Mahler: Symphony No. 6: Alan Gilbert (conductor), New York Philharmonic, Avery Fisher Hall, New York City, 29.9.2010 (BH)

 

Mahler: Symphony No. 6 in A minor (1903-05, rev. 1906)

 

In this fascinating concert—not to everyone’s taste—Alan Gilbert and the New York Philharmonic tackled one of Mahler’s most difficult works, his rugged Sixth Symphony. If the results weren’t as emotionally exhausting as Tennstedt, as darkly charged as Gergiev, or as sleekly seductive as Maazel (who led performances here in 2005), Gilbert still acquitted himself strongly, helped by some outstandingly fine ensemble playing.

 

The ferocious first-movement march was brisk, swift, forceful—glistening with percussion and harp accents—and the final rush to the finish line, capped with a breathtakingly precise final chord, was dazzling. The Andante was notable for its humility, clarity and lack of underlining—luscious, beguiling, and sad. It felt good to trust the horn section, too, coping with Mahler’s often cruel writing for that instrument.

 

I wish he’d chosen to do the Andante second, since I prefer the sense of slight relief, shivering for shelter after the first two violent movements. But the payoff is perhaps an even rockier ride: there’s more tugging and pulling at one’s gut. Just as the ear is beginning to settle in, exploring the serene, haunting caverns of the slow movement, it is hurled back into the Scherzo, before being catapulted once again into the vast darkness of the finale. This Scherzo at times sounded like Haydn, then suddenly lurching into Ravel’s La Valse—manicured, yet with plenty of shocking, shrill outbursts. And Gilbert did a masterful job with the final pages, when the movement slowly ebbs and flickers out.

 

Near the beginning of the finale, Alan Baer’s tuba groaned like Death, beseeching one to give in to its demands—a marvelous example of coaxing a slightly rougher sound from the instrument. And meanwhile, a grim parade began to boil throughout the rest of the orchestra, leading to the feverish percussion climaxes. Gilbert included all three hammer blows, which here seemed not to dampen life, but to unlock further chaos.

 

One friend afterward confided that he doesn’t like the short phrases in this piece; just when you’re ready to dig in to a passage you like, it’s intercepted by something else and flies off in another direction. I like that sensation, but for some it probably feels like being pulled apart on a rack. Mahler performances can be exhausting, crazy, sparkling, controlled, ultra-emotional or coolly virtuosic. If I wasn’t always quite sure which qualities Gilbert values above all, it didn’t matter—he and the players still got my attention.

 

Bruce Hodges