One of the points of the Schubertiade – the music festival held in a tiny Austrian village each August – is that little about its ethos changes from year to year. So when, this week, an audience member shouted at a British singer that he should “learn German” it made headlines across Europe.
The festival is a staid affair. Gone are the days when Schubert’s were the only notes allowed within the walls of the pretty wooden concert hall in Schwarzenberg, in the Bregenzerwald region of Austria. But the audience – quite a few dressed in traditional dirndl and leather – are a sober crowd. They clap, they don’t shout.
And then, out of the blue, a stoutly built member of the audience did just that, bellowing at the British tenor, Ian Bostridge: “Bitte lernen Deutsch.” Bostridge continued with his final encore and then did something equally unprecedented at Schwarzenberg – jumping off the stage to confront the heckler before marching him on to the platform and inviting him to speak. The man did not get very far: his own performance was drowned out by boos.
Mental illness or ugly nationalism? The festival organisers discouraged the latter as a motive. Which one hopes to be the case, if only because the Schubertiade is such a winning melting pot of international musical talent.
The following evening the Russian-German pianist Igor Levit hobbled onto the stage having twisted his leg hiking in the surrounding mountains. His performance of the last three Beethoven sonatas showed a performer who had thought deeply about every note, every phrase, arc, section and movement of these towering, mysterious works.
That careful intellectualism – coupled with his ability to conjure such hushed sounds from the keys – made one wonder whether he could also rise to the passionate peaks of the music. It turned out he could.
The next afternoon came a Schöne Müllerin of understated charm and intelligence. The formula at Schwarzenberg may change little each year, but its presiding organising intelligence for more than 40 years, Gerd Nachbauer, has an undoubted eye for spotting developing talent.
Mauro Peter, a reasonably local boy making very good, managed the innocence of the first half as effectively as the suspicion, jealousy and anger of the second half. The pianist, Helmut Deutsch, was hunched, precise and sensitive.
The Minetti Quartet played the Mozart and Brahms clarinet quintets with Jörg Widmann. The Brahms was compelling: alternately sharply intense and darkly sensuous.
Finally, the Canadian soprano Adrianne Pieczonka gave an operatic account of Schubert’s Winterreise with the self-effacing pianist, Wolfram Rieger. She has a big voice and the performance grew in dramatic effect as the cycle progressed. I can’t speak to her German pronunciation, but there was only enthusiastic applause at the end.
With that – the final evening recital – the festival packs up and moves to its other home, Hohenems. And the cows come down from the mountain pastures and reclaim the streets of Schwarzenberg.