Wigmore Hall

6th May 2006

This recital was originally to be a programme of Mozart arias and duets, sung by Lisa Milne and Sarah Connolly. However, when Connolly withdrew at what seems to have been close to the last minute, Milne and accompanist Malcolm Martineau came up with a new programme which didn’t include any Mozart at all.

It was a brave choice. The recital was supposed to be the final event in a whole day of Mozart activities. Under-22s who had attended the Mozart "Discover Your Voice" Day in the afternoon were offered reduced-price tickets to the evening concert – presumably so they could see the things they had learned in action. Milne could easily have prepared a Mozart programme from the arias she was going to sing anyway, with the addition of some operatic arias: her Pamina, Susanna and Ilia are very highly-regarded, and her first Countess is scheduled at the ENO this autumn. However, perhaps Milne was hoping that she and Connolly would have the opportunity to give the Mozart recital at a later date. I hope they do.

Perhaps the second most obvious choice would be to sing at least some of the songs from the recital she performed most recently – but that had also been at the Wigmore Hall, and was only six days before. So several new songs had to be chosen, perhaps some of which Milne had not sung recently; others she might have been planning to use in a recital at some stage, but not just yet. The result was series of songs by six different compsers – Purcell, Richard Strauss, Schumann, Andre Caplet, Quilter and Walton – sung in three different languages, but all tied together by the theme of mental illness.

Milne’s next hurdle was clear on arrival at the Wigmore Hall. The audience seemed to be full of Sarah Connolly fans who hadn’t heard of her indisposition, presumably having not received the letter that was sent in the post. However, the warmth of the applause as soon as Milne walked in, smiling in a very friendly manner, showed that the hall was also full of audience members who wanted very much to hear Lisa Milne. And, by the end of her first song, even the most disappointed of the Sarah Connolly fans seemed completely won over.

That first song was Purcell’s Bess of Bedlam, realised by Benjamin Britten. Philip Lamcaster’s programme notes say that this is believed to be the first mad song written. Milne characterised it vividly: the insanity came through clearly, but sympathetically. Although her gorgeous, rich soprano and not inconsiderable dramatic talents do have a great deal to do with the song’s success, her perfect diction contributed a great deal too. There was no need to look at the printed lyrics.

Strauss’ Three Ophelia Lieder were next on the programme, preceded by a speech about Ophelia from the play, very well-red by Malcolm Martineau, who said that this speech, like many of Shakespeare’s greatest, come from a character without a proper name: he is simply “Gentleman”. Milne’s German wasn’t perfect, but the music was powerfully performed, suggesting manic depression with her sudden yet convincing switches from deep unhappiness to almost hysterical joy.

Next came six songs from Schumann, who suffered from depression – not that it showed in his music much. Again, the singing was beautiful, and Milne’s winning personality came through strongly, as a very friendly rapport developed between her and her audience. After the interval, in Andre Caplet’s Trois Fables de Jean de la Fontaine – the only songs that had no obvious connection to mental health. Before each fable, Milne gave its title in rather indifferent French. Her sung French wasn’t much better, as it lacked a truly “French” feel. However, the words came through much more clearly than they would have done in a more authentic pronunciation, and that allowed French-speaking listeners to enjoy her brilliant characterisations of the characters in the fables. Her dangerous wolf and sweet, slightly out of tune lamb were especially good in both physical and vocal characterisation.

It was in the songs by Roger Quilter (a life-long depressive) and William Walton (not insane, but very eccentric) that things began to go downhill. Or perhaps “downhill” is the wrong word. There was nothing wrong with the way Milne sang them. She still sang beautifully and very directly, with excellent diction, and turned each song into a real drama. It was great – but her Quilter and her Walton sounded very much the same as her Purcell, her Strauss, her Schumann and her Caplet. Milne sings the emotions wonderfully, but there is nothing to distinguish one composer from the other. There is no sense of the Purcell style, the Strauss style, the Schumann style. Perhaps Milne would have been able to make clearer distinctions had she had more time in which to prepare the recital – or perhaps similarities between the very different composers’ songs are inevitable when the subject matter, or the composers’ moods when they wrote the songs, are so close.

Milne sang two encores. The first I didn’t recognise (I wish singers/accompanists would announce encores) but I was convinced throughout that I ought to know its name. Whatever it was, it was lovely. The second encore was “Auld Lang Syne”, unaccompanied, to a different tune from usual. A slight Scottish accent to her singing suggested that this is the way the song is sung in her own country. (Hairy McMungo claims it is, but he’ll claim that anything good is Scottish if you can’t prove it came from somewhere else. He says he probably sings it every New Year, but, for some reason, possibly whisky-related, he can never quite remember.) Malcolm Martineau did very well too. He doesn’t make as strong an impression as some accompanists, but he’s sensitive and supportive, and very comfortable with the music – which he might well not have performed with Milne before. Under any circumstances, this would have been an enjoyable recital.

Cunning Little Vixen

primi-divi at hotmail.co.uk