Word: iches
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Songs at Sunset (Virgil Fox; Capitol) features a great virtuoso and a great instrument (the 10,000-pipe organ at Manhattan's Riverside Church) pitted against the banalities of such music as Ich Liebe Dich and The Lost Chord...
...Bedeckt mich mis Bluemen, were projected with mastery; no less remarkable--for Schwarzkopf dearly loves a song in which she can be girlish and winning--was the sly humor of In dem Schatten meiner Locken ("In the shadow of my tresses, my lover fell asleep"), where the phrase "Weck'ich ihn nun auf? Ach nein!" ("Shall I wake him? Ah no"), repeated three times, was first coy, then a bit reproachful, and finally just the merest sigh of content. The Wolf group was lengthened by two encores, which Miss Schwarzkopf announced and (bless her!) translated: an exultant Ich...
...fairly typical. There is good beer, a band and, if you know the language and follow some local customs, it can be a lot of fun. Most important to remember: if you want to dance with a girl, go over to her table and use the formula "Darf ich bitten?" Then, do not ask her name (this is very rude), but, after two or three dances politely inquire "Darf ich 'du' sagan?", to which, if you've been at all cool about it, she will smile and answer "Du kannst mich aber Ilse nennen...
...Ich Will Willy!" To forestall such a drastic possibility, backers of the C.D.U. redoubled their efforts and their contributions. But Brandt was hitting the hustings hard; he had covered 13,000 miles, made 503 speeches in whistle-stop tours through West Germany. Last week he was darting out from West Berlin on quickie one-day junkets to Hanau, Offenbach and Hamm, where audiences shouted, "Ich will Willy! [I want Willy]," the kind of cry his election experts learned how to drum up while following the Kennedy and Nixon campaign trails across the U.S. last fall...
...when a moving passage did come, it was intoxicating. Most memorable of all were the closing bars of Ich bin der Welt abhaden gekommen where Miss Forrester leapt a tenth with suppressed intensity, then faded out as a typically Mahlerian falling cello line, blending with the oboe high above, came to rest in a hushed cadence. Blicke mir nicht in die Lieder! was most consistently well performed here with precision and urgency; on the other hand, Um Mitternacht did not find even Miss Forrester compellingly moving until its dramatic ending. In any case, the results well justified their ambitiousness. Hats...