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Published: Tuesday, 14 January 2025 at 15:12 PM


Franz Schubert’s 1827 song cycle Winterreise is one of classical music’s greatest song collections, a deeply moving exploration of despair, longing, and existential reflection. One of a number of extraordinary works composed near the end of Schubert’s short life (the last three piano sonatas and the great String Quintet are other examples), Winterreise reveals Schubert’s mastery at combining poetry and music to create an intense, emotional narrative.

What’s the story behind Schubert’s Winterreise song cycle?

Schubert’s first great song-cycle, Die schöne Müllerin was composed in 1823, when he was just 26. It tells of a young miller who falls in love, is first accepted and then rejected; he seeks and finds death.

Four years later Schubert, now near to death himself from syphilis, set 12 poems by the same author, Wilhelm Müller, and played them to his friends, describing them as ‘a group of terrifying songs which I like more than anything I have done’, though he broke down and wept after he had played them. The friends were somewhat alarmed.

The next year Schubert added a further 12 songs to the collection, taking the cycle to its grim conclusion: not death this time, but joining a hopeless hurdy-gurdy man and trudging through the snow with him, numbed.

The Winterreise cycle, one of the supreme miracles of art song, is not so much about rejected love as about loneliness and confrontation with the self, stripped of all illusions. Written for tenor, it can nevertheless be sung successfully by a voice in any range.

Winterreise: the best recording

Roman Trekel (baritone), Ulrich Eisenlohr (piano)

Naxos 8.554471

Winterreise tends to bring out the best in its interpreters, and to a considerable degree your preferences will depend on whose voice you prefer.

Trekel has so beautiful a lightish baritone that it is hard to imagine anyone not finding it attractive and, on this recording from 1998, youthful. He sings with ardour, but without overdoing it, so he has plenty left in reserve for the final five songs, where the cycle, harrowing enough already, moves onto a new level of pain and near-madness.

There’s no light relief in this cycle – the very first song has the wanderer rejected and leaving the town where his beloved lives – but there are many eerie passages of another kind of lightness, as he loses contact with one kind of reality only to find another, much more fearful kind; and Trekel manages perfectly the shifts between the external world of winter and the hot agony within.

Ulrich Eisenlohr’s accompaniment is not intrusive, but he doesn’t miss an important point either – the performers here are equal partners. Naxos’s sound balance does justice to them both, and there are full texts and translations, and helpful notes.