Daniel Barenboim and the Staatskapelle Berlin closed the Carnegie Hall Mahler in Sequence cycle with the evocative and moving 9th Symphony. This actually a quite brisk 9th, making it an exciting 9th, an often moving 9th, but a tad messy in a few spots. I was too fast really, as I wanted the glorious music to linger a bit. Still there was plenty to savor even if some of the details and subtle tempo relationships were blurry.
The first movement was the most obvious example, with little contrast between the sections, as I am used to in most performances and even in the live recording by Barenboim with the same forces. The tolling bells in the central section were represented by tuned metal plates (that also annoyed me in the 8th), and the two percussionists, one to strike and one hold them to damp the sound, danced distractingly across the back of the stage. Really, a good set of tubular bells would have done just as well and been more in tune.
The second movement, a distorted ländler, was perfectly... well...distorted is the word, hardly recognizable far its last appearance in Mahler's work. The connection with the past and the minuet has been broken, not to appear in the sketches of the 10th.
The "Rondo Burleske" benefited from Barenboim's breakneck tempo and had an appropriately rustic feel. The brass and winds sneered and snarled as they should, whipping the ensemble to a powerful conclusion.
Mahler died without ever having heard his Ninth Symphony performed, thus for years many critics and scholars interpreted the 9th's finale as his musical farewell. The completion and publication of the sketches of the 10th Symphony showed that Mahler was not quite yet ready to say his good byes. However, there is a feeling of resignation, a funereal quality that permeates every note of the finale. Barenboim again took the movement at a good clip, missing some of the feeling of heavy remorse and hymn like simplicity. The strings, however, provided some of their best work in this movement, milking the many chorale like passages for all they were worth with a deep sonorous sound frankly missing in the 10th the day before.
Overall this final performance has to be categorized as a plus, but I would have preferred a bit more relaxed performance. Slowing the tempi a bit and allowing the music to breathe and communicate would have made it an even more fitting finale to this daunting endeavor.
Barenboim stopped a minute between the Rondo Burleske and the Finale, totally unnecessary in my view, spoiling the contrast between the raucous conclusion of the Rondo and the hymn of the finale. But something had distracted him... a commotion at one of the side doors right down in orchestra front. In shuffled an old woman using a walker, its basket full of God knows what, slowly making her way to an empty seat. By now everyone had focused their attention to the scene as did Barenboim glaring intently at the late comer. As she got to the seat, she called out to the hushed audience, "my name is Marilyn Mahler". Barenboim gave her no time to elaborate as he spun around and launched into the finale. I hope someone at Carnegie Hall got their ass kicked hard for this totally unprofessional, uncalled for intrusion.
So what about the whole show?
For me, 4 Mahler performances in 3 days, for many all the symphonies and major song cycles in 12 days but now festival came to an end. Many felt the orchestra was tired, the many slips and snares of the performance chalked up to the grueling schedule. Others opined that Carnegie Hall was not the best venue for the big pieces, like the 2nd, 3rd and 8th and that Barenboim, Boulez and the Staatskapelle Berlin are not the top flight Mahler interpreters of the day. The prolonged and sincere ovation after the 9th was not so much for the performance, although overall it was fine, but for the herculean effort of the orchestra, the conductors and the staff of Carnegie Hall (minus the goon balls who let "Marilyn Mahler" in) that persevered and gave us these incredible works in sequence. Something not likely to happen again soon. The phrase once in a lifetime certainly applies here.
My sincere thanks to the wonderful Benefactor John who so generously gave me the opportunity to attend a part of this wonderful experience, Beth for allowing me the use of her fabulous 6th Ave and Central Park South apartment for the weekend, Midwest Airlines for getting me back and forth to NYC from KC, Maestro Damon for accompanying me, Miss Alice B (who proudly showed me her parents' name on the plaque honoring the major donors to the renovation of Carnegie Hall, and of course to Paul for his enthusiasm for Mahler and his always reliable entertainment.
Showing posts with label Mahler in Sequence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mahler in Sequence. Show all posts
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Mahler in Sequence: Barenboim Adagio Sym # 10 and Das Lied
The summer of 1910 found Gustav Mahler a physically and emotionally sick man. Ill with a heart condition, his wife Alma unfaithful, physically drained from the rigors of directing the Vienna Opera combined with a disappointing season at the Metropolitan Opera in New York, Mahler was so weakened and aged he was frequently mistaken for Alma's father, not her husband. Winter 1910-1911 also found him back in New York, conducting the New York Philharmonic. In February 1911, he fell ill and returned to Europe. He did not live to see another summer.
In the midst of this was a new symphony; one different in many ways from his previous works. Solidly orchestral, as was the 9th, but perceptively breaking away from the past and plunging headlong into the new 20th century idiom. Gone were the ländlers, "Wunderhorn" song references and child like passages. The new symphony was gutsy, spare almost, but with its long melodic lines, drama and world-encompassing focus, it was still every note a work of Mahler.
Due to his death at 50 in May (99 years ago this past Monday), the symphony, which would have been number 10, lay incomplete. If it were not for a colossal effort by many heroes (a story in itself) we would never had heard a note of this remarkable work. In my humble opinion, it would have been his masterpiece.
Palpable was my disappointment that the Mahler in Sequence series would only include the Adagio to the 10, the one movement substantively completed by Mahler at his death. Taking over from Boulez in the cycle, Daniel Barenboim chose not to program one of the completed versions. But the Adagio is better than no 10th at all, even if it was performed out of sequence (before Das Lied and the 9th).
Bitter was my disappointment that this performance was the weakest of the 4 works I heard in this series. Barenboim simply did not have the orchestra rehearsed, they were tired, or Barenboim simply did not care for or understand the piece; likely a combination of the above. Missing were the subtle change of gears in this long lined, linear work. The adagio is not a splashy, colorful work, so it is imperative that the tempo relationships are adhered to so as to provide some contrast and movement. The slowish, draggy tempo persisted throughout, rendering the piece lifeless and virtually shapeless to boot.
My gregarious seat neighbor Paul noticed I was not applauding at all after the performance, but sitting quietly. "It was not real effective... but not that bad" he commented. "It was disappointing, but actually I am of the old school so I do not applaud between movements", I replied, registering my tacit protest at not hearing the rest of the work. Paul nodded in understanding and asked me about my favorite version of the completed 10.
Frankly, after this inadequate reading, I could only shudder as to what the rest would have sounded like.
The second half was redeemed by a stellar Das Lied von der Erde, helped by two excellent soloists and the orchestra's greater familiarity (I would assume) with this music.
German tenor Klaus Florian Vogt excelled in his 3 sections. "Das Trinklied vom Jammer der Erde"("The Drinking Song of Earth's Misery"), was appropriately dramatic and arresting. "Von der Jugend" ("Of Youth") was a bit on the brisk side, but as the lightest and wittiest of the movements, the quick tempo was not totally out of place. "Der Trunkene im Frühling" (The Drunkard in Spring) had all the drunken merriment you would want, again a bit of a brisk pace.
"Do you know who he reminds me of?", asked Paul after the performance. "Fritz Wunderlich" we said at the same time. A young lady down the row nodded in agreement. A lyric tenor with some power behind his voice, Vogt is a natural for "Das Lied". I could only wish Barenboim allowed him a bit more time to relax and linger over some of the tenor's more lyrical passages. Not as commanding as the incomparable Ernst Häflinger in Walter's classic recording, but able to project his slightly heady voice through the orchestral textures.
Michelle De Young is one of the great Mezzos of this era. Full ranged, able to hit the low notes with out splatting and losing her diction. She could dance through "Von der Schöenheit"(Of Beauty), "drag exhausted" (as Mahler marked) through "Der Einsame im Herbst" (The Lonely One in Autumn), her sparse, tired sounding voice perfectly lamenting the resignation of the text: "My heart is weary, and I come to this beautiful place of rest, for I need solace: I weep much in my loneliness. Autumn lasts too long in my heart: Sun of Love, will you never shine and dry away my bitter tears?" Beautifully done.
The final movement, "Der Abschied", (The Farewell) is as long as the first 5 movements combined and taxes even the most accomplished mezzos. De Young was again in fine voice, but this time Barenboim didn't let her really dig into the text and mood of this and took the movement at too brisk a pace. He relaxed a bit in the final bars allowing the ethereal "ewig" figures from the mezzo to dissolve into space.
I actually came late to appreciate Das Lied. Spending time with the aforementioned Miller/Häflinger/Walter Das Lied converted me to a believer. This performance was not quite in that league, but a fine, sincere performance that lingers in my conscience. Ewig.... ewig....
In the midst of this was a new symphony; one different in many ways from his previous works. Solidly orchestral, as was the 9th, but perceptively breaking away from the past and plunging headlong into the new 20th century idiom. Gone were the ländlers, "Wunderhorn" song references and child like passages. The new symphony was gutsy, spare almost, but with its long melodic lines, drama and world-encompassing focus, it was still every note a work of Mahler.
Due to his death at 50 in May (99 years ago this past Monday), the symphony, which would have been number 10, lay incomplete. If it were not for a colossal effort by many heroes (a story in itself) we would never had heard a note of this remarkable work. In my humble opinion, it would have been his masterpiece.
Palpable was my disappointment that the Mahler in Sequence series would only include the Adagio to the 10, the one movement substantively completed by Mahler at his death. Taking over from Boulez in the cycle, Daniel Barenboim chose not to program one of the completed versions. But the Adagio is better than no 10th at all, even if it was performed out of sequence (before Das Lied and the 9th).
Bitter was my disappointment that this performance was the weakest of the 4 works I heard in this series. Barenboim simply did not have the orchestra rehearsed, they were tired, or Barenboim simply did not care for or understand the piece; likely a combination of the above. Missing were the subtle change of gears in this long lined, linear work. The adagio is not a splashy, colorful work, so it is imperative that the tempo relationships are adhered to so as to provide some contrast and movement. The slowish, draggy tempo persisted throughout, rendering the piece lifeless and virtually shapeless to boot.
My gregarious seat neighbor Paul noticed I was not applauding at all after the performance, but sitting quietly. "It was not real effective... but not that bad" he commented. "It was disappointing, but actually I am of the old school so I do not applaud between movements", I replied, registering my tacit protest at not hearing the rest of the work. Paul nodded in understanding and asked me about my favorite version of the completed 10.
Frankly, after this inadequate reading, I could only shudder as to what the rest would have sounded like.
The second half was redeemed by a stellar Das Lied von der Erde, helped by two excellent soloists and the orchestra's greater familiarity (I would assume) with this music.
German tenor Klaus Florian Vogt excelled in his 3 sections. "Das Trinklied vom Jammer der Erde"("The Drinking Song of Earth's Misery"), was appropriately dramatic and arresting. "Von der Jugend" ("Of Youth") was a bit on the brisk side, but as the lightest and wittiest of the movements, the quick tempo was not totally out of place. "Der Trunkene im Frühling" (The Drunkard in Spring) had all the drunken merriment you would want, again a bit of a brisk pace.
"Do you know who he reminds me of?", asked Paul after the performance. "Fritz Wunderlich" we said at the same time. A young lady down the row nodded in agreement. A lyric tenor with some power behind his voice, Vogt is a natural for "Das Lied". I could only wish Barenboim allowed him a bit more time to relax and linger over some of the tenor's more lyrical passages. Not as commanding as the incomparable Ernst Häflinger in Walter's classic recording, but able to project his slightly heady voice through the orchestral textures.
Michelle De Young is one of the great Mezzos of this era. Full ranged, able to hit the low notes with out splatting and losing her diction. She could dance through "Von der Schöenheit"(Of Beauty), "drag exhausted" (as Mahler marked) through "Der Einsame im Herbst" (The Lonely One in Autumn), her sparse, tired sounding voice perfectly lamenting the resignation of the text: "My heart is weary, and I come to this beautiful place of rest, for I need solace: I weep much in my loneliness. Autumn lasts too long in my heart: Sun of Love, will you never shine and dry away my bitter tears?" Beautifully done.
The final movement, "Der Abschied", (The Farewell) is as long as the first 5 movements combined and taxes even the most accomplished mezzos. De Young was again in fine voice, but this time Barenboim didn't let her really dig into the text and mood of this and took the movement at too brisk a pace. He relaxed a bit in the final bars allowing the ethereal "ewig" figures from the mezzo to dissolve into space.
I actually came late to appreciate Das Lied. Spending time with the aforementioned Miller/Häflinger/Walter Das Lied converted me to a believer. This performance was not quite in that league, but a fine, sincere performance that lingers in my conscience. Ewig.... ewig....
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Mahler in Sequence: Boulez's Symphony of a Thousand
Mahler Symphony # 8... "Symphony of a Thousand"... "a circus", "bewildering"... some say it is not even a symphony at all but more of a two part dramatic oratorio. Which ever it is, a performance is always an event. When it is at Carnegie Hall with the Staatskapelle Berlin under the direction of the legendary Pierre Boulez, it is an event to savor. The sold out hall was standing room only, scalpers we doing brisk business outside the hall.
With the 8th, you can always count on a full stage, with the chorus of 2-300 singers and 8 solo singers, plus a massive orchestra (6 winds each, 8 horns and trumpets each, 3 percussionists, 3 harps, piano, harmonium, celesta, organ, mandolin, strings and all the bells and whistles). It was as an impressive a sight to behold as it was to hear.
My balcony seat was sandwiched between two conductors, one professional, one rank amateur, which made for a somewhat amusing evening. My guest, Maestro Damon (the professional), knew the piece well and anticipated his favorite sections with deft (and on the beat) hand movements and subtle gestures. Paul (the amateur), who had been at every performance of the series, waved and gesticulated at will, precariously leaning over the balcony railing always quivering in anticipation of his favorite passages. A couple of times he achieved that rarely experienced "orgasmic-cosmic-ecstatic-epiphany-nirvana" mode, eyes rolled back, shaking and moaning in joy. It was a sight to behold.
Normally, that would have driven me to drink heavily (not that I need much of an excuse), but that is what Mahler's music can do like no other music can; speak to you, move you to tears, elicit sighs of wonder and satisfaction and make a grown New Yorker act like a blathering fool in Carnegie Hall of all places.
Although I have read a couple of critics that absolutely panned the performance, I felt Boulez's performance was very valid, frequently exciting with a breathtaking focus that really accentuated the chamber-like quality of this music. If you look or listen closely, the whole schmeer of forces is used only a few times. Thus quite frequently, the vast selection of instruments and voices are used delicately and sparingly, more for vast color and shade rather than overwhelming sound. If anything, Boulez is a master at clarity, and thus details seldom heard in recordings or perhaps even other live performances were on full display, never dallied upon to ruin the overall picture but spotlighted as part of Mahler's vast plan.
The first movement, a vast hymn "Veni, Creator Spiritus", started out on the deliberate and somewhat cool side, a Boulez characteristic that is either loved or loathed. The movement came alive at the phrase "Accende lumen sensibus, Infunde amoren cordibus" (enlighten our senses {or more literally kindle our senses with light}, pour your love into our hearts), brilliantly connecting the reverent, medieval mode of this movement to the sensuous, ecstatic paean to love and the "ever-womanly" that is the second part. A more fervorent opening would have obscured this detail, missing the subtle connection between the two contrasting movements.
The soloists were first rate through out, Hanno Müller-Brachmann was a clear, ringing baritone, Christine Brewer wonderful as always ( I am prejudiced I know), Michelle De Young exhibited her glorious, often dark yet clear mezzo, and Robert Holl was a commanding bass. Tenor Stephen Gould was a bit on the strident side, but not to the point of discomfort. The Westminster Symphonic Choir and American Boychoir performed admirably, but were a bit undermanned. A few more voices would have been perfect. Yet, only a few times were they overwhelmed and frequently, the smaller choir (if 200 some voices can be called small) contributed to the clarity of the performance. Boulez led the forces onward to a glowing climax, the brass in the balcony adding their red-gold, blazing sound to the fabric.
The orchestral introduction to part 2 was one of the slower I have encountered. The choral entrance (Waldung, sie schwankt heran) hushed and detached. Wrong?? Odd?? Maybe so, but making perfect sense in Boulez's vision. The clear acoustics of Carnegie Hall illuminated the shimmering harps, plunking mandolin and the frequent and excellent solos from the concert master. The soloists here are assigned roles from this final scene of Faust; Pater Profundus, Pater Ecstaticus, Dr Marianus, Magna Peccatrix, Mulier Samaritana, Una Poenitentium (Gretchen), Maria Aegyptiaca, and from the balcony high above, Mater Gloriosa. Sylvia Schwartz figuratively and literally soared over the hall in her brief but climactic appearance as the Mater Gloriosa. Gould, as Dr Marianus, softened his tone but still implored us all to "Blicket auf zum Retterblick" (look up to the redeeming gaze) and all assembled did just that as he and the grand chorus moved inexorably towards the ringing, glorious final pages; voices, extra brass and organ in full sound.
The sniping critics be silent. No this was not perfect, what is, really?? Little ol' me could fill this review with places where I thought something could have been different. This performance was one of those rare events in music that come so infrequently, my maestro neighbors were both speechless. I will remember it for years to come. When you leave 2500 people in stunned silence, their minds racing to catch up with what they just witnessed, you have succeeded. Bravo Maestro Boulez. Bravo all.
With the 8th, you can always count on a full stage, with the chorus of 2-300 singers and 8 solo singers, plus a massive orchestra (6 winds each, 8 horns and trumpets each, 3 percussionists, 3 harps, piano, harmonium, celesta, organ, mandolin, strings and all the bells and whistles). It was as an impressive a sight to behold as it was to hear.
My balcony seat was sandwiched between two conductors, one professional, one rank amateur, which made for a somewhat amusing evening. My guest, Maestro Damon (the professional), knew the piece well and anticipated his favorite sections with deft (and on the beat) hand movements and subtle gestures. Paul (the amateur), who had been at every performance of the series, waved and gesticulated at will, precariously leaning over the balcony railing always quivering in anticipation of his favorite passages. A couple of times he achieved that rarely experienced "orgasmic-cosmic-ecstatic-epiphany-nirvana" mode, eyes rolled back, shaking and moaning in joy. It was a sight to behold.
Normally, that would have driven me to drink heavily (not that I need much of an excuse), but that is what Mahler's music can do like no other music can; speak to you, move you to tears, elicit sighs of wonder and satisfaction and make a grown New Yorker act like a blathering fool in Carnegie Hall of all places.
Although I have read a couple of critics that absolutely panned the performance, I felt Boulez's performance was very valid, frequently exciting with a breathtaking focus that really accentuated the chamber-like quality of this music. If you look or listen closely, the whole schmeer of forces is used only a few times. Thus quite frequently, the vast selection of instruments and voices are used delicately and sparingly, more for vast color and shade rather than overwhelming sound. If anything, Boulez is a master at clarity, and thus details seldom heard in recordings or perhaps even other live performances were on full display, never dallied upon to ruin the overall picture but spotlighted as part of Mahler's vast plan.
The first movement, a vast hymn "Veni, Creator Spiritus", started out on the deliberate and somewhat cool side, a Boulez characteristic that is either loved or loathed. The movement came alive at the phrase "Accende lumen sensibus, Infunde amoren cordibus" (enlighten our senses {or more literally kindle our senses with light}, pour your love into our hearts), brilliantly connecting the reverent, medieval mode of this movement to the sensuous, ecstatic paean to love and the "ever-womanly" that is the second part. A more fervorent opening would have obscured this detail, missing the subtle connection between the two contrasting movements.
The soloists were first rate through out, Hanno Müller-Brachmann was a clear, ringing baritone, Christine Brewer wonderful as always ( I am prejudiced I know), Michelle De Young exhibited her glorious, often dark yet clear mezzo, and Robert Holl was a commanding bass. Tenor Stephen Gould was a bit on the strident side, but not to the point of discomfort. The Westminster Symphonic Choir and American Boychoir performed admirably, but were a bit undermanned. A few more voices would have been perfect. Yet, only a few times were they overwhelmed and frequently, the smaller choir (if 200 some voices can be called small) contributed to the clarity of the performance. Boulez led the forces onward to a glowing climax, the brass in the balcony adding their red-gold, blazing sound to the fabric.
The orchestral introduction to part 2 was one of the slower I have encountered. The choral entrance (Waldung, sie schwankt heran) hushed and detached. Wrong?? Odd?? Maybe so, but making perfect sense in Boulez's vision. The clear acoustics of Carnegie Hall illuminated the shimmering harps, plunking mandolin and the frequent and excellent solos from the concert master. The soloists here are assigned roles from this final scene of Faust; Pater Profundus, Pater Ecstaticus, Dr Marianus, Magna Peccatrix, Mulier Samaritana, Una Poenitentium (Gretchen), Maria Aegyptiaca, and from the balcony high above, Mater Gloriosa. Sylvia Schwartz figuratively and literally soared over the hall in her brief but climactic appearance as the Mater Gloriosa. Gould, as Dr Marianus, softened his tone but still implored us all to "Blicket auf zum Retterblick" (look up to the redeeming gaze) and all assembled did just that as he and the grand chorus moved inexorably towards the ringing, glorious final pages; voices, extra brass and organ in full sound.
The sniping critics be silent. No this was not perfect, what is, really?? Little ol' me could fill this review with places where I thought something could have been different. This performance was one of those rare events in music that come so infrequently, my maestro neighbors were both speechless. I will remember it for years to come. When you leave 2500 people in stunned silence, their minds racing to catch up with what they just witnessed, you have succeeded. Bravo Maestro Boulez. Bravo all.
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