Gustav MAHLER (1860-1911)
Titan: Eine Tondichtung in Symphonieform in zwei Teilen und fünf Sätzen
für großes Orchester
(Hamburg/Weimar 1893-1894 version, ed. Reinhold Kubik & Stephen E.
Hefling)
Les Siècles/François-Xavier Roth
rec. March and October 2018, Philharmonie de Paris; February 2018, Théâtre de Nîmes;
October 2018, Cité de la Musique et
de la Danse de Soissons
Reviewed as 24/44.1 download from
eClassical
Pdf booklet included
HARMONIA MUNDI HMM905299
[57:04]
It must be a sign of age that after decades of listening to music one
really starts to yearn for refreshing new takes on old favourites. Enter
François-Xavier Roth and his period-instrument orchestra, Les Siècles,
who’ve already obliged with revelatory recordings of
Stravinsky,
Ravel, and, in this 150th birthday year,
Berlioz. Not surprisingly, these ear-opening reappraisals have garnered much
praise here and elsewhere, with just a few missteps to date (their ‘patchy
and perplexing’
Debussy,
for example).
Roth has also given us some remarkable Mahler, this time with the
Gürzenich-Orchester Köln, of which he has been music director since 2015.
(His contract has now been extended to 2022.) I was very impressed with his
Fifth,
which I described as ‘old Vienna refracted through a strange new lens’;
then came his ‘game-changing’
Third.
However, I’ve yet to hear his ‘conventional’ account of the First,
recorded with the Baden-Baden orchestra (Hänssler Classic).
As with his groundbreaking Rite of Spring, where he returned to the
score played at the (in)famous Paris premiere in 1913, Roth has gone back
to an earlier version of what we know as Mahler’s Symphony No. 1. The
Budapest premiere, in 1888, was not a success, which prompted a complete
reworking of the piece for the next performance, in Hamburg, on 27 October
1893 (the version recorded here). As the extended work title proclaims,
this is a ‘Tone poem in symphonic form, in two parts and five movements’.
The descriptions attached to each movement, suppled for the Hamburg
premiere, were eventually discarded; Blumine was excised, too.
However, the ‘Titan’ tag seems to have stuck, even though Mahler dropped
it, too; it’s certainly not included in the published score (1898).
Erster Teil:
Aus den Tagen der Jugend, Blumen-, Frucht- und Dornstücke (Part One: From days of youth, flower-, fruit- and thorn-pieces)
1. Frühling und kein Ende (Spring that never ends) [14:38]
2. Blumine (Flowers) [5:41]
3. Mit vollen Segeln (Full sail ahead) [6:42]
Zweiter Teil:
Commedia humana
(Part Two: Human Comedy)
4. Gestrandet! (Failed!) [10:38]
5. Dall’Inferno (From Hell) [19:20]
There are a number of albums that include Blumine; Roger Norrington
and his Stuttgart orchestra (Hänssler) make it the second movement, as
Mahler intended, whereas others simply add it as an afterthought. However,
there are two fairly recent recordings of the Hamburg score, one with Jan
Willem de Vriend and the Netherlands SO (Challenge Classics CC72355), the
other with the NDR Sinfonieorchester under Thomas Hengelbrock (Sony
G010003119344R). The de Vriend is decent enough, although both pulse and
playing could be a lot stronger. The sound is fair to middling. Alas, the
Hengelbrock is a ponderous affair, Blumine and the finale
particularly leaden. Also, speeds and phrasing seem perverse, and the
recording gets rough in the tuttis. These performances are just too
ordinary, lacking as they do the compelling sense (re)discovery, of curiosity, that animates so much of Roth’s work.
The subtitle of the first movement, ‘Spring that never ends’, seems
especially apt in Roth’s relaxed but never lax reading of this alluring
opener. There’s a lucent loveliness to both the playing and the sound, the
heraldic brass - heard as if from afar - adding to a burgeoning sense of
space. This is just the first of many telling touches, bringing to mind the
very distant tenorhorn in Roth’s magical Third. The effect is one of
wide-eyed wonder, and that’s just enchanting. This idyll is enhanced, in so
small measure, by playing of real poise and pliancy. Also, tempos and tempo
relationships are beyond reproach, Roth building tension more persuasively
than most. And what a glorious burst of light and colour as our young
wayfarer steps, blinking, from forested gloom to sun-dappled glade. In
short, a winning start that augurs well for what’s to come.
One of my abiding impressions of Roth’s Mahler cycle is that he manages to
combine a HIPP-like clarity of texture with a a deep Romantic blush that
brings out the best of both traditions. I daresay the composer was right to
ditch Blumine, sometimes called a ‘moonlight serenade’, but when
played with such charm this open-hearted little number is impossible to
resist. I really feel this performance benefits from being assigned to a
French orchestra, with its distinctive timbres and playing styles. That
said, Roth insisted on German or Viennese brass and woodwinds for this
piece. And it certainly helps that the recording, superbly engineered by
Jiři Heger and Alix Ewald, offers an ideal blend of warmth, detail and a
marvellous sense of space. (I do hope they and Les Siècles will be at the
heart of the Fourth.)
Roth’s Scherzo is a model of fine articulation, the hammering timps crisp
and clear; the rest of the orchestra, similarly well caught, respond with
alacrity to Roth’s sure-footed, direction. And those echt-Viennese
tunes have all the lilt one could wish for, adding an unusually wistful cast
to this marvellous music. Instrumental and recording balances seem well nigh
perfect, too; in tandem, these help to capture all the depth, colour and
nuance this score has to offer. As for the confident, striding brass,
they’re a joy to hear, especially when pitched with such flair and feeling.
And just listen to the soft-treading timps at the start of that strange,
half-lit cortège in the next movement; I’ve seldom heard them more subtly
done. Yet another of the startling episodes - epiphanies, even - that pepper
this extraordinary performance. Factor in the loveliest reprise of that
nursery tune - ideally paced and sprung - and Roth’s silky, beguiling
strings and it’s hard to imagine this movement more atmospherically done
than its is here.
Another bonus - and this applies to Roth’s performances as a whole - is his
ability to set up and sustain a strong narrative, free of delays and
unnecessary diversions, and that generally makes for a remarkably eventful
and immersive listening experience. That’s particularly true of the finale,
which, after a suitably arresting start, unfolds with a tantalising mixture
of implacability and barely concealed excitement. As ever, the music-making
is both disciplined and, at times, there’s a dash of daring. As for the
tuttis, they’re proportionate and properly prepared for (no empty rhetoric
here). Meanwhile, in quieter moments the strings continue to shine, in
every sense of the word. And goodness, the closing pages are worth the
wait, Roth heightening suspense with all the skill and confidence of a
master. His assembled horns whoop with the best of them, and his
transported drummers trump them with a truly storming send-off. Bravo,
bravo and thrice bravo!
Quite possibly Roth’s finest Mahler yet; an invaluable addition to the
catalogue.
Dan Morgan
Previous review:
John Quinn
