Gurre-Lieder

The first decade of the 20th century saw Schoenberg’s great leap of faith into the abyss of atonality. But before that, in 1900-03, he took one last, loving look at the world of decadent Viennese post-Romanticism, soon to be swept away by the First World War. Like Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde, Gurre-Lieder (Songs from Gurre Castle) tells of a doomed love affair. When death takes his beloved Tove, King Waldemar swears vengeance on God, but as the sun rises magnificently, Waldemar and his ghostly horde slip back to their graves. Scored for a huge colourful orchestra including eight flutes, 10 horns, contrabass trombone, four harps and a large percussion section featuring rattle and iron chains, plus chorus and vocal soloists, Gurre-Lieder is one of the most sumptuous, intoxicating things in the entire classical repertoire. It astonished its audience at its Vienna premiere in 1913, most of whom were expecting something scandalous. (The first performance of the partly atonal String Quartet No. 2 in 1908 had provoked a riot.) At first, its triumph infuriated Schoenberg—hadn’t he done much more original things since then? But he softened later, conducting Gurre-Lieder himself with great success. In any case, while the first two parts are often Wagnerian in expression and colouring, the third ventures into new sonic territory, with extreme instrumental effects, alongside Schoenberg’s first use of Sprechgesang (as its name suggests, a weird hybrid of speech and singing). Gurre-Lieder remains popular, enchanting many who find the later Schoenberg inaccessible.