''Der Mensch hat so eine Stimme'' (''The man has a tone of voice'') says Rocco of Florestan, and it's always a phrase that seems particularly apt for the voice of the great Viennese tenor, Julius Patzak, who was, of course, an unsurpassed Florestan himself. The same plangent utterance that was so affecting in his portrayal of Beethoven's suffering hero informs his famous interpretation of Schubert's cycle about the lovelorn miller-hand. Indeed, his account of ''Die liebe Farbe'' is so subjectively intense as to be hardly bearable, and the whole reading, with its poignant diction and lambent tone, places it quite in a class of its own. After a considerable period away from Patzak's performance, I wondered if I should find it as moving as in the past. I found it possibly more so in the context of the other three readings considered here, all of them offering insights, but none reaching to the heart of the matter with quite Patzak's unerring skill.
The range of his tone-colour and methods of expression are evident not only in ''Die liebe Farbe'' but also in the two great songs that succeed it. In ''Die liebe Farbe'', such phrases as ''grune Rasen'' and ''hat's jagen so gern'' carry an enormous weight of grief as does the piercing enunciation of ''tote liebe'' in ''Trockne Blumen''. The end of this song is taken very fast, as if in a fever of unjustified hope—rather like Florestan's vision at the dose of his aria. But in earlier, happier moments, Patzak is no less eloquent—try the third verse of ''Des Mullers Blumen'' or the whole of ''Morgengruss'', where he creates the illusion of actually talking to the girl, or hear the intimate articulation in ''Der Neugierige'' while, by contrast, the words tumble out abruptly in the fierce hatred of ''Der Jager'' and the following song.
This is an interpretation that is hors concours, rather like Vickers's Tristan, and not perhaps an interpretation one would wish to hear every day—it is simply too despairing. It is immensely detailed (though never at the expense of legato) and subjective, free and spontaneous seeming, never calculated and sophisticated. Raucheisen is at times revelatory at the piano, at times wayward. The recording, though very immediate, has the occasional distortion, and the piano is backward. For me the greatness of the reading overrides any drawbacks, but listening to it does require a degree of faith. If you want a modern performance of similar calibre I suggest you try Schreier and his guitarist on EMI.
Adrian Thompson's reading has nothing like Patzak's individuality or depth, but it is not to be overlooked. With Roger Vignoles, one of the most perceptive pianists to have recorded the cycle, Thompson has worked out a moving, plain, uncomplicated interpretation, technically more secure than Patzak's, vocally pleasing, and full of unobtrusive insights. I have heard it twice in the recital room and was equally involved and interested as here. The questions at the end of ''Pause'' show as well as anything the tenor's breadth of phrase and unaffected but correct style. You very much feel this is the baffled youth, aware of something extraordinary happening to his emotions. Thompson hasn't as naturally pleasing a voice as Protschka (Capriccio/Target), but his sense of pitch is more secure. He is quite as tender as Blochwitz (DG), but naturally his German isn't so idiomatic as that of either German-speaking tenor. The recording, however, is superior to that on any other tenor version. At mid price this is something of a bargain, but be warned you have to send off for texts and translations, a pennypinching procedure. (However, Preiser offer none for Patzak.) William Mann's note for Pickwick appreciably revised and altered in opinion since he wrote about the cycle for Fischer-Dieskau (see below), is a bonus.
With baritones, as ever, we are inevitably confronted with a less boyish, bolder youth. Luxon continues his traversal of the Schubert cycles for Chandos with a reading as intelligent and immediate as his Schwanengesang ((LP) ABRD1361; (CD) CHAN8721, 8/89). In both he has obviously restudied the texts and thought them through anew in fairly dramatic terms. His ''Ungeduld'' is almost frenzied, his ''Mein!'' a very definite statement of possession. The two damnations of the intruding Forester are furiously subjective even to the extent of a slight mangling of text. But Luxon also manages to lighten his tone and vary it, as in ''Morgengruss'', and he offers a trancelike ''Trockne Blumen'' that I found very moving. He has a tendency to over-emphasize the first beat in bars, especially early in the cycle, and sometimes his vibrato becomes intrusive as in ''Der Muller und der Bach''. ''Wiegenlied'' is unacceptably slow. David Willison is a faithful partner but not quite in the Vignoles or Moore league. John Reed's note is full of perceptions, but I cannot agree that the voice simply offers a counterpoint to the piano in ''Pause''.
It is unfortunate for Luxon that his version should collide with the reissue of the best of Fischer-Dieskau's three recordings, made in 1961 at the height of his—and Moore's—powers. Fischer-Dieskau's interpretation is simply more idiomatic and more natural. He and Moore are here more spontaneous than in 1951 (EMI—nla), less affected than in 1972 (DG—reissued on CD in 1985). The conglomeration of Fischer-Dieskau's subtleties and insights are almost overwhelming but here they are mostly subsumed in the immediacy of a highly individual, always alerting performance. But the difference, for me, between conscious interpretation and interior restraint can be felt if you compare Fischer-Dieskau and Patzak in the phrase ''sie mir gab'' in ''Trockne Blumen''. Moore throughout offers a discerning and musically valid characterization of the participating stream: nothing is overplayed yet all the points he suggests in his book on the cycles (London: 1975) are made manifest, such as the chords at the start of ''Trockne Blumen'' being ''dry as a dead branch''.
Other baritones, Souzay (Philips), Bar (EMI) and Holzmair (Preiser), in particular, tell us something significant about the cycle as I have suggested in recent reviews. So the intending purchaser is embarrassed with riches in a work that almost always brings the best out of its interpreters. I would certainly want Schreier for concentrated intensity, Protschka for freshness, Holzmair for unaffected charm, Fischer-Dieskau for complete command and understanding, with Patzak as a unique extra for special occasions.'