The release of Benjamin Zander's recording of Mahler's
First Symphony may be the last in what may disappointingly be an
unfinished 'cycle' of Mahler recordings. Certainly there
appear to be no further Philharmonia concerts or recordings
planned. The previous releases have generally been well-received
and this one equally so.
The first disc pairs the tenderly expressed, acutely felt and
splendidly articulated account of Lieder eines Fahrenden
Gesellen by British baritone, Christopher Maltman. Am I alone
in hearing Die Meistersinger Act 3 'Dance of the
Apprentices' pervading 'Ging heut' Morgen übers Feld'? The
songs are redolent of youthful passion and reflect a doomed
love-affair of the composer with the singer Johanna Richter. Mahler
gives these songs a generally light orchestration and tone, so this
enables soloist, conductor and the always reliable Philharmonia to
establish a recital hall/chamber-like intimacy at times. Also I
always find that by and large non-German singers seem to take more
care with the words. This is never better illustrated than here as
Maltman gives a very dramatically compelling account of the songs.
During the five years Mahler took to compose this First Symphony he
was working on his group of four Wayfarer songs. Some of the
themes from these songs are also used in the first and third
movements of the symphony. This use of song-like material was
characteristic of Mahler throughout his lifetime as was the use of
folksong and traditional dances. When Benjamin Zander performed
this work at the Royal Festival Hall in January 2004 he gave one of
his usual carefully balanced pre-concert talks, accessible both to
experienced music-lovers and those new to music. He introduces the
programme for the whole evening with many Victor Borge-like
illustrations at the piano and some memorable quotes such as
'Rubato is to Mahler what tomato is to Spaghetti Bolognese'. Apart
from Ländler and Klezmer this symphony most famously
contains a setting of 'Frère Jacques' ('Bruder
Martin' in German) in an unfamiliar minor key as a funeral
march in the third movement.
At his recent study day for the Gustav Mahler Society on
'Mahler and Shostakovich' the music journalist and broadcaster
David Nice used this new release of Benjamin Zander's for
several musical illustrations. This included playing a substantial
part of the obligatory discussion disc that makes these releases
invaluable for the listener wishing to explore more of what lies
behind the music. Mr Nice was comparing the influences of Jewish
music on both these composers but can I add how surprised I am,
even after so many performances and so many recordings of
Mahler's First Symphony, to find there is still resistance to -
or 'shock and awe' at - the idea that the Jewish/Slavonic
music in the second movement is anything other than what it sounds
like: Klezmer. Even Zander on his discussion disc wants to hedge
his bets and goes from describing music that is a 'sad Jewish
lament' or from a 'Jewish wedding' to that of
'Gipsy fiddlers'.
To counteract any analysis Mahler said -'It is quite irrelevant
to know what is being described - it is only important to grasp the
mood of what is being expressed and from which the fourth movement
springs precipitately ... It is simply the cry of a wounded heart
which is preceded by the uncannily oppressive and ironically close
atmosphere of the funeral march.'
Back to the first movement where, from the final cuckoo call on the
clarinet and its interval of a descending fourth, the principal
theme emerges from the cellos - it is 'Ging heut' Morgen übers
Feld' again - and Wagner again? In his discussion Zander paused to
ponder how a real cuckoo call - there is one excerpted on the disc!
- is a falling third whilst Mahler's is a perfect fourth,
musically just right to lead into the song. As Zander explains -
'Like any great artist he (Mahler) changed nature to fit his
artistic purpose.'
Originally next in the symphony - and performed at that Royal
Festival Hall concert - was a charming, romantic movement
'Blumine'. This was subsequently dropped in an 1899 revision of the
score. The music was said to represent the serenade the hero (of
the symphony) sings to his heroine on a moonlit night on the Rhine.
Mahler believed it to be anachronistically 'sentimental' but it
seems to be one of his simplest and least affected creations and
worthy of an 'Adagietto'-like life of its own. It must have been
sheer economics that prevented a recording of this being released
on the CD; I suspect Zander in an ideal world might have wanted the
listener to be able to interpolate the 'Blumine' movement
into Mahler's four movement final version to enable us to hear
an approximation of how his original concept for this symphony
might have sounded.
Criticism of Zander's Mahler is invidious because he oozes respect
and understanding for the music from every pore and he gives us
clean textures and an unidiosyncratic account of the score. What
was thrilling in performance and also here on the recording is that
it all builds up a head of steam throughout the first three
movements towards the epic Finale. Here the stirring brass chorale
with its heroic final bars and the widely exultant celebration of
the triumph of life over death could never fail in such safe hands
and with such a wonderful orchestra as the Philharmonia.
As the music finished, in common with most of the audience, I was
on my feet applauding. At home listening to the CD I nearly jumped
out of my seat to do the same. However despite the masterly
conducting and the vibrant orchestral playing some doubts remained.
Firstly the range of recorded sound seemed too wide; by that I mean
that occasionally I found the loud moments too loud and the quiet
moments (like the off-stage brass) too ... you get the idea? Maybe
that was just the DSD recording on my CD player? I had certain
qualms that in the discussion Zander explains that Mahler had
'parodistic intentions' for the high solo for double bass
at the start of the third movement and that 'Mahler would have
expected it to sound quite awful' - so why was it played so
well on the recording?
Also since I had more time to reflect on the interpretation I was
reminded that Mahler thought of his first two symphonies in this
way - 'My whole life is contained in them. I have set down in them
my experiences and my suffering ...'. I felt no sense of loss, for
me my 'hero' had lived, loved and triumphed but was he dead ... and
if not who is there to resurrect in the second symphony?
Jim Pritchard
Christopher Maltman (baritone)
