(++++) BETWEEN THERE AND HERE

Ferdinand Ries: Piano Quartet in F Minor; Hummel: Piano Quartet in G; Schubert: Adagio and Rondo Concertante. Van Swieten Society (Heleen Hulst, violin; Elisabeth Smalt, viola; Mátyás Virág, cello; Bart van Oort, fortepiano). Brilliant Classics. $12.99. 

     Transitional figures get no respect, or at least not enough of it. Ferdinand Ries and Johann Nepomuk Hummel, well-known and popular in their lifetimes, quickly fell out of favor as the years went on and came to be remembered mostly for their associations with musical giants: Hummel with Mozart, Ries with Beethoven. Although it is certainly true that Ries and Hummel produced music with a strong Classical bent and only a modicum of Romanticism, this should not invalidate the value of their works, taken on their own terms: certainly not Classical, perhaps not Romantic, they deserve a label better than “transitional,” which makes it sound as if they do not quite fit into any particular era or musical classification. 

     Recordings such as the Van Swieten Society’s new Brilliant Classics release titled “Early Romantic Piano Quartets” may not do much to rehabilitate Ries and Hummel’s sense of not quite belonging to a specific time period, but they do a great deal to show just how fine these composers’ music is on its own terms and how unfair it is to neglect pieces such as these simply because they do not quite fit into specifically identified and generally accepted musical eras – which are, after all, defined more by consensus than by objectivity. 

     Interestingly, the excellence of these performances contains within itself a clue to the persistent neglect of much music of these composers: the Van Swieten Society plays on authentic period instruments (a 1771 violin, 1820 viola and c. 1700 cello, with Bart van Oort’s use of an 1825 fortepiano being especially noteworthy), and the result is a sound world that differs both from that of Baroque and Classical times and from the still-to-come, more-intense Romantic era. This CD offers an immersive audio experience that would largely be lost by hearing these quartets on modern instruments – and not one to which most of today’s performers, accustomed as they are to modern instruments, have ready access. So the performance characteristics of this music, in addition to the music itself, work against its ready acceptance. 

     Be all that as it may, the worthiness of these quartets is clear throughout this disc, and especially apparent in the longest work here, Ries’ Piano Quartet in F Minor. This is a serious and comparatively large-scale work from 1808 with an especially weighty first movement. It is distinguished by exceptionally well-balanced writing for all four instruments: the notion of chamber music as a kind of fellowship of performers is strong here, with Ries at pains to find ways to bring out the individual characteristics of each instrument while remaining focused on the ensemble as a unified whole throughout all three movements. The considerable heft of the first movement, which is longer than the other two together, is nicely balanced by a brief second movement that contains a Mozart piano-sonata quotation and by a finale that lightens the overall mood considerably while retaining an underlying feeling of spaciousness. 

     The two-movement Hummel Piano Quartet in G is quite differently conceived. Undated but apparently written at about the same time as Ries’ quartet or a few years later, Hummel’s keeps the piano in the forefront almost throughout: he was himself a pianist of considerable talent, well thought of especially for the clarity of his playing, and wrote this work for his own performances. The strings here are not so much subservient as they are placed in the role of tutti to the piano’s soloistic material: the quartet has something of the flavor of a small piano concerto. Its two-movement structure was common in Hummel’s time in what we now think of as salon works, and its effect is essentially that of a small-ensemble “concerto” designed for intimate performances – a fairly unusual approach by later standards and a further indicator of the extent to which Hummel and his always well-made music were very much of their specific time period and, as a result, have only recently been rediscovered so they can be enjoyed on their own terms. 

     The two-movement “salon” format is also one that Schubert uses in his Adagio and Rondo Concertante, a work that shows just how thin the line is between so-called transitional composers and ones such as Schubert who are labeled as Romantics. This Schubert piece dates to 1816, putting it in the same time period as the works by Ries and Hummel – although it is worth noting that Schubert was just 19 when he created it. This piece fits the “salon music” description better than does Hummel’s, since “salon” tends to point to lighter and less consequential works. Schubert’s is definitely light if never actually frothy, and resembles Hummel’s two-movement quartet in its piano emphasis: the concerto-like element is equally strong in both works, and Schubert actually includes tutti and solo designations within the quartet. Unlike Hummel, Schubert never wrote a full-fledged piano concerto – and also unlike Hummel, Schubert is regarded as a Romantic composer on the basis of his numerous expressive songs and the strong emotional elements of some of his symphonies and other instrumental works. What this performance – indeed, this entire recording – makes abundantly clear is that musical time periods are far less absolute than academia tends to indicate, and there is enough overlap among composers and compositions in “transitional” times so that we should be wary of neglecting well-made and convincing music just because it does not seem to fit neatly into a specific, ultimately arbitrary system of categorization.

(++++) ALL TOGETHER NOW

Beethoven: Complete String Quartets and Große Fuge. Calidore String Quartet (Jeffrey Myers and Ryan Meehan, violins; Jeremy Barry, viola; Estelle Choi, cello). Signum Classics. $79.99 (9 CDs). 

     It has taken a couple of years and listeners’ willingness to cope with a somewhat quixotic release schedule, but at last it is possible to obtain an integral set of the Beethoven string quartets with the Calidore String Quartet. And the wait has been more than worthwhile – although those who bought the individual releases of the late, middle and early quartets (produced in that order, hence “quixotic”) will not receive any bonuses from this nine-CD Signum Classics release and will therefore have no choice but to pass it along to someone who deserves a first-rate compilation of this music and does not yet have one. (All right, there is a choice: not to buy the complete set at all. But that seems churlish, especially since the price is a bargain compared with the $102 that the three separate releases cost when they initially appeared.) 

     This compilation, thankfully, presents the quartets in the usual early-middle-late sequence, making it easy to follow Beethoven’s progress from early to middle and late compositional periods – although, as often in Beethoven’s works, the numbering of specific pieces is not always straightforward: the six Op. 18 quartets, for example, were composed in the sequence 3, 1, 2, 5, 4, 6. But whether one chooses to listen to them in that order or in the 1-through-6 sequence given here, what becomes clear quickly is how meticulously the Calidore String Quartet shapes the early quartets, and how much sensitivity they show to the strong influences of Mozart and Haydn within the music. Although simple (if scarcely simplistic) by comparison with the middle and late quartets, the six early ones are packed with Beethovenian stylistic elements that coexist with the approaches that he inherited from other composers of the time. Thus, although No. 1 in F contains themes closely resembling ones used in a Haydn quartet and Mozart violin sonata, the performers here rightly focus on the emotional centrality of the slow movement (Adagio affettuoso ed appassionato, a revision by Beethoven of the original Adagio molto). No. 2 in G, the most Haydnesque of these quartets, is played with appropriate grace and a slight tinge of formality – although here too the Adagio cantabile slow movement (which, as with No. 1, is Beethoven’s replacement of an earlier version) has extra weight and is actually the work’s longest component. The earliest quartet, No. 3 in D, is gentle and lyrical throughout, its thematic elements clear and the individual instruments’ roles nicely highlighted. No. 4 in C minor is essentially monothematic and thus puts extra pressure on performers to highlight resemblances among movements as well as to differentiate the forms in which the basic theme reappears. The C minor key invites intensity and urgency, but at this stage of Beethoven’s development those need to be held somewhat in check, and the Calidore players recognize this: they keep the quartet within the overall boundaries of Haydn and Mozart, albeit intensified, and avoid the temptation to overplay or over-emotionalize the music even though they allow its frequently stormy character to come through clearly – resulting, ultimately, in a genuinely thrilling prestissimo coda in the finale. No. 5 in A is the strongest Mozart tribute in Beethoven’s early quartets: it is modeled on Mozart’s quartet K. 464 in the same key. Especially well-handled here is the Andante cantabile, a theme and variations that stands in for the slow movement. No. 6 in B-flat, which has a considerable minor-key feeling despite its home key being in the major, contains not only an Adagio non troppo slow movement but also an Adagio introduction to the La Malinconia finale – a movement that Beethoven insisted be played “with the greatest delicacy.” The Calidore Quartet obliges with a performance that remains sensitive throughout to contrasts of mood: certainly melancholy elements are present, but there is also a quick and light dancelike section, and the performers explore all the material with care, fine intonation, and a sure sense of style. 

     The stylistic sensitivity is equal in the performers’ handling of the middle quartets (the three of Op. 59 plus Opp. 74 and 95); but here the Calidore Quartet brings an extra element to the music through its tempo choices. Nuance and detail are apparent throughout the readings, but are offered within a framework that, more often than not, makes a strong effort to adhere to Beethoven’s suggested speeds – which many other performers consider too fast to allow the music the breadth that it increasingly needs in middle-period and later Beethoven. The Calidore players manage to show that tempo concerns are generally overblown, and indeed that Beethoven knew exactly what he was looking for when choosing speed indications. The opening Allegro of Op. 59, No. 1, and the concluding Allegro molto of Op. 59, No. 3, to cite two examples, are played at or close to Beethoven’s metronome indications, and the movements not only work well but also show just how revolutionary the “Razumovsky” quartets were in their time. In fact, at this pace and with this precision, the quartets have an impact that makes them, despite their familiarity nowadays, sound new again. 

     This is not to say that these performances are invariably on the fast side. They are not, even if they are often quicker than those of other ensembles. The third-movement Allegretto of Op. 59, No. 2, for example, is paced quickly but not overly so, and here the players do especially well in emphasizing the music’s attractive syncopations. And the Andante con moto quasi allegretto second movement of Op. 59, No. 3, although it moves a bit too quickly for a sense of dreaminess, is effective thanks to finely honed dynamic contrasts and excellently accented ensemble passages. 

     The slower movements of the middle quartets are attentively handled throughout, if perhaps not always quite as convincingly as the speedier ones. The Adagio molto e mesto of Op. 59, No. 1, and Molto adagio of Op. 59, No. 2, are suitably tender but not always emotionally deep, although the emotive first-violin climax in No. 1 glows with greater intensity than the earlier part of the movement. Interestingly, the Adagio ma non troppo second movement of Op. 74 (“Harp”) seems a bit too slow to sustain well – but it does, thanks to highly lyrical playing that does not overstep into too-Romantic excess. Then, in the notoriously difficult-to-fathom Op. 95 (“Serioso”), the outer movements are outstanding, packed with intense drive while still possessing occasional flickers of soon-extinguished cantabile material: this is a performance that fully highlights the emotional as well as technical complexity of the work. The middle movements, however, are not quite as convincing: the peculiarly marked third movement, Allegro assai vivace, ma serioso, is actually a bit on the slow side, rendering its mixture of forms (a kind of march/dance) less apparent. Still, the technical skill of the Calidore String Quartet and its members’ attentiveness to Beethoven’s intentions and frequent mood changes mean that, as a whole, the handling of the middle quartets is as successful as is that of the earlier ones. 

     The late quartets shine, too. This is very difficult music both to understand and to play, but these performers have clearly thought about it with great care. Their doing so leads them to an unusual approach to the Op. 130 quartet (No. 13): instead of performing the piece as it is usually heard and appending the Grosse Fuge (Op. 133) afterwards, this recording uses the Grosse Fuge itself as the final movement of the quartet – as Beethoven originally intended – and appends the replacement finale that he created after being convinced that the Grosse Fuge was just too much for performers and audiences to handle as a quartet conclusion. Few performers present Op. 130 this way, and whether it “works” for listeners will be a matter of taste and opinion. On the one hand, it can certainly be argued that the Grosse Fuge is in fact more than the music can really handle. On the other hand, the performance of the Grosse Fuge here is a highlight of the entire Calidore cycle: it is played with tremendous precision, and its lines come across so clearly that its structural complexity seems both perfectly apt and absolutely necessary to make its musical points. But if this excellent rendition does not settle the no doubt impossible-to-settle argument over whether the Grosse Fuge works better on its own or as the capstone for Op. 130, it is worth noting that the Cavatina in Op. 130, as gorgeous a movement as Beethoven ever wrote, is in its own way as effective and emotionally enthralling here as is the Grosse Fuge. 

     In the rest of the late quartets, the most-engaging elements are generally in the variation-based slow movements, whose lyricism flows forth abundantly and always with admirable attentiveness from the performers that translates into deep involvement for listeners. A few of the faster movements, on the other hand, can be nitpicked, including one within Op. 130 itself: the fourth movement, just before the Cavatina, sounds a bit too heavy and perhaps even a little hesitant. Elsewhere, there is a touch too much speed, notably in the middle of the Scherzando vivace of Op. 127. And there is a very occasional veer toward the flaccid, if not quite the ponderous, as in the Alla marcia of Op. 132, which is a little mannered. But these are nitpicks and not criticisms of the performers’ always-well-thought-out approach to the late quartets and, indeed, to this entire cycle. The Calidore thoughtfulness, the sheer technical prowess of each performer, and the group’s remarkably meticulous ensemble playing make this quartet cycle a joy to hear and to revisit again and again. It is by any standards a top-notch set of readings of some of the most important string quartets ever written. And it is a set that, again and again, proves just how engaging, even enthralling, this music can be when presented by players whose understanding of and emotional connection with Beethoven’s quartets is as deep as their playing is skilled.

(++++) UNEXPECTED EXPRESSIVENESS

Schumann: Dichterliebe; Brahms: Cello Sonata No. 1; Schubert: An die Musik. Frank Morelli, bassoon; Wei-Yi Yang, piano. Musica Solis. $25. 

Wynton Marsalis: Meeelaan for bassoon and string quartet; Jeff Scott: Elegy for Innocence; Lori Laitman: I Never Saw Another Butterfly (version for voice and bassoon); Dominick Argento: Man with a Paint Box Aria from "Postcard from Morocco”; Nirmali Fenn: Prayer. Frank Morelli, bassoon; Wei-Yi Yang, piano; Janna Baty, mezzo-soprano; Callisto Quartet. Musica Solis. $25. 

     Vivaldi’s three dozen bassoon concertos were collectively the first works to show just how virtuosic and expressive this wind instrument could be – and they turned out to be a high point for bassoons and bassoonists, because after Vivaldi’s time there were very slim pickings for an instrument that soon found itself being used more for touches of humor than for anything substantively emotional. Certainly there were exceptions – Mozart’s, Hummel’s and Weber’s concertos come immediately to mind – but by and large, the bassoon got somewhat short shrift as a melodically elegant and multifaceted solo instrument over the years. That makes sensitive, thoughtful bassoon performances all the more welcome, and the ones by Frank Morelli on two Musica Solis CDs certainly qualify. The bassoon’s singing qualities are especially evident on the first disc, featuring bassoon arrangements of vocal works by Schubert and Schumann. Schubert’s brief An die Musik gets a beautifully sensitive handling that showcases the ways in which the bassoon can complement, if not quite duplicate, the human voice – a characteristic more often heard in the clarinet but shown by Morelli to apply equally well, if differently, to his instrument. Much more extended is Morelli’s arrangement of the entirety of Schumann’s Dichterliebe, and here the varying capabilities of the bassoon are fully explored. The loving nature of the first seven songs is thoroughly demonstrated, with very clear contrasts between, for example, the miniscule Die Rose, die Lille, die Taube, die Sonne and the following Wenn ich in deine Augen seh’. The character of Schumann’s music changes with the intense Ich grolle nicht, and the more-plaintive songs that follow bring out the poet’s and singer’s anger, grief and disappointment – all of which Morelli, ably abetted by Wei-Yi Yang, finds a way to filter through the bassoon-and-piano combination. Hör ich das Liedchen klingen is especially affecting as heard here. The final five songs become wistful and sad in ways that differentiate them from the earlier ones, and here too Morelli and Yang find ways to bring the emotions of the material to the fore even without the Heinrich Heine words that Schumann set so masterfully. The final two, comparatively upbeat-sounding songs allow the bassoon to brighten matters a bit without implying any less sensitivity to the loss of love – an expression inherently different from that of the voice but equally heartfelt. After the two presentations of vocal works, Morelli turns to Brahms’ Cello Sonata No. 1, and here his arrangement is as interesting in its way as is Brahms’ own arrangement for viola and piano of his Clarinet Sonatas, Op. 120. What this means is that while the bassoon certainly does not sound like the cello, its range is such that Brahms’ writing for cello lies quite naturally on the wind instrument almost throughout – except, obviously, for double stops, and occasionally when a change of register is needed. The breadth and warmth of Brahms would not seem especially well-suited to the bassoon, but Morelli’s highly accomplished playing demonstrates throughout this half-hour-plus work that the bassoon is fully capable of exploring the same emotional landscape that Brahms limns so thoroughly for the cello – an instrument that seems far more in tune with Brahms’ worldview and the “Brahms sound.” What Morelli does here is quite special: he shows that the bassoon is every bit as worthy for the expression of deeply felt thoughts and emotions as instruments, such as the cello, that are much more often deemed to offer a wide range of thinking and feeling alike. No one is likely to prefer the bassoon version of this Brahms sonata to the cello-and-piano original, but the fact that Morelli uses this work to demonstrate the bassoon’s capabilities so effectively is quite an accomplishment. 

     Morelli’s playing is every bit as impressive on a disc offering contemporary, much more personal music, some composed for him – and if this recording is ultimately a (+++) disc, that is because the works themselves are less inherently attractive than those on the Schubert/Schumann/Brahms recording. That being said, there are certainly many interesting elements here, if not necessarily emotionally gripping ones. Wynton Marsalis’ Meeelaan for bassoon and string quartet (the title reflecting the way Marsalis liked to greet bassoonist Milan Turkovic) not only combines the instruments in intriguing ways but also features rapid changes of pace, emotion and expressiveness throughout – all of which Morelli and the Callisto Quartet execute with élan and apparent ease. Jeff Scott’s Elegy for Innocence opens with simple warmth in the piano, sounding like a berceuse, then eventually goes through its own emotive differences, particularly in a darker central section that eventually gives way to a faster, brighter, more-optimistic conclusion. Lori Laitman’s six-song cycle I Never Saw Another Butterfly is feelingly presented by Janna Baty in a version for soprano and bassoon, but here the combination feels somewhat forced no matter how elegantly Morelli backs up the mezzo-soprano voice. The issue is more in the rather conventional and not altogether convincing settings of the poetry than in the actual performance: the texts come from poems written by imprisoned children at the Nazis’ Terezin concentration camp, but the maturity of the vocalizing and the range required to deliver the words seem like a veneer of sophistication that does not fit the material particularly well. Certainly Morelli, for whom this version of the work (originally for solo voice and alto saxophone) was composed, approaches the material with engagement and involvement; but the piece as a whole, however well-meaning, does not sustain particularly well. Dominick Argento’s Man with a Paint Box Aria from "Postcard from Morocco” is, like the Schubert and Schumann transcriptions that Morelli plays, a vocal work – in this case an opera aria – heard in a bassoon arrangement. This is not a very effective transcription, however: Yang’s pianism carries more weight and greater lyricism than does Morelli’s bassoon playing, and there is throughout the work a feeling that Argento is trying a bit too hard to evoke emotions and, as a result, matters seem more forced than heartfelt. The case is quite different with Nirmali Fenn’s Prayer, written for Morelli. Here the bassoon is supposed to imitate the sound of the oboe-like duduk, an Armenian instrument, and as a result the aural world of this work is substantively different from that of the others on this CD. The piece is not, however, particularly evocative of prayer as the audience may expect to understand the term: it is intended to evoke the Muslim call to prayer rather than being a prayer in and of itself. The sounds that Fenn calls for and Morelli delivers are intellectually intriguing, and Morelli’s ability to clothe his instrument in the garments of a different one certainly speaks to his sheer skill in performance. However, Fenn’s piece itself – in which the piano repeatedly puts in appearances that seem more intrusive than collaborative – does not remain engaging throughout its 10-minute duration. Like most of the other music here, it abundantly showcases Morelli’s passionate attachment to the bassoon and his ability to communicate through the instrument in multiple ways and forms. But it is hard to imagine most listeners returning repeatedly to this disc for any sort of listening pleasure or involvement. The CD bears the title “From the Soul,” but the sense here is more of a demonstration project than of the expression of a deeply meaningful connection to a broad audience.

(+++) NOW VS. THEN

Strauss: Waldmeister. Andreja Zidaric, Sophia Keiler, and Riccarda Schönerstedt, sopranos; Regina Schörg and Anna-Katharina Tonauer, mezzo-sopranos; Matteo Ivan Rašić, Daniel Prohaska, and Caspar Krieger, tenors; Robert Meyer, Daniel Gutmann, and Alexander Paul Findewirth, baritones; Chorus of the Staatstheater am Gärtnerplatz and Orchestra of the Staatstheater am Gärtnerplatz conducted by Michael Brandstätter. CPO. $18.99. 

     What a well-performed mess. Not content with the opportunity to offer some of the rare modern-day performances of Johann Strauss Jr.’s penultimate operetta, Waldmeister, the management of the Staatstheater am Gärtnerplatz decided that this very tuneful but dramatically flawed work would be improved by changing its plot, rewriting its lyrics, altering its characters, making its premise into something different, and redoing its settings. What this new version by Josef E. Köpplinger ends up proving is that modern librettists can do just as poor a job of producing a coherent dramatic scenario for Waldmeister as original libretto creator Gustav Davis did. 

     Given the paucity of recordings of most of Strauss’ other theatrical works, the existence of this second recording of Waldmeister – the first, led by Dario Salvi, appeared five years ago – should probably be celebrated. And given the generally pleasant sound of all the principals’ voices and the bouncily upbeat chorus and orchestra led by Michael Brandstätter, it is hard not to like this CPO release despite its many underlying flaws. But there are so many of those that it is impossible not to regard the whole enterprise as a missed opportunity that quickly derails for anyone who did not happen to be in Vienna in April 2025, when the performances from which this live recording were made occurred. 

     That provenance is really the heart of what works and what does not work here. Waldmeister is a kind of Black Forest idyll, complete with prominent hunting horns, grafted onto a comedy of manners. Strauss himself, when evaluating the work after deciding that his early enthusiasm for the libretto had been misplaced, made clear where his interest lay: “Diese Dialekt-rolle ist der ganze Zauber dieser höchst mageren Handlung. Nehmen wir diese weg, so ist die ganze Geschichte des Waldmeisters nichts werth.” That is, “This dialect role is the whole magic of this very thin plot. If we take it out, then the entire story of the Waldmeister is worth nothing.” Strauss was referring to the Saxon dialect of a professor of botany named Erasmus Friedrich Müller – whose name means “miller” and whose manner of speaking and repeated confusion with an actual miller are supposed to provide a considerable amount of the operetta’s fun. But in today’s offend-nobody theatrical environment, the entire dialect role was eliminated for this production, and that in turn led to a cascade of decisions involving relocating the action, altering the spoken and sung words, switching character backgrounds and motivations, and much more. This turned Waldmeister, which was already a thematic mishmash, into a much bigger one – but the idea was that the audience attending the 2025 performances in Vienna would be offended, even horrified, perhaps even bored (which might be worse), if the original approach of Davis and Strauss had been honored. 

     Given the fact that CPO offers only some of the music and none of the dialogue of Waldmeister, the full extent of the emendations is not entirely clear, which may be just as well. Fluency in German is an absolute necessity for understanding what is being sung here, since no texts are provided and there is no link to an online Waldmeister libretto – and even if there were, it would have to be to the Köpplinger version, not the original, to allow listeners to follow along. 

     It is worth noting that Davis, coauthor of the libretto for Jabuka, the previous Strauss operetta, tried to make Waldmeister theatrically attractive by including elements of Strauss’ best stage work, Die Fledermaus, that had made it so successful: mistaken identity, an alcohol-fueled party and, yes, an important character speaking in not-always-perfect dialect (Prince Orlofsky in the earlier operetta). But Davis, like far too many librettists, over-complicated matters, creating a work whose many themes include the supposed discovery of a new form of Waldmeister (the plant known as woodruff in English), the overly strict morals of rural districts and their rulers, and the importance of brand-new technology such as photography (used here more extensively than W.S. Gilbert used the telephone in HMS Pinafore). The relocated and updated version of Waldmeister misses the point of nearly all of this. 

     However, it is important to recognize that Strauss here continued to take much the same approach that he had used since his first completed operetta, Indigo und die vierzig Räuber, in 1871: he strung together a slew of wonderful dance tunes (mostly waltzes in Waldmeister) and let them carry the plot along to the extent possible. As a result, even with the rewritten (and in several cases significantly truncated) arias heard in this recording, even with the 21^st-century dislocation of dialogue and character development for the sake of political correctness, the music itself is simply wonderful to hear, and that will be sufficient reason for Strauss lovers to celebrate this release despite its many manifest flaws. In fairness, though, it should be pointed out that, as with his other operettas, Strauss extracted music from Waldmeister for concert presentation: his works Opp. 463-468 all come from this operetta. And while the stage context does represent their original reason for being, the pieces generally seem paler in the theatrical venue than they do when heard independently of their origin. So Strauss lovers may be just as happy – maybe even happier – to listen to the concert-hall versions of waltz, polka and march music from Waldmeister as they will be to hear the music as presented by the Staatstheater am Gärtnerplatz forces.