I bought my first vinyl in 1975 before CDs had been invented. On my Philips recording Brendel plays Beethoven’s major piano sonatas: the Pathétique, the Moonlight, and my absolute favourite, the Appassionata. Its first resounding chord in pianissimo establishes the principle theme. Through a build-up of virtuosic waves, the leitmotif reaches its crescendo in ever bolder movements soaring into cascades that evoke a sense of longing and striving. Brendel’s interpretation sends shivers down my spine. I am lifted into a different universe where issues that caused me stress fade away. I reflect on Beethoven’s tragedy of losing his hearing. I reflect on my fortune of having lived past the age when so many musical geniuses like Mozart and Schubert had already died. Listening to Brendel puts my life into perspective. I still relish the thought of once being close to my pianist idol. It happened a few years ago.
One lazy and hot December Sunday afternoon in Brisbane, the announcer on ABC FM-classical radio broadcast a programme recorded during the Schubertiade in the ‘city’ – his words - of Schwarzenberg. Schwarzenberg is not a city: it is a village, inhabited by approximately 1800 people. Until the inception of its annual festival it had been quite unknown and hidden in the mountains of Austria’s north western tip. A hamlet, close to the lake of Constance, nestled between the snow-capped Vorarlberg massif, dark tall forests and juicy green meadows, where healthy cows support the creation of local gourmet cheeses. Farm houses scatter up to the high side of the mountains.
Schwarzenberg, loosely translated as black mountain, has a fountain in its centre, a church with a surrounding cemetery to its right and its oldest guest house, now converted to ‘Hotel Gasthof Hirschen’ (guest house deer), to its left. The Angelika Kauffmann museum and the magnificent concert hall are within minutes’ walk from midpoint. These venues derive their name from the famed painter, whose father had been local. Angelika was born in 1741. After training at the academies of Bologna, Florence, Rome and London, she became a founding member of the Royal Academy. One of two female artists. Her paintings hang in galleries all over the world. The Queensland Art Gallery has one, ‘The deserted Costanza.’
You can also admire some of her frescos in the church of Schwarzenberg.
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| The village of Schwarzenberg |
Schwarzenberg, loosely translated as black mountain, has a fountain in its centre, a church with a surrounding cemetery to its right and its oldest guest house, now converted to ‘Hotel Gasthof Hirschen’ (guest house deer), to its left. The Angelika Kauffmann museum and the magnificent concert hall are within minutes’ walk from midpoint. These venues derive their name from the famed painter, whose father had been local. Angelika was born in 1741. After training at the academies of Bologna, Florence, Rome and London, she became a founding member of the Royal Academy. One of two female artists. Her paintings hang in galleries all over the world. The Queensland Art Gallery has one, ‘The deserted Costanza.’
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| Angelika Kauffmann The deserted Costanza |
Why am I so enthused about the place? Because I was born there.
After hearing that ABC FM programme, I googled the festival, which is staged during the European summer, close to my birthday in June. On that day Michael Volle was to sing Schubert Lieder, accompanied by Helmut Deutsch on the piano at four o’clock and pianist Marc-André Hamelin was scheduled to play sonatas and impromptus by Mozart and Schubert at eight o’clock. What a feast. But that was not all. The next day Peter Gűlke was in conversation with Alfred Brendel on the topic of Schubert’s last year. Wow, even though my hero does not give public performances anymore, at least I would get to see and hear him on stage.
On impulse I said to my husband Geoff, ‘It is on my bucket list to spend one of my birthdays at the Schubertiade in Schwarzenberg.’ I provided him with the programme details. He expressed his disappointment that Brendel’s discussions would not be in English.
‘But it will most likely be translated,’ I said, ‘you know, like the subtitles in the movies.’
Geoff said, ‘See if you can get tickets.’
For a nano-second I was floored. He had taken my suggestion seriously. His credit card in hand, I leapt onto the computer, and got tickets for my birthday. With vigour and great excitement, I started planning and booking the rest of our European trip for that year. Emboldened by my success thus far, I sent an email to ‘Hotel Gasthof Hirschen.’ I explained my connection due to my birth there, my desire to spend that day and a few more in their establishment and our attendance at the festival. Luck had not left me, I got a booking in the newly built annex. While in that corner of the globe, why not venture from small to big, why not book tickets for La Scala in Milano?
So, I did, and got tickets for Der Rosenkavalier with Zubin Mehta conducting and Gűnther Groissbőck as Baron Ochs.
The Schubertiade, is a phenomenon of relatively recent times. The concept to hold a festival featuring Franz Schubert’s works in the vein to those celebrating Mozart and Beethoven, was conceived by the renowned German baritone Hermann Prey in 1974. He met with the community of Hohenems, located about one hours’ drive south west of Schwarzenberg. In 1976 Prey performed at the first Schubertiade in Hohenems. The newly created festival soon turned into one of the best known and favoured annual events for international artists and audiences alike. In 1983 the New York Times reported that amongst all the musical festivals in the world, of which there are thousands, Hohenems is ‘the purest and most wholesome.’ During that year Dietrich Fischer-Diskau and Nikolaus Harnoncourt performed also.
In 2001 the Schwarzenberg Angelika-Kauffmann-Auditorium underwent extensive renovations and became the main arena for the festival. Its acoustics have been praised as being amongst the world’s three best chamber halls, the other two being the Mozart-Hall of the Vienna Konzerthaus and the Salzburg Mozarteum. On average about ninety-nine performances are staged annually with over fifty thousand patrons attending. In 2017 Australians from fifteen different towns attended. The festival has become a recognised world-wide event where within a short time frame the best performers of song, chamber-, orchestra- and piano concerts render their talent. In addition, it presents lectures and master courses.
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| Angelika Kauffmann Auditorium |
Today the Schubertiade is spread across the two locales of Schwarzenberg and Hohenems. As a lover of classical music, and Schubert in particular, where do you go to? To Schubert’s birthplace in Vienna? To the festivals in Salzburg, to concerts in Munich or Berlin? Sure, you might go to these well-trodden places, but why not go to Schwarzenberg, which offers the Schubert aficionado an exquisite ode to his music.
Time flew planning all the details of our trip and we soon boarded our flight. We started with a tour through Spain and Portugal. Then flew into Rome from where we headed northward, after a diversion to Naples and Capri.
The staging of Der Rosenkavalier was spectacular and though I had never heard of Gűnther Groissbőck, I enjoyed his voice and performance.
Unstoppable, like the Romans on their invasion of Germania, we kept moving north. We spent a few days in Konstanz, where I had lived for some years during my childhood. Then we crossed the Bodensee, known to English speakers as lake Constance, by boat to arrive in Bregenz. That town is known for its annual musical festival on the lake. From Bregenz we stepped into the post bus. After a forty minutes ride into the mountains it dropped us right in front of our hotel in Schwarzenberg. The stimulus for this trip came to fruition. It started with a good omen. The lady who looked after our room wore her name tag ‘Herlinde’. I enjoyed my wholehearted ‘Guten Tag, Herlinde’ every time we passed.
On my birthday we went to the Angelika Kauffmann concert hall which is furnished in light coloured timber with big glass panels that take in the beauty of the surrounding landscape. So magical. The concert hall started filling.
Many women wore their Dirndl and their partners were suitably attired in traditional mountain jackets.
Full of expectations we took our seats. An announcement was made that Michael Volle was indisposed. However, Gűnther Groissbőck had flown in from Milano to make his debut at the Schubertiade. What a treat. I was convinced he had flown in just for me. And he sang the lieder with such sensitivity. The evening recital was just as mesmerising. Almost all my dreams had come true.
Enjoying our breakfast of homemade cheeses, hams, jams, wonderfully crispy rolls, and so many other delicacies, we recounted moments from the previous day. How well Gűnther sang, how wonderful the acoustics were, how appreciative the audience was, how lucky were were. I lifted my gaze from what was on my plate, looked past Geoff and comprehended what I saw. I instantly forgot what I was saying mid-sentence. I swallowed my thickly laden dark cherry jam bread roll bite, lowered my head and voice and murmured, ‘don’t turn around now, but you won’t believe who is sitting behind you.’
His eyes lit up. ‘Kylie Minogue?’ I rolled my eyes. Oh, not again. Give me strength. I should have known. Silly old fool. It wasn’t Kylie; it was my hero, my birthday. There he sat, so close, so touchable, all by himself.
He looked distinguished, with his trademark heavy framed glasses and still full and wavy hair, now turned grey. Of course, we had tickets for his talk at eleven o’clock. Where else would he stay but in the only hotel. I tried not to gawk, but my gaze moved past Geoff’s right ear. The maestro delicately manoeuvred his knife. I thought of telling him how I had adored him for years, how his playing affects me, that I can’t believe he is sitting here, that I came all the way from Australia to hear him, that I think he is wonderful, gush gush and gush. Stop it. You are in a very refined, subdued atmosphere, white starched table cloth, quiet waiters and waitresses, discreet service, the privacy of luminaries is respected, decorum is maintained, you must uphold that tradition. And, I did, adoringly from only four metres distance.
During the eleven o’clock conversation, the audience sat, listened and absorbed every morsel of wisdom coming out of the virtuoso’s mouth. It was very insightful and informative to hear Mr Brendel’s take on the tragic last year of Schubert’s short life. The music lovers responded with rapturous applause. I was still star-struck.
Since Geoff does not speak or understand German, the pleasure of listening to Alfred Brendel was all mine.
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| Schwarzenberg |
copyright © herlinde cayzer
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