[Note] Mari Moriya & Keigo Mukawa: Hindemith's 'Das Marienleben' and more (5/26 Oji Hall)

It was a concert that left a powerful impression.

First, the impact of the work itself. Rilke described the life of the Virgin Mary from birth to death as a beautiful story in poetry, and Hindemith crafted it into a song cycle of astonishing depth—.
How fortunate it was to experience this in such a glamorous and highly accomplished live performance.

Although the song cycle 'Das Marienleben' is known through the recording by Glenn Gould (with soprano Roxolana Roslak, 1976–77), it might be like a small bone stuck in the throat for many of Gould's fans.
Incidentally, Gould's recording is based on the 1922/23 first edition, while this concert featured the 1948 version, which the composer had further refined.

Mari Moriya's singing and Keigo Mukawa's piano showed a wonderful harmony, even though in most situations they were dealing with distant relationships between notes.
The piano was highly substantial, far beyond the realm of mere accompaniment.
How beautifully the distant, autonomous sounds of the voice and piano resonated with each other, creating an atmosphere of solitary excellence.
I believe this was a performance that could only be achieved by a true musician and vocalist capable of existing with the piano through a truly beautiful sense of harmony, far beyond the dimensions of mere absolute pitch or correct intonation.

Honestly, there are times, especially with contemporary works, when I encounter singing where I cannot quite tell what notes are being sung or intended, but there was absolutely no such moment in Mari Moriya's singing.
The musical focus of her voice was perfectly aligned, as if through a perfect lens, and the beauty of her restrained soft notes was extraordinary.

Keigo Mukawa's piano conveyed the contrapuntal interest written by Hindemith in a dramatic and eloquent manner.
There were often long solo piano sections, and in a sense, this might have been an even more compelling listen than a solo recital.

In some pieces, I thought it was just like a religious painting by Rouault. Even though these are scenes like apocrypha not written in the Bible, they possess the tone of an old story that conveys the heart of faith directly, simply, and without embellishment.

Come to think of it, the dress Mari Moriya wore was an ornamental, ancient-style red and gold, and it was as beautiful as could be for singing a sacred story.
Thanks to the costume, which looked as if it had stepped out of a Symbolist painting by Moreau, I was helped so much in entering the world of Hindemith's music and Rilke's poetry.

In the second half, I enjoyed Messiaen's song cycle 'Poèmes pour Mi' (1938), which had a richer, more colorful, and even more gorgeous sound compared to Hindemith.
Mari Moriya's singing here was not just about transcendental technique; it held a sensual joy of singing and a supreme sense of happiness, and I felt dazzled by its radiance.
Of course, there must have been unimaginable training to realize such singing, but she showed no sign of it at all, did not even have water on stage, and continued to sing even more glamorously throughout the long performance without showing the slightest shadow of vocal fatigue. Only music breathed there.
In the encore, Ravel's 'Vocalise-étude en forme de habanera,' the lingering resonance of the curves drawn by Moriya's voice, floating like a rainbow over Mukawa's piano—who excels at this composer—still remains in my ears.