Gustav MAHLER (1860-1911)
Symphony No. 3 in D minor [95:24]
Dagmar Peckova (mezzo);
Women of the Rundfunkchor Berlin; Knabenchor Hannover
Deutsches Symphonie-Orchester Berlin/Kent Nagano.
rec. 1999, Philharmonie, Berlin.
WARNER CLASSICS APEX 2564 68161-7 [32:11 + 63:11] 
In my lifetime, I have watched Mahler travel from fringe to mainstream. Now
where to go? One of the more interesting developments over the last couple
of decades is the emergence of a new school of Mahler conducting. The early
years of the Mahler boom were sufficiently dominated by the emotional performances
of Leonard
Bernstein to keep other alternatives from seeming much more than toned-down
versions of the same approach. But in the void following Bernstein’s passing,
Pierre
Boulez and Christoph von Dohnanyi spearheaded cool, objective approaches
that have become a significant and influential counterbalance to the visceral
Bernstein. Unfortunately, taming the beast Mahler for domestic use has been
the result, as less intense conductors have, in effect, put Mahler on Prozac.
Instead of saving a troubled artist’s visionary statements for special occasions,
we now have even-keel Mahler suitable for playing as background music during
housework or on the desk radio in the office.
Such thoughts came to me while I was listening to the Warner Apex reissue
of Kent Nagano’s 1999 recording of Mahler’s Third. I don’t mean to dismiss
it too curtly, for it is a fresh, charming, even Haydnesque performance. But
it falls some distance short of the soul-stirring experiences to be found
in classic performances such as those from Barbirolli (BBC),
Bernstein (DG),
Horenstein (Unicorn)
and Levine (RCA).
Perusal of the rambling first movement of the piece found a crisp, buoyant
performance from Nagano and the Deutsches Symphonie-Orchester Berlin. Without
being quite as hard-pressed as Sir Georg Solti (Decca) or Vaclav Neumann (Supraphon),
Nagano keeps things moving along with an elegant efficiency. There’s fussiness,
too, as Nagano has his players clip the quarter note in the opening march’s
underpinning rhythm: Instead of da-da-da-daaa, we get da-da-da-dat. Nagano
has a point, to a degree. Some performances hold out that quarter note, short-changing
the rest which follows it. But Nagano’s clipping is so abrupt, it sounds like
the quarter note is being played staccato, which exaggerates it in the opposite
direction, making it just as wrong as putting undue emphasis on the note.
What troubles me is that in an hour and a half of music, these are the only
sort of insights Nagano offers: Close, fussy readings or the occasional debatable
exaggeration. Otherwise, all is poised and elegant, but rather lightweight.
Just to make sure my Mahler gyroscope was reading correctly, I put on a recording
by another respected German orchestra for comparison: The Cologne Radio Symphony’s
1985 recording with Gary Bertini on EMI.
What a difference! Gone was the dapper dandy approach, replaced by something
electric, primordial, and massive. Granted, Bertini allows the movement much
more space than Nagano, but like Nagano, he is a poised, intellectual guide,
nothing at all like the freewheeling Bernstein. But whereas the music slides
easily past in Nagano’s hands, under Bertini’s baton, every moment is a palpable
occasion. Those who dislike visionary grandstanding, then, may well love the
way Nagano recasts the first movement as a well-behaved garden instead of
a dangerous wilderness.
My favorite movement in Nagano’s recording is the second. This wildflower
minuet often becomes blank or saccharine in performances by conductors more
excited by the crash-bang climaxes of the adjacent movements, but Nagano is
very alive to its watercolor freshness, highlighting its swathes of color
with a few exaggerated but effective ritardandos. At the bargain price of
this Warner Apex release, collectors might enjoy picking up this version just
for this movement alone. Most of the following scherzo seems comparable in
freshness and color, though with the wild element a little soft-pedaled. The
post-horn trio is lovely and distant, if not as daringly distant as in Zander’s
Telarc recording. The rendition of the movement fails to capitalize on
its strengths, though, as Nagano first rushes through the visionary interruption
just before the coda, then rushes the coda itself at a pace which may be superficially
exciting, but which does not allow enough weight for a crushing closing. Whereas
Bernstein’s forest animals turn fearsome and wild, Nagano’s crew remains a
frolicsome petting zoo.
Mezzo Dagmar Peckova brings an attractive bright vocal color to the full range
of the fourth movement’s Nietzsche setting. Interestingly, Nagano encourages
Peckova and the bird-call imitating oboe and English horn to be directly expressive,
instead of the more mysterious approach usually heard. That combined with
the clear, close recording means that this night music is shorn of the usual
fog and outlined quite straightforwardly. If not the ideal solution to this
often elusive movement, it is at least fresh. The fifth movement angels are
buoyant and polite, without either the gravity of Horenstein or the earthiness
of Levine. The finale is attractively songful, if still burning rather dimly
in intensity. The orchestra is not as creamy and pure of intonation as would
be ideal for this approach, lending a stridency to some of the big peaks,
but it allows ample room for the music to make its impact on its own terms.
The recorded sound, from Berlin’s Philharmonie, is both clear and spacious,
fulfilling Nagano’s colorful yet classical touch. Neither texts nor comments
are included in the booklet.
Mark Sebastian Jordan
Fresh but rather lightweight.