Mark Padmore / Paul Lewis SCHUBERT Winterreise

Ah, this journey! How many have made it, sincerely and imaginatively, two setting out as nearly as possible as one! So many on records too, following the elusive track as with torchlight concentrated upon it. Yet, of all, I cannot think of one (not even Fischer-Dieskau in his 1965 recording with Jörg Demus) that leads more faithfully to the cold comfort of its end. And when we get there in this performance, what an end it is!

The journey begins with ever such a slight whine high in the voice, as with a calm acceptance of pain. The piano abstains from jabbing sforzandi to underline what the chords make plain enough, instead insisting calmly on its left-hand legato. The melting major-key modulation is all affection: no hint of bitterness in the sentiment that his passing footsteps should not disturb the faithless beloved’s sleep. But outside in the open, stillness and turbulence alternate like the moods of the weather-vane. And so throughout much of the trek the self-confiding of the loner holds in check the utterance of emotion as the icy surface of the river conceals the running water beneath. Even so the pain will out, as it does in the last phrase, “ihr Bild dahin”, of “Erstarrung”.

On we go, lulled and tormented by the magic music-box of “Frühlingstraum”, till the tragic chord before “so elend nicht” in “Einsamkeit” brings a dreadful reality into focus. The deceptive sweetness of “Die Krähe”, the giddy disorientation of “Letzte Hoffnung”, the subdued feverish excitements of “Täuschung” find an almost holy stability in “Das Wirtshaus”, but still the external world exists, felt as almost an intrusion in “Mut”. And soon we meet the organ-grinder. And his secrets must on no account be revealed by reviewer or arts-gossip. And the listener must wait, out of respect to this marvellous partnership of Mark Padmore and Paul Lewis, until time can be taken for it, alone and uninterrupted, to accompany them on the journey through to its unearthly end. (John Steane/ Gramophone)

Mark Padmore / Kristian Bezuidenhout SCHUBERT Winterreise

Only a few months after Florian Boesch’s second recording of Schubert’s great wintry song-cycle (Hyperion, A/17), here’s a second bite at the bitter cherry from another singer, albeit a very different one. With Mark Padmore at least there’s been a longer intervening period: it’s nine years since the release of his previous Winterreise, a 2010 Gramophone Award-winner, also on Harmonia Mundi. And there’s a major difference here, too, in that not only is Paul Lewis replaced by Kristian Bezuidenhout but a modern concert grand is switched for a Graf fortepiano.

As with the earlier recording, there’s a wealth of interest to be found at the keyboard. Here the instrument itself is beautifully mellow, with an especially tender con sordini sound as well as some brightness in the tone when required – not often, admittedly, in this most subdued of cycles. I love the hazy twang Bezuidenhout produces at the start of ‘Der Lindenbaum’, the wild clanging of the ‘Wetterfahne’ and the real sense he gives in ‘Die Krähe’ of the bird swirling ominously about. The melody of ‘Frühlingstraum’ is imbued with so much hope, that of ‘Der Leiermann’ with so little, its opening drone, played much as Lewis plays it, resembling less notes than just a pained, numb sound.

Bezuidenhout spreads his chords occasionally and offers a light sprinkling of ornaments, as does Padmore. And in the later stages of the cycle, in particular, the tenor offers singing of remarkable patience, control and concentration (listen to how he builds up ‘Das Wirtshaus’). The final songs are moving, and Padmore’s intelligence and seriousness are never in doubt, his interpretation always probing.

One notices, however, that the voice has lost some juice: he struggles to offer warmth to counter the blanched tone he employs elsewhere, while the lower register is underpowered. His German, too, is strangely affected, with vowels self-consciously opened up and consonants over-deliberate. The earlier recording, five minutes slower, features many of the same interpretative touches and characteristics, but they are more worrying here, less convincing. Matters are not helped, either, by engineering that places the voice in a strange quasi-ecclesiastical halo.

Padmore’s fans will no doubt snap his new recording up, but I’d otherwise recommend sticking with the earlier one, featuring Lewis’s warm, deeply human contribution at the keyboard. And if fortepiano’s what you need, head to Christoph Prégardien and Andreas Staier for something altogether more grounded, satisfying and idiomatic. (Hugo Shirley / Gramophone)

Mark Padmore / Britten Sinfonia / Jacqueline Shave BENJAMIN BRITTEN Serenade for Tenor, Horn & Strings - Nocturne GERALD FINZI Dies Natalis

Tenor Mark Padmore has an ideal voice for these two Britten song cycles written for Peter Pears. He has the kind of musical sensitivity and attentiveness to textual subtleties that characterized Pears' singing. His voice is essentially light in the way that Pears' was, but his is infinitely more attractive. Its tone is clear and pure, with none of Pears' nasal quality, and can be sweet without sounding precious. Padmore's technique seems absolutely secure and while his instrument is not large, he can produce an impressive range of dynamics. He and horn player Stephen Bell deliver a terrific performance of the Serenade for tenor, horn, and strings, and Jacqueline Shave's leadership of the Britten Sinfonietta is energetic and nuanced. Padmore's phrasing is shapely and expressive and he can spin out the seamless legato most of these songs require. In "Hymn," he and Bell sing and play with nimble fleetness that seems thrillingly close to the edge of spinning out of control but that ultimately lands safely. The performance of "Dirge" is charged with darker-than-usual sinister energy; the running string figures that follow the canon seem here more like a demonic dance than a dirge, to wonderful, scary effect. There is no lack of topnotch recordings of the Serenade, but this is a version that anyone who loves the piece will want to hear. In Nocturne, Padmore again excels in bringing intelligent and sensitive, sometimes soaring musicality to the songs. Finzi's cycle Dies Natalis is something of a novelty, but it fits well with the Britten. His harmonic language is eloquently post-Romantic, solidly in the English pastoral tradition, and his text setting relatively conventional, but the cycle is a lovely, lyrical, entirely successful exemplar of that tradition. Serenade, written about five years after Dies Natalis, demonstrates by contrast the daring individuality of Britten's handling of texts and the rich originality of his melodic gift. The sound of Harmonia Mundi's SACD is immaculate and detailed, with a gripping sense of presence. (Stephen Eddins)