At best, a lieder recital is one of the most powerful, concentrated and subtle artistic experiences available to humanity. At worst it can be remote, suffocatingly constrained or downright cringe-making. It was no surprise to find that Bryn Terfel had packed the Symphony Hall to the rafters for his mostly German programme on Wednesday. The question was whether or not he could make this intimate medium work in a large concert hall, and for an audience that presumably was largely attracted by the prospect of hearing Terfel's splendid voice rather than by any special reverence for German romantic lieder.
He did - and exceptionally well. Starting with Schumann's salon-storming ballad Die Beiden Grenadiere (The Two Grenadiers) was an inspiration in itself, but somehow Terfel managed both to camp it up and to make the ending deeply moving. We all thundered our approval - a faux pas in terms of Lieder recital etiquette, for unwritten rules dictate that you clap only at the end of each group of songs. Gently, with all his natural, unforced friendliness, Terfel put us right.
That was another major achievement. It showed that to break through the traditional icy formality of a Lieder evening, you don't need populist gimmicks, just a fine artist with a human touch. After that, we were Play-doh in his hands.
The rarefied beauty of Schumann's Widmung (Dedication) and the eerie riddle of Mein Wagen Rollet Langsam (My Carriage Lumbers Slowly) stood open to all. Attention remained fixed through Brahms's dark, agnostic meditations on death in Four Serious Songs.
The voice itself is hypnotic enough. But there's so much more: beautiful phrasing, and a feeling for the sense of each word that can make translation unnecessary - the deeper psychological meaning comes straight across, even if you can't speak a word of German.
After this, and three very accessible Shakespeare settings by Schubert, John Ireland was a bit of an anticlimax. Granted, The Bells of San Marie and the Joyce setting Tutto E Sciolto are haunting, artful songs - but after Schubert, Brahms and Schumann? However George Butterworth, killed in action in the first world war at 31, emerged as a songwriter of real stature in his six Housman settings, particularly Is My Team ploughing? And here, as throughout this evening, it was hard not to notice the skill and subtlety of Terfel's pianist. If there's such a thing as an accompanist of genius, it is Malcolm Martineau. He can vanish discreetly into the background when required, or turn the final solo bars of a song like Is My Team ploughing? into a poignant summing up. In the hands of musicians like these two, the future of the song recital should be assured.
