VANCOUVER — The highlight of Vancouver’s musical spring was a mini-residency for the Vancouver Recital Society by the team of baritone Benjamin Appl and pianist James Baillieu — three performances of Schubert song cycles. The pair made an impressive Vancouver debut during the 2022-2023 season in a dark, often disturbing program exploring the overarching theme of “Night.” The VRS immediately launched plans for a return, which ended up as an intense, three-installment Schubert lieder festival.
The Recital Society’s stock in trade is recitals by younger artists new to Vancouver — often new to Canada, or even to North America. This small organization frequently thinks very big; in recent seasons the music of Schubert has been a particular focus. In 2016, the organization presented a three-concert Schubertiade devoted to the composer’s late works, curated by pianist Inon Barnatan, currently music director of the La Jolla Music Society’s SummerFest concerts. Then, in 2024, pianist Paul Lewis offered a fairly comprehensive survey of Schubert’s piano sonatas over the course of four recitals.
This spring’s Schubert extravaganza entailed a gutsy decision to present Die schöne Müllerin, D. 795, Schwanengesang, D. 957, and Winterreise, D. 911, in a remarkable space, the Telus Studio Theatre on the campus of the University of British Columbia. The compact venue blends the dimensions of a Baroque opera house with techno-contemporary details; there are three matte-black ranks of boxes and flexible, non-raked orchestra seating. There is neither proscenium nor stage. Most significantly, the space accommodates a scant 250 patrons. Having first heard Appl and Baillieu in the VRS home venue of the Vancouver Playhouse (seating capacity: 675), I found the team’s return visit in such an intimate setting a rare treat.
The duo began the series on March 19 with the complete Die schöne Müllerin. The effect was that of an extended soliloquy: We were led down a seemingly inexorable path from naive, youthful optimism to disillusionment and the grave. Appl and Baillieu shaped this journey with surefooted assurance. Pauses between songs were close to nonexistent at first. Then as the cycle’s denouement became clear, there were tiny moments of silent reflection. Everything was carefully crafted to convey an overall trajectory, from the (relatively) carefree opening through ever-increasing psychological drama resolving into resignation — peace, if you will.
The final songs, in which Schubert unites all the thematic and emotional threads, were presented with a delivery that was in every sense unworldly. Appl has an extensive vocabulary of vocal colors and an astonishing gamut of dynamics. Baillieu exactly complemented his range and subtlety. The intimacy of the hall allowed them to explore the most confessional pianissimos — effects that might have been swallowed up by a more conventional setting.
The performance of Schwanengesang the next evening was a different proposition. It is not, strictly speaking, a song cycle but rather a collection of 14 songs by three poets assembled posthumously: We cannot know exactly how Schubert might have chosen to present them to the world. That lack of definitive composer direction imposes additional responsibilities on the performers.
Not that the collection is a hodgepodge: All were composed within a matter of months and share a similar if not entirely consistent musical language. They are intense and extraordinary, one could even say experimental, except for the self-evident fact that Schubert knew exactly what he was creating.
For the second evening of their residency, the duo opted for a new platform configuration: a three-quarters-in-the-round setup with the piano oriented so that Baillieu’s back was to much of the audience. Appl still performed mostly from the bend of the instrument, but he was able to look directly at his co-recitalist, a level of eye contact no conventional recital orientation could provide.
The acoustic of the hall meant that the lid of the VRS’s Hamburg Steinway could be removed without affecting sound projection. This was something of a radical departure; in brief comments before the evening’s encore, Appl absolved the presenters for the change, taking all responsibility for the decision.
Yet another break with conventional recital protocol was the inclusion of a tellingly theatrical bit of movement for Schwanengesang’s penultimate song. In “Der Dopplegänger,” Appl turned away from the audience and walked several meters towards the back of the hall, facing the black curtain used for projections of translated texts. This was not just visually effective but created a slight muting of the voice in relation to the piano. “Der Dopplegänger” remains one of the greatest of all songs. This simple, brilliant gambit created a coup de théâtre that rounded out a progression of songs that might in less assured hands have come across as patchy or discontinuous.
“Die Taubenpost,” the lightweight concluding song — and reputedly the last song Schubert penned — became more of an epilogue in the manner of “Our revels now are ended,” allowing us to leave Schubert’s often painful world and return to our own. But not quite. The encore was “Erlköning,” Schubert’s first published opus, given a performance beyond memorable, frightening the audience half out of its wits.
The final matinee recital was devoted to Winterreise. Here, the team kept the same configuration essayed at the second concert and continued to explore a few carefully considered theatrical gestures as well. The cycle launched with the piano in semi-darkness. Appl began singing offstage, slowly moving toward the piano in increasing light as the first of the two dozen songs unfolded: an obvious metaphor for a winter journey, perhaps, but a very apt one. Given the inherent cohesiveness of Schubert’s magisterial cycle, the team was able to revel in the contrasts between individual songs while keeping the essential narrative thread ever moving onward. There were wonderful, intimate, and lyrical moments, but underlined with raw emotion and pained revelations.
Winterreise’s climactic trio of songs — “Das Wirtshaus,” “Mut,” and “Die Nebensonnen” — brought us to a cathartic breaking point. Then, as the extraordinary piano introduction to “Der Leiermann” started up, the lights began to fade, and singer joined pianist, sharing the piano bench but facing in different directions; a simple gesture of despair? Of acceptance? Of grace? No encore was offered, as nothing more could have been said at the culmination of an exceptional showcase of magnificent lieder, performed by a duo with remarkable insight and artistry.
