I've been thinking of Fischer-Dieskau a lot over the weekend, so I might have to bore you by writing about him. It's amazing how an artist can become meshed into your life. I listened to his astounding recording of Schubert's Winterreise on Saturday morning, and I'm afraid it might have darkened my mood noticeably! And I found this extract from a memoir of Samuel Beckett:

Beckett listens to Fischer-Dieskau

"A. [Avigdor Arikha] put on Hans Hotter singing Der Leiermann, S. preferred Fischer-Dieskau, 'at the end there's a real cry, he cries out.' We put on Fischer-Dieskau to compare. At the end, the cry, a shudder. S. looked at me, there it was. Nodded. Too moved to talk."

- Anne Atik, How It Was: A Memoir of Samuel Beckett

As far as I'm concerned, the only comparable singer in the same music is the astonishing Thomas Quasthoff. In the same song, less a of a cry, more resigned.

Anyway, that's out of my system now - going to work tomorrow is bound to make me happier :)