Wolfgang Holzmair & Till Fellner, Wigmore Hall, London

People can be highly ingenious when they put together programmes for song recitals, in finding or imagining themes that link their choices. This was just a selection of Schubert Ballads – seven only, but some of them long, and songs that tell a story. They included two of Schubert's greatest songs, Der Zwerg and Erlkönig, placed at the end of each half. The first song, Die Bürgschaft (The bond), was the longest – a setting of Schiller that is a dramatic tour de force of sustained invention. It pushed Holzmair to his limits, as if he were showing all he could do, vocally and expressively. And he was expressive, at times even ugly, allowing his voice to crack for realistic effect at the words "Am I to die of thirst here?" He did a lot of acting with his face and body, too, as if demonstrating the meaning to an audience who might not otherwise understand. It felt a bit like a lesson.

Der Fischer, a much better-known setting of Goethe, made a good contrast: gentle, charming and with music repeated for each verse. Even here, Holzmair adopted a slightly didactic manner. Perish the thought, but it occurred that his gesturing was compensation for vocal shortcomings, or at least a way of helping himself through each song. For in Vergissmeinnicht (Forget-me-not) a problem emerged with breath support, as his tone thinned at the end of every second line. The vocal performance wasn't beautiful enough to sustain interest, unless you concentrated on the poise of Fellner at the keyboard. And both Fellner and Holzmair were too gentle in Der Zwerg, a darkly thrilling song about illicit passion, which needed a stronger thrust. It wasn't badly performed, but it was underwhelming, and exceptional in that respect, because in every other song Holzmair spared no effort.

For all its legendary atmosphere, Der Zwerg carries a timeless meaning. But it's hard to take the whimsy of Franz von Schober's words in Viola; here, according to one of the authorities on Schubert songs, Richard Capell, the composer "set out to tell of snowdrops and pansies on the scale of a tale of Troy". Yet Schubert's music is tender and touching, with a lovely piano part that Fellner played perfectly. You can tell the difference when a real pianist "accompanies".

Much more robust, even hearty, Die drei Sänger lacks Schubert's music for the final verse, which Holzmair recited instead – an effective move, if a bit hammy. But it was rather confusing when Fellner began the following song, a setting of Goethe called Der Sänger, without a pause. And what an odd song it is, with its retrospective, almost academic, style.

Which only made one of Schubert's early masterpieces, Erlkönig, all the more effective. And, with his slightly hollow tone and willingness to turn nasty, Holzmair made it electrifying. The final word, "tot" (dead), was spoken, as if to sing had been to live.