RICHARD STRAUSS, BRENTANO LIEDER, Op.

68, 1918

An die Nacht
Apart from lyric verse Brentano’s other work included a number of short stories and a Romantic drama entitled
Die Gründung Prags, inspired by a visit to Prague in 1811. This kindled an interest in Czech folklore—hence the
reference in the opening song of the Sechs Lieder, Op. 68 to Bjelbog, the Bohemian god of light. With solemn
harmonic colouring and arpeggiated piano chords Strauss’s opening has a suitably hymn-like character. Shifting
keys underline the sense of transition from day to night, as well as the implied eroticism of Bjelbog’s spear
penetrating the earth and the day’s embrace of night (the ‘chaste bride’), while the extended piano interlude towards
the end indicates that Strauss was here, as later in the cycle, already thinking of the piano part in orchestral terms.

Ich wollt’ ein Sträusslein binden

In contrast to An die Nacht, Ich wollt’ ein Sträusslein binden is one of Strauss’s most delicate and touching
creations. Following in a distinguished tradition of songs from Schubert’s Heidenröslein onwards, where flowers
speak to those who would pick them, it never overstates its case, but is notable for the gentle wit that prefers to sign
off with a wistful shrug of the shoulders, echoed in the piano’s final postlude. Much of the material derives from the
singer’s opening motif, with its little triplet coloratura figure.

Säusle, liebe Myrthe!

The next three songs are all in true Ariadne auf Naxos mode, in both texture and harmonic colouring, full of subtle
and unexpected key-shifts. Säusle, liebe Myrthe! is a gentle lullaby to Nature full of rippling streams and cooing
doves, all sonorously evoked in the accompaniment. Here Strauss’s control of mood is masterly: free of
pyrotechnics, the voice’s gentle coloratura only serves to enhance the song’s drowsy languor.

Als mir dein Lied erklang!

Here the piano part has an even more important role to play, for it is surely in the broad melody of the introduction
that the beloved’s song can be heard, to which the voice then adds its ecstatic commentary. Throughout Strauss
builds on successive utterances of the motto phrase, allowing time for illustrative touches, especially in the more
muted second stanza, while the third verse is conceived as a seamless outpouring of song that can test the greatest of
singers. Again, the orchestral conception is evident, but nonetheless supremely effective as piano-writing.

Amor
The combination of worldly-wise cynicism and stratospheric virtuosity in Amor inevitably recalls Zerbinetta’s great
aria, clothing an almost eighteenth-century conceit in a stunning mass of triplets, runs and trills. A real show-
stopper, the pyrotechnics are not just icing on the cake, but totally apposite (Cupid’s wings are, after all, on fire),
with the piano’s own acrobatics and astringently pert harmonies in full support.

Lied der Frauen

After the frippery of Amor, Strauss no doubt felt the need for an emotional counterweight, which is provided by this
final song, Lied der Frauen. Extraordinary as it is, it has a precedent in one written twenty years before: Lied an
meinen Sohn (see volume 4), to a text by Richard Dehmel, in which Strauss conjured up a storm at night with a
piano part worthy of Wagner ’s Ride of the Valkyries. But whereas that song was slightly marred by its bombastic
conclusion, Lied der Frauen totally lives up to its heroic scale.

A powerful tribute to the wives of men who daily face death—seamen, shepherds, miners or warriors—it begins
with a tempestuous sequence in which the musical motifs only gradually emerge from the confusion. As the sun
emerges and the lark announces peace, the texture noticeably lightens, but Strauss still maintains the surging
momentum, even in the long peroration, which finds solace in praising the Lord who, paraphrasing the book of Job
‘hath given and hath taken away’. Strauss’s skilful handling of these final pages completes the arch that had begun
with An die Nacht, the words ‘Dann sternlose Nacht sei willkommen’ providing a conscious verbal link.

Not surprisingly, this was the first of the six songs to be orchestrated by Strauss, in 1933 for the soprano Viorica
Ursuleac, with the other five following in 1940. Since then they have become a staple of the repertoire in both piano
and orchestral versions, though as noted seldom performed in their entirety.