Do I alone hear this melody?

One witness to a performance of Tristan und Isolde conducted by Mahler on 8 May 1906 wrote that during the evening ‘powerful waves of tone flood the room, and the murmur of the wind gives way to a terrible roaring frenzy of sound’, thereby echoing the psychobabble of Jung-Wien literature.


The nigh-penniless dauber who heard that ‘terrible roaring frenzy’ was Adolf Hitler, whose regime would subsequently ban Mahler’s work throughout German-controlled Europe. Such uncanny coincidence, prevalent throughout Viennese history, gives uncomfortable resonance to Gurnemanz’s words to the eponymous Parsifal in Wagner’s 1882 Bühnenweihfestspiel, ‘Du siehst, mein Sohn, zum Raum wird hier die Zeit’ [You see, my son, that here space becomes time].

OFF THE WALL - This is the BBC, live from Berlin

OFF THE WALL - 9th November 1989

On this day in 1989, the SED politician Günter Schabowski announced that there were to be new travel regulations in the GDR. Border crossings are surrounded by GDR citizens wishing to cross the border.

As was announced by the government speaker, the Council of Ministers of the GDR has resolved that until the People's Chamber arrives at a corresponding legal arrangement, the following measure for private travel and permanent emigration from the GDR to other countries shall come into effect immediately:
Applications for travel out of the country can be made without providing previously required information (reason for travel and relationship to relatives). Approvals will be issued without delay. Refusals will be issued only in exceptional cases. The People's Police district office departments in charge of passports and registration in the GDR have been instructed to issue visas for permanent emigration without delay and without the presentation of prerequisites for a permanent emigration. Applying for permanent emigration is still possible at the Department for Internal Affairs. Permanent emigration can occur at all GDR border-crossing points to the FRG or Berlin (West).
With this resolution, the temporary approvals issued by the foreign representation offices of the GDR and the permanent emigration with the GDR identification card via third states, will cease.

At 11pm the borders are opened and the Berlin Wall officially "falls".

OFF THE WALL - Es war einmal ein Land

Es war einmal ein Land. Und ich hab’ dort gelebt. Wenn man mich fragt, wie es war – es war die schönste Zeit meines Lebens, denn ich war jung und verliebt.

Schubert's Miller Man

Schubert often suffers from too-feminised a portrayal. The fey depiction of the willowy youth, leaning and pining against the Lindenbaum has perhaps undermined the seriousness of the two Müller song cycles and their far-from-simplistic protagonists. That said, as Lawrence Kramer explored in Franz Schubert: Sexuality - Subjectivity - Song (CUP), there is a palpable tension between the façade and the inner abject rancour. In the recent Padmore/Lewis Winterreise, the performers distance themselves from cloying Biedermeier cosiness by journeying down a profoundly hushed and introspective route. The results, as I explained on this blog, are truly mesmeric (though not reviewers have tended to agree). Jonas Kaufmann takes on the earlier cycle Die schöne Müllerin for Decca, accompanied by Helmut Deutsch (with whom he recorded some Strauss Lieder in 2006), and the results are markedly different. The disc has only been released in Germany, with international availability starting in 2010. www.amazon.de will ship to the UK.


First and foremost, the distance between the two cycles is important (at least at the outset). Where Winterreise opens bleakly, Die schöne Müllerin portends something lighter. Kaufmann's voice is, of course, largely heard in an operatic context. He has chosen, then, to portray Schubert and Müller's traveller not as a boy, but as a man - it does have its repercussions. 'Das Wandern' is filled with bravura and the roistering piano part has a wonderful sense of humour. Kaufmann demarcates dynamic contrast, avoiding the more subtle gradations of the Padmore/Lewis style (who will, incidentally, be releasing their own Die schöne Müllerin next year). Kaufmann is less careful than his predecessors and the turning semi-quavers at the ends of bars in 'Wohin?' are thrown away carelessly. Tempo is one issue here and vocal agility the other.


Deutsch is inclined to stay away from hushed dynamics at the opening of the cycle (though often marked by Schubert). I miss it in 'Danksagung an den Bach', though Kaufmann cannot float these passages as other lieder singers can. His whispered singing (when it comes) is nevertheless winning and I crave more of it in the performance. After a stormy 'Am Feierabend', 'Der Neugierige' is correctly presented as an emotional gear change. Yet even here Kaufmann tends toward too full a dynamic. The singing at 'O Bächlein meiner Liebe' is ravishing and again the tension between the recording's initially butch approach and a more feminised heart is raised. One issue, which becomes apparent here, is that Kaufmann is too far forward in the mix and the piano on this recording (when Kaufmann is singing) sounds too often like an accompaniment to a singer, rather than a piece of chamber music.


After this point in the cycle, things take a turn for the better. Are there elements of nerves, then, in this live recording from Munich last July? An amusingly perfunctory introduction to 'Morgengruß', a straightforward 'Des Müllers Blumen' and a charmingly simple version of 'Tränenregen' appear to be from a new session (though not). When Kaufmann and Deutsch return to the bravura in 'Mein!' it has a new inner energy rather than the belligerence of the opening songs. A ferocious 'Der Jäger' shows there is life in the boy yet, but ultimately Kaufmann fails to conjure the beginnings of madness in 'Die liebe Farbe'. The medium dynamic he chooses here and elsewhere prefigures none of the grim conclusion; psychologically I'm not sure it works and this is where the recording's reading finally comes unstuck.


That distance and emptiness of colour comes too late in the final bleak trio of songs, which are mostly well controlled in their hushed composure. That lack of consistency is what is ultimately frustrating about this recording. Kaufmann has the intelligence to interpret this cycle with ravishing poise and inner questioning (as he did on the Strauss disc). Knowing that Erika and Eugen heard a wonderful live concert of this in Munich but days before this recording was taken, I think that what would have been an emotionally telling performance in the space has not translated onto disc a few days later. The bravura gets in the way of telling the underlying story and Kaufmann does not have the vocal control at the tiny end of the dynamic spectrum to give this cycle the hush for which, in the end, it needs. It is a good recording, but with a new Matthias Goerne version out earlier this year from Harmonia Mundi and the Padmore (from the same label) on its way, I think Kaufmann's portrayal is one for the die-hard fans of the singer, rather than for those craving a telling reading of the cycle.

OFF THE WALL - 8th November 1989

On this day in 1989, the politburo of the SED (Sozialistische Einheitspartei Deutschlands - or Socialist Unity Party of Germany) resigned. The Central Committee of the SED elected a new politburo and Egon Krenz (pictured in the post on 7th November) is confirmed as General Secretary.

OFF THE WALL - 7th November 1989

On this day in 1989, the GDR Government resigned in its entirety.

Send in the Clowns

I am reading Alan Hollinghurst's The Folding Star again. As the nights draw in, its dark North European atmosphere seemed perfect. Set in an anonymous Flanders town, Edward Manners, finds himself obsessed with his young pupil. Hollinghurst mixes this profoundly sexy narrative with the nocturnal colourings of a symbolist painting called Edgard Orst (modelled on Fernand Khnopff and James Ensor). Themes of transgression and decadence merge in this modern-day homage to Bruges-la-Morte, the novel by Georges Rodenbach that inspired Die tote Stadt.


This week I had to travel to Paris for work and, finding myself with a couple of hours to spare, wondered in to the great Musée d'Orsay, currently housing an exhibition of James Ensor's work (previously seen at MoMa). It couldn't have been more perfect timing. Listening to the strains of 'Glück das mir verblieb' I meandered through the increasingly febrile canvases of Ensor's oeuvre. Salon portraits and impressionist hazes of North Sea wash gave way to Moreau-esque religious epiphanies.


More chilling still, however, were the skeletal paintings of the later years. Here, mixing the symbolist mantra of Les XX and a troubling obsession with his own image (seen above), Ensor moves deftly from impression to expression, as the palate takes on a lurid quality, the skeletons begin to done human clothing and Ensor himself is stranded in their midst.

My childhood was filled with fantastic dreams and visits to my grandmother's shop, with its iridescent glow reflecting from the shells, its sumptuous lace, strange stuffed animals and the dreadful weapons of savages that used to terrify me. [...] This extraordinary environment certainly developed my artistic faculties.


Like the memories that seep through Edward Manners' consciousness, or that of Paul in Die tote Stadt, Ensor's pictures are filled with the half-remembered horror of childhood angst. But as each successive image comes into view, the power fails and the visitor begins to think of Ensor as not remembering childhood but embodying it late in life. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion; Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

For more on the Ensor exhibition at the Musée d'Orsay click here.
To order a copy of the Hollinghurst click here.

OFF THE WALL - Reading the Wende

As the OFF THE WALL season draws to a thrilling close, with the actual 20th anniversary of the Fall of the Wall occurring on Monday, we thought it would be interesting to suggest further reading on life before, after and during the Wende. This list is by no means definitive, but gives some of the political and personal history behind the forced division of a united people.


After the fall of the Wall, reportage master Timothy Garton Ash returns to Berlin to uncover the file the Stasi kept on him in the bad old days. A real kicker to the Ostalgic camp. Click here to order a copy.


Although the West was barred from the East, beyond the Wall lay a vast Soviet Empire. These amusing stories chart the odd goings-on when the Russians come to town. Vodka and the U-Bahn might just mix. Click here to order a copy.


The author of The Reader returns to the Gordian knot of post-war guilt. Click here to order a copy.


Remembering the glow of a pre-war summer in the post-war grey. Can nostalgia exist in a world with a wall? Click here to order a copy.


McEwan's thrilling love story set in a glowering 50s Berlin. The Third Man for Berlin. Click here to order a copy.


Peter Schneider's masterpiece collection of stories of ordinary Berliners in extraordinary circumstances. "It will take us longer to tear down the Wall in our heads than any wrecking company will need for the Wall we can see." Click here to order a copy.


The love of an ex-pat for an East German girl, seen across the divide. Politics and romance make for a heady brew. Click here to order a copy.


"The Best Refuge was a Closed Mouth." So wrote Durs Grünbein, the poetic voice of East Germany. His selected poems add a note of lyricism to an otherwise prosaic time. Click here to order a copy.


Frederic Taylor's painstakingly researched polemic on the Wall itself. Recently re-published in paperback. The bible of the Berliner Mauer. Click here to order a copy.


Le Carré's Cold War classic. Repression and justice jostle in the dark dark world of George Smiley. Click here to order a copy.


Repression be damned. This is Sven Regener's amusing depiction of a die-hard decadent living in a city that purportedly doesn't countenance such behaviour. Click here to order a copy.


For all the crowds buying Ampelmännchen goodies on Alexanderplatz or basking in the quirky humour of Sonnenallee, Anna Funder's book is a sobering reminder of repressive East. A masterpiece. Click here to order a copy.

Fleeing the stampede

Ante Dios y ante la Historia que a todos nos ha de juzgar, afirmo que durante tres horas y media los aviones alemanes bombardearon con saña desconocida la población civil indefensa de la histórica villa de Gernika reduciéndola a cenizas, persiguiendo con el fuego de ametralladora a mujeres y niños, que han perecido en gran número huyendo los demás alocados por el terror.


[Before God and before History which must judge us all, I affirm that for three and one-half hours, German planes bombarded with unheard-of fury the defenceless civilian population of the historic city of Gernika, reducing it to ashes, chasing with machine-gun fire women and children who perished in great number, fleeing the stampede of others driven mad by panic.]
José Antonio Aguirre, lehendakari of the Basque Country


Aguirre miente. Nosotros hemos respetado Guernica, como respetamos todo lo español.


[Aguirre is lying. We have respected Guernica, as we respect everything Spanish.]
Francisco Franco

OFF THE WALL - 4th November 1989

On this day in 1989, over half a million East German citizens protested in the centre of Berlin, demanding free elections, freedom of movement and major democratic reform.

Michael Haneke on the Southbank

Vergangenheitsbewältigung is a complex word. It is nigh-unpronounceable and covers a difficult and ongoing process in the Austro-German world. It literally means "working through the past" a corporate dredging over the organised crime and slaughter that peppers the history of Central Europe. These issues brim to the surface in the films of Michael Haneke, the thorn in the side for those who wish to brush history under the carpet. Bleak and uncompromising, yet beautifully filmed, his films are the denial of the oft-proffered image of a chocolate-box Austria. "Film," he said, "is 24 lies per second at the service of truth, or at the service of the attempt to find the truth."


Throughout November and December the BFI Southbank will be screening many of Haneke's masterpieces, including the "Emotional Glaciation" trilogy - The Seventh Continent, Benny's Video and 71 Fragments of a Chronology of Chance - the highly successful adaptation of Die Klavierspielerin by Elfriede Jelinek and the winner of this year's Palm d'or, The White Ribbon. For more information on the series click here. To read Hari Kunzru's survey of Haneke's career click here.

In celebration of this BFI season, Artificial Eye have released 10 of Haneke's most iconic films. To order a copy of this boxed set click here.

OFF THE WALL - On a Dog’s Night

Marking the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall, Gundula Schulze-Eldowy’s photographs, produced in the community of Berlin-Mitte between 1979 and 1987, capture the decline of socialist society with a plaintive, startling poetry.

Documenting a world whose infrastructure is close to collapse, she conveys impressions completely unfamiliar to British audiences: Germans represented as victims (rather than perpetrators) of the war, and a community still so traumatised forty years after the final Soviet assault on Berlin that its people have, as she has put it, ‘lost their ability to dream’.


Presenting an uncompromising barometer of the preoccupations of ordinary East Germans her photographs pulled sharply away from the socialist state’s idealised worldview and the ‘paradise for workers and peasants’ that it provided. Trained at Leipzig’s highly regarded High School for Graphics and Book Arts she developed an aesthetic which exploded both the myth of the ‘heroic worker’ and offered up the surprising intimacies of the private sphere as a foil to the regimented Stalinism of state culture.

Berlin on a Dog’s Night (Berlin. In einer Hundenacht) is curated by Matthew Shaul and organised by the University of Hertfordshire Galleries in collaboration with the Federal German Embassy, London - the exhibition is showing at 12 Star Gallery, London Headquarters of the European Union, 8 Storey’s Gate London SW1P 3AT. For more information click here.

O magnum mysterium

Although Tomás Luis de Victoria went to Italy to support the Catholic cause against the rising Lutheran changes in Europe, in 1586 he returned to Spain. He entered the service of the Dowager Empress Maria, who lived in the convent of Descalzas Reales in Madrid (pictured above). Here Victoria remained until the end of his life, acting as priest, composer, director of the choir and organist.


Life at the convent was happy for Victoria and although he received offers from the cathedrals in Seville and Zaragoza in 1587, he turned down both invitations. The élite Madrileños went to services at the convent, hearing Victoria's works as the backbone to the liturgy. His death certificate can be found in the church of San Ginés in Madrid (commemorated above), which was the chaplains' residence for the Convent, though his tomb has never been found.

Visiting Sorolla

The Prado is one of the greatest art galleries on the planet. The traveller wanders through its long spacious hallways meeting Goya, Velazquez, Murillo, Titian, Tintoretto and Flemish gems one after the other. It is a mesmerising collection. Moving from Goya's 'El dos de mayo' and 'El tres de mayo' - his two revolutionary epics - we went in search of his earlier work, but stumbled through the Prado's 19th century collection on some paintings by Joaquín Sorolla y Bastida. Eugen suggested that we might go and see him in situ, as it were, and visit his home, now the Museo Sorolla.


Sorolla was the Spanish John Singer Sargent, capturing his family and Spanish society at 'el Cambio de Siglo' (the turn of the century). Poised between Sargent's formality and the luminous landscapes of his french contemporaries, Sorolla has often been overlooked, his work no longer found in British galleries - though a 1908 advertisement for an exhibition in London claimed him to be the greatest living artist. Commissioned by the Americans for a series of official works for the Hispanic Society centre in New York, Sorolla's work is also profoundly imbued with a sense of his native country, taking the epic historicism of his predecessors Goya and Velazquez into the 20th century.


This image is taken from one of the studies for the series of paintings called 'Visions of Spain'. Sorolla had met the American Archer M. Huntington in Paris and agreed with Huntington that he would paint a series of oils on daily life in Spain; Sorolla agreed to paint 14 vast canvases for the space. It was the most significant commission in his life and dominated his later years. While Huntington had wanted a more epic view of Spanish history, Sorolla was more inclined to focus on the quotidian aspects of his native country, calling the series 'The Provinces of Spain', taking in Navarre, Aragon, Catalonia, Valencia, Elche, Seville, Andalusia, Extremadura, Galicia, Guipuzcoa, Castile, Leon and Ayamonte. Sorolla worked from real life, painting in the open air, using local models in their native costume. This furthered the already widely-essayed genre of Costumbrismo, that is the depiction of daily life in Spain, as seen (some would argue) through an idealised prism. The work was incredibly tiring and it took its toll; he eventually completed the final canvas in 1919, some eight years after the initial commission.


But Costumbrismo was not the only strand to Sorolla's work and he created portraits of deep intimacy of his own family. None more personal than the many beach portraits and scenes painted during holidays on the Costa Brava, near his hometown of Valencia. Luminescent and idealised in their own way, these canvases sing of summer in the Museo Sorolla, where there is a significant collection.


Following the completion of the 'Provinces of Spain' sequence, Sorolla felt truly exhausted. His health deteriorated rapidly and in 1920 he suffered a stroke. He was paralyzed for the remaining three years of his life and died in 1923. His position in Spanish society and his fame in France and in the USA had granted him a substantial legacy, allowing him to build the substantial family home, which now houses the museum, on the Calle de General Martínez Campos.


The house was built between 1910 and 1911, with the family moving in at at the end of the year. Sorolla in his attempt to separate his work from the rest of the house created three separate sections, all with direct access from the Andalucian-inspired garden. After his death, Sorolla's widow left many of his paintings to the Spanish state, which eventually formed the collection that is now known as the Museo Sorolla, opening in 1932. Filled with light, just as in his canvases, and set quietly back from the Calle in an orange-laden garden, the house is a hushed and private look into an artist's life, which, through fame and renown, became increasingly public. A true gem in an already art-dominated city.

For more information on the Museo Sorolla click here.