Tuesday, 11.3.09, 5:00 am
Gustav Mahler – Introduction (1.2)
Here is the second part of an introduction and discussion of all Mahler symphonies (through favorite recordings) which will take place all through November, Classical WETA’s Mahler-Month. The first part was published separately, earlier this year, and can be read here.
The struggle, the crisis of identity and faith, the uncertainties and the challenge of a creeping modernism that radically undermined life as people knew it… all seem to be reflected in the clashes and crashes of Mahler’s symphonies. And it seems only fair to assume that it is this quality that makes Mahler one of the most popular composers of our time, an object of passion, obsession. Mahler is not a composer for times of (moral) certitude but instead for times of a general flailing about. This innate element of human existence is always going to be with us, perhaps cyclically, and thus Mahler’s music will always find a way to appeal as personal statements that reflect a greater uncertainty about life.
All that may not exactly sound like a whole-hearted effort to sell Mahler’s music as great—but that is exactly what Mahler’s symphonies are. With their Klezmer-meets-forest-birds tunes, with cow herds and marching bands crashing into each other and riding the fairy-wheel together, with its dozens of hiccups but also its few unearthly, beautiful long lines, with its unpredictability and frenzy, its fears and bouts of poise and conviction, the marriage of the most sophisticated and the crass, the sardonic parts and the heart-wrenching longing, these works just about do justice to Mahler’s own ambitious, if not pompous, claim (to Sibelius), that ‘the symphony must contain the world’. Or, as he said in reference to his third symphony to Bruno Walter (who marveled at the Alpine landscape when visiting Mahler in 1896 at the Attersee) on only a marginally smaller scale of ambition or pomposity: “Don’t bother looking, I’ve already composed all of it.” (“Sie brauchen gar nicht mehr hinzusehen – das habe ich schon alles wegkomponiert.”)
Given the personal nature of these symphonies and the many ways one can interpret them in, picking “best” recordings is an undertaking that presumes a good amount of vanity and audacity: There is, after all, no one “best” way of doing Mahler, nor is there a way to objectively declare a recording of a given interpretive type superior to any and all others of its type and audibly so to all potential listeners. But then that is the problem with all such ‘best of’ lists (or indeed all criticism) and I am comfortable with the subjective element so long as I have good reason to believe in my choices. Certainly a good amount of exposure helps (I must average well over a dozen recordings of each symphony—and take into consideration the views of a number of other critics and ‘acquainted ears’) and might well be enough to justify such a list and to hope that the mentioned recordings pique your interest. All top choices on this list are—by design—currently and easily (that is: usually on individual discs, not in boxes) available in North America. Where less easily attainable copies offer must-hear versions, I make note of it.
A meaningful discussion of complete sets of Mahler would be another article of this length and does not seem as useful. What every critic or record guide will tell you is true: None can adequately match everyone’s taste in each symphony, be it because of the conductor’s or the listener’s particular preferences and style. There are several good sets available, though, most notably Kubelik / DG and Inbal / Brilliant (in the ‘safe’ category), Bernstein (extroverted and raw on Sony, wilful and polished on DG), Bertini / EMI (of which I’ve only heard a couple symphonies but which gets only the highest praise), Chailly / Decca (clean and plenty polish), and Gielen / Hänssler (analytical and explosive in turn). Sinopoli / DG seems to rub some critics the wrong way, but his set is the most complete (all the orchestral songs and cycles) and everything I’ve heard of it (all but the third) is between good and excellent. It’s certainly not “safe”—but gritty and highly engaged. I would avoid Solti, Maazel and most of the obscure cycles (Tabakov, Neumann, De Wart, Segerstam). Abbado (Vienna), Haitink (Concertgebouw) and Ozawa (Boston) are not available in the U.S. and there is little that suggests they need to be sought out at great effort and even greater expense while other fine sets are available. [Since I first set out on writing this essay so many new cycles and almost-cycles have been started and even finished—Gergiev (LSO Live), Fischer (Channel), Stenz (Oehms), Schwarz (Artek), Boulez (DG)—that a roundup and review might well be worthwhile, but not before next year. Individual recordings from these, where available, have been considered in the discussion of the symphonies.]
Also missing from this review is a discussion of the song cycles and collections except Das Lied—for several reasons, not the least of which is my relative lack of exposure to enough different versions that would have warranted inclusion. I also feel that Mahler said most everything he had to say in his symphonies—and perhaps more successfully so. Often enough he includes material from the songs in the (first four) symphonies (i.e. Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen in the First Symphony, Des Knaben Wunderhorn in the Fourth) where they find their final, liberated (?) form. Still, I want to mention his most neglected, first major composition: Das klagende Lied, which is one such vocal work; a secular cantata that foreshadows Schoenberg’s Gurrelieder.
There are just a few recordings of this work and of the few there are, fewer still seem currently, or easily, available in the U.S.. Sinopoli’s* and Rattle’s recordings are available as part of their complete box sets (DG, EMI), Michael Tilson Thomas’ 1996 RCA recording is again attainable from San Francisco Symphony media, remastered in the hybrid-SACD format. Haitink’s Concertgebouw Third, re-issued, happily comes with the two-movement verison of it. Inbal is hard to come by and Nagano out of print, but at least the excellent Chailly (Decca) is available again. At least that is more than just a few years ago, which is good because Das Klagende Lied is not only a beautiful work (whether in three, or—as revised—two movements), but also echt-Mahler. As such, it might even seem more confident than his First Symphony with its oversized, glued-on tail. In Das Klagende Lied can be discerned the seeds of material that Mahler would later harvest—notably for the Songs of a Wayfarer, but even as late in his career as when writing Das Lied von der Erde. [* Sinopoli’s recording has since been made available via the ArkivMusic service] 
The font used in the title is “Samba Expert”
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Recommended Recordings:
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Bernstein made more of a splash with his Mahler cycle, and it is fair to say that the American conductor did more to bring Mahler back to concert-hall ubiquitousness. But Czech conductor Kubelik was ahead of the trend and programmed a complete Mahler cycle well before Bernstein recorded his, and Deutsche Grammophon recored his self-effacing interpretations at the same time Columbia recorded Bernstein. Kubelik eschewed Mahler-as-a-platform-for-personal-neurosis, he doesn’t further wind up the already overwrought music. Mahler knew about conductors’ ‘interpretations’ and he didn’t like what he heard. So he tried to make his symphonies “idiot proof” by indicating every minute detail to prevent conductors from adding (or taking away) elements that are not in the music. Few conductors get as close to just playing the music as Kubelik, whose incredibly even cycle, despite its (audible) age remains among the finest contenders.
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I have always thought the praise of Bernstein’s Mahler, and especially the dogged insistence on his earlier cycle on Sony being a first choice, as rooted in nostalgia rather than objectivity. I’m not ready to change my verdict entirely (too uneven, sometimes scrappy), but the latest re-issue and superb re-mastering of that cycle, issued in collaboration with Carnegie Hall, has made an already attractive bundle even more desirable. The presentation can’t be lauded enough, it is simply optimal. Every symphony gets its own CD (or set of two CDs), so there is none of that exacerbating skipping forward three tracks on disc 7 to get to Symphony 6, which then continues on disc 8 which in turn contains the beginning or last movement of yet another symphony… Everything is well designed, the sleeves containing the discs are sturdy (they even have a spine) and with all the pertinent information clearly printed on them. Interviews with New York Philharmonic musicians who knew Mahler top off the budget friendly re-issue of these overexcited yet in their own way earnest interpretations.
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Michael Gielen isn’t alone in approaching Mahler as the first modern composer rather than as the epitome of romantic composers, but at his best (6th, 9th, 2nd, 7th) he not only keeps the textures clear and the progression as organic as possible in this music, he also injects intense fervor usually the prerogative of his romanticizing colleagues. His cycle can’t score on price compared to those that have been issued and re-issued for the umpteenth time, nor is his orchestra the lushest, and the intriguing modernist couplings of the individual disc are not part of the box… but of available modern cycles this is my favorite right now. His 10th is also among the best, but curiously not included in this box. It is Gielen’s cycle that will be the third, integral cycle played on Classical WETA during Mahler Month.
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