Austrian Holzmair sings the Wunderhorn songs
For a composer whose reputation rests on twin pillars of symphony and song, Gustav Mahler admittedly has more weight leaning on the former than the latter. Even when singers do venture into Mahler’s piano-vocal versions, their performances often sound like pencil sketches for a full-orchestral canvas rather than artistic miniatures in their own right. Wolfgang Holzmair, in short, does not have this problem His word-painting is superb, replacing sheer vocal firepower with more Lieder-friendly qualities of agility, precision and nuance. Poetic narrative is everywhere apparent and, whether unfolding in monologue (as in ‘Revelge’, with its drummer-boy narrator approaching death) or splitting into dialogue (as with the starving child and his mother in ‘Das irdische Leben’), Holzmair keeps his performance centred.

Eine Lehrstunde für den perfekten Liedgesang
Musikalisch traumwandlerisch sicher, textdeutlich und interpretatorisch immer genau mitten ins Schwarze treffend. Egal, ob es um die kuriose Geschichte mit dem Postauto geht oder um das Wetter oder um das von Hallstatt inspirierte Lied über den „Friedhof im Gebirge“: jedes Lied ist einfach perfekt. Ebenso perfekt die subtile und auf jede feine Nuance Holzmairs reagierende Klavierbegleitung von Russell Ryan.

An evening of rare quality and unbridled emotion

Holzmair's pearly opalescence, always so immaculate and beautiful, was a delight in some obscure, not always good but mostly interesting songs by Peter Cornelius which included duets with a pure-voiced young soprano called Raphaela Papadakis.

For my part, I relished not only his [Holzmair’s] keen verbal attention, not only his undeniably ‘acted’ approach, but also that inimitably Austrian way he has with the language, which simply seems so right here, leaving many peddlers – or should that be pedlars? – of Hochdeutsch standing. […] If ‘Das irdische Leben’ does not chill to the bone, something has gone terribly wrong; no fear of that here, though there were of course all sorts of other fears to experience. Detail, both verbally and from the piano, was exemplary. ‘Rheinlegendchen’ was suffused with melancholy, nostalgia for a typically Mahlerian golden age that never was – and we knew it. Its loss is of course none the less painful for that.

So nuanciert, so vielschichtig, so bis ins letzte Detail durchdacht und gleichzeitig mit einer bewundernswerten Natürlichkeit in Ausdruck und Stimmführung hört man Mahlers Lieder viel zu selten. […]Das Album ist beseelt von seinem makellosen Legato-Gesang und seinen facettenreichen Interpretationen: Jedes einzelne Lied ist bis ins kleinste Detail ausgestaltet. Als Muttersprachler, mehr noch, als Landsmann Mahlers strahlt Holzmair dabei eine schwer zu übertreffende Natürlichkeit und Unverkrampftheit aus.

Liedkunst in reifer Vollendung. Einen unaufgeregten Liederabend voller intelligenter Deutungen gab der österreichische Bariton Wolfgang Holzmair, ideal begleitet von der britischen Pianistin Imogen Cooper. […] Neun Lieder aus ‚Des Knaben Wunderhorn‘ boten seinem variantenreichen Gesang eine ideale, doppelbödige Spielwiese. […] Mit Liedern nach Rückert, Leander und de Molina verschränkte die zweite Hälfte – nicht weniger kostbar – Zartheit mit Dramatik, Heiterkeit mit Depression.

Wenn man für einen Sänger schwärmt, kennt man nur eine Sorge: Wird er so gut sein wie erwartet? Bei Wolfgang Holzmair kann man sicher sein: Er wird. Seine Interpretation von Mahlers Liedern aus "Des Knaben Wunderhorn" sind vom ersten Moment an packend und intensiv. Melancholisch oder heiter, hochdramatisch oder selbstironisch erzählt er -wunderbar begleitet von Imogen Cooper - mit seiner hypnotischen Stimme von Liebe, Leben und Tod.

The baritone Wolfgang Holzmair and pianist Charles Spencer mix irony and tragic insight. Particularly good is their interpretation of Urlicht. The contrast of a female voice in some of the songs is the only thing missing in an otherwise superior disc.

Merci à Decca de nous avoir redonné ces pépites, jadis parues sous étiquette Philips. Un coffret pour l’île déserte !

This superb presentation in song, written and illustrated material is almost unbearable in its poignancy. […] Musically strong in its own right, this CD is at once inspiring and harrowing. Don't avoid it.

'Um die Lieder von Schubert zu singen, muss man ein einfacher Mensch sein.' [...] Holzmair findet die Einfachheit in der samtenen Schwermut von Schuberts 'Der Jüngling und der Tod', und er findet sie auch in der 'Nachthymne', diesem kühnen Lied auf einen Text von Novalis.

Mit seinem prächtigen sonoren und reich nuancierbaren Bariton war Wolfgang Holzmair einnehmend … und verstand es, sowohl die textlichen Inhalte als auch deren musikalische Ausdeutung mit Emotionalität zum Ausdruck zu bringen.

Holzmair was riveting, especially in his communication of the words. In contrast to his suave and flawless performance of Schubert's Winterreise I heard on the radio recently, he sang these songs with a cabaret entertainer's immediacy, honoring text above tonal beauty when appropriate. Sometimes his warm baritone had the brightness of tenor, except for an unexpected graininess in his lowest notes, which he sometimes exaggerated into a snarl. A non-German speaker almost could have ignored translations when Holzmair sang — or spoke — because he conveyed meanings with his whole being.

Silvia Spinnato, Bernadette Furch und – eine Klasse für sich – Wolfgang Holzmair widmeten sich Werken von Herbert Grassl, Agustín Castilla-Ávila, Johannes Krall und den Genannten mit Engagement und Kompetenz.

Uraufgeführt haben Wimbergers Rilke-Lied aus den "Aufzeichnungen des Malte Laurids Brigge" das "Ensemble Acrobat" unter der Leitung von Carlos Chamorro-Moreno und Wolfgang Holzmair, der mit seinem wie immer klar und präzise geführten Bariton den Solitär zum Klingen und Strahlen brachte. Tatsächlich hat haben Wimberger/Holzmair die vergeistigte Liebeserklärung dem Hörer näher gebracht, als der strenge formal distanzierte Zugang Weberns.

Die zentrale Figur ist natürlich Faust, der an den Jubiläumskonzerten vom international gefragten Bariton Wolfgang Holzmair verkörpert wird. Der Bariton entpuppt sich als begnadeter Erzähler, der den Text mit differenzierten Stimmfarben und unaufdringlicher Gestik plastisch gestaltet. Mal setzt er mit vokalem Schmelz Akzente, mal mit präzisester Diktion. Ein Genuss.

And indeed, the technical accuracy and beauty of his singing was nothing short of splendid. Intonation, rhythm, dynamics, vocal shading and breath control approached perfection. He articulated moments of coloratura with nonchalance, allowing no smears to sully the music. He did not hesitate to roughen the sound of his voice when the text demanded it, and the moments of pianissimo were truly beautiful.

But it was what the Austrian lieder specialist did with his voice that made of his 70-minute performance of Schubert's 24-song cycle, ideally partnered by pianist Russell Ryan, one of the most probing and moving Winterreises that I ever expect to hear. From the very first song, "Gute nacht" (Good night), Holzmair invoked his vaunted sweetness to introduce an extremely sensitive protagonist who was both tender and terribly vulnerable. When rejection came, just one song later, the voice not only grew louder but also began to turn bitter. As the journey progressed from "Gefrorne Tränen" (Frozen tears) to "Erstarrung" (Numbness), bitterness surfaced with increasing frequency, and was often accompanied by bursts of anger or intentionally flat-toned numbness.

By the end, the wandering poet had completely lost his way, and Holzmair's voice revealed a loneliness that seemed too great even for the massive hall in the Granoff Center.

This was an intelligent, sensitive interpretation. Just the way Holzmair used his hands as he sang could be remarkably affecting. Highlights included the final outbursts of "Auf dem Flusse"; the carefully calibrated contrasts of mood in "Frühlingstraum"; the subtly conversational articulation in "Die Krähe"; the white tone produced in "Der Wegweiser." And the incredible final song, "Der Leiermann," conjuring the image of a hurdy-gurdy man playing on with icy fingers while people ignore him and dogs growl, found Holzmair phrasing incisively.

If the recital by baritone Wolfgang Holzmair and cellist Sonia Wieder-Atherton, heard on Thursday night at the Austrian Embassy, had been on my radar screen earlier, it would certainly have made my top picks for the month.

The vocal works, by their nature, are another matter. There were policy debates […] But mostly these are songs of barely disguised pain and a longing for freedom and normalcy. Mr. Holzmair gave them all subtly shaped, powerful readings. But he was at his most affecting in a group of undated songs by Ilse Weber, an author of children's books and an amateur composer who wrote with disarming directness.