Two years before the outbreak of World War 1 Arnold Schönberg composed “Pierrot Lunaire” in a mere few months. The texts that inspired him were written by the Belgian poet Albert Giraud, which had been translated into German by Erich Hartleben.

Schönberg thought highly of his work, which this quote; a remark he made after just starting his venture, reveals:

A peculiarity, which indeed determines the whole scope of the piece, is that the melodies are not to be sung, but uttered in a speech melody, which nonetheless considers the assigned pitches. It is important to note that a natural, realistic speech is to be avoided at all costs, but it should not sound like singing. It sounds a hard feat, and I’m sure it is – and not many have succeeded during the years, but Salome Kammer sure manages well!
Another rather special instruction is that the musicians or the singer never should try – by their own accord – to interpret the moods or the sentiments of the text, but strictly adhere to the written music, which – if need be – anyhow provides the emotions acquired.
Surely this shows that Arnold Schönberg had specific and very determined ideas, almost Stockhausenesque, which makes him all the more interesting. It is understandable that Schönberg had the immense influence on modernism that he did.

Salome Kammer discusses the work on “Pierrot Lunaire” in the Dabringhaus & Grimm booklet (the company’s CD booklets are always highly interesting and educative, providing massive information). She explains that she came across “Pierrot Lunaire” when she was training her speaking voice. She liked that the work demanded of her an actor’s speech ability as well as a musician’s inherent compositional intelligence.
She concludes that Schönberg must have indulged in the same exercises, trying out the properties of voice, as she did prior to performing the piece.
Kammer has an interesting theory concerning the seemingly unnecessary high pitches indicated. She believes – after listening to very early theatrical recordings – that the style of the time in theater was high-pitched, though it today may come across as false and overly melodramatic.
I have myself listened to early theater recordings on a CD from Pearl called “Great Shakespeareans”, where actors like Edwin Booth recorded 1890 (yes, the brother of President Lincoln’s assassin!), Arthur Bourchier recorded 1909 and Lewis Waller recorded 1911, and yes; they come across almost comical with high pitches and trembling voices in a vibrant pathos. Certainly this tradition must have influenced Schönberg in 1912.
However, as Kammer points out, Schönberg not only “assigned the voice the task of recitation, but also treated it as an instrument which he integrated into the composition of tone colors. Moreover, the score is not lacking in parodic elements or in ironic tones, and perhaps this is why his contemporaries found it so provocative ”.
Salome Kammer also makes the probably very precise observation that Schönberg’s prohibitions concerning emotional mood expressivity etcetera pertained to the over-expression of his times, which is not in usage today, but rather on the contrary!
This insight loosened the thumbscrews a little for Kammer, who allowed herself some personal freedom of expression in her performance. She also says that her work with “Pierrot Lunaire” opened up new music to her, and took her out on a journey of discovery of her own voice.

The conductor, Hans Zender, also philosophizes around “Pierrot Lunaire” in the booklet, stressing the fact that Schönberg does not merge the discipline of speech and the discipline of music, but lets them keep a certain simultaneous distance, a certain “noli me tangere”, a privacy in the midst of expression. Zender says: “Schönberg always proceeds from the whole of the word form and builds it into the musical context as a sound form like a found object [Marcel Duchamp] and thus more or less requires multidimensional consciousness on the part of the hearer.”
It is also the opinion of Hans Zender that Salome Kammer well may be the first interpreter who really makes justice to “Pierrot Lunaire”.

The rather violent come-on in the dryness of expression bewilders at first, until you get used to the thin, spidery curtains of musical incisions into the wide-arching spoken poems.
The strings – rhythmic, incisive – paint delicate patterns as the voice of Salome Kammer jumps from tuft to tuft in foggy marshes in moonlight.
This is high-class artistry at work! Enjoy!

The “Scherzo for String Quartet” is the oldest of the works herein presented, written already in 1897. Matthias Moosdorf in his booklet text makes the remark that this piece probably would have passed unnoticed if the significance of the name of the composer wouldn’t later alter the world of music. He justifies, nonetheless, its inclusion with its function as a traditional bridge, i.e. for historical and educational reasons.
It’s a pleasantly swirling dust-broom of a piece, merrily spring-windy in the first section, cleaning windows towards the park, where the branches of the trees are up-stretched motions of preparedness for life; for sun, for wind!

“Six Little Piano Pieces” stem from 1911. It is an amazing work if you consider the time Schönberg allotted to the compositional labor; one day – yes one! – for the first five parts!
The concluding sixth part was written on 17th June 1911, much in the devastated mood brought on by the death of Mahler on 18th May, greatly affecting Schönberg.
Steffen Schleiermacher, who wrote the booklet text for this composition, remarks that the pieces – “each note, each phrase”, though seemingly simple, demands an art of nuanced expression from the interpreter that is hard to come by. Schleiermacher even states that he could take on “Six Little Piano Pieces” only after working with music by Webern, Mahler, Feldman and Stockhausen!
The tones trickle like drops of liquefied light down the uneven glass of an old window, in gentle, sensual motions-emotions, evoking a sense of the suspended, hovering stillness of a Japanese rock garden meditation.
At times these pieces aren’t as much music as they are pure… listening, like a rabbit sits in the dew of a grassy early morning meadow and – listens!

“Fantasy for Violin with Piano Accompaniment” is a very late piece, from 1949. It is in fact Schönberg’s last instrumental composition. Andreas Seidel., who wrote the booklet text for this entry, says that this composition “numbers among the examples of the most complicated playing technique in the violin compositions of the second Viennese school”.
Contrary to most other Schönberg compositions this one features the violin, instead of having all instruments occupy an equal position in the sounding web. Schönberg also explicitly states that he composed the violin part ahead of the accompaniment, to make it stand out. Otherwise the composition is much in the vein of “Pierrot lunaire”, and Schönberg offers this picture: “Pierrot scratches away on his violin with a giant-size, grotesque bow”! (Sounds more like Malcolm Goldstein to me!)
Indeed, the jerky, sideway motion back and forth across the field of vision swings your hearing around, but with a certain pleasurable violence, simply grabbing you firmly by the arm, swinging you around, pointing: look here!
The Dabringhaus & Grimm sound is excellent, to say the least: clear, close, crisp, full – and you’re riding that “grotesque bow” like a seesaw, high up in the fresh air!

“Kaiserwalzer” is a playful reworking and arrangement of Joseph Strauß and one of his most famous waltzes. Schönberg and his Society for Private Musical Performances hosted a concert evening solely with arrangements of Strauß waltzes already in 1921, partly for the financial benefits of such occasions, partly because Schönberg in fact thought highly of Johann Strauß, as he believed that the composer’s “feelings […] actually [do] correspond to those of the average man on the street.”
The arrangements usually were made to correspond with the instrumentation of the society; in this case flute, clarinet, piano and string quartet.