The names of Gustav
Mahler and Leonard Bernstein have been
linked in the minds of music lovers
for many years. These performances bear
witness to a remarkable understanding
of the work of one great composer, interpreted
by another who like him was also a great
conductor.
It seems hard to believe
that Bernstein died more than fifteen
years ago, such is the strength of his
legacy and his enduring influence on
the musical firmament. As a composer
his stature seems to be growing year
on year, while his many recorded performances
rightly maintain their availability
internationally in the catalogues.
In the later part of
his career as a recording artist Bernstein
came to prefer live performances to
those in the studio, particularly when
two or more could be scheduled in order
to deal with any problems of editing,
orchestral mistakes or audience intrusion.
At the time of his death in 1990, he
was well advanced into this major project
to make his second set of Mahler recordings,
but he did not quite manage to complete
the task. Therefore three of these collected
performances are of earlier provenance:
Symphony No. 8, Das Lied von der
Erde (courtesy of CBS) and the Adagio
from Symphony No. 10.
Like Bernstein, Mahler
was immensely gifted. He studied in
Vienna before developing a dual career
as conductor and composer. His conducting
career in opera houses brought him major
appointments: for example Prague and
Hamburg, then at the age of just 37,
the directorship of the Vienna Court
Opera. This success, together with guest
conducting, left him with only the summer
months that he could dedicate to his
first love, composition.
There can be little
doubt that this enormous pressure on
his time made Mahler concentrate on
just two musical genres, the symphony
and the song, and sometimes even to
combine them. Moreover, it encouraged
his sense of quest, his search for meaning,
a search best explained through his
own words: 'I am thrice homeless: as
a Bohemian in Austria, as an Austrian
in Germany, and as a Jew throughout
the whole world.'
Each of Mahler's symphonies
is concerned with the same issues, with
the struggle between Life-force and
Death-force, an extension of Beethoven's
idea of man’s struggle with Fate. To
encompass so powerfully expressive an
end, he opted for an approach which
made the symphony a world, in which
all manner of images could exist in
order to fully develop the project.
This is why his symphonies vary so much
in style, length and layout, and why
the resources required are so large.
From 1907, when a heart
condition was diagnosed, Mahler lived
under sentence of death. Thus his final
works - Das Lied von der Erde,
the 9th and 10th symphonies - possess
a valedictory quality. He died in Vienna
on 18th May 1911, aged fifty.
This collection is
nearly, but not quite, a complete Mahler
collection. All the major works are
here, but there are none of the early
songs, the lieder und Gesang aus
der Jugendzeit, nor of the cantata
Das Klagende Lied or the completed
version(s) of the Symphony No. 10.
In the Lieder eines
fahrenden Gesellen, the Rückert
Lieder and the Kindertotenlieder
Thomas Hampson is an excellent soloist.
Mahler left the option of performing
all these songs with either a male or
a female singer, and many celebrated
artists have proved beyond question
that either possibility can succeed
equally well, while bringing a different
musical experience each time. There
is no point in claiming that any one
approach is better than any other. Hampson
sets the standard with a beautifully
shaped and direct performance of the
earliest of these cycles, the Lieder
eines fahrenden Gesellen (Songs
of a Wayfarer), which fittingly
is coupled with the Symphony No. 1,
with which it has so many links of material.
In many respects Bernstein’s
performance with the Concertgebouw Orchestra
of the Symphony No. 1 is the jewel in
the crown among this whole collection.
The combination of the well balanced
recording, beautiful playing, and spontaneous
symphonic growth is particularly compelling.
Rarely can the opening of the symphony
have sounded more atmospheric, with
every little detail making its telling
point. The clarinet’s cuckoo calls are
particularly effective, for instance.
By contrast the emphatic and weighty
rhythms of the second movement extend
the aural experience and make a strong
contrast. Bernstein does not include
the original Blumine movement
that Mahler cut from the final version,
nor does he include it as an appendix,
where it would have made a useful addition,
since it is such a beautiful piece.
The third movement
funeral march sets forth a rather sprightly
tempo, and if this weakens the impact
of the double bass solo it does enhance
the symphonic cohesiveness as the movement
proceeds, linking with the bizarre klezmer
music when it intervenes. The finale
abounds in rhetorical gestures, and
here Bernstein is in his element. The
opening bars set the tone and achieve
a terrific impact, while as the movement
proceeds there is a really compelling
momentum and the triumphant ending sweeps
all before it.
The famous Resurrection
Symphony was recorded in the drier
acoustic of New York’s Avery Fisher
Hall. As with the other performances
from this venue, the skills of the engineers
were put to the test in coping with
this problem. The results, here as elsewhere,
are mixed although not entirely disappointing.
The balancing of the percussion, in
the last movement especially, does not
always seem natural.
Bernstein adopts tempi
that are slower than the norm; his interpretation
is some fifteen minutes longer, for
example, than Otto Klemperer’s (EMI)
– so much for generalized reputations.
This does occasionally result in the
tension sagging as a result of the lack
of impetus. Also in the Wunderhorn
setting Urlicht (Primeval Light),
Christa Ludwig proves a reliable rather
than a radiant soloist. There is little
of the radiant intensity brought by
Janet Baker in her EMI recording with
Sir Simon Rattle. In the magnificently
visionary finale, there are some problems
of balance in the recording of fully
scored passages with complex textures.
However, the final phase sounds just
as overwhelming as Mahler intended:
'The whole thing sounds as though it
came to us from some other world. And
I think there is no-one who can resist
it. One is battered to the ground and
then raised on angel's wings to the
highest heights.'
The Third Symphony
also comes from New York. Bernstein’s
earlier recording on CBS was always
highly regarded, and it is true that
this symphony finds him at his best
once again. The work is an epic affair
which goes to extremes, of dynamics
for example. Once more the dry acoustic
becomes an issue, making a genuine pianissimo
elusive, and this is a problem in the
fourth movement Nietzsche setting, which
is wanting in atmosphere, despite the
fine singing of Christa Ludwig. The
finale is very broad, broader than most,
except possibly Lorin Maazel with the
Vienna Philharmonic (Sony). The results
strike me as a touch self-conscious,
and a little more flow after the approach
of Jascha Horenstein (Unicorn) brings
rewards. Bernstein does make his reading
work on its own terms, however, and
it is significant that he chose the
symphony for his farewell concert as
music director of the New York Philharmonic.
The recording has plenty of impact,
not least in the first movement, whose
inexorable pulse is most compellingly
drawn.
With the Fourth Symphony,
the talking point will obviously be
Bernstein’s decision to use a boy soprano
in the song-finale, Das Himmlische
Leben, the child’s view of Heaven.
As such the performance is well worth
hearing and it works well enough, for
which all praise to young Helmut Wittek,
for whom the role has presumably dropped
from his repertory by now. He seems
a little flat from time to time, and
he is placed very forward in the recorded
perspective, but generally the fresh
accuracy of his voice is preferable
to that of a more plummy soprano. Lucia
Popp, for Klaus Tennstedt on EMI, seems
to achieve the best of both worlds.
In other respects the performance captures
the special neo-classical world of this
piece. Bernstein does tend to slow down
lovingly at key moments in the first
movement, but then Mahler encourages
this with his emphasis on expressive
phrasing.
The second, third and
fourth symphonies are collectively known
as the Wunderhorn Symphonies
because of their links with the songs
of that name that so obsessed Mahler,
particularly during the decade of the
1890s. This 1987 performance from Amsterdam
features Lucia Popp and the Andreas
Schmidt, and was the third and last
that Bernstein made. In one of the others
he had been the piano accompanist. Popp
and Schmidt are splendid artists for
whom this repertoire seems ideal, and
Popp in particular is on wonderful form,
as indeed she also was for Tennstedt
on EMI. The attractions include her
charming rendition of Rheinlegendchen
and Schmidt’s sturdy Lied des Verfolgten
im Turm (Song of the Prisoner
in the Tower). Occasionally Schmidt
can sound a touch prosaic; for example
his drummer boy (Der Tamboursg’sell)
has less personality than Berndt Weikl’s
with Tennstedt, or Thomas Allen’s with
Sir Charles Mackerras (Virgin Classics).
In this performance Popp sings St
Anthony of Padua’s Sermon to the Fishes,
which is usually the preserve of the
baritone. Although she sings well, the
song surely works better with the male
voice. As for the highlight of the whole
sequence, this has to be Popp’s performance
of Wo die schönen Trompeten
blasen, if only because it is the
best of these Wunderhorn songs,
one of Mahler’s greatest compositions.
Bernstein and the Vienna
Philharmonic toured the Fifth Symphony
across Europe; and their Proms performance
at the Royal Albert Hall in London made
a powerful impact. This recording comes
from Frankfurt and brings out the virtues
of a work with which the conductor felt
a special affinity in his later years.
It remains a benchmark performance,
worthy of a hallowed position alongside
Sir John Barbirolli (EMI). The trumpet
fanfare sets the tone of searing drama,
while the final chorale is splendidly
integrated and ideally balanced by the
recording engineers. As for the most
celebrated movement, this Adagietto
could hardly be bettered. Slow-moving
yet eloquent, the line has a fluid ebb
and flow, with string playing from the
Vienna Philharmonic that is quite wonderful.
The Sixth was one of
the spectacular successes of Bernstein’s
earlier New York recorded cycle on CBS.
The newer performance, again with the
Vienna Philharmonic, is a full twelve
minutes longer; but the first movement
is still energetic rather than world-weary
(compare with Abbado on DG or more still,
with Barbirolli on EMI). As a result
of the relatively quick tempo, which
has little of Mahler’s stipulated ‘non
troppo’, the second subject known as
‘Alma’s theme’ is exciting but makes
less impression in its context. The
Scherzo is positioned second and is
very fine, with spectral orchestral
sounds, replete with virtuoso xylophone.
On the other hand, the Andante
features yet more of the Vienna Philharmonic’s
wonderful string playing.
It is on the extraordinary
finale that any performance of the Sixth
will stand or fall. In this thirty-minute
movement containing the famous hammer-blows
of fate, Bernstein’s tempo relationships
are most skillfully drawn. Seldom can
Mahler’s desperate stringendo into
climaxes have made a more intense impression.
The dynamic range is thrillingly captured,
and the hammer-blows certainly make
their point.
The Seventh Symphony
is another New York recording. The volatile
nature of this music suited Bernstein
particularly well, and what is most
compelling of all about this performance
is his interpretation of the Rondo-finale,
which is taut and cohesive where in
other hands it can seem episodic. Make
no mistake, this is what we may enthusiastically
describe as a great performance.
Alongside these ‘middle
period’ symphonies Mahler composed two
sets of songs on the poetry of Friedrich
Rückert. The dark-toned Kindertotenlieder
gains from the timbre of the baritone
voice, and Thomas Hampson does not disappoint
in this respect. Much of the music is
gaunt and introspective, so that when
the storms brew and are unleashed the
effect is galvanising. The other Rückert
songs form a collection rather than
a cycle, but they are so well balanced
as a group that they work best when
performed together rather than separately.
Most performances feature a mezzo-soprano,
and it is true that Janet Baker (EMI)
is peerless here. However, Thomas Hampson’s
affinity with Mahler brings much satisfaction.
When Bernstein died
he had not completed this project, and
among the numbered symphonies the Eighth
was missing (as were Das Lied von
der Erde and the Adagio of
the unfinished Tenth). With imagination
and good business sense an earlier broadcast
performance was found in order to fill
the gap. This recording of the Symphony
No. 8 comes from the 1975 Salzburg Festival,
and while it is less sophisticated as
sound than most of the other recordings
featured here, it still succeeds both
in recapturing the spirit of a special
occasion, as any performance of this
ambitious work will always be. The headlong
attack with which Bernstein launches
the symphony into action is certainly
thrilling, but the precedent it sets
is not without its problems later on,
as at ‘Accende lumen sensibus’ towards
the end of the first movement, which
nearly comes off the rails. That it
doesn’t actually do so might be seen
as a strength, of course.
The quieter moments
of the extended second part, the setting
of Part II of Goethe’s Faust,
are particularly atmospheric, but later
on the boys’ chorus lacks definition
in the aural perspective when the textures
become more complex. As in the Resurrection
Symphony, the closing phase of the
Eight is intended to sweep all before
it, the listener in particular. Bernstein
is suitably compelling here.
Among the singers Kenneth
Riegel copes admirably with the high
yet stentorian role of Doctor Marianus,
while José van Dam is a most
effective and imposing Pater Profundus.
This typically starry Salzburg cast
also finds Margaret Price sounding most
beautiful, though she rather fluffs
her demanding high C. The disappointment
of the performance is undoubtedly the
puny-sounding organ, probably the instrument
itself rather than the recording.
Recorded in 1966 by
CBS and issued here under licence, Bernstein’s
Das Lied von der Erde was always
a top recommendation. The performance
has never sounded better than in this
reissue, of course, and the performance
uses Mahler’s own preferred option of
tenor and baritone soloists. Of course
there have been many highly successful
performances with tenor and contralto,
including great artists such as Kathleen
Ferrier, Janet Baker and Jessye Norman,
among others. Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau
emphasises the gains that can be brought
by a singer who is a natural German
speaker, since he uses the words so
imaginatively to enhance aspects of
his interpretation. James King is also
a well chosen soloist, whose heldentenor
voice has the kind of sound that the
Wagner-conducting Mahler must have had
in mind. His performance is less subtle
than Fischer-Dieskau’s, but no matter,
such is the nobility of the sound. Despite
the evident strengths of this pair of
soloists, the performance remains very
much Bernstein’s, not least in the visionary
farewells in the final movement, Der
Abschied.
During the 1980s Bernstein
made two recordings of the Ninth Symphony,
one with the Berlin Philharmonic and
another - this one - with the Concertgebouw.
The key to his interpretation was his
stated view that the Adagio finale
‘takes the form of a prayer, Mahler’s
last chorale, his closing hymn so to
speak, and it prays for the restoration
of life, of tonality, of faith’. Perhaps
this is why the tempo for the finale
is very slow, indulgently slow. Whether
this works can come down to our individual
responses and preconceptions, perhaps,
and it is the same issue that arose
in relation to the closing Adagio
of the Third Symphony. This is challenging
music, for players and audiences alike,
and the challenge is intensified by
the slower tempo, not least in the closing
stages when the music becomes more restrained
and inward.
At the opposite remove
is the preceding movement, the Rondo-Burleske.
This is edge-of-the-seat music, with
hectic tempo, complex shifting textures
and order challenged by chaos. Bernstein
was not one to shy away from such dangers.
Another conspicuous success of this
performance is the second movement ländler,
which abounds in the compelling observation
of detail, but never at the expense
of line. The first movement is introspective
and indulgent, as if by turns, Bernstein’s
belief in the intense imageries of the
music is palpable.
Unlike many conductors
of his generation and since, Bernstein
declined to conduct Deryck Cooke’s completed
version, or any other completed version,
of the unfinished Tenth Symphony. In
this regard he was at one with other
notable Mahler conductors, such as Sir
Georg Solti and Bernard Haitink. He
did perform the completed first movement,
however. The Adagio from the
Symphony No. 10 was recorded in Vienna
in 1974, and it has that sincerity of
line and purpose that we would expect
to find in a Bernstein performance.
Here more than elsewhere, however, the
issue of recording from a live performance
comes into play. For the audience is
less than well behaved, and reserves
participation for crucial moments too.
Therefore allowances have to be made
that should not really be necessary
in the concert hall, let alone on a
preserved recorded performance.
This collection of
recordings is a remarkable testament
to one of the great musicians - maybe
the greatest musician? - of the 20th
century. Whatever the minor caveats,
the vision of the interpretations and
the execution of the playing are of
a special order. Leonard Bernstein had
an affinity with Mahler the musician
and the man, and his performances and
recordings did a great deal to change
public perceptions and to create a true
awareness of Mahler’s nature and of
his greatness. These abundant and special
strengths are strongly projected in
this magnificent collection.
Terry Barfoot
