s, a “Vissi d’arte” in Italian from a 1938 radio broadcast, and an early 19th-century nationalistic song, Groos’s “Freihart die ich meine,” which the Thousand Year Reich revived in an entirely new context.
Both Music & Arts and Hickling deserve praise for their willingness to place texts and translations on a fifth disc as part of a PDF file. This saves on the cost of what would be a fat and rather awkwardly managed booklet, as well as allowing the producer the luxury of adding numerous Lehmann images and a plethora of personal observations. Curiously, the lengthy biography preserves a myth about Lehmann’s interaction with Goering started by the singer herself, and corrected in an essay on Hickling’s Lotte Lehmann League web site. The late author of the notes may not have been aware of the detective work that assembled an accurate picture of the events, but those errors of fact could have been reasonably edited out without affecting the considerable quality of the rest of the material.
It is not relevant to the wealth of musical content on this set, however, or indeed to anything in Lehmann’s art and her legacy of recordings, students, and her extremely insightful book, More Than Singing: The Interpretation of Songs. Both Hickling and Music & Arts deserve praise for this excellent set, in very good sound, that is clearly a labor of love. Enthusiastically recommended. Barry Brenesal
Review of Schumann Songs 1943
New York Times 25 January 1943 LEHMANN IS HEARD IN SCHUMANN SONGS Soprano is assisted by Paul Ulanowsky in Program at Town Hall By Olin Downes
A very distinguished recital of songs and song cycles by Robert Schumann was given by Lotte Lehmann yesterday afternoon in Town Hall. The capacity of the hall was brought out by an exceptionally attentive and appreciative audience days in advance of the event. There was no fuss about that either. The audience was practically all seated when the singer came in. The program began by Mme. Lehmann’s inviting the audience to sing the national anthem with her. Then she and her excellent accompanist, Paul Ulanowsky, began their task of communicants with the songs.
These were sung with a matchless simplicity, with an art that concealed an art now fully developed and shorn of every excrescence or superfluity of style, and the interpretation proceeded directly from the heart.
Mme. Lehmann sang these reveries and avowals with a fineness of style and a sense of proportion that had no slightest savor of exaggeration or less than utter sincerity, and her performance said plainly that if this was sentimental the audience could make the most of it. She believed what she sang. She herself was moved by it.
The “Dichterliebe” cycle permitted a wider range of expression and a greater variety of color. But the same simplicity, the same warm poetry and perfect proportion remained. Nor are the postludes of the piano to be forgotten. That is to say that there was complete unity of intention between the two performers, and that Mr. Ulanowsky with rare taste and sensibility completed the poetic thought of interpreter and composer.
One remembers those earlier years when Mme. Lehmann’s own nature swept her away and this resulted in prodigal and at time explosive outburst of tone, or disproportionate emphasis of phrase. All that is of the past. The thoughtful expenditure and shaping of tone, the maximum of communication with the minimum of effort, an intensity of emotion that requires no noisy heralding spoke more eloquently than any description could do.
Mood was established so completely that there was comparatively little demonstration till the end of the recital. For that matter the two cycles were sung without opportunity for applause between the songs that make them. But it is doubtful if in any case there would have been such a sign. There was the rapport between the artist and her listeners made possible by her achievement and also by the proportions of the hall. At the end the audience was loath to leave. Mme. Lehmann wisely refrained from an encore. To the best of her ability she had done a complete thing, and what she had done will long be cherished by those who heard her.
Wellington, NZ 1939
Anannouncement in the 14 June 1939 “Current Entertainment” section of the Evening Post in Wellington, New Zealand during Lehmann’s second Australia/New Zealand tour.
Negative Review
At the point that the critic concerns herself with the acting abilities of a soprano in the review of a live 1962 performance of Mozart’s Don Giovanni in the September/October issue (38:1) of Fanfare magazine, Lynn René Bayley lapses for a parenthesis into a negative appraisal of Lotte Lehmann’s acting abilities. (“[Her] recordings and live performances show nothing despite her high reputation”). I wrote a “letter to the editor” with a few of the many high praise words that Lehmann’s live and recorded performances elicited.
Religious Songs
I had always assumed that Lehmann’s recordings of various religious pieces with organ were dismissed in her time as just pandering to a particular audience and without artistic consideration. There was also a hint that both she and Parlophone/Odeon (the record company) were just out to make as many Marks as possible, especially around holidays. So it has come as a surprise to read a serious critic, Herman Klein in Gramophone, even bothering to acknowledge the releases of these chorales and Marienlieder, much less to recommend them.
He was perceptive enough to deplore the “orchestration” of Schumann’s Frauenliebe und Leben, while delighting in Lehmann’s “careful study not only of Schumann’s wonderful music but of Chamisso’s intensely sentimental poem…she has brought to bear…both the light of her artistic intelligence and ripe experience.”
So it was a surprise to discover what he has to say about 122 and 123 (see below): “The vocal Christmas gifts enshrined in these…records are quite well worth purchasing—the sacred because they are old German hymns that the children will love…”
122 O du Fröhliche (Traditional); Be 7187; O-4810; 1)RO 20098; 3)23052; (J.: Brazil A 3122; 8)AR 150); chamber orch.; LP: none; CD: Pearl: GEMM CDS 9234; O, du Fröhliche 123 Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht (Gruber); Be 7188; O-4810; 1)RO 20098; 3)23052; (J. Brazil A 3122; 8)AR 150); chamber orch.; LP: none; CD: Pearl: GEMM CDS 9234; Stille Nacht
Of the following recordings, Klein writes: “Here is Mme. Lehmann’s annual contribution to her store of German Christmas music (for German it certainly is, durch und durch, words, tunes, singing, and everything else). The hymns belong probably to the modern rather than the ancient category…given out with all possible earnestness and vigour by singer and organist alike.”
“A ready sale, both here [England] and in Germany, of the records of sacred pieces sung by this artist has evidently encouraged a further search in the same direction, and for other religious seasons beside Christmas. With Easter at hand there should be abundant opportunity for utilizing two Kirchenlieder (Church hymns with organ accompaniment) so beautifully sung as these. In form and character they recall nothing so much as the Lutheran chorales of Bach’s Passion or his cantatas, the tune of course, being limited to a solo voice, with harmonies supplied ad libitum by the organist—in this instance a very good one. The words Christi Mutter stand in Schmerzen will be recognized as a German translation of the opening line of the Stabat Mater, and it indicates at once the source whence the text of this particular hymn is derived. The words and tune of the other [O Haupt voll Blut und Wunden] are no doubt equally traditional, and the recording of both cannot fail to satisfy the most exigent listener.”
139 O Haupt voll Blut und Wunden (Bach); 28 Feb. ’29; (J.: 26 Feb. ’29, speed 76 RPM); Be 8038; O-4811; 1)RO 20215; 3)20336; 8)AR 220; organ; LP: none; CD: none; O Haupt 140 Christi Mutter stand in Schmerzen (Trad.); Be 8039; all other data see 139; Christi Mutter 141 Geleitet durch die Welle (Marienlied); Be 8040; O-4803; 1)RO 20205; 3)20337 8)AR 203; with organ; LP: none; CD: none; Geleitet durch die Welle 142 Es blüht der Blumen eine (Marienlied); Be 8041; O-4803; 1)R0 20205; 3)20337; 8)AR 203; with organ; LP: none: CD: none; Es blüht der Blumen eine
Autobio Review
Here is a “review” of Lehmann’s autobiography Anfang und Aufstieg. Sadly, it only notices how famous she is, mentions various engagements and then quotes from the book.
Review of Music & Arts Box
Here’s a review of the Lehmann Music & Arts box set from the Grammophone magazine. Just click on it to make it large enough to read.
LOHENGRIN 1935
There’s a sort of “second” take on the 1935 Lohengrin with Lehmann, Melchior, Lawrence, Schorr, List, et al, from Immortal Performances. Better sources and, of course the meticulous restoration work of Richard Caniell, make this recording one to really enjoy. Some of the problems associated with such private recordings still persist, but there is MUCH to appreciate. This release is, as the company states, “superior sound to all previously released CD albums by various labels, though it still is afflicted with the compressed 1935 transmission characteristics. Our restoration is taken from the original transcription, with broadcast commentary and curtain calls, and offers a booklet containing extensive articles about the performance, singers and composer, together with rare photos.” Lehmann never disappoints. She sounds young and innocent (she was 47 years old at the time!) in her two major arias that occur in the first act. And Melchior can sing sweetly as well as fervently. The surprise for me was the strong acting/singing of Marjorie Lawrence as Ortrud. All the high expectations you may have for Friedrich Schorr as Friedrich and Emanuel List as King Henry are happily satisfied. And there is a lot of good playing from the Metropolitan Opera orchestra under Artur Bodanzky’s direction. There are two bonuses on the third CD: first the excerpt from the 1939 live performance of Lehmann and Melchior in the first act of Die Walküre (from Winterstürme through Du bist der Lenz and Wehwalt heist du für wahr) in amazingly clear sound. And the set concludes with the Robert Schumann duets that Melchior and Lehmann recorded in 1939 (with orchestral accompaniments). These recordings (as well as the whole set of three CDs) are worth hearing again, in this new improved sound, even if you already know them. The company has discovered new sources and now provides (at no cost) replacement CDs for the second and third ones.
Intermezzo, Ariadne auf Naxos and Frau ohne Schatten
Also from Herr Clausen, Lehmann in Intermezzo, Ariadne auf Naxos and Frau ohne Schatten. You can click on the image to see it larger or here, to see full-size. And now, from 1927 a photo of Lehmann in Fidelio.
Die Walküre 1936 Act II
Music & Arts has released a restored 1936 Die Walküre (Act II) with Lehmann, Flagstad, Melchior, et al., conducted by Reiner from new source material. A copy arrived and I compared it to their earlier (1999) version. This one is much less raw, (better source material) and easier listening. Some may prefer the first publication for its primitive, slightly more exciting edge. But for me, this 2013 release, still with surface noise, is a joy. As I listen to more of these older live recordings, the importance of a good conductor becomes more apparent. Reiner fills that requirement. And the singers are uniformly as good as their reputations would predict. Since it’s just Act II Lehmann only sings for a short time, but it’s dramatic, powerful and believable in its dramatic intensity.
Bad Reviews
In the various Lehmann biographies one can read glowing reviews of Lehmann’s performances. Here we have one full of negative comments and a second one with mixed thoughts. These are English critics. The first, acknowledges Lehmann’s success at Covent Garden and the enthusiasm of the Queen’s Hall audience (probably of 25 Feb 1930), as well as the “insinuating beauty of her voice–perhaps the loveliest one has ever known” and “her quick and warm response to poetic suggestion.” Then he begins with his problems: “There was a streak of the maudlin in her programme that proved rather too much for a modern English audience. We accept nothing more gladly than German songs from Mme. Lehmann, for we know the sort of thing she excels in, but her scheme to-night would have been better for a little more spice. One or two Schubert songs, Brahms in one of his irascible moods, or some of the acid of Hugo Wolf would have made all the difference, and none of these masters was represented at all. Beethoven sounded a little meagre, though the two “Egmont” songs were an interesting revival, and Schumann was shown in his wan and tearful manner, except in the enthusiastic “Frühlingsnacht,” which surged magnificently to the singer’s most jubilant tones. It was this song one wanted to hear a second time, not the once incredibly overrated “Ich grolle nicht,” which nowadays seems not so much a song as a smear. For the Liszt songs there were two excuses–that they really represented the composer adequately, if unflatteringly, and that much of their cloying perfumery was made tolerable by the persuasive beauty of the singing.” Of the same performance another critic wrote, “Last night she really convinced a large audience that she is a brilliant exception to the general rule that opera singers are not at their best away from the stage. She does not sing Lieder as if they were dramatic scenes, but with her perfect feeling for curve and phrase she sings those German sentimental love songs that are so dear to the heart of the Teutonic maiden with a rare lyric eloquence. Her generous programme last night composed songs by Giordani, Monteverdi, Gluck, Beethoven, Liszt, Marx, and R. Strauss. Naturally certain songs in her list were more closely suited to her ability than others, but to them all she brought a clarity and precision of technique, an earnest approach, and a sensitive understanding which were matched only by the charm and spirit of her delivery.” He goes on to list the songs he likes and then: “…she was not quite so successful with the Beethoven group and she certainly should not sing ‘Freudvoll und Leidvoll’, [which the above critic praised!] which she screams at the top notes.”
Rosenkavalier 1939 Improved
Lehmann has often been featured by Richard Caniell of Canada’s Immortal Performances. First, he completely re-worked the 1939 broadcast from the Met, of Rosenkavalier. This was an important performance because it includes a lot of material missing from the HMV recording of 1933. The Met performance has a good cast, including the young Risë Stevens, as Octavian. To me, the orchestra portions still sound boxy, but when Lehmann sings, it’s quite natural with plenty of detail. Lehmann’s diction is apparent, as is her complete command of the role. It’s worth the price just to hear the Marschallin sections. By the way, there are extensive “liner” notes with unusual photos, as well as two interviews (in English) with Lehmann and non-Lehmann Act III recordings from 1928. Richard writes: “Immortal Performances was also the source for the Naxos release in 1998 when that company formed its Historical label around our work. Their issue of it was disastrously denigrated in its sound and this was one, of many such occurrances, that led us to resign from the project. Anyone who has the Naxos set deserves apologies. I am glad, at last, to be finally associated with something listenable of this broadcast.”
“Dream” Die Walküre
The next project that Richard is working on is the “Dream Ring” which many Wagner and Lehmann fans will remember was released a few years back on the Guild label. The main draw was to combine various off-the-air performances of Die Walküre to meld a dream performance with Flagstad and Lehmann (among others). Let me here, quote Richard again: “[it] will be re-issued in improved sound as part of our re-mastered release of our Dream Ring under a grant by the Getty Foundation. Hope to see it emerge by April-end if not sooner.” On the CD sample he sent me, scenes from the first act really bounce strongly into the ear. Lehmann’s vitality and expressiveness once again assures me that the audience drove her to greater heights. Once again, I quote Richard: “The re-pitch of Act I and other improvements put Lehmann’s incomparable Sieglinde into still better focus…I’ve put a huge energy into re-mastering the Ring re-doing transitions, heightening the tone, balance and dynamics. Wonderful to get the chance to do it. As a non-profit society we could never have afforded to redo the whole thing; given the fact that those who had great interest in it had already purchased our Guild edition. Hats off to the Getty Foundation for making it possible.”
In America
Here’s by reaction to the book on Lehmann’s teaching called Lotte Lehmann in America: Her Legacy as Artist Teacher, with Commentaries from Her Master Classes by Kathy H. Brown. It’s free from typos and factual errors (though Lehmann didn’t sing in Salzburg in 1917 and she wasn’t the first opera prima donna to appear on the cover of Time magazine). There are a lot of photos and nice summaries of Lehmann’s life and career before she made America her home. There is a large section of Lehmann’s suggestions on art song taken directly from recordings of master classes and private lessons. Often, only Lehmann’s translation appears, which though accurate and charming doesn’t offer that much information that can’t be found in other sources. There’s a smaller section on opera arias. The original core of the book was Dr. Brown’s questionnaire that she sent out years ago to 29 of Lehmann’s students. Their responses on Lehmann’s teaching methods is informative. And throughout the book we’re treated to Lehmann’s humor and insight. An accompanying CD of actual lessons or masterclasses might have added immediacy and authenticity to the book, but I can imagine that would add too much cost.
There are two appendices, the first one Lehmann wrote for a magazine on “The Joy of Singing at Home” is just ok. Much more interesting are Lehmann’s detailed descriptions of American in “Three Impressions.”
Both vocal students and Lehmann fans will enjoy the book.
