If it were not for Franz Schubert, the incommensurably prolific Carl Loewe would be the undisputed champion of 19th century art songs. Older, by just two months, Loewe epitomizes Biedermeier aesthetics with their charming naivety and quasi-lackadaisical trust in God. They materialize in apolitical narratives, and the cultivation of the private sphere – from tales of old to homely {…}