Christian Gerhaher's Perfect Day: Sweets, Booze and Bad Films
Fresh off the stage of Covent Garden as Amfortas the wounded king, Christian Gerhaher joined us for The Riff Questionnaire.
 | By Lucy Cheung 17 October 2026 |
Yesterday, I met German baritone Christian Gerhaher at the Royal Opera House in London for a conversation that lasted nearly two hours. Two weeks earlier, I had seen the premiere of the Royal Opera’s new production of Wagner’s Parsifal, in which his portrayal of Amfortas, the wounded King of the Grail, had left me deeply impressed.
We began with Amfortas, moving on to the subtle interplay between Wagner’s music and German diction, fresh perspectives on Schubert’s Winterreise, and the ways in which composers transform poetry into sound. Trained in medicine, Gerhaher also reflected on the relationship between the body, the voice and rational control. His approach to interpretation is uncompromising: singers should not impose their own emotions on a work, but allow the work itself to remain at the centre. We also discussed the future of classical music, and whether the declining place of literature, philosophy and abstract thought in education is making it harder for us to engage with complex art.
The full conversation will be published in The Riff Magazine and featured on the London Ears | The Riff Residency podcast.
But first, a glimpse of Gerhaher away from the stage.
What quality do you most admire in a musical partner?
Humility.
Which singer from the past would you most like to have heard live?
Fritz Wunderlich. Maybe his voice was one of the most beautiful voices of all. And he always gives me the impression that he was a wonderful man, a very friendly man.
If you could recommend one work to someone discovering Lied for the first time, what would it be?
I think it may be difficult, but I would introduce them to Schumann because, in my eyes, he is the epitome of how songs deal with pre-existing poetry. First, he chooses a text and sets it to music. In doing so, he has already changed the text. Then he combines different songs into a cycle, which can completely change the possible meaning of the original text. It adds a different context and greatly increases the complexity.
And the first difficulty is that the text itself is so hard to understand — perhaps not to be understood at all. And music, you can’t understand music. You can describe it as a musicologist, but you can’t make someone understand music through a musicological description.
Well, okay, if I may suggest one thing, it is Op. 90: six songs on poems by Lenau, with the Requiem at the end.
If you could invite figures from musical history to dinner, who would you choose?
Schumann would be one choice. He was a good drinker and a great talker. No, no — I’m joking.
Bach, perhaps. And Yehudi Menuhin, because I admire his humanity.
Is there a composer whose music you have come to appreciate differently as you’ve grown older?
Tchaikovsky. I used to be very doubtful about him, but now I like him more and more, especially his songs and the melancholy in his music. What I don’t like are performances that are overly emotional, with too much rubato and too much freedom with the tempo.
Which writers have had a profound influence on you?
Most of Goethe’s works, Eichendorff, and the Austrian writer Joseph Roth.
Which films have had a profound influence on you?
I have to admit, I have rather bad taste in films. I like movies with lots of blood and shooting.
I used to be particularly fond of John Cassavetes and Federico Fellini. And the actors Jean Gabin and Lino Ventura changed my life.
What are your guilty pleasures?
Haribo sweets, smoking a little more often again lately — not a pack a day, of course, but on some evenings I might have three cigarettes — and alcohol.
In this crooked world, with AI coming along and perhaps wiping us out, why should I be so careful?
What would your perfect day off look like, with no performance to worry about?
Sleeping late, watching a bad movie, having a big breakfast, then taking a nap. A crazy lunch with alcohol — something I never normally do. Then another nap, more bad movies, and lots of chocolate.
Dinner would be just as indulgent: lots of crisps and beef, more booze and some sweets. Finally, late at night, I’d lie down, watch a really bad movie and eat three packets of Haribo.
Do you have any guilty pleasures in music?
No. I enjoy the pleasure music gives me. I don’t think of music in terms of good taste or bad taste. I like the Beatles, Pink Floyd, The Cure, The Doors, and underground music. Of course, there are plenty of popular musicians I don’t like at all. But that’s just a matter of personal taste, not good or bad taste.
If you were stranded on a desert island, what music would you take with you?
All of Schumann’s piano music; Wagner’s Ring cycle, Parsifal and Tristan und Isolde; and Schubert’s songs. Schumann’s songs are already in my heart.
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