Gustav MAHLER (1860-1911)
Symphony No. 9
in D major (1909) [83:28]
Bamberger Symphoniker/Herbert Blomstedt
rec. live. June 2018, Joseph-Keilberth-Saal, Konzerthalle Bamberg
Reviewed as a 16-bit download
Pdf booklet included
ACCENTUS ACC30477
[45:54 + 37:37]
As John Quinn pointed out in his
review
of this release, the Swedish conductor Herbert Blomstedt is not someone
you’d readily associate with Mahler, although he did set down a somewhat
underwhelming ‘Resurrection’ with the San Francisco SO in 1992 (Decca). No,
I think of him as a very able interpreter of the symphonies of Carl Nielsen
(EMI-Warner, Decca) and Jean Sibelius (Decca), not to mention the works of
his compatriot, Wilhelm Stenhammar (BIS, Caprice). His tenure as music
director of the SFSO from 1985 to 1995 was very productive, as Decca’s
30-disc box, Herbert Blomstedt: The San Francisco Years, so amply
demonstrates. Apart from the Nielsen and Sibelius sets, I’m particularly
fond of their accounts of Paul Hindemith’s Symphony ‘Mathis der Maler’
(1987) and Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana (1990).
Now in his nineties, not only has Blomstedt decided to revisit Mahler, he’s
also chosen the Ninth, arguably the composer’s greatest work. I did wonder
whether that qualifies as unwise or audacious; then again, I’d find out
soon enough. As for the Bamberg Symphoniker, they’re no strangers to this
repertoire, having quite recently completed a Mahler cycle with Jonathan
Nott, individual instalments of which have been reviewed on these
pages (Tudor). And while it’s not a top-notch traversal, I must single out
their
Second
and
Eighth
for special praise.
John Quinn
thought Nott’s Ninth a ‘fine achievement’, and while I have some
reservations about the performance I’d say that’s a pretty fair assessment
overall. I wish I could be as charitable about Iván Fischer’s 2013
recording with the Budapest Festival Orchestra (Channel), or Daniel
Harding’s 2016 one with the Swedish Radio SO (Harmonia Mundi); for very
different reasons, they’re way behind the frontrunners in this crowded
field.
By contrast, I was very impressed by what
Tony Duggan
called ‘the sheer power and eloquence’ of Alan Gilbert’s Ninth, recorded
with the Stockholm Phil in 2008 (BIS). Ditto Bernard Haitink’s two most
recent versions: the first, filmed with the Concertgebouw in 2011, is part
of a multi-conductor centenary box from
RCO Live;
the second is a live audio recording made with the Bavarian Radio SO six
months later (BR Klassik). It’s a work the Dutchman has made his own, these
two performances as lofty and as intensely moving as any I know. Also in
that RCO Live set is an electrifying Sixth with Lorin Maazel, a conductor
who was persistently unpopular with UK orchestras and critics alike. That
said, his last recorded Ninth, with the Philharmonia in 2011, is superb (Signum). Alas, he was a notoriously erratic baton waver, the
accompanying Seventh quite bizarre (and not in a good way). And to round off
this mini-survey,
John Quinn
has just reviewed an intriguing Ninth from Benjamin Zander and the Boston
Philharmonic Youth Orchestra, recorded live in 2018 (Brattle Media).
Upcoming Ninths? No doubt we’ll get them from the ‘other’ Fischers, Thierry
in Salt Lake City (Reference) and Ádám in Düsseldorf (C-AVI). So far, their
respective cycles have been more variable than most, so I’m in no
particular rush to hear their thoughts on this symphony. That said, I’m
very impatient to review the rest of François-Xavier Roth’s ongoing Mahler
series for Harmonia Mundi, which has already yielded revitalising accounts
of the 1893/4
Titan,
Third
and
Fifth
symphonies. Not surprisingly, some of these have been made MusicWeb
Recordings of the Month, and will surely be among my pick of the year’s
best releases. In fact, I’d go so far as to say Roth’s Mahler project is
probably the most important - and interesting - one to appear in the
past fifty years or so. All of which underlines the challenge facing
Blomstedt and his Bambergers here.
The Swede’s Andante comodo starts rather well, with characterful winds and
firm, cleanly articulated rhythms. Also, Markus Spatz’s lucid, naturally
balanced recording manages to combine ear-pricking timbres - the burnished
brass and those soft tam-tam strokes are particularly well caught - with
plenty of heft when required; a real bonus in a wide-ranging, multi-layered
work such as this. Blomstedt’s tempi are nicely judged, his phrasing is
attractive, and the strength of his narrative is never in doubt. (Which is
more than one can say about his oddly hesitant ‘Resurrection’.) At one
point in his review of this Ninth, John Quinn describes this conductor’s
approach as ‘sturdy’, but I prefer ‘unencumbered’; the result is a taut,
forward-looking performance that makes Haitink’s various readings appear
too moulded and overstuffed at times. Yet, paradoxical as it may seem,
Blomstedt, acutely aware of the score’s inherent loveliness, draws
ravishing sounds from his orchestra, who play far better for him than they
did for Nott in 2008.
The second movement, with its trademark Ländler, is no less
revealing, the ‘hear through’ nature of the recording just right for this
deft and dancerly interlude. But it’s Blomstedt and his band who really
shine, as they bring a freshness and spontaneity to these oft-heard tunes.
True, Haitink and the BRSO, darkly refulgent, find a degree of gravitas
here that others might underplay; then again, one would expect nothing less
of a conductor and ensemble long steeped in Mahler’s remarkable output. As
for Blomstedt’s Rondo-Burleske, it’s essayed with unusual energy and
emphasis; even so, he unearths more colour and nuance from the score than
many of his rivals do. Indeed, I was struck by how much life there
is in this movement, and by the Sibelian build and blend of its climaxes.
Make no mistake, this is echt-Mahler, albeit filtered through a
different lens (cf. Roth’s expectation-confounding Fifth).
The Adagio is the make-or-break section, though, and the heartfelt strings
at the start of Blomstedt’s finale signal we’re in for something rather
special. As so often with this performance, there’s an aura of music being
‘caught on the wing’, as it were; this is enhanced - nay,
intensified - by a startling sense of presence, something only the
best concert recordings seem able to achieve. Unhurried, Blomstedt
excavates the score, inviting listeners to marvel at what he’s found.
(That’s a defining feature of Roth’s Mahler, too.) Poise, passion,
profundity, it’s all here, a thrilling confluence of talents that seems
entirely right for what is surely the most powerful and prescient symphonic
movements of all time.
Turning to Haitink, his long, seamless lines are always superbly sustained,
the mood invariably - and appropriately - stoical. By contrast, Blomstedt
is more trenchant, yet his reading is just as cogent and compelling, his
epiphanies no less impressive for being more austerely done. Moreover, in
their different ways both men catch the all-important sense of an ending,
of a long musical tradition on the cusp of irrevocable change. To cap it
all, Blomstedt finds an extraordinary evanescence in the closing pages that
few, if any, of his colleagues can match. And as this is one piece I feel
uncomfortable applauding, even after a decent interval, I’m relieved the
audience’s response has been edited out.
An outstanding Mahler 9, supremely well played and recorded; a very
significant addition to the catalogue.
Dan Morgan
Previous review:
John Quinn
