Gustav MAHLER (1860-1911)
Symphony No. 4 in G major (1899-1901) [61:00]
Symphony No. 5 in C sharp minor (1901-02) [76:08]
Symphony No. 6 in A minor (1903-04) [89:09]
Philharmonia Orchestra/Lorin Maazel
rec. live, Royal Festival Hall, Southbank Centre, London, 28 April, 5 May,
19 April 2011 (Nos. 4, 5, 6 respectively)
German text and English translation (Symphony No 4) included.
SIGNUM CLASSICS SIGCD361 [4 CDs: 226:17]
Hot on the heels of the first volume of the 2011Maazel/Philharmonia Mahler
cycle (review) we now have the second instalment. Again, these
recordings all stem from concerts in London. My Seen and Heard colleague,
Jim Pritchard, reviewed the performance of the Fourth Symphony. We don’t seem to
have reviewed either of the other London events but I attended a run-out of
the Fifth in Warwick (review) so the opportunity to experience Maazel’s
reading of this symphony again was of special interest to me.
I had intended to make some comparisons with Maazel’s 1980s studio
recording of the Fourth with the Vienna Philharmonic. However, seeing Sarah
Fox’s name reminded me that just a few years ago I’d reviewed another live outing by the Philharmonia in which she
took part. On that occasion Sir Charles Mackerras was on the podium. Though
Maazel’s account has quite a lot going for it I much prefer Mackerras. This
is a difficult symphony to bring off because a conductor has to convey a
feeling of sophisticated innocence. There’s plenty of sophistication in
Maazel’s approach – arguably rather too much – but too often it lacks
innocence.
Though his reading of the first movement is generally good there are
several occasions when Maazel indulges in point-making, usually slowing down
the tempo – and losing momentum – to do so. Mackerras adopts a lighter touch
and his pacing tends to be a bit more nimble. In the second movement Maazel
and the Philharmonia impart a good tang to the music. Maazel is a seasoned
Mahlerian and so his ear for the detail in Mahler’s writing serves him well.
There’s an appropriately spiky contribution from the solo violinist
(Zsolt-Tihamér Visontay?) and also some pungent playing from the horn and
wind principals. However, I feel Mackerras has more of a spring to his step
and, by comparison, Maazel’s interpretation lacks a bit of wit and natural
flow.
Maazel’s slow movement is very good indeed and the Philharmonia offer
refined playing. I find Maazel completely convincing and, after so much
ravishing music, he ensures that the big climax (at 1917) is the aural
equivalent of a blaze of light. Furthermore, the wind-down from that climax
to the end of the movement is superbly controlled. Come the finale, however,
and we find Maazel indulging in some more heavy-handed point-making. All is
well until just before Sarah Fox begins the final stanza of the poem, ‘Kein
Musik is ja nicht auf Erden’. The orchestral preface (from 5:28) is
beguiling until Maazel slows right down just before the singer enters. From
there on the pace is far too drawn out: it all sounds calculated though Miss
Fox copes expertly with the elongated phrases. There’s no such artifice with
Mackerras who maintains an orthodox and consistent tempo and thereby gets
more natural results.
The Fifth that I attended in Warwick was given the day before what has
been preserved here. I very deliberately didn’t look at my review of that concert until I’d listened to this
recording and decided what I was going to say about it. I’m not surprised
that the interpretations seem to have been almost identical – it would have
been decidedly odd had that not been the case – but I see, with a little
relief, that I felt broadly the same about the performance when I heard it
on disc.
The first movement is big and weighty. Just 1:58 in we find Maazel slowing
momentarily and losing some momentum to make what is, in the overall
context, a fairly minor rhetorical point – happily there aren’t too many
similar instances. Barbirolli, in his celebrated New Philharmonia studio
recording, is similarly broad in this movement but he maintains momentum.
The second movement is trenchant and strongly projected. Maazel’s reading is
very powerful and once or twice he’s broader than many other conductors I’ve
heard. However, the magnetism and purpose of the reading means that he ‘gets
away with it’. When the chorale is reached (12:42) his approach to it is
quite brisk and business-like, almost as if he intends this to be unfinished
business – a tenable view – though he treats it more expansively when it’s
repeated.
The big scherzo receives a moulded reading. Once again Maazel takes a
rather weighty view – though not excessively so; there’s still plenty of
well-channelled energy in the music-making. The unnamed principal horn
player excels. The music is consistently characterised sharply and though
one might quibble with some points of the interpretation it is most
certainly not routine – and that’s an important point since these days this
symphony is sometimes treated as something of a showpiece work. I was
interested to read in Julian Joseph’s very good booklet note his description
of this movement as a ‘life-affirming collective dance’. We all hear music
differently, of course, and I strongly suspect that these notes were the
programme notes written for and in advance of the concerts; in other words,
they are not notes specially commissioned for the recording. However,
despite the fact that this movement’s main key is bright D major the
impression that this performance of the scherzo left with me was quite a
dark one. That’s not meant as a criticism, however, merely an
observation.
Maazel takes the famous Adagietto quite expansively – his performance
plays for 11:16. Julian Joseph comments on the debate as to whether this
movement is a lament or a love song. Perhaps, as I hear it, Maazel’s reading
is slightly inclined towards the former. However, what is certain is that
it’s a deeply felt performance, expressively played, and I found it very
convincing. I was interested to see that I felt that in the Warwick
performance the finale was held on slightly too tight a rein; this time
round I’ve scribbled in my notes “highly disciplined but full of spirit –
though [one has] heard it more unbuttoned.” This is not an extrovert, showy
performance – and that’s good, I think – but perhaps some evidence of a more
smiling countenance would have been welcome. When the apotheosis of the
chorale is reached (14:39) it seems a triumph that has not been easily won
and, if I read the performance right, then I think Maazel has taken an
entirely tenable approach to the symphony.
I see that in my review of the Warwick concert I made a comment to the
effect that there were a few features of Maazel’s interpretation that I
wouldn’t wish to hear repeatedly in a recording: little did I know I would
have a CD to review in due course! I think there are a few interpretative
touches that cause the eyebrows to rise but overall the sheer conviction and
power of what we hear carries the day. This intense interpretation isn’t the
only way to play Mahler’s Fifth but it’s jolly impressive and Maazel, who
has clearly thought through every detail of the score, is never routine or
dull in his approach. It’s good to have this preserved.
The Sixth Symphony is split across two discs with the first movement
(25:58) occupying the first disc. Maazel opts to play the Scherzo second.
That’s a decision of which I approve in principle and, as we shall see, in
practice Maazel’s way with the score justifies that approach in spades. In
October, 2010, a few months before giving this London Sixth Maazel conducted
the symphony in Amsterdam with the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra. The film
of that performance was included in a Blu-Ray collection of all the Mahler
symphonies that the orchestra issued and it was one of the highlights of the
set, according to my colleague, Dan Morgan (review). Having heard this London performance, I can
understand Dan’s enthusiasm.
Pacing the first movement can be difficult: some conductors take it too
briskly while others are too slow. I think Maazel gets it just right, making
this a grim and gripping march. He plays the exposition repeat – not
everyone does, but they should. The so-called ‘Alma’ theme doesn’t soar as
ecstatically as in some performances that I’ve heard but this is of a piece
with Maazel’s conception of the movement, I suspect: I hear regret in this
passage. Further on, when we reach the cowbells episode Maazel doesn’t make
the music as lightly nostalgic as some; instead there’s an air of sadness or
at least of melancholy. Yet again we find instances where Maazel pulls back
the tempo in order to make an expressive point but overall I find his
interpretation very convincing. This is a strong and weighty performance
which makes us realise why at one time Mahler labelled the work ‘Tragic’.
Julian Joseph refers to ‘an affirmative ending’ and I agree that’s how the
close of the movement is often presented; however, on this occasion the mood
seems almost to be one of savage exaltation.
Maazel now shows why the scherzo should come second, maintaining and
developing the mood of the first movement. He leads a strongly characterised
reading that is pointed and often sardonic. He catches too the element of
bitterness in the music, Mahler’s often harsh, garish scoring is very well
realised in this performance, to which Maazel and the orchestra also bring
the necessary rhythmic tautness. In a trenchant performance such as this the
listener then needs the relative balm of the slow movement before the
emotional onslaught of the finale. Maazel’s is an expressive and nicely
moulded account of the movement and the Philharmonia offers distinguished
playing. The climax is intense and passionate and then the gentle ending is
perfectly voiced.
The vast finale grips the listener from the outset; the opening pages are
pregnant with tension. With superbly focused, incisive and powerful playing
from the orchestra and a firm sense of direction and purpose from the podium
this is an account of the finale that takes the listener to the edge. The
recording allows us to hear a great deal of the teeming detail in the music
but above all one is struck by the drama of the music. The first hammer blow
(13:44) is the catalyst for a release of burning energy but the second
(18:42) really pitches us towards the abyss. From 23:30 onwards the
performance is particularly searing and then the doom-laden ending (from
30:30) is full of black despair, heralding the moment of annihilation at the
end. This is shattering movement and here it’s done very well indeed.
Thankfully, there’s no intrusive applause at the end; in fact, there’s no
applause after any of these.
As I’ve indicated, there are elements in all three that are a bit
heavy-handed on the conductor’s part – an issue that affects the Sixth
least. However, the overall conviction and the sense that Maazel is probing
these scores and not offering anything routine means that one can live with
these moments in the context of the bigger picture. Oddly, I find there is a
similarity between this box and its predecessor. In the first box I liked
least the performance that came first (the First) and so it is here with the
Fourth while it was the last symphony in the earlier box (the Third) that
impressed me the most and here I’m most taken with Maazel’s reading of the
Sixth.
Throughout all three symphonies the playing of the Philharmonia is razor
sharp and idiomatic: they’re consistently on top form for Maazel. The
recorded sound is very good as are Julian Johnson’s notes. This is shaping
up as a most interesting, if variable, Mahler cycle and I look forward to
the next volume very much.
John Quinn
Masterwork Index: Symphony
4 ~~ Symphony 5 ~~ Symphony 6
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