SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

SEEN AND HEARD UK CONCERT REVIEW

Mahler: Royal Scottish National Orchestra, Stephane Denève (conductor), Usher Hall, Edinburgh, 12.3.2010 (SRT)

Mahler: Symphony No. 6

 

From the very first performance the central debate over Mahler’s 6^th has been in which order to perform the middle movements. The arguments on both sides are well enough worn not to go into here: if you’re interested in finding out more then try here. In performing it this week Stephane Denève has neatly sidestepped the argument by performing the symphony in its two different forms on two evenings. Last night Glasgow got Allegro-Andante-Scherzo-Finale; tonight in Edinburgh we got Allegro-Scherzo-Andante-Finale. It’s a clever move because it avoids the unnecessarily intense feelings on both sides (is it really worth spilling so much ink over?) and it presents what is effectively two different symphonies. As a member of the Edinburgh audience I heard the Scherzo first. For what it’s worth I prefer this order, partly because it’s how I first got to know the symphony, but also because it’s more bearable! The troubled but soothing Andante comes like sweet refuge after the intensity of the Allegro and Scherzo, and acts like an oasis before plunging into the titanic finale. However I suspect that this is precisely the reason Mahler reversed the order at the last minute: Andante first makes the symphony an almost unbearably intense experience, not least because (importantly) it reinforces the feeling of a classical Viennese symphony gone horribly wrong. I can only comment on the performance I heard: suffice it to say that tonight I witnessed music making of towering strength that reinforced my belief in Mahler and delivered, by a country mile, the finest single musical performance I’ve heard this year so far.

 

This is the first time I’ve heard Denève conducting Mahler, though I’m told that he has been conducting the symphonies chronologically over the last few seasons. He has recently announced that he is extending his tenure to serve until summer 2012, and on the basis of tonight I hope we hear more Mahler before he leaves. Above all else he shows an ear for the long line, the architectural build that moves towards a stunning final goal. Nowhere was this clearer than in the long span of the vast finale. The individual moments were undoubtedly impressive: the swirling introduction opened up an infinity of space, and the brass chorale/death march that followed soon after built with unstoppable momentum towards the thunderous return of the major-to-minor chord. However it was the control of the mood that impressed me the most. At the entry of the march the music turned decidedly malicious and on the second return of the opening theme the music began to be overwhelmed by an awful feeling that this most classical of Mahler's structures was steadily and unstoppably imploding. The hammer-blows (only two of them) were climaxes in themselves but not for their own sake: on both appearances they injected an element of delirium into the music, illustrating Denève’s ability to build a climax and always to hold something back for what lay ahead. By the time we got to the final threnody on the trombones and tuba it felt as though we were surveying a world devastated, blasted, for which no hope remained: the devastation of the final A minor chord was complete, seemingly the only possible ending for this huge journey.

 

On their own the final pages would have counted for little, but their power lay in the fact that we were steadily prepared for them from the very opening bars of the first movement with the march rhythm on the cellos and basses sounding with alarming bite. Likewise the opening of the Scherzo bounded onto the scene before the comic tones of an oboe led into the disconcertingly jaunty Minuet. The central section felt like a real dance of death with its clattering xylophone, col legno violins and darkly growling bass. However, Denève’s drive did not shirk the quieter moments: in fact the uneasy bliss of the first movement’s mountain-top interlude carried uncanny power with its violin tremolos shaded to a barely audible pianissimo. Wonderfully atmospheric, it was then cut right off by a sinister recapitulation which then threatened to undermine itself with a coda that bordered on the euphoric. Likewise, the lovely opening of the Andante, almost like a lullaby, felt all the more fleeting as it gave way to the restless uncertainty of the central section.

 

Big projects like a Mahler symphony really bind orchestras together and the feeling of collective enterprise was palpable with playing that combined virtuosity with single-minded unity. In the light of this it seems churlish to single out particular sections for special praise, but I was repeatedly astonished by the scale and sheer power of the (enormous) brass section. When it came to the individual solos, of which there were many (this being Mahler), the woodwinds added colour and chamber-music clarity to the vast textures, sometimes like pinpricks of light in the overbearing darkness.

 

But this was Denève’s evening and the greatest ovation at the end was for him. The audience in the packed Usher Hall sat riveted for nearly 90 minutes and, as the final chord ebbed away, sat in stunned silence for a full 30 seconds before the applause began. This, surely, was the finest compliment of all.

 

Simon Thompson