Having raved about the Leinsdorf/Boston
DVD of Tchaikovsky 5, people will probably think me crazy
if I now say I think this is finer still. The reason, I believe,
is that here we have Leinsdorf in music that was from his earliest
years a part of his being - none of these three items is new
to his discography - whereas with Tchaikovsky he was brilliantly
and passionately interpreting from outside.
Crucial to his Mahler is his way with tempi. Mahler larded his
scores with instructions for going faster or slower, often just
for a few bars. Leinsdorf, as we know, was tendentially a very
objective, rigorous conductor, disinclined to deviate from his
chosen tempo if not specifically required to. Here, of course,
he is required to and does. But, while for some conductors these
changes amount to new, different tempi, Leinsdorf evidently
believes that the rather fussy Mahler was indicating the sort
of natural adjustments that another composer might have trusted
his interpreters to make anyway. In other words, with Leinsdorf
we have adjustments to a basic tempo which he does not
lose sight of right through each movement.
This means that, at the beginning, you might find him unexpectedly
fast. Yet, while he does not grope his way forward, note by
note, there is no lack of hushed expectancy. Then, when the
song-theme arrives on the cellos and many conductors start forging
ahead, Leinsdorf stays close to his original tempo and the music
luxuriates as if on a balmy summer’s day. Thus, inexorably
but unhurriedly, the whole movement builds up. But, if excess
speeds are avoided, Mahler’s ironic world is also evoked
in numerous tangy rasps in the inner parts.
The Landler is fairly fast and more than fairly tough. It yields
to a beautifully relaxed and tender trio. Leinsdorf’s
exacting rehearsals methods result in perfectly placed downward
glissandos.
Our late-lamented colleague Tony Duggan, in his survey of this
symphony, mentions the difficulty of persuading modern double-bass
players to perform the distorted version of “Frère
Jacques”, which opens the third movement, with the sort
of crudity it had when it was new and strange. He found this
bizarre quality only in the earliest recordings. He didn’t
discuss either of Leinsdorf’s studio recordings - a BSO
version and a later one made with a London orchestra - perhaps
because they were unavailable. I haven’t heard these.
Certainly, Leinsdorf coaxes a proper sense of ungainliness from
his player on this occasion. The tempo is very slow and, as
we might expect, Leinsdorf barely moves it on in the café-music
episodes. He achieves a memorable combination of heartfelt nostalgia
and sardonic sleaziness.
The finale erupts with extreme violence and with brilliant orchestral
playing, though the actual tempo is not particularly fast. This
enables Leinsdorf to invest the contrasting material with tender
regretfulness and virile passion as required, while still keeping
his sights on the final build-up.
If I have given the impression that Leinsdorf’s approach
is principally architectural, this may seem to bring us into
Horenstein territory. In reality, it would be difficult to imagine
a more different-sounding performance from a typical Horenstein
one. Leinsdorf’s Mahler is probably best described as
expressionist. It embraces the extremes, but does so with an
iron architectural discipline at its base. In the studio, the
discipline sometimes prevailed excessively. Here, caught on
wing in a public concert, Leinsdorf provides an astonishingly
complete, all-embracing vision of this symphony. Be warned,
only, that the sound is limited, the black and white pictures
equally so and coughers are in force in the quieter moments
- Mahler was not yet an “approved” composer with
the Boston public.
Leinsdorf plays the opening and closing bars of “Till
Eulenspiegel” with great tenderness. For the rest, he
presents a brilliant, upfront rapscallion of a rogue. There
is affection as well as impudence, all realized by the BSO on
top form. We are told this was a party-piece during Leinsdorf’s
tenure. Curiously, the only recording I can trace of it under
him was made slightly earlier with the Philharmonia Orchestra.
Leinsdorf’s Boston recording of Mahler 5 was among the
first to combine fine sound and virtuoso playing. The “Adagietto”
is played here as a separate piece, not extracted from a complete
performance. Leinsdorf is seen walking on to considerable applause
before it starts and applause breaks out at the end.
Since the above timing includes all the applause, what we have
here is one of the closest approximations on disc to Mahler’s
known timings, on two different occasions, of 7 minutes and
9 minutes. And, as Richard Dyer says, in his notes which continue
to bring added value to this series, he doesn’t seem at
all in a hurry. The big, burnished tone at the beginning may
seem a little fulsome to those used to hearing the movement
steal in - would Leinsdorf have conducted it in this way if
he was following on from the previous movements, I wonder? Thereafter
he provides plenty of shading. The phrasing is so flexible that
the music just drifts along as if with all the time in the world.
The big downward glissando heralding the return to the opening
theme is perfectly executed. Of the few versions of this movement
I’ve heard that come close to Mahler’s own timings,
I’d say this is the one most likely to make you never
want to hear it dragged out beyond ten minutes ever again.
Christopher Howell
see also review by James
Zychowicz
Masterwork Index: Till
Eulenspiegel ~~ Mahler
1
RECORDING
OF THE MONTH Gustav
MAHLER (1860-1911) Symphony 1, Symphony
5 Adagietto Richard STRAUSS
(1864-1949) Till Eulenspiegels lustige Streiche
Boston SO/Erich Leinsdorf rec. 1962/3
ICA CLASSICS ICAD5051 
[78:00] [CH]
An
astonishingly complete, all-embracing vision of Mahler 1, a
brilliant rapscallion of a Till and a gorgeous Adagietto.
