An odd tremolo in the strings, a sweet oboe melody, then deep woodwind trills like a panicky heart beating. Horns swell in a simple melody, and the theme returns in the strings, once, twice, and is utterly memorable. This is not an opera of the repertoire, but it doesn’t take much to guess that it’s late 19th century, probably German, passionate, influenced by –Humperdinck? Somehow that seems right.
It is the Vorspiel from “Schwartzschwaneneich” by none other than Siegfried Wagner, son of the one and only. Quite an interesting, singular opera, full of strange twists, but surprisingly early for being so late, if you know what I mean. It was written in 1910, long after Richard Wagner’s death, and even long after his son Siegfried decided on music over architecture, and took over the direction of Bayreuth. This legend, “The Kingdom of the Black Swan” (Oh, these Wagners and their swans!) is gloomy to say the least, but full of some fine writing, and the opportunity for great singing. Structured with many an aria and high-pitched, emotional scenes, it has than elevated sense that the best operas have, teetering on the edge of believability (which most end up toppling anyhow), to heighten our own feelings.
The story concerns a woman who has committed infanticide (after Medea, Norma, and Jenufa, this is nothing new), and whose guilt impels her to act outside the community (a Teutonic Santuzza?). This strangeness is noted, and a character called the Ash-Woman ferrets out the truth. Everyone finds out, and no one is happy. The truth sets no one free. Since we are in the realm of fairy-tale, the heroine is condemned as a witch, and consigned to the flames at the stake. She confesses her guilt, and while her lover is transfigured by her confession, he claims her innocent. Remarkably, after all this semi-Schopenhaueristic breast-beating, she is not saved, but walks into the flaming pyre (Oh, these Wagners and their pyres!).
Admittedly, not your standard fare, and as such, is as allegorical as Die Frau Ohne Schatten, and shocking as any modern, quasihallucenogenic work; well-staged, it truly would be a thrilling evening at the opera.
Musically, it doesn’t sound much like Richard W’s work; there are those leading tones and augmented fourths and fifths; there are splendid climaxes which recall the best of “Tristan”—but it would be wrong to compare the two. Siegfried * was * influenced by Humperdinck, as he studied with him (along with Kurt Weill, for contrast) and it is that ‘faeryness’ which seems to come through. A transparency of orchestration in a modern vein; accents with xylophone and glockenspiel stand out for me. The military music is imaginative, also the use of low wodwinds, and solo instruments in a fairly small orchestra. A Wagner tuba would be definitely out of scope in this work. Of course Humperdinck was grossly influenced by Wagner pere, and as such it’s interesting to see that influence rebound over the generations.
It is also interesting to note that the music seems ‘lighter’ – by that is meant that the phrases are shorter, not as ponderous as his poppa’s could be. One might say that it looks forward to Puccini, except it was written during that composer’s heyday; perhaps it might be best to characterize S. Wagner’s music as firmly committed to music becoming more modern. Not out to overwhelm, but to stir the imagination, to color the music with more accessible strokes than the thick excesses of Richard Strauss and company. If this lightness of tone is perceived as ersatz Wagner pere, it is unfair. The work is one which takes a difficult subject and makes it lucid to a broad public. The problem is to get the broad public to listen.