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Strauss’s Beauty Purified New York
isaac Stern Auditorium, Carnegie Hall
06/12/2025 -
Richard Strauss: Suite from Der Rosenkavalier, Op. 59 – Zueignung, Op. 10, No. 1 – Wiegenlied,, Op. 41, No. 1 – Allerseelen, Op. 10, No. 8 – Cäcilie, Op. 27, No. 2 – Befreit, Op. 39, No. 4 – Ein Heldenleben, Op. 40
Elza van den Heever (Soprano), David Chan (Violin)
The Met Orchestra, Yannick Nézet-Séguin (Conductor, Musical Director)
R. Strauss/E. van den Heever
(© Portrait by Max Liebermann (1918)/Chris Gonz)
“The human voice is the most beautiful instrument of all, but the most difficult to play.”
Richard Strauss
Not so long ago, the names Aram Khatchaturian and Richard Strauss were greeted with snorts, snickers and all‑out condescending laughter from the usual snobbish sophists. The former was “too exotic, too simple, too superficial” for serious listeners. Strauss was “too romantic, too 19th Century, too..., well, too beautiful.”
Tuesday evening, the Armenian had his own concert, with basically positive results. Tonight, the Met Orchestra showed three faces of Richard Strauss–and each showed that Strauss’s sheer beauty was nothing to snort at.
Conductor Yannick Nézet-Séguin was the right conductor for the job. Diminutive in stature, the Canadian maestro has baton stature not only picturesque but able to get the largest energies from the Met Orchestra.
That was obvious from the first Strauss work, the orchestral opera. Not even the snobbiest naysayer could knock Rosenkavalier, and while his Suite gives only a 30‑minute photograph of this gorgeous three-hour tapestry, Mr. Nézet‑Séguin produced the waltzes, those exotic motifs, the brassy climaxes with all the dynamism necessary.
It was good stuff. It wasn’t the opera. Tomorrow morning, I’ll hear the whole thing. (Schwarzkopf and Ludwig are my choices).
Whatever vocalism was missing from the Suite, the five Strauss songs were given with far far more than a stunning Elza van den Heever. If one might consider her Junoesque, her voice might have come from Venus. Except that Venus would be perfect beauty, Ms. van den Heever was beauty with extraordinary personality.
She is known in New York for her Salome, which received such plaudits. Here, her five songs were the opposite of Salome. The poetry was delicate, the subjects ranged from pure joy (the famous “Oh Gluck,” quoted in Heldenleben) to the soaring cantilena of “Lullaby.”
Ms. Van den Heever could sing with the most intensity in “All Soul’s Day” to a restrained “Dedication.” Hers is definitely a Strauss soprano. Her middle ranges were beautiful in themselves, yet she expressed the German words with true clarity. And when she reached the highest notes–and each of the five song had its apexes–one didn’t feel that this was a singer’s feat. The voice was part of the complete structure.
Two notes. Conductor Nézet-Séguin and the Met Orchestra not only had a musical rapport but a joking relationship. When applause erupted after the first song (the rest of us sophisticates wanted to go “Shhh, shhh”), both singer and conductor loved it, and Mr. Nézet‑Séguin actually egged it on. To all of our delight.
As to the encores, not one. Ms. van den Heever was ye total artiste. She had given us vocal gold, emotional Beluga caviar. Nothing more was needed. Or given.
After this, I was almost tempted to leave. Rosenkavalier and the five songs were so enchanting that Strauss’s second entrance as Nietzsche’s Ubermensch, two years after Zarathustra, would have been too heavy to bear. Add to this a memory of Sir Thomas Beacham’s quote about Heldenleben.
“On a train with a friend, we decided to see how many notes we could delete from Heldenleben and still keep it intact. I think we got to 15,000 and then stopped counting.”
After this, I remember the very first record I had: Hero’s Life conducted by that ardent old Nazi, Clemens Krauss. And wondered how Yannick Nézet‑Séguin would handle the story book of love, war, transfigurations and death.
Fears were unfounded. Nézet-Séguin is always a dynamic conductor, and he let himself go here. The opening was majestic enough. (Nothing special, though the Met Orchestra brass excelled themselves.)
When it came to the hero’s “adversaries”, Nézet‑Séguin turned majesty into a jungle of sounds. Most conductors allow the woodwind critics to squeal, squawk, and show appropriate ugliness. Nézet‑Séguin turned ordinary ugliness into a fierce, fast, dissonant, unpleasant morass of notes.
Exactly how Strauss felt about his supposed enemies.
As to his love, the Met’s Concert Master, David Chan, did far more than essay these difficult fiddle‑licks. He made that violin talk. One heard the soothing, the arguing, the consolations, the same words of poetry as we heard in Ms. van den Heever’s songs. Mr. Nézet‑Séguin simply stood on the dais, listened and almost replied to Mr. Chan’s string of words (or words of string).
The last imperial chords–among the finest of its type–were given with all the majesty they deserved. And were a fitting end to the three wondrous faces of Richard Strauss.
Harry Rolnick
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