RECORDING OF THE MONTH
Gustav MAHLER (1860-1911) Symphony No. 2 in C minor Resurrection
(1894) [92:50]
Yvonne Kenny (soprano); Jard van Nes (mezzo); London Philharmonic Choir
London Philharmonic Orchestra/Klaus Tennstedt
rec. live, Southbank Centre’s Royal Festival Hall, London, 20 February 1989.
DDD
German texts and English translations included
LPO LIVE LPO 0044 [25:02 + 67:48]
This, I am fairly sure, is a recording that will divide opinion. Some collectors
will find a few of Tennstedt’s tempi distractingly broad and the overall interpretation
too wilful. I must admit that there are a few instances, notably in the first
movement, where Tennstedt teeters on the brink of excess. However, in the
context of this riveting, compelling performance a few such instances can
be overlooked.
This performance was the second of two that Tennstedt gave in February 1989.
The booklet contains a fascinating essay by Richard Morrison, who had attended
the first of these performances – in other words, not the one here preserved.
Morrison’s essay was written in 1990 after hearing this recording and what
makes his views particularly interesting is that when he wrote his article
there was no thought that this recording would ever be released commercially.
In other words, he didn’t write it to promote the recording. In his
article, with which I find myself largely in agreement, he says of this recording:
“the sheer emotional charge that Tennstedt brought to each phrase was astonishing.”
A Mahler performance by Tennstedt was always an intense experience, even those
recorded under studio conditions, and this very intensity inspired understandable
reservations among some Mahlerians. If, based on his studio cycle for EMI,
you’re allergic to Tennstedt’s approach then this Resurrection Symphony
performance is definitely not for you. I’ve always admired Tennstedt’s studio-based
cycle but over the last few years concert performances of several of the symphonies
– numbers 1, 5, 6, 7 and 8 – have been released, chiefly by BBC Legends and
the LPO label and these have convinced me that Tennstedt’s finest work was
done on the concert podium rather than in the studio.
Last year I had the opportunity to review
a Tennstedt performance of the Sixth symphony, also released on the LPO label.
I commented then: “This is a very special performance but it’s one to handle
with care and to listen to – very attentively – from time to time. It certainly
supersedes the EMI studio recording but it’s not the only way to experience
this amazing symphony.” As I hope to show, those words apply to this new release
also. Tennstedt’s 1981 EMI studio recording – in which different soloists
were used – is discussed by Tony Duggan in his survey
of the Mahler symphonies on disc. Comparing the two recordings, it’s instructive
to note that, with one important exception – the fourth movement – Tennstedt’s
approach in this concert performance is more spacious. The timings for the
two recordings are as follows:
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| I |
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| II |
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| III |
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| IV |
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| V |
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The timings above exclude the applause – nearly a minute’s worth – after the
live performance. Incidentally, the LPO recording carries the first movement
in isolation on the first CD so that those who wish to observe Mahler’s injunction
that there should be a pause of at least five minutes after I can easily do
so. As I’ll discuss later, the tauter timing for IV in the new release seems
to me to be wholly beneficial.
The other thing that’s worthy of note is that there is a noticeable extra
bite in the playing in the concert performance. Tony Duggan commented that
the opening of I is “challenging, dramatic and biting”. That’s even more true
in the new release. On the EMI disc the cellos and basses are sturdy and assertive
but on the concert platform the playing is even weightier and more sharply
defined while the tremolandi on the upper strings are even more exciting.
It helps, I’m sure, that the recorded sound on this new release is excellent.
The engineers working in the Royal Festival Hall have achieved splendid results.
Not only does the recording report thrillingly Mahler’s many earth-shattering
climaxes but also the quiet passages are captured beautifully. Just as one
example of the engineer’s skill, sample the tremendous presence accorded to
the soft gong strokes in I from 21:32 onwards. Indeed, the gongs are superbly
caught throughout the performance at every dynamic level. It’s worth saying,
before discussing the performance itself, that the recording comes to us courtesy
of Music Preserved – formerly the Music Performance Research Centre. Jon Tolansky,
the organisation’s co-founder, contributes a short booklet note explaining
how the recording came to be made. We owe him and his colleagues a huge debt
of gratitude, not just for making such a fine recording in the first place
but also for negotiating what must have been significant contractual complexities
to enable the commercial release of this recording. I hope many more of Music
Preserved’s recordings will find their way onto commercial CDs.
What of this present performance? In a word, it’s immense. Tennstedt conveys
the huge sweep of the symphony yet the attention to detail is copious and
in all this he’s backed every step of the way by committed, responsive playing
from the LPO. It’s the first movement that may be most controversial for several
times Tennstedt slows the music down to the limit of acceptability – some
will say beyond that limit. The first such instance comes at 2:52, where the
tempo is as broad as I’ve ever heard it at this point. But Tennstedt gets
away with it, partly through interpretative concentration and partly because
the LPO strings sustain the line beautifully. A few minutes later the passage
between 7:04 and 9:25 is, if anything, even broader and hereabouts Tennstedt
comes perilously close to straining my loyalty because the conception is,
perhaps, broader than the music can take. But shortly thereafter, he whips
up the pace dramatically and the music-making has a ferocious energy. Yes,
the listener’s loyalty is tested by some of the extremes of tempo but Tennstedt
has an uncanny knack of persuading you to stay with him – and it’s worth it.
At 18:36 there’s another very expansive episode but here the calm radiance
that he brings out in the music is ample reward. The last three minutes or
so of the movement are managed superbly; there’s an inexorable tread up to
the last brief climax and back from that moment and then comes the despairing
downward plunge to the final, exhausted and isolated notes of the movement.
Just for comparison I took down a few other live recordings from my shelves,
all of which I admire greatly in their different ways. In Haitink’s recent
Chicago account (review)
the first movement lasts 21:12. Abbado’s Lucerne performance on DG (00289
477 5082) is quicker at 20:45 while Stokowski’s memorable LSO reading (see
Tony Duggan’s survey)
takes 20:59. Besides these, Tennstedt’s 25:02 looks unduly extended but the
reading exerts its own magnetism.
Usually, after the tension and high drama of I the second movement comes as
something of a respite. I’m not sure that’s the case here. Tennstedt is quite
steady at the outset and the phrases are carefully, though not excessively,
moulded. Once again the LPO strings are on their collective mettle and the
line is consistently well sustained. Frequently the music seems to wear a
serious countenance; one such example is the passage between 10:02 and 10:54,
which I don’t think I’ve previously heard rendered with such sad expressiveness.
In III the sardonic wit of Mahler’s music is brought out successfully. The
trio is quite spacious and warmly phrased. At 8:50 the anticipation of the
finale is titanic. That passage is prepared quite superbly by Tennstedt –
listen to the whooping horns! The table of comparative timings above shows
that Tennstedt is somewhat quicker in IV than was the case in his studio recording.
Frankly, despite the intensity that Tony Duggan rightly noted, I think the
slow speed in the EMI recording was too much of a good thing. Just to give
you an idea of the differences Doris Soffel’s first phrase on the EMI recording
lasts an incredible 0:26 (the present performance is six seconds swifter).
Later on, the oboe phrase before the soloist sings “Da kam ich auf einen breiten
Weg” stretches the music to the ultimate degree of elasticity on the EMI recording
but, at a slightly faster speed, it works much better here. Jard van Nes is
a fine, expressive soloist, who sings with distinction.
As the last strains of ‘Urlicht’ die away all hell breaks loose at the start
of V. This movement is the musical equivalent of some of those large and detailed
Renaissance paintings of the Last Judgement and Tennstedt realises Mahler’s
great vision superbly. As was the case in I he’s not afraid to broaden the
tempo – for example in the few minutes leading up to 5:50. The first appearance
of the brass chorale (7:10) is softly sonorous and most impressive. At 10:33
the two huge percussion crescendi, the first daringly sustained, are
thrilling precursors of the march section, which is taken pretty briskly.
By the time Tennstedt has reached 13:05 the music has a nightmarish quality
and he drives forward with frightening impetus to the brazen reappearance
of the chorale on full brass. This passage culminates in a shattering, dissonant
climax (14:16) as Mahler hurtles over the edge of the abyss. When the musical
chaos that opened the movement is reprised at 16:45, a moment masterfully
prepared by the conductor, it’s overwhelming; goodness knows what the impact
must have been on the audience in the Festival Hall.
After all this tumult the grosse Appell is superbly handled (18:48).
The echoing brass calls are perfectly placed and the solo flautist is excellent.
The first, almost imperceptible entry of the chorus – separately tracked –
is a heart-stopping moment. The choir sings with hushed intensity and sustains
that awestruck inwardness throughout this whole section of the movement. Yvonne
Kenny’s first phrases – at “wird der dich rief dir geben” – are ravishingly
beautiful. Another separate track is provided for the mezzo’s entry at “O
glaube, mein Herz, o glaube” and once again Miss van Nes is extremely communicative.
The male voices of the chorus make a fine impression in the section beginning
at “Was erstanden ist”. Tennstedt builds the tension inexorably until the
great outburst at “Aufersteh’n, ja aufersteh’n wirst du”, which is a moment
of enormous emotional release that threatens to lift off the roof of the hall.
From here on the Festival Hall organ reinforces the ensemble tellingly as
Tennstedt guides the symphony to a massive, affirmative and genuinely thrilling
final peroration.
At the end the audience erupts, according the performers a tumultuous ovation.
I had the sense that there was nothing contrived about this but, rather, that
those present needed the emotional release. On CD the performance is thrilling
but it must have been a once-in-a-lifetime experience for those in the hall.
If you want a “safe” library choice for Mahler’s Second Symphony you should
look elsewhere, for this is highly personal – and it’s significant that in
the aforementioned article Richard Morrison expresses the view that this performance
was quite different to the one by the same forces that he’d heard just a couple
of nights earlier. This, then, was Tennstedt working in a white-hot interpretative
crucible. The recording will be self-recommending to all admirers of this
great conductor. It certainly puts his EMI recording in the shade and I suggest
that, even though it’s a one-off, it’s probably a fairer representation of
Tennstedt in this symphony than was his studio traversal, which sounds more
inhibited by comparison. Even Mahlerians who are not Tennstedt admirers should
try to hear this remarkably odyssey. They may not agree with everything they
hear – indeed, I’m sure they won’t – but I hope they’ll still be stimulated
afresh in their overall appreciation of Mahler’s most theatrical symphony,
as I was, by experiencing Tennstedt’s remarkable vision.
One final thought. There are now live recordings – on EMI, on BBC Legends
and on the LPO’s own label – of Tennstedt in the majority of Mahler’s symphonies,
though the Eighth is available only as a DVD. We lack numbers 3, 4 and 9 and
if concert performances of those symphonies exist it would be wonderful to
have them issued on CD to complement this most exciting release.
John Quinn
A most exciting release. Tennstedt working in a white-hot interpretative crucible. ... see Full Review