Valedictory Mahler 10, Tippett The Rose Lake - Rattle, LSO

Simon Rattle and the London Symphony Orchestra in Michael Tippett The Rose Lake and Mahler  Symphony no 10  (Cooke III performing edition) at the Barbican, London.   Mega mega high profile, advertised a year ago, livestreamed internationally and broadcast on the BBC.  Members of the LSO in white tie.  In the audience - Marina Mahler, grand daughter of the composer and Colin Matthews, one of Deryck Cooke's team. While still a teenager, Matthews (b.1946) was so interested in Cooke's work that he contacted him : the rest is history.  Interval features are usually time for tea, but Matthews is worth listening to as he sheds new light. The symphony will never, ever be "complete", and that is its fascination.  The challenge, in performance, is to present it with a sense of open-endedness and possibility.  Rattle took the last minutes sedately, for they are too precious to rush through, letting them breathe and rise, like the finale of Mahler Symphony no 9, dissolving into infinity.  Even more potently, he drew the connections between beginning and end - shrill strings reminiscent of the "death scream" against darker, warmer hues,  almost, but not quite resolving the duality in the first movement. In so many ways this duality is the heart of the entire work, but  poignantly, it hangs tantalizingly unfinished.  Very sophisicated, and very moving.
Rattle's Mahler springs from a very long British tradition, which goes back many decades.  As a music student, Britten bought Horenstein's 1927 recoirding of Kindertotenlieder and drove his friends nuts playing it over and over.  After 1933, the influx of emigrés - including  Bertholdt Goldschmidt - strengthened the connections. Rattle, like so many others, imbibed his Mahler from Walter, Barbirolli, Haitink, Horenstein etc. all of whom were active in Britain. Rattle's Mahler thus reflects a wider European tradition, as opposed to, say, the Bernstein mould.  From what we now know about Mahler,  this tradition better reflects the composer himself, which specially pertains to this last work.
The Adagio began with exquisite refinement : gossamer textures floated, the yearning string lines enhanced by the entry of a deeper, more resonant theme.  The horns break away, as if they're leading us further into the realms of Mahler's creative imagination.  Perhaps these two themes represent Mahler and Alma, his "ewiger weiblicher" Muse.  The relationship was central to Mahler's creativity, so background knowledge does impact on performance practice.  Rattle judged the duality with poised balance, but pointedly highlighted the fragile figure before the final return of the "Alma " theme, shaded by horns.  As so often in Mahler, equanimity even born from struggle, cannot last. When the "scream chord",was released a cataclysmic blast of near dissonance.  The allusions to alpine meadows returned, but muted, tinged with melancholy.
The swaggering Weltlauf  in the wild first Scherzo brutally mocked the refinement of the Adagio.  The world runs on, whether it suits us or not. No neurotic self pity here : not Mahler's style.  The rapid changes of meter and tempo were well defined, but not necessarily manic, which is no fault, since the movement ends with glorious, exuberant vigour, tautly defined, heralded by trumpets which in Mahler signify forward movement, not stagnation.   This time the dichotomy between themes feels dangerous, the throwing down of a creative gauntlet?  Far from being neurotic, Mahler was entering a new phase in life, and possibly new creative challenges.  The jerky figures in the strings, winds and brass felt deliciously wicked.   The Purgatorio is short but structurally important, linking the first and the more complex second Scherzo.  On the title page of the second Scherzo, Mahler writes “The Devil is dancing it with me! Madness, seize me … destroy me! Let me forget that I exist, so that I cease to be.” But a careful observer will note that Mahler then adds “dass ich ver ….” (so that I ….) and trails off without completing the idea. It’s a preposition, but this whole work is a kind of preposition, well served by Rattle's non-dogmatic touch.

A delicate yet quirky waltz circulates through this movement, in counterpoise to the demonic tensions. Significantly the lone voice of the violin is joined by other individual voices, including oboe, flute and bassoon.  Yet where was Mahler heading ? The brooding tuba heralded the heavy tread of the "Fireman's Funeral" in the Finale.   Alma and Mahler had watched the funeral, of a fireman from their hotel room.  Only Alma knew what that meant to the composer, so we can only speculate in musical terms.  Though there are many funeral marches in Mahler, this one's particularly chilling because it's so uncompromising, muted horns and trumpets, bassoons and tuba in solemn procession.  Yet a flute sang, its voice rising upwards : like a bird, like a soul, free of worldly constraints.  Though the tuba still mourned, solo trumpet led the orchestra forward, proceeding quietly but with the poise with which Rattle marked the first movement. The "death scream" returns, but now less strident, more integrated into the whole.  A wonderful performance, even by the standrds of the LSO at its best.   Though Ratlle has conducted numerous Mahler 10's,  this was one for the ages.

A remarkable programme, too, beginning with Tippett's The Rose Lake.  There's little connection between Tippett's The Rose Lake and Mahler 10, but  who cares ?  This performance was in itself mega high profile,  since it's not often heard live, which Tippett fans would have been anticipating all year.  Rattle has always been good at developing repertoire, and part of his remit as Music Director of the LSO is to promote modern British music.  Please read HERE about his keynote concert at the start of the season where he conducted an eclectic programme of  Elgar, Birtwistle, Knussen and Adès.  More to come !  Sir Colin Davis conducted the LSO in the first recording of the piece twenty-one years ago, and Richard Hickox conducted the BBC National Orchestra oF Wales in 2005.  Those versions very different, as was this performance with Rattle, which was easily up in the same league as Davis and Hickox, the LSO sounding revitalized, playing better than they've played in years.
Ostensibly, The Rose Lake is a video in music, inspired by Le lac rose in Sénégal, which Tippett visited in 1990.  As the angle of the sun changed, the colours in the landscape changed, a concept that translates well into a study of orchestral colour.  It was "a continuous five part composition, in essence a set of variations .....a song without words for orchestra", as Tippett wrote at the time. 

The sections with programmatic titles mix with sections where only tempo gives clue to meaning, the twelve short segments moving forward in sequence, suggesting the passage of time. Dense but lucid layers of sound as beautifully structured as mosaic. I thought of Birtwistle Earth Dances, but lighter and shining.  In the organic "earth forms" and especially in the bird sounds, I thought of Olivier Messiaen, who was also fascinated by radiant aural colour and keyed percussion.          

Mahler Wunderhorn-Lieder Volle, Mahler 10 Thielemann Munich

Latest release in the Münchner Philharmoniker initiative making its archives available on CD : Mahler Wunderhorn-Lieder and the Adagio from what would have been Mahler's Tenth Symphony, with Michael Volle, and Christian Thieilemann conducting.  Michael Volle is one of the finest singers in his Fach, and one of the stars of the Bayerisches Staatsoper. Since Volle hasn't recorded a great deal of Mahler, this is is a valuable addition to the discography.  His performance here is assured. His rich baritone is well-defined, and his delivery informed by an understanding of genre and context. 

On this recording, Volle is singing fully orchestrated versions of twelve songs. The original Des Knaben Wunderhorn texts published by Brentano and Arnim in 1806, were collected from oral tradition, and reflect an aesthetic even earlier than Lieder.  Late nineteenth century composers did not set out to replicate folk song, but Mahler's settings are informed by a perception of a pure world fast receding into the past.  With his Swabian background, and awareness of South German dialects, Volle expresses the charm of songs like Wer hat dies Liedlien erdacht  and Rheinlegendchen so they feel natural and unforced. "Büble, wir!", he sings, characterizing the couple in Verlorne Müh! with dignity : they may be rustic, but they deserve respect.  Lied des Verfolgten im Turm is, ironically, the only song in which Mahler borrows directly from folk melody, qouting the original in full, though following the textual changes Brentano and Arnim adopted to tone down its inherently rebellious anthem "Die Gedanken sind frei". Volle reinforces the message, biting his consonants so they cut, his timbre rising with impassioned power. 

But the finest moments on this recording come with songs like Wo die schönen Trompeten blasen,  true through-composed art song, even more haunting with full orchestra.  Quiet knocking at the door awakes a woman from sleep. She sees her lover, and welcomes him in. A nightingale sings. But horns are heard, calling as if from far away.  Echoes from the battlefield, "die grüne Haide, die ist so weit!"  The woman, too, must die that the lovers can re-unite. In Der Tamboursg'sell, the percussion beats the ominous death march, the brass wailing behind. Volle's voice rings out defiantly "Gute Nacht!", but the soft beating of drums remind us that the drummer boy is no more. 

Here the song flows seamlessly into Urlicht, a thoughtful pairing, since in Mahler's Second Symphony, Urlicht marks the  transition from funeral march to the "resurrection" of the Finale.  Volle sings "O Röschen rot!" breathing into the words, adding depth.  But the violin marks another transit. "Ach, nein !" sings Volle, with urgency, The sould will not be turned away "Ich bin von Gott, und will wieder zu Gott!". A third transit, in which Volle's voice softens, illuminated by the light of "das ewig, selig Leben!".  

Thus we are well prepared for the Adagio of what would have been Mahler's Symphony no 10.  Hearing the Adagio on its own in this context is surprisingly effective : you don't miss the rest of the symphony as you might otherwise.  Gossamer textures float, enhanced by the entry of a deeper, more resonant theme. The horns break away, as if they're leading us further onwards. The alternating themes develop it into a complex shifting between polarities, circling each other, interweaving rather than firmly connecting.  This might, or might not be a reflection on Mahler's relationship with Alma, whose bname is written into the manuscript. But if the Adagio is a looking back on the past, that also connects it, in purely musical terms, to the duality in so many songs in Des Knaben Wunderhorn, and the richness drawn from the many vignettes within.  Perhaps Alma didn't want the symphony to be heard in full because she wanted to preserve the nostalgia of the Adagio, much in the way that the Adagietto of the Fifth Symphony can be interpreted.  But what to make of that shattering cataclysm at the end ?  Another good reason for hearing the Adagio with Des Knaben Wunderhorn, where cheery songs mix with songs of abject horror.  Although Thielemann didn't do much Mahler with the Münchner Philharmoniker, what he did do is very perceptive.

Mahler 10 Schubert Dausgaard BBC SSO Prom

Thomas Dausgaard (Credit: Thomas Grøndahl)

Thomas Dausgaard, new Chief Conductor of the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra, with two Unfinished symphonies, Schubert Symphony no 8 Unvollende, and Mahler Symphony no 10.  Uncompleted symphonies always fascinate because they open out tantalizing prospects.   This Prom was interesting because it focused on possibilities. Since we'll never know how the symphonies might have been completed, we listen differently, keeping things open-ended. 

Though neither Dausgaard nor the BBC SSO are new to the Proms, it was their first Prom together in this new season.  Interesting potential, there, too. Dausgaard's less of a showman than Runnicles was, closer, perhaps to Ilan Volkov who was (and is) a thinker, something to value in these times.
Unfinished symphonies help us focus on the music, and on the composer.  The curse of a review system is that performances are judged by the number of stars they get in a review, rather than by how such judgements are arrived at. We get locked into like/dislike instead of analyzing why we think the way we do.  Most performances have something to offer, pro and con: ultimately what counts is what we've learned from the experience.

Deryck Cooke's third performance version remains the standard because it reflects years of immersion in Mahler's work and creative processes. Everyone seems to want a shot at "completing" what would have been Mahler's Tenth symphony, but many aren't worth the effort.  Better, I think, to listen in depth to Cooke,  which brings out the inventiveness that makes Mahler so challenging. In a way this is a schizophrenic symphony,  the duality in the first movement contradicted in the second two. What it's not, though, is a death symphony.  If anything, it deals with light and transfiguration, as in nearly all the other symphonies.  When it was written, Mahler was about to embark on a new stage in his career, possibly even more radical than his past. This affects interpretation.  Where was Mahler heading, and what was he taking with him from the past?

Dausgaard and the BBC SSO created an elegant Adagio, the shimmering opening strings enriched by a richer response.  The celli and basses were positioned in the centre of the orchestra, flanked by the winds, brass to one side, percussion on the other.  Interesting, since the lower strings are in many ways the heart of this movement, whatever it might mean. If the duality represents the composer and his "ewiger weiblicher" muse, the lower timbre might represent the composer himself.  The pace picks up and "scream chords" blazed.  The ending (harps, strings and high winds) was drawn out carefully, opening outwards, not closing in.

The brisk figure that opens the first Scherzo breaks tranquility still further. The strings attempt to recreate the poise of the Adagio but the horns blast it away. I'd like to hear Dausgaard take more risks, even making it more grotesque, for Weltlauf loosely translates as "world running", the world hurtling on its way, mocking the idea that things can never change.  Like Purgatory in theology, the Purgatorio is short but transitional.  On the title page of the second Scherzo, Mahler writes “The Devil is dancing it with me! Madness, seize me … destroy me! Let me forget that I exist, so that I cease to be.” But a careful observer will note that Mahler then adds “dass ich ver ….” (so that I ….) and trails off without completing the idea. It’s a preposition, but this whole work is a kind of preposition, open ended because it isn't complete.  Dausgaard made more of the dreamy waltz that circulates through this section, though, suggesting that the dialogue in the Adagio continues, though it has changed.   Mahler wrote of the Fireman's Funeral in the Finale.  "Only you [Alma] knows what it means".  So it means something, even if we'll never know exactly what.  Here the funeral march solidity wasn't strongly defined though the more delicate "footsteps" were nicely done, leading to the drumstrokes and brooding brass and woodwinds. The resolution that follows ascended slowly upwards, the strings shimmering, the horns calling as hunting horns do. Or the trumpets of angels.  Who knows?  But Mahler isn't standing still.

Every performance teaches you something about the music, and the perspectives from which  it is approached.   Dausgaard's good on detail, carefully building up textures. The piccolo could be heard, even surrounded by tubas, the flutes best of all.  He's less strong on destination.  I prefer more incisive M10's, with stronger forward thrust, where a sense of trauma intensifies the power of the Finale, but this performance was satisfying enough to make me hope for more from Dausgaard and the BBC SSO.

Listening to Mahler's Unfinished after Schubert's Unfinished was also rewarding. While Mahler left plenty for Cooke, Goldschmidt and the Matthews brothers to work on, Schubert's manuscripts leave little trace of what might have been.  For all we know, Schubert might have  had other things to do.    The two movements are fairly similar. but we're left hanging.  Nonetheless, what  we do have is so lovely, it hardly matters.  But we cannot avoid the fact that Mahler had every intention of completing his manuscript, nor dismiss the substantial material he did leave behind.

Nicholas Collon CBSO Mahler 10 Webern Brahms

Nicholas Collon conducted the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra in Mahler 's Symphony no 10, or to put it more accurately Deryck Cooke's third Performing edition of Mahler's manuscript. Although it might seem redundant to point out that Mahler didn't complete the symphony, that basic fact is fundamental to any interpretation.  Performance practice , and the evaluation thereof, has to deal with its very open-endedness. No one knows what Mahler would have done, had he lived, but one thing is clear. He was looking forwards, not backwards.

When he was working on the Tenth, the parameters of his life had been overturned. He had left Vienna acrimoniously, he'd been betrayed by his wife.  Literally, he was in new territory.  With all his previous symphonies, he had broken new ground. So whither the 10th?  Mahler famously said "My time will come". Perhaps "the time has come" now for Mahler's Tenth.  Prof Henry-Louis de la Grange's monumental work has demonstrated just how intellectual and progressive Mahler really was. Far from being the maudlin neurotic Alma portrayed  in her memoirs, he was a man keenly aware of what was going on in the world around him, mentally disciplined and unconventional. This has profound implications for performance practice.In the case of Mahler 10, there simply isn't any received wisdom.  We are fortunate that Alma's embargo saved us from highly interventionist approaches coloured by factors other than deeper knowledge of the composer and his mind. 

The CBSO has an unerring instinct for picking exceptional conductors, with whom they develop stimulating  relationships.  It's a bold and very creative philosophy.  From what I've heard so far of Chief Conductor designate Mirga Gražinytė-Tyla, she could do great  things. Their instincts seem to pay off, too, with Nicholas Collon.  He made his name with the Aurora Orchestra , the lively chamber ensemble. Although I personally haven't heard him conduct large orchestras, he's worked with the CBSO before: now we can hear why.  This Mahler 10 wasn't conventional but all the more rewarding for that, since good performance should stretch our understanding of the repertoire.

The Adagio glowed with connotations of Tristan und Isolde, which Mahler always made a point of conducting in Vienna, and particularly poignant in the context of this symphony.  The interplay of the two principal themes was well defined, against a surging backdrop. With his keen ear for the pulse of Nature, perhaps Mahler was intuitively evoking the ocean which he'd crossed, physically and emotionally. The themes though elegant seem to stalk each other: lovely as the music is, it's undercut with the chill of sharp, shrill almost staccato figures, eventually rent asunder by blazing dissonance.  The pastoral theme which emerges grows more refined and more distant. 

At first, I couldn't understand Collon's approach to the first Scherzo, where the jagged edges  seemed more frantic than demonic.  On re-listening, however, it clicked. It allowed more emphasis on the Purgatorio, which may well have been the heart of the symphony, though it's so brief, and on the more complex second Scherzo.  On the title page of the second Scherzo, Mahler writes “The Devil is dancing it with me! Madness, seize me … destroy me! Let me forget that I exist, so that I cease to be.” But a careful observer will note that Mahler then adds “dass ich ver ….” (so that I ….) and trails off without completing the idea. It’s a preposition, but this whole work is a kind of preposition.  Collon's first scherzo thus felt like the first stage in a journey, further focusing attention on whatever might have been the ultimate goal of the symphony.  

In this Finale, Collon and the CBSO  connected the end with the beginning,  thoughtful symmetry connecting to the duality in the Adagio.  The hollow drumbeats in this  "Fireman's Funeral" were chilling, but the theme resembles the poignant pastoral theme in the adagio. It resolves itself in another dissonance, which yet again dissolves into upward, searching arcs, more and more rarified til the symphony reaches a kind of sublimation.  We don't know where Mahler would have gone, but this ending leaves the horizons open, and  free. 

This concert began with Webern, Six Pieces Op 6 in the chamber transcription, the first version of which was written around the time of Mahler 10 though Webern, for obvious reasons, didn't know that.  Schoenberg, Berg and Webern were fascinated by Mahler, and there are many good reasons behind this programme. Incidentally, Boulez discovered Mahler and Webern at roughly the same period, long before he recorded either. Also included was Brahms Four Songs for Women's Voices Op 17 (1862). There aren't many pieces in which a chorus is accompanied by two horns, a harp and nothing more. This minimalist accompaniment sets the voices off surprisingly well. The CBSO Youth Choir did the honours, singing with angelic brightness.  Their accents were English, not German, but I didn't mind at all, since that added to the slightly surreal atmosphere of the settings, which are strange, but in a nice way. 

Mahler, silence, creativity and Holy Saturday

Today is Holy Saturday, the quiet day between Good Friday and Easter Sunday. It gets overlooked because nothing seems to be happening. Quite the contrary. Holy Saturday functions  as a  Luftpause, like silence after the first movement  in Mahler's Second Symphony, and between the first and second parts of Mahler's Symphony no 8.  Ignore the silences and lose the whole meaning of the symphonies. It's hard to understand the value of silence in a world obsessed with dominant ego, the "Triumph of the Will" mentality in which blitz and bluff mean more than genuine content.  Silence  cleanses the mind and soul from the toxic pollution of white noise and babble inflicted on us like a barrage 24/7. Silence, like deep meditation, draws us inwards. It's not an easy option, which is why it drives empty vessels nuts.  The cessation of meaningless chatter is hard work, as those who practice it will attest, be they Buddhist, Christian, Quaker or whatever.

The first movement of Mahler's Symphony no 2, was inspired in part by the funeral of Hans von Bülow, who Mahler venerated. Hence the deliberate pace, like a processional, moving with purpose. Snatches of melody appear, like memories of happier times, the destination is inevitable. Frequently I cite Haitink, who has taken this movement so slowly that his orchestras can barely hold the line. But that's an insight: the body is shutting down, cooling down, heading towards obliteration. The symphony isn't called "the Resurrection" for nothing, though Mahler's theology, like Wagner's,  is freely adapted. Jesus dies, but it's not Game Over for mankind. Like grass grows again in Spring, ewig, ewig, ewig........

Like any mortal, Jesus suffered, died and was buried. This is central to Christian belief because it connects mankind and God.  It's fundamental that Jesus didn't neatly pop from one plane of existence to another without having shared the sufferings of the world. No one's ever come back from death to confirm it, but the theory is that the soul exists in limbo for a while before it heads off to the next life. Consider Elgar's Dream of Gerontius (1902) with its theologically legit text, by Cardinal Newman, where the two parts are separate, transition emphasized in the music. Thus the Purgatorio in Mahler's Symphony no 10  where the delicate first movement is followed by a scherzo where swaggering grotesques, flattened horns, shrill trumpets, echo the marches of death in earlier symphonies. Whatever it means, it's a bridge towards the Allegro Pesante, a stage in the passage of ideas. For me, the Purgatorio echoes the Wunderhorn song Das irdisches Leben: a small, plaintive cry amid larger, more dominant forces., a Luftpause with sound, so to speak.

Only after this transition has taken place can the souls progress.  The duration of the pause in Mahler Second is less critical than the fact that it is observed long enough for it to be respected for what it is.   It's not a time for letting latecomers swarm in, disturbing the moment for others, though latecomers (and those who let them in) probably don't mean to be disruptive. But what excuse is there for sticking an interval between the two parts of Mahler's Symphony no 8.? The symphony has been performed whole for a hundred years, so singers and audiences can manage fine.. In any case, the soloists have less to sing than they might in an opera and there's that long non-vocal section in the second part for them to recover.

Mahler's Symphony no 8 is a strange beast, a hybrid  that defies conventional form.  The first part used a medieval Latin hymn attributed to  Rabanus, Archbishop of Mainz (c780-856) which describes how Jesus's disciples wondered what would happen to them since Jesus had gone on ahead.  In the Acts of the Apostles, the Holy Spirit descended from heaven upon them in the form of holy flames, inspiring them to go forth into the world, spreading the Gospels.

The Pentecost is thus a metaphor for divine inspiration and, by extension, the mission embraced by a truly original, creative artist.  "Veni, Creator spiritus" connects the spirit of creation with the Spirit of the Creator.   Thus "Accende lumen sensibus", the concept of light, rising upwards linking to heaven, illuminating those it touches, cleansing them of ego, selfishness and petty concerns.  Truly original creativity, like meditative prayer, comes when the pollution of toxic detritus is expunged.  Goethe's anchorites live in humble isolation, communing only with  God.  Their art isn't Triumph of the Will bluster. Some would die like Jesus did.  Goethe also alludes to the Eternal Feminine, and by implication the connection between women and redemption. It's highly significant that, at the Pentecost, the Virgin Mary and other female disciples were present.  The two parts of Mahler's Eighth connect on very deep levels indeed.  So the silence between the two parts of the symphony serves a powerful purpose, marking spiritual transformation. Ideally, listeners should sit and reflect, not rush out to the bar, serving Mammon not the soul, mindlessly chattering not looking inwards.

Luminous Mahler 10 Berliner Philharmoniker Harding

New in the Berliner Philharmoniker archive is Saturday's concert, Mahler's Symphony no 10. (Cooke III performing version). Six years ago, Harding made a ground-breaking recording of this symphony with the Wiener Philharmoniker. This performance with the Berliner Philharmoniker is even more stimulating. The Berliners, some of whom have worked with Harding for nearly 20 years, have a different, more muscular sound, supporting an even more intense interpretation.. Read my review of Harding's Mahler 2 at the Proms here)

Mahler's sketches for the Tenth may have been written towards the end of his life, but they represent a new beginning, not an end. As Professor Henri-Louis de la Grange showed in the fourth volume of his monumental biography, Mahler had undergone traumatic changes personally and professionally. Harding's clear, intelligent approach suggests  Mahler on the verge of a visionary creative breakthrough.

The Adagio begins with exquisite refinement : gossamer textures float, enhanced by the entry of a deeper, more resonant theme. The horns break away, as if they're leading us further into the mountains, into the realms of Mahler's creative imagination. This performance is tinged with more sadness than the Vienna recording. Finer pianissimo, so when the expansive theme returns, it surges like a heartfelt cry of regret. But, as in the Third Symphony, a panoramic vista opens. There are further, and higher peaks to climb.  Flutes and woodwinds whip forwards, like the winds on mountains. The dialogues in this movement are well defined. Perhaps they are a reference to Mahler and Alma, his "ewiger weiblicher" Muse.  But what do those chilling “scream” chords”suggest?  Harding observes the moments of near silence, hovering on the brink, so to speak, before those cataclysmic chords explode. The line seems to last forever, an almost electronic blast of near dissonance. Gone now are the allusions to summer and open horizons..Now very high flutes and harp suggest the "alpine" mood transformed into other-worldly stillness.

The Berliners are especially good at creating the swaggering Weltlauf  in the wild first Scherzo, brutally mocking the refinement of the Adagio. Harding deftly juggled the rapid changes of meter, tempo. Harding brings out the manic energy so it contrasts with the softer, more melodic theme. This time the dichotomy between themes feels dangerous, the throwing down of a creative gauntlet?  Small trumpets herald forward progress: the movement ends with glorious, exuberant vigour, tautly defined and energetic.

The Purgatorio is a small movement bridging the first and second scherzos but it's significant in that the duality that runs through the beginning of the symphony changes into a series of individual voices, much as will happen later.

On the title page of the second Scherzo, Mahler writes “The Devil is dancing it with me! Madness, seize me … destroy me! Let me forget that I exist, so that I cease to be.” But a careful observer will note that Mahler then adds “dass ich ver ….” (so that I ….) and trails off without completing the idea. It’s a preposition, but this whole work is a kind of preposition, open ended because it isn't complete.   A delicate yet quirky waltz circulates through this movement, in counterpoise to the demonic tensions. Listen to Daishin Hashimoto, the Leader, play a bittersweet melody: a lone voice distinct from the forces around him.  Then other voices join him : Jonathan Kelly the Principal Oboe, Andreas Blau, the Principal Flute and Daniele Damiano, Principal Bassoon.

Absolute silence, acutely observed to emphasize the transition to the Finale. This is supposed to depict the funeral march of a fireman, which Mahler and Alma watched from their hotel room in New York. The tempi are slow, even for a funeral. It's more symbolic than literal. Very muffled percussion, as if heard in a dream. Bassoons moan, trumpets and horn cry out. Harding's tempi suggest that sound and time hover suspended in some strange limbo. Uncommonly moving.

Then the orchestra springs to life again, revitalized and reanimated. The "soaring" expansive theme of the Adagio returns, this time firmer and more confident. When it builds to a climax, we can hear an echo of the "scream" chord, again held for what seems like eternity. This time the "scream" is not so much raw anguish as paralyzing numbness. Then the oboe reintroduces the "warm" theme. Perhaps it's meant to suggest balm or transcendence. We don't know, but for me that is part of the fascination.  It's much more difficult to play legato finely balanced and as sustained like this, but Harding and the Berliners can do it so well that the music seems to stretch into infinity, dissolving into something so pure and stratospheric that our ears can't hear it. Absolutely true to context.

This is astounding. It might not appeal to those who prefer "easy listening" Mahler or flashy showman conductors, but for me, it's incredibly profound. Harding shows that the sketchy nature of this piece can be an asset, reminding us that we'll never know what Mahler might have done if he'd revised it. The spare, gossamer orchestration reminds us that there are mysteries in life we're never meant to solve.

Abbado Mahler Das Lied von der Erde Berlin - review

There was no way any performance of Mahler's Das Lied von der Erde with Claudio Abbado and the Berliner Philharmoniker would be anything but good. It was Mahler's Todestag after all,  everyone was reverent. But it exceeded all expectations because of Anne Sofie von Otter. She's by no means a typical Mahler singer, but that's exactly why she was so fantastic.

Scrap the clichés about how Der Abschied "should" be done: von Otter goes straight back to the score, and moreover to her soul, the source of real Mahler singing. Her voice is on the light side, so don't expect ultra-rich sumptuousness. There are different ways of expressing emotion. Von Otter's performance was wonderful because it was pure and direct. No diva-like affectations, no self-conscious playing to the audience. Such things impress, but ultimately they are ego trips for the singer, putting a barrier between listener and music. And Das Lied von der Erde, like so much Mahler, is about the sublimation of the ego.

Von Otter's interpretation highlighted Mahler, not herself. She's not as youthful as she was, but her voice is in excellent shape, enhanced by the depth emotional maturity can bring.  Complete technical control, firm tone, no wavering for adornment's sake.  Throught the text, there are references to lotuses and to ponds, which in China, almost always imply lotuses. These links are not superficial chinoiserie but fundamental to the whole meaning of this symphony. Lotuses are the symbol of purity becuase they rise upwards from murky depths. They look delicate but they're resilient. They survive and renew themselves year after year. Von Otter's singing has a pellucid quality that reminds me of the simple, unfussy purity of the lotus. She has grit and strength, but she projects legato so it expands with radiant lucidity. This is the essence of  O Schönheit! O ewigen Liebens.

Von Otter's clarity worked perfectly with the way Claudio Abbado conducted the Berliner Philharmoniker.  Can any other orchestra match the Berliners for lucidity and sheer finesse?  This was a performance that connected to the many images of darkness, contrasted with shimmering light in the text and in the music - mirror reflections, sparkling water, sunlight.... instruments reflected by others (flute/clarinet, violins/harp). Unmuddied, unsullied.  Even tutti moments were sharply outlined. Three mandolins, heard clearly and distinctly. And what lines - strutting, angular ostinato, not heavy handed but energetic.You could "see" the horses' muscles, and imagine the throbbing of a heartbeat, all references to a powerful life force.  Even more exquisite the surging, shimmering lines, rising ever upwards.  Combining Das Lied von der Erde with the Adagio from what would have been Mahler's Tenth Symphony enhanced both works. Shorn of the rest of the draft movements, the Adagio can be interpreted different ways, but Abbado and the Berliners know what was to come. Together, the two works are a hymn to life and the transcendence of death.  Hence, free-spirited exuberance rising from absolute technical refinement. Abbado looked even more haggard than usual, but even that added to the sense that this concert was a milestone experience.

Jonas Kauffmann, too, has matured. This performance showed him singing with much greater depth and gravitas than ever before. Das Trinklied vom Jammer der Erde isn't a drinking song. On the contrary, it's a savage, passionate protest against death and its curtailment of earthly happiness. Kaufmann spat out the lines about the ape on the tomb with appropriate violence. The image is horrific, especially for Chinese sensibilities. The ape represents the triumph of barbarism: apes aren't schön gekleidet and don't write verse or converse. Kaufmann's interpretation was flawless, impressively dignified. Unfortunately, his voice showd signs of strain, probably from having come fresh from a glorious Siegmund. But it didn't really matter if his top wasn't quite as smooth as it could be. Much better that he put his effort into emotional truth into what he was doing, singing meaning rather than surface beauty.

Although the live broadcast is over, the Berliner Philharmoniker will be archiving this concert, so it will be available online in the Digital Concert Hall. It was amazing, opening up new interpretive possibilties. Hearing it made me feel high, not on alcohol, but with the joy of life.  Please read my other posts on Mahler, Abbado, Das Lied von Der Erde and other related subjects.,. Lots on this site that's original, not seen anywhere else.

Live, Abbado, Mahler Das Lied von der Erde Berlin

Live on Wednesday 18th May, the anniversary of Mahler's death one hundred years ago. Claudio Abbado conducts the Berliner Philharmoniker in Mahler's Das Lied von der Erde, paired with the Adagio from what would have been Mahler's Tenth Symphony. LINK HERE.

This anniversary year has been marred  by too many jumping on the bandwagon. Abbado and the Berliners will, however, do the composer justice. This could be a concert to remember for a long time. Soloists are Anne Sofie von Otter and Jonas Kaufmann. I first encountered Kaufmann singing this at Edinburgh, years ago, when he'd just moved out of the Munich training system.  It was a disaster. As someone said at the time "But isn't Das Lied von der Erde a set of drinking songs?"  which kind of summed it up. "No, it's not", I wept.  Fortunately for all of us, Kaufmann has matured tremendously. Years ago I used to think he'd be best in repertoire that suits the soft focus of his voice - ideal in Strauss, Rossini etc - but his Lohengrin and Siegmund show he's developed. Anne Sofie von Otter's voice has become richer and deeper too, "warmed by life" which does count for something. There's more to Mahler than surface magnificence. What makes him what he is is, I think, emotional complexity, which comes from within.

I will be writing a full commenatry about this AMAZING performance later, but for the time being here arev two other posts on Das Lied von der Erde, one about the Chinese imagery and the other about more personal experiences.  Please come back, there's lots on Mahler on this site and original stuff you won't find elsewhere !

Mahler Rudolf Barshai 1924-2010

Rudolf Barshai died Tuesday. He was a violist, who founded chamber ensembles and the Moscow Chamber Orchestra. As a conductor, he was prominent enough to premiere Shostakovich's 14th Symphony in 1969. Despite his status in Russia, Barshai emigrated to Israel in 1976.

I didn't discover him until 1999, when a recording he'd made for an extremely obscure independent label started getting attention. Laurel Record, not Laurel Records, note, that's how small-time it was.  Barshai conducted Mahler's 5th Symphony with the Junge Deutsche Philharmonie. It was a word of mouth success because Laurel didn't have marketing clout or even proper distribution. In many ways this rarity value added to its mystique because there was no Amazon in those days.  Also, the idea of youth orchestras was relatively new, too, not like now when they're everywhere and praised for emotive reasons, regardless of how they actually play. So in 1999, we adored Barshai's Mahler 5 because it was so fresh and different.

It's a live recording, and the players are above average. Some have gone on to bigger things. But what's good about it is that Barshai manages to combine youthful enthusiasm with sensitivity and discipline. Not rough and tumble hyper emotionalism, but an understanding of form. Barshai's background as a soloist and chamber musician helped him understand the sophistication in this symphony, while inspiring the young musicians to play with intense passion. As the years have passed, there have been better M5's but this one has an innocence that's still appealing. Barshai also went on to write a performing version of Mahler's 10th Symphony which is less rounded than Cooke 3, which is now standard. Both were issued as a set by ultra cheap Brilliant Classics in 2002.  (They also issued the complete Shostakovich Symphonies – a box for under £10). Time has tempered my enthusiasm but they're still worth hearing because they're fun and a reminder of simpler times.

Boulez Mahler 10 Cleveland

Pierre Boulez, the Cleveland Orchestra and Mahler - perfect partners. Their recording of Mahler's Seventh Symphony is outstanding, one of the landmark performances in the whole discography. Immediate alert then for Boulez's return to Severance Hall in this live recording from February 2010.

What spark! This zips along, crackingly vivid and spontaneous. Mahler delighted in the quaint charms of Des Knaben Wunderhorn, but anyone listening to the Wunderhorn symphonies can hear what sophisticated use he made of them. Mahler transformed cute to cosmic. Bucolic humour yes, but no delusions If kitschy-folksy is what you want from Mahler you'll probably get a shock from the sharp, sardonic wit of these performances. But what light they shed on the symphonies!

Understand the songs, and you learn the fundamentals of Mahler's output. It's not just the way song themes weave through the early symphonies, but the whole idea of symphonic construction based on cells of song, elaborated and expanded. "One long trajectory from Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen to Das Lied von der Erde and beyond", someone once said - I think Boulez but can't check. In any case, Boulez learned his Mahler 60 years ago from the songs upwards. Boulez's Mahler is important because he understand the essential structural foundations.

Magdalena Kožená and Christian Gerhaher sing twelve songs from Des Knaben Wunderhorn.  Much as I love Schwarzkopf and Fischer-Dieskau (my first Mahler), their emphasis was on words first, music as support. Hence the self-conscious quaintness. Ludwig and Berry even "act" the songs on the video released a while back. Kožená and Gerhaher adhere, instead, to a more "musical" perspective.  Kožená's particularly interesting, because she has an extremely bright, crisp tone which works well with the Clevelanders's lucidity. Gushily sentimental Wunderhorns you can hear anytime, but this one's different because Kožená sounds like a soloist in the orchestra. You're listening to how she interacts with the orchestra..

But the songs on this recording are no match for the performance of the Adagio from Mahler's Tenth Symphony.  This is brilliant in every sense - how the strings in  particular gleam and shine!

Sinuous introduction that reaches outwards - the shepherd's mournful tune from Tristan und Isolde, perhaps? The connections are apposite, given the "to live for you, to die for you, Almschi" connotations. Notice how the winds repeat the theme again, just as in the opera, Mahler's personal favourite, which he never delegated to other conductors. Thus the powerful, surging undercurrents that Boulez brings from the Clevelanders, swelling like the tides in an ocean drawn by the moon. This is the heartbeat of the movement, surging and ebbing - you almost feel the physical presence of Mahler, who wasn't to know then what his heart would do to him. In this Adagio, he seems reinvigorated, full of life and new hope. Boulez and Prof Henry-Louis de la Grange have been close since the 1940's, so Boulez is up to date with the latest research.

The rich sonorities become lighter, more exoteric, textures clearing, soaring upwards, quirky, elusive strings and woodwinds til recapitulation of the main theme, brass at the crest, then the "shepherd" theme heard from a distance, almost unadorned, rising forth. Then POW!!  the orchestra ignite in huge crescendi culminating in blasts of sound so intense you could be fooled into thinking there was a huge organ somewhere in that surge. It's astonishing, a scream of intensity and passion so great that it explodes the myth that Boulez is clinical. Cool headed, yes, but with intense emotional depth.  This continues with the quieter resolution. More restraint, but such feeling and commitment.  My goodness - to have been at Severance Hall the night this was recorded.  Congratulations to Cleveland, playing in absolute top form. What a night to remember! The Cleveland Orchestra is one of the finest in the world, Let's hope the locals appreciate their good fortune.

Mahler 10 Harding Mendelssohn Tetzlaff

Because Mahler didn't complete the Tenth Symphony, performance needs to be open ended, recognizing that we'll never know what might have been. What a conductor hears in the material is just as informative as what we might assume we know.

That's why I found Riccardo Chailly's Mahler 10th with the Leipzig Gewandhaus at this year's Proms so fascinating. Chailly brought out aspects of the Eternal Feminine: a concept quite explicitly developed in the 8th Symphony. Connecting the 10th to the 8th is perfectly valid, for Mahler is on both sides of the divide in his life, before and after the crisis with Alma.

Daniel Harding and the London Symphony Orchestra's Mahler 10 at the Barbican on 20th November was altogether tougher and sterner, more cognizant of the horrors in the piece, so in that sense is a more conventional reading. In the alternating themes of the Adagio, Harding hears duality too, but develops it into a complex shifting between polarities. The themes circle each other, interweaving rather than firmly connecting. Mahler and Alma, perhaps, since the composer marked his manuscript with so many references to the woman he loved.

But Harding hears the Adagio as a prelude for what is to come. As sao often in Mahler, beginnings set the stage for ultimate resolution in a different form. The Adagio isn't an end in itself. Perhaps Alma wanted only the Adagio to be performed because she wanted to maintain a romantic image of her marriage. Obviously Mahler adored her. But the manuscript shows that he was going further. As Harding has said, the “famous “scream” chord in the first movement, a nine-note dissonance, is an astonishing cry of anguish …. "it’s pure Edvard Munch in music”.

Dissonance of the soul, teetering on an abyss of something terrifying and new. The duality, in Harding, is unsettling, uncomforting. Some performing editions try too hard to "complete" the 10th, smoothing out the angularity, but Cooke III lets them hang. Thus, in the second scherzo, Harding kept the LSO tightly reined in, so they don't cover the jagged edges Mahler left incomplete by "normal" orchestral colour. In his recording with the Vienna Philharmonic, Harding's careful control was even more shocking, because the VPO is an orchestra for whom stark chiaroscuro almost doesn't exist. But that's the whole point. We don't know where Mahler was heading, we can't paper over the aural gaps.

Hence the hollownesss, particularly well shaped in the second (and most incomplete) scherzo and in the Finale : the drumbeats here truly sounded strangled, cut off in mid flow, minimal resonance. The fireman's funeral GM and Alma watched in New York moved him deeply, exactly why we'll never know. But the fireman was cut down in his prime, so the drumbeats are both dirge and truncated heartbeats. Good as the LSO is, the Vienna Philharmonic recording shows just how chilling a performance can be (for a review see link above).

Alma was Mahler's muse, but she wasn't a benevolent deity. She scratched out the second part of its title "oder Inferno", and cut away the bottom half of the title page which may have contained a poem she didn't like. GM loved her but he was smart enough to know her love for him was utterly conditional. He may have won her back but that didn't mean she might not leave again. Alma loved playing angelic nurse to ailing husband, but when he was gone, she went back to Gropius. And, by praising Alma's rather banal songs, Mahler was making compromises with his artistic instinct, even if that was understandable in the circumstances. So Harding's tense, disturbing approach to the symphony is psychologically as well as musically astute.

Most of the audience at the Barbican on Friday night seemed to have come for Christian Tetzlaff's Mendelssohn Violin Concerto. Tetzlaff's amazing and this is one of his showpieces. Divinely fluid playing, rewarded by unusually prolonged applause. Yet part of the magic was due to the orchestra, too, because Mendelssohn wasn't writing for a demented violinist-as-demon . Here the LSO got to demonstrate their delicacy, carefully micromanaged by Harding without losing the whimsical spontaneity in the piece. Pairing Mendelssohn with Mahler was a very good idea, for the poised balance in Mendelssohn contrasts with the wavering polarities in Mahler. Yet both pieces were executed with sensitive, musically informed intelligence.

More on Chailly's Mahler 10 Prom

Interesting performances grow in your mind. I thought I knew Mahler’s 10th pretty well, but Chailly’s performance at the Proms keeps generating new ideas. Another good reason to steer clear of “instant” opinions.

The Tenth feels like a departure, for of course every new work is a new venture. But it’s not a departure into death as commonly assumed, but something quite unusual even in Mahler terms.

The lyricism in the Adagio harks back to the Adagietto of the 5th Symphony, which was also a tribute to Alma. It also evokes the wide, open landscapes Mahler loved so much. These symbolize the limitless panoramas so many of the symphonies open out towards – “eternal light”.

When the Adagio is performed as a stand alone, it doesn’t matter so much what a conductor puts into it. But when it’s performed as part of the wider symphony, it needs to be shaped by wider considerations. Since the Tenth is a sketch, not a completion, it’s not going to be fully orchestrated, so the Adagio needs a lighter, more elusive touch than if it were a straightforward love song.

Right from the start it’s apparent that there are two voices here, the dark rich one and the light, beautiful string theme. Obviously, it may be a reference to Mahler’s marriage but what’s significant is that the “scream” chords” could refer to different things. Are they cries of pain, or sudden flashes of knowledge? Either possibility works even though the actual notes remain the same.

So this is a departure for Mahler on another level. All along what stands out in his music is the idea of an individual, usually pitted against vast forces. Of course dual themes occur everywhere in nearly all music but what’s interesting fort me in Mahler 10th is how duality is embedded into the symphony’s structure. The Purgatorio bridges two Scherzi. Is this an echo of the two Nachtmusiks in Mahler 7 ? Conventional middle movements can be heard as a climax but in the Seventh, the middle movement separates two different stages in the journey towards the glowing Finale. Incidentally the most wonderful performance of the Seventh I have ever heard was Chailly and the Leipzig Gewandhaus. He placed the mandolin in the centre of the orchestra, not tucked away in a corner, so the “lone voices” were absolutely at the heart of the music, not some peripheral detail. There’s a reason!

I’ve written about the Purgatorio below and how it may represent the frailty of a needy child who dies before he can be fed. Song is so central to any understanding of Mahler that it’s not a coincidence. What was Mahler thinking about, returning to an early song at this time in his life, when he was, like the starving child, put aside by a woman who had other things on her mind ?

So like the Nachtmusiks, the Scherzi represent different stages. The first mocks the Adagio, but the second is altogether more complex: this was the part Mahler left most incomplete. See what I’ve written below about his markings and the prepositional nature of the section. It can never be completed because Mahler himself may not have known. In this performance, Chailly creates the sketch-like nature of the section so it really does feel incomplete, which may seem a bit shocking, like entering a room to find the floor opens onto the sky.

That’s why I think it is so important that an orchestra as good as the Leipzig Gewandhaus is central to performance. A really good orchestra can suggest sounds out of silence, creating reverberating echoes than span voids. The Leipzig strings are famous for their luminous, rich sheen : so the beauty of their playing registers on the mind even when they aren’t actually playing. Since the strings create so much of the “Alma” theme such playing warms the music even if it’s loosely orchestrated. Like perfume, an invisible presence.

So here we have two voices in the symphony, not one. What did Mahler mean when he wrote on the pages of the “Fireman’s funeral”, that only Alma knew what it meant? For once Alma wasn’t telling. It must have been something quite deep, not simply a reaction to a stranger’s funeral. But the point is that the composer is no longer a lone figure, like the hero in the First Symphony. GM and Alma now stand together looking out of their hotel room, down at the city below them.

Daniel Harding’s recording is by far more attuned to the “Devil “ theme and the spiky, edgy anxiety in the Scherzi. His “fireman’s funeral” is truly horrific, the drumstrokes devastate. Chailly’s version isn’t nearly so dark, though both lead to the same transformational, transcending resolution. I’ve been listening to them both side by side, and it’s amazing what that reveals. It’s like hearing the same story from both sides. Harding expresses a Mahler perspective but Chailly emphasizes the role of Alma.

Hence Mahler’s references all over the manuscript. “To live for you, to die for you” and the poignant “Almschi”. He may not have finished the symphony but he had no illusions that it had no meaning.

There are several different performing versions of this symphony and they keep evolving, which is a good thing, because the very process involved understanding and informed choice. There are elaborate versions and bland : on balance Cooke 3 perhaps works best because it's sensitive to the idiom without attaching too much. I have a weakness for the Joe Wheeler version which is the most spartan of all, particularly as both performances I've heard are awful. But what would the Tenth be without Alma?
PLEASE see the other posts on Mahler 10 here (two on Chailly, two on Harding)) ! and also on other Mahler works/I'm "downloading" a lifdetime of listening.

Mahler 10 Chailly Leipzig Gewandhaus Prom 69 Mendelssohn

The performing version of Mahler's Tenth Symphony is intriguing precisely because it's unfinished. Since no-one will ever know for sure what the composer intended, an air of open-endedness hovers over it, opening possibilties in the imagination. So performances need to be created with insight into Mahler's musical processes. It means informed guesswork, so it's not a symphony for beginners. But Riccardo Chailly and the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra gave an astounding account at this Prom, which revealed how great the symphony's potential might have been.

Like so much of Mahler's work, the symphony involves memory, echoes of symphonies past and what they might symbolize. Two main themes circle round each other in the Adagio, one delicate, the other warmer, probing each other tentatively. Chailly doesn't dwell on nostalgia, because that can throw the rest of the piece off balance. Stand alone Adagios don't have such considerations. Sharp string figures emerge like sudden chills. The first violin persists in playing a melody, overtaken by the sudden bursts of brass, the "scream" chords. Again, Chailly stresses how they may mean more than one thing : here they came over as sudden flashes of shocking illumination. Evidently he knows the biography.

The first Scherzo mocks the delicacy of the Adagio. Swaggering grotesques, flattened horns, shrill trumpets, echoing the marches of death and disorder in earlier symphonies. The Leipzigers are far too good an orchestra to simply do crude. This orchestra's famous warm tones are put to good effect making the brutality almost hypnotically seductive. The jagged angular rhythms at last expend their energy in the crisp, unambiguous ending.

For me, the Purgatorio echoes the Wunderhorn song Das irdisches Leben : a small, plaintive cry amid larger, more dominant forces, hemmed in as it is by the two dominant Scherzi. Whatever it means, it's a bridge towards the Allegro Pesante, a stage in the passage of ideas. On the first page of this movement, Mahler pencilled the words "The Devil is dancing it with me! Madness, seize me … destroy me! Let me forget that I exist, so that I cease to be.” But a careful observer will note that Mahler then adds “dass ich ver ….” (so that I ….) and trails off without completing the idea. It’s a proposition, but this whole work is a kind of proposition.

Although this movement still feels incomplete despite years of careful adjustment by Coooke, Goldschmidt and the Matthews brothers, it's not a fault, as Chailly and the Leipzigers demonstrate. Individual instruments have their moment, without undue ornamentation. For me it felt like the spirit of the Purgatorio popping up uncowed. Playing as beautiful and as confident as this makes you appreciate how pure and clean Mahler's idiom can be, a departure from the overripe excess of so much music in his time. Chailly and his musicians make this second Scherzo feel shockingly spare and elevated.

Again, this is perceptive because at this point, Mahler was on the verge of new phases in his life. The fourth volume of Professor Henry-Louis de La Grange's monumental biography is titled "A New Life Cut Short" and is essential. Read about it HERE. What do Mahler's enigmatic markings on the score refer to? The Tenth is a guessing game, but fascinating for that very reason.

Alma described the image of the fireman's funeral in the Finale, but what did it mean to the composer on a deeper, non-literal level? Mahler didn't know the dead man personally, so there is an air of detachment, not overt emotionalism. This burial is symbolic not specific. The drumbeats are emphatic. Whatever Mahler is burying, he's moving away from it. Out of the numbness rises a new theme, led by woodwinds, rising elusively upwards. Again, the idea of fragility in the Purgatorio returns, but this time the theme grows stronger and fuller, as it's taken up by bassoons and darker brass. Even the drumstrokes become sharp rather than muffled. The new theme becomes more lyrical. Then long strident brass chords herald another new stage. Yet again, diaphanously transparent textures. The Leipzig string players are a wonder, their bowing so carefully sustained that sounds seem to glow with warmth and light.

Chailly and the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra are a marriage made in heaven, so it's specially good to hear them in this symphony. Chailly's gift for Mahler didn't reach fulfilment in his years in Amsterdam, perhaps because they had the Haitink tradition firmly instilled in them. But even then Chailly impressed.

Ten years ago I heard him conduct Mahler 10 with the Royal Concertgebouw, as part of a series of Mahler performances. Earlier, Matthias Goerne had sung the Ruckert Lieder. Usually singers got home after their stint. Instead, just before the beginning of the symphony, when the lights went down, a figure slipped unobtrusively into an empty seat in a corner: Matthias Goerne in street clothes. He sat completely engrossed in the music, listening intently, his body crunched forward. Not many singers immerse themselves in a composer's non-song output, but he does, which is why his performances are so musically informed. Performing Mahler isn't a matter of learning the notes. It's a vocation.

I loved the Mendelssohn Piano Concerto too : Saleem Abboud Ashkar is wonderful, and of course no orchestra plays Mendelssohn like the Leipzig Gewandhaus. But enough from me now.
Later I'll be writing more about Chailly's Mahler and why his approach to this performance works for me. Read HERE The photo above is GM and Alma walking in the mountains above Toblach.

Harding Mahler 10 new !

Really interesting recording, this :

http://www.musicweb-international.com/classrev/2008/June08/Mahler10_Harding_4777347.htm

“Mahler goes in such an extreme direction. The music is in a way so modern and unexpected, that if you listen to it a first time it’s very possible to be confused by the modernity and the extreme nature of the musical language”.