We already have an embarrassment of riches on CD in performances of this cycle, but Holzmair, a name new to me as it will be to most readers, simply cannot be ignored: his reading is well up to the standard set by all those accounts listed above. He comes from Vienna where he studied with Kmentt among others. He has been under engagement at the Berne opera and is now at Gelsenkirchen. His Mozart singing has been much praised in the pages of Opera, which commented in 1986 that his Papageno ''could hold its own on any stage''. On the strength of this performance, actually recorded three years before that (why has it taken so long to reach us?), I can well believe this.
The voice, a light, forwardly placed baritone with a tenor-like timbre, reminds me of Pierre Bernac's, though it also has resemblances to Bar's (EMI), and he is just as responsive to words as that much-praised baritone. Holzmair recorded his performance at almost the same age as Bar made his, so the comparisons between the two are particularly apt. It seems to me that Holzmair's delicate, almost vulnerable-sounding timbre is even better attuned to portraying Schubert's and Muller's lovelorn lad than Bar's. His legato too, as in the strophic songs of the first half, is just as smooth and natural as Bar's: it seems to float quite effortlessly on the breath. The tone has an attractive vibrato, again Bernac-like.
There is a full understanding of the joys expressed in the opening songs, as in a nicely airy ''Ungeduld'' and as eager a ''Mein!'' as Souzay's in his boyish reading (Philips)—words such as ''Melodein'' and ''Mein'' themselves given a wonderful lift. Then, with the doubts arising in ''Pause'', a sense of tension rightly enters Holzmair's singing—as at ''mein Leiden'' and ''Ist es der Nachtklang meiner liebes Pein?''. This is Lieder singing at the highest level of achievement. Holzmair manages a clever contrast in tone between ''Mit dem grunem Lautenbande'' and ''Der Jager''. Then, in that sadly mesmeric song, ''Die liebe Farbe'', he strikes just the right plaintive note, which he maintains, even intensifies in the even greater ''Trock'ne Blumen'' with a plangent, Patzak-like accent on the word ''Nass'' and a deliberate hardening in the repeated last line. And so this utterly credible and convincing interpretation draws to its close, ending with a beautifully intoned and subtly varied ''Baches Wiegenlied''. The experienced Jorg Demus is a worthy partner for this singer. His presence is felt but he never goes to extremes of expression, and he keeps his articulation light and pointed as though aware of his instrument's fortepiano antecedents. The recording is forward and clearly balanced.
Of course none of the comparative versions is entirely superseded, but I have to say that at the moment I prefer Holzmair to those similar readings by Souzay and Bar, possibly because—and this is a personal matter—I find his voice even more to my liking and because of the immediacy of the experience he gives. Fischer-Dieskau (DG) will always be hors concours. Protschka (Capriccio/Target) has the advantage of being a tenor, like Schreier in his record with guitar I reviewed recently (EMI (CD) CDM7 69105-2, 11/88). There must always be someone—lucky person—coming to this cycle for the first time: he or she could hardly do better than get to know it through this spontaneous, unaffected, beautifully voiced version.'