Receiving its premiere recording here, Sigmund Staden’s Seelewig, composed in 1644, is the earliest extant German opera. It’s basically a morality tale about heroine nymph Seelewig (soprano Monika Mauch) and her ambivalent choice between spiritual deliverance and worldly pleasure (no surprise–Seelewig ultimately opts for the former). Though the matron Gwissulda (mezzo-soprano Franziska Gottwald) and her shepherdess Hertzigilt (soprano Heidrun Luchterhandt) intervene on behalf of conscience and reason at decisive points, the rest of the cast either directly plots Seelewig’s downfall or conspires in it.
Satyr Trugewalt (bass Ulrich Maier) lacks no subtlety expressing his lust, and his henchmen shepherds Ehrelob (tenor Hans Jörg Mammel), Kunsteling (tenor Sebastian Hübner), and Reichimuth (baritone Armin Gottstein) gladly agree to aid in Seelewig’s seduction. Even Seelewig’s trusted companion Sinnigunda (soprano Ute Kreidler) turns out to be her Iago, becoming a foil leading her into Trugewalt’s many traps.
Though Staden designated Seelewig to be “in the Italian manner”, his music stylistically owes more to the German Lieder and Singspiel tradition (though without spoken dialog). While lacking typically Italian vocal risk-taking and flamboyance, there are many memorable scenes that afford the characters ample expressive opportunity. Seelewig’s opening lament “Mein hoher Adel Stand…” (My high noble standing…), Trugewalt’s fiendish “Sol das mich nicht recht betrüben” (Shouldn’t it make me quite sad), as well as Mauch’s devastating repetitive “Ach, Ach Weh, Ach Weh!” in Seelewig’s “Düstere Wolken, düstere Wolken” (Gloomy clouds, gloomy clouds) are particularly powerful. It’s in the recitatives and ensembles, though, where Staden and librettist Georg Philippe Harsdörpher create most of the action. Seelewig and Sinnigunda’s echo sequence “Was kann unsren Sinn betrüben?” (What can sadden our mind?) and Trugewalt (disguising his voice in falsetto!) and Seelewig’s final-act argument “Wer kann denn trösten mich?” (Who can console me?) are among the many inspired examples.
Staden’s clever use of instrumental effects to heighten arias equally fascinates. For instance, a brief solo by a rarely heard “crude” horn (a squawking device fashioned from an animal tusk that was used primarily by whalers) precedes Trugewalt’s aforementioned solo aria, setting a perfect sinister tone. Likewise Staden’s “Gewittermusik” (Storm Music) interlude provides a fitting overture before Seelewig’s “Düstere Wolken” breakdown. This deceptive little chiccona begins innocently enough with light strings and fluttering recorders, then gradually unravels within a morass of bassanelli and dulcian counterpoint, additional unbridled string runs, and bizarre reed and percussive effects before a finale of wayward violin dissonance.
CPO’s sound is great, with plenty of presence and detail. Director Klaus Winkler’s notes are remarkably thorough and often highly entertaining. Though hardly essential, Seelewig is terrific fun, and Winkler & Co. are to be commended for bringing it so vividly to life.
