Exploring, preserving, and commemorating through music and memory—Martin Fischer-Dieskau and the Harbin Symphony Orchestra Memorial Concert

On 9 May 2025, the concert “Melodies of the Masters: Tribute to Furtwängler II – In Commemoration of Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau’s Centennial” was held at the Harbin Concert Hall. Conducted by Martin Fischer-Dieskau, son of the legendary baritone Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, the Harbin Symphony Orchestra joined forces with bass-baritone Sihao Hu to present a programme of vocal and orchestral works by Wagner and Schumann.

“In contrast to the more common practice of commemorating composers, we chose to honour interpreters of music – something still rare on the global stage. Furtwängler never defined himself as a conductor, just as my father, Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, never defined himself simply as a singer, despite their dazzling achievements in these respective fields. Before one becomes a conductor or a singer, one must first be a musician – someone who seeks out and conveys the deeper meaning behind the music. As Furtwängler said, conducting should emerge from development (Entwicklung), not decision (Entscheidung). Only those who are fully developed musicians can become great conductors – a principle so often inverted today.” These were the words Martin Fischer-Dieskau offered on the philosophical grounding of this concert.

This marked his return to Harbin following last November’s performance commemorating the 70th anniversary of Furtwängler’s death. It also continued his consistent artistic approach: interpreting music “in the manner of Furtwängler,” and embodying the tradition of the German Kapellmeister. Notably, he conducted the entire programme from memory – a rare feat among Chinese orchestras – which brought a heightened intensity and artistic concentration to the performance. His complete reliance on memory and physical expression fostered a mode of interpretive dialogue that opened new dimensions of possibility for the orchestra and the music itself. As a scholarly and rigorous conductor, Fischer-Dieskau invoked one of Furtwängler’s metaphors to explain his artistic choice: “You cannot play Hamlet while reading the script – you must become Hamlet.” For him, symphonic music is no different from drama: the conductor must become the music itself. Conducting from memory thus entails a deeper engagement with the score, and when the conductor is truly immersed, the orchestra is elevated in kind.

Martin Fischer-Dieskau’s conducting style is primarily one of guidance rather than display. As he himself has noted, the conductor’s physical gestures are not inherently important – what matters is whether those movements elicit meaningful musical expression. The emphasis, he insists, should be on listening in the concert hall, not watching. This principle is itself part of the legacy he inherits from Wilhelm Furtwängler.

The concert opened with the grandiose Prelude to Wagner’s Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg, and under Fischer-Dieskau’s baton, the Harbin Symphony Orchestra delivered a performance marked by precision and solemnity. Furtwängler was known for imbuing this very work with remarkable clarity and a strikingly “un-German” transparency. Fischer-Dieskau’s interpretation approached this ideal with near perfection.

Both the score and orchestral parts for the Meistersinger Prelude and Schumann’s Symphony No. 4 in D minor, which comprised the second half of the program, were drawn from Fischer-Dieskau’s personal library. More than a month prior to the performance, he meticulously annotated the score, incorporating dynamic and tempo adjustments found in Furtwängler’s historical recordings. Having studied those recordings in depth, he also tested and refined bowings himself on violin and viola, while his wife, a cellist, provided technical insight for the cello and double bass parts.

Fischer-Dieskau’s interpretation bore unmistakable traces of Furtwängler’s influence. For instance, in bars 67–71 of the Meistersinger Prelude – the transitional passage between the main and secondary themes – the trumpet emerges with a brilliant, fortissimo declamation that cuts through the orchestral fabric. Its reprise near the conclusion drives the music toward its final climax in a manner that precisely echoes Furtwängler’s legendary 1943 Bayreuth Festival performance. These gestures, which brought audible astonishment from the audience, served not only as homage to a master but as an act of living continuation.

Wagner, too, served as a vital link between Furtwängler and Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau. The latter performed key Wagnerian roles under Furtwängler’s baton, including Kurwenal in the 1952 recording of Tristan und Isolde with the Philharmonia Orchestra, and Wolfram in Tannhäuser at the Bayreuth Festival in 1954, the year of Furtwängler’s death.

The first half of the programme continued with three compact selections from Acts I, II, and III of Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg, chosen to highlight the psychological duality of the character Hans Sachs – his collapse and recovery of reason. Hans Sachs was one of the defining roles in Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau’s late career. Although his voice was not conventionally considered a “Sachs voice,” this never prevented him from delivering what has come to be regarded as a definitive interpretation. In this concert, bass-baritone Sihao Hu, making his Wagnerian stage debut, faced a similar challenge. Yet with his uniquely resonant voice, refined musicianship, and near-perfect German diction and textual delivery, he fully captivated the audience.

Hu’s tone is rich, solid, and resonant, able to project effortlessly even through full orchestral tutti. In “Wie duftet doch der Flieder” (“How fragrant the lilac”), his voice soared through the gossamer textures of the orchestra under Fischer-Dieskau’s direction, interweaving seamlessly with the lyricism of the woodwinds. In contrast to Wagner’s typically more epic and monumental writing, this aria is inward and reflective, and Hu’s interpretation radiated introspection and heartfelt emotion. The following excerpt, “Wahn! Wahn! Überall Wahn!” (“Madness! Madness! Everywhere madness!”), emerged atop the orchestra’s stark and glacial sonorities, serving both as a culmination of Sachs’s dramatic arc and a musical embodiment of Wagner’s philosophical worldview. Hu’s performance was marked by expressive nuance and emotional range. His voice intertwined with the orchestra in moments of lyrical fusion, and at times, he projected with such force and conviction that he held his own even against the brass section. Under Fischer-Dieskau’s baton, this collaboration achieved a performance that was charged with intensity yet grounded in depth.

The following selection, “O du mein holder Abendstern” (“O, thou my fair evening star”) from Tannhäuser, unfolded in a tranquil interplay of flute and harp. Between this aria and the preceding monologue from Meistersinger, which differ greatly in emotional tone, Sihao Hu effected a swift and seamless transition, revealing a tender rationality within the character’s emotion. The cello section’s warm and sonorous tone subtly merged with Hu’s vocal line, serving as an organic extension of his voice. As the aria came to a close, Hu slowly stepped down from the stage, as if lost in reverie, accompanied by the orchestra’s gentle and contemplative diminuendo.

As the final notes of the Abendstern aria faded into stillness, the Prelude to Act I of Lohengrin emerged out of that same silence. A pinnacle of Romantic expression, the piece ascends from ethereal whispers to a majestic climax before receding once more into quietude. Under Fischer-Dieskau’s baton, the Harbin Symphony Orchestra rendered it with immense expressive tension and a powerful sense of suspension – the latter most vividly realised in the radiant colours of the brass. For this work, Fischer-Dieskau once again employed his original bowing design and, during rehearsals, instructed the musicians in Furtwängler’s “inner counting” method. Each player was required to internally subdivide every quarter note into four sixteenth notes, counting silently to achieve Furtwängler’s monumental slow tempo with structural clarity. This approach enabled the orchestra to conjure a breathtaking sonic spectacle in the opening and to unleash a thunderous and deeply moving forte in the middle section.

“Imagine this,” said Martin Fischer-Dieskau, reflecting on Hu’s interpretation of one of Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau’s signature roles: “When a legendary actor’s performance is reimagined by a contemporary filmmaker, the audience experiences a layered portrayal – ‘Actor A playing Actor X.’ This kind of artistic inheritance is just as fascinating in music.” The breakdown of the opera’s unity and continuity by the selection of excerpts necessitated the rewriting of the introductions and codas of these excerpts in concert performance. Several of these in this programme were in fact composed or arranged by Fischer-Dieskau himself. In conducting while Hu embodied Dietrich’s iconic roles, Martin enabled the audience to perceive a dialogue between two great musical minds – one past, one present – through the artistry of a contemporary performer. This “performance within a performance” breathed new and distinctive vitality into the classical tradition.

The second half of the concert featured the centrepiece of the evening: Robert Schumann’s Symphony No. 4 in D minor. This work forms a crucial link within the broader thematic framework of the “Melodies of the Masters: Tribute to Furtwängler” concert series, initiated by Martin Fischer-Dieskau. It also connects directly to the lineage of composers whose legacies are central to the series. Schumann, after discovering the manuscript of Schubert’s Great C Major Symphony in a cellar, famously described it as leaving upon him “an impression of such strength as had not been felt since Beethoven.” That encounter proved transformative, prompting Schumann to embark on his own symphonic journey. The Fourth Symphony in D minor, performed on this occasion, stands as the crowning achievement of that journey.

Such lines of influence and connection were equally vital to Furtwängler. He believed that Schumann’s Fourth could only be fully legitimised and understood through Schubert’s Great C Major, and it was through Furtwängler’s visionary interpretations that both works came to occupy a place in the pantheon of musical heritage. To Furtwängler, Schumann’s symphony exemplified his concept of “large-breathing arcs,” a notion that treated the four movements not as discrete entities, but as emanations of a single unified “fantasy.” Accordingly, he regarded the work not as an epic narrative in the traditional sense, but as pure drama – and for this reason, chose to conduct it from memory.

Schumann’s music is steeped in fantasy, and this poetic imagination shaped his entire symphonic outlook. Fischer-Dieskau and the Harbin Symphony Orchestra captured this quality in an opening of hazy, dreamlike beauty, an atmosphere that was sustained throughout the entire performance.

The question of orchestration in Schumann’s symphonies has long been a subject of debate, leading to revisions and reorchestrations (Retuschen) by later conductors such as Gustav Mahler and George Szell. Furtwängler was no exception. For this performance, Martin Fischer-Dieskau approached the work with rigorous scholarly discipline, undertaking a comprehensive study of the Schumann score used by Furtwängler over many years. He closely examined and compared Furtwängler’s studio recording with the Berlin Philharmonic (14 May 1953) and his live performance at the Lucerne Festival (26 August 1953). The interpretation presented in Harbin reflected this in-depth research, aiming to embody Furtwängler’s generative aesthetic through its treatment of tempo transitions, phrase shaping, and tonal architecture. The goal was to reconstruct, as faithfully as possible, Furtwängler’s interpretive framework – what Fischer-Dieskau describes as a structure of “breath–interiority–destiny.”

The first movement began with a significant orchestration adjustment: the extensive oboe lines were omitted, reducing the often overly dense woodwind textures in Schumann’s original scoring. A similar approach was taken in the crucial bars 30–34, where the principal theme was entrusted solely to the flute, with the oboe counterline removed. This yielded a more refined and lyrical presentation of the theme, with the oboe re-entering in bar 35 to enrich the horizontal progression of the musical texture. The use of timpani to bolster dynamic weight in various passages mirrored similar orchestral revisions seen in last November’s performance of Schubert on the same stage, further deepening the audience’s appreciation of Furtwängler’s musical aesthetics.

The tempo of the entire movement was on the slower side, and under Fischer-Dieskau’s baton, the music continued the sense of suspension that characterised the first half of the concert. It was precisely this restraint that brought a heightened sense of fantasy to the movement. Fischer-Dieskau’s carefully timed accelerandi – especially in transitional and intensifying sections – sharpened the movement’s dramatic tension and emotional contrasts.

The second movement opened with an orchestration adjustment akin to that of the first: a lighter introduction centred on oboe and cello. The movement featured numerous finely wrought dynamic nuances, notably frequent use of pianissimo and diminuendo, with a typical example being bar 12, where the original mezzo-forte was marked down to piano. Fischer-Dieskau’s deep insight into the music and his imaginative realisation of these markings gave this movement a fluid and delicate unfolding, which in turn set up a striking contrast with the ensuing scherzo. Particularly noteworthy was concertmaster Shuaishuai Lin, whose poised and radiant tone brought out the full lyrical and Romantic character of Schumann’s extended triplet-laden solo, drawing the audience’s full attention.

The following third movement scherzo revealed another facet of Schumann’s personality, one that stood in stark contrast to the lyricism of the second movement. This contrast was masterfully handled by Fischer-Dieskau, who maintained poetic sensitivity even in the brisker sections. At the same time, he preserved Furtwängler’s principle of “large-breathing arcs,” ensuring that the movement’s inherent dance-like nature remained structurally coherent. This careful balance avoided any jarring effect between the vigorous opening and the warmly songful trio, resulting in a scherzo that was both dramatic and organically shaped.

Both Furtwängler and Fischer-Dieskau recognised the crucial role of the trombones in Schumann’s orchestral writing. In discussing this work, Fischer-Dieskau specifically emphasised Schumann’s inheritance of Schubert’s use of trombone timbre as a conceptual force. This is particularly evident in the climactic ending of the first movement. Just as Schubert employed trombones to infuse his music with epic grandeur, Schumann drew on the same sonority to evoke a sense of solemnity and sacred intensity. Under Fischer-Dieskau’s direction, the trombone section of the Harbin Symphony Orchestra powerfully realised this aesthetic – robust, resonant, and steeped in the interpretive lineage once carried forward by Furtwängler himself.

In the final movement, Fischer-Dieskau implemented a host of dynamic refinements: numerous instances of crescendo were introduced, and sudden forte passages were reshaped into crescendi. These were accompanied by tempo shifts that bordered on the frenetic at times. In the coda, a near-manic acceleration served not merely as a climactic flourish but as a conscious act of retrospection, homage, and transmission, bringing Furtwängler’s interpretive ethos vividly to life through Fischer-Dieskau’s own performance.

The Harbin Symphony Orchestra, rooted in China’s still-young orchestral tradition, includes musicians who, like many in emerging musical cultures, have often been conditioned to view performance more as a livelihood than as an artistic mission or individual declaration. This mindset can easily give rise to a certain indifference. Yet the concert on May 9 was a powerful exception. The works of Wagner and Schumann ignited a rare fire in both the ensemble and audience. Through his artistic practice, Martin Fischer-Dieskau dispelled the shadows of indifference, proving, as echoed in Toscanini’s era, that while “fear” might once have been a means to draw out orchestral potential, indifference, in interpretative art, is always a false premise.