Sunday Classics: Is Mahler's Sixth Symphony any more "tragic" than life itself?

The conclusion of the 1976 Bernstein-Vienna Phil Andante -- we heard the first half in last night's preview post. The "climactic" section we heard Valery Gergiev whip into a frenzy begins at 3:05 of the clip.

by Ken

Do I have to have an ulterior motive for backing our way into the Mahler Sixth Symphony via the awesomely beautiful Andante we heard in last night's preview? (Just as a reminder, we started -- in Friday night's pre-preview, by listening to the radiant Andante sostenuto of the Brahms First Symphony, played by "Mahler's orchestra," the Vienna Philharmonic, under Sir John Barbirolli in 1967 and Leonard Bernstein in 1981.) Okay, I do have an ulterior motive, but do I have to? Goodness, there's so much I could, and want to, say about this symphony, but instead let me just explain how it came onto this week's Sunday Classics schedule.

It all started with the new 10-CD Sony BMG Classics compendium of 1974-80 Levine-RCA Mahler recordings I mentioned last week I had ordered. The set arrived, and I started listening through it, which was kind of enjoyable, though I can't say I much enjoyed the actual performances. I certainly understood why I'd hardly listened to them again since they were first issued -- and I actually liked some of them better then. It's kind of eerie how little audible concern there is here for how the music gets from one note to the next, which is, oh, about 98 percent of what matters in Mahler's music, and that of most any other composer of consequence, or at least 98 percent of what makes it music instead of just a bunch of notes.

Nevertheless, I was listening through happily enough. The performances contain a fair number of ideas -- no, I'd rather call them "performance choices," since they're really qualities slapped onto musical moments, which don't really rise to the level of "ideas." I got through Nos. 1, 10, 4, 7, and 5 before crashing with No. 6, which seemed to be so far from adding up to any sort of performance of the piece that I had to seek relief in various sorts of actual performances.

My original idea was that a good subject for a post might be the kind of phony-baloney issue that musical dim bulbs like to fixate on instead of trying to deal with the music: the question of the "correct" order of the middle movements of the Mahler Sixth. And that's still what we're going to be looking at. But since we're also going to be hearing the the much larger outer movements as well, as I thought about what to say to you about them, I realized that a different version of this same phony-baloney musical "issue" comes into play: Just how "tragic" is this symphony that Mahler himself dubbed, at least at the time of the premiere, Tragic?


HOW "TRAGIC" IS THE MAHLER SIXTH SYMPHONY?
TO JUDGE FOR YOURSELF, CONTINUE READING


New Phlharmonia Orchestra, Sir John Barbirolli, cond. EMI, recorded August 1967 [at 2:23 of the first movement, which we hear complete below (we're also going to hear the continuation of this passage in a moment); there are lots of ways to perform this movement, but I love Barbirolli's pounding implacability]

In his album note for the Leinsdorf-Boston Symphony-RCA recording of the Mahler Sixth (never released on CD), the late Jack Diether, a gentle and wise human being and an acute and astute listener who earned the fierce admiration of music lovers discovering Mahler's music because he dealt so credibly with the experience of it, wrote:

[J]ust as Beethoven in his Fifth Symphony had used a curt, powerful four-note motif to symbolize the idea of fate, so Mahler in his Sixth uses an equally brief and peremptory motif of his own for the same purpose. It consists of nothing more than the sudden "melting" of the A-major chord into the A-minor. Mahler had used this idea before, notably at the end of the opening Allegro maestoso of his Second Symphony (in C minor). But here he also combines it with the brutal hammering-out of a rhythm on two timpani, both tuned to A, first heard at the 57th bar. The rhythm appears first, against a roll on two snare drums. Then it is repeated against the changing chord. And as the trumpets playing the chord diminish, the oboes grow louder, thus producing the effect of one melting into the other.

BEFORE PROCEEDING WITH THE MAHLER SIXTH, LET'S LISTEN
JUST ONCE MORE TO OUR BRAHMS AND MAHLER ANDANTES

Günther Herbig (born 1931) wasn't much known in this country before his tenure as music director of the Detroit Symphony (1984-90). We were getting regular broadcasts of the DSO then, and I found him a powerfully impressive musician. Actually, he still isn't that well-known, and since his recordings aren't exactly abundant, I thought you might enjoy hearing these samples of his work.

BRAHMS: Symphony No. 1 in C minor, Op. 68:
ii. Andante sostenuto

BBC Philharmonic, Günther Herbig, cond. Collins Classics, recorded February 1992

MAHLER: Symphony No. 6 in A minor:
ii. Andante moderato

Saarbrücken Radio Symphony Orchestra, Günther Herbig, cond. Berlin Classics, recorded live, Nov. 26, 1999


LET'S GO BACK TO JACK DIETHER'S MUSICAL EXAMPLE (SEE
ABOVE) FROM THE FIRST MOVEMENT OF THE MAHLER SIXTH

Jack goes on to say:

It is inherently a military-march rhythm -- that rhythm in which the drum or the drillmaster calls the step. The whole first subject which preceded it was in fact in the rhythm of an energetic military march; in the development to follow later, and again in the Finale, the harsh rhythmic motif quoted above will be repeated over and over beneath the marching music. Thus Mahler expands the "fate motif" idea into the concept of Man inexorably marching to his tragic destiny. In both the first and last movements of this Symphony, the military-march complex of which Mahler was so fond from earliest childhood takes on the same terrifying implications as it does in his macabre song "Revelge." [Regarding "Revelge," see the note at the end of this post.]

What makes Mahler's Sixth ultimately a "tragic" symphony, and Beethoven's Fifth not, is, of course, the sequence of musical events. . . .

I'm not here to say that Jack is wrong. I don't like telling listeners how to respond to what they hear -- we all hear what we hear. I just encourage everyone to take in the full dimension of the musical argument. I will say that what I hear is much more complex: an amazingly and joyfully rich and full engagement with life, which takes on the character of tragedy only -- and I freely admit it's an important "only" -- in that it ends with no life. And as we'll see in a moment, Jack Diether, wonderful listener that he was, also heard what I hear: "though the tragic conclusion is preordained, there is an unfettered vitality and exhilaration in the interim struggle." I just hear the proportions differently.

Jack, by the way, wrote the above while likening the Mahler Sixth to the "epic vein" of the tragedy of King Lear. I would liken this process, "unfettered vitality and exhilaration" leading to a preordained conclusion, to real life.

I might add that the life-affirming beauty of the symphony, the "unfettered vitality and exhilaration" that for me comes through on almost every page, seems to me not especially expressed in what Jack calls the first movement's "joyful second theme which finally prevails and which brings the music to a happy and resounding close in A major." Mahler knew better than almost any composer how to express musical joy, and I don't hear it especially here. I hear more of an attempt to play at joyfulness.

As an example of what I mean by emotional complexity, or depth, in the Mahler Sixth, let's go back to that first musical example and let it play on, into the introduction of that "joyful second theme" (roughly 2:23 to 3:31 of the Barbirolli recording):


New Philharmonia Orchestra, Sir John Barbirolli, cond. EMI, recorded August 1967

The "unfettered vitality and exhilaration" is often expressed in surprising ways -- for example, in the first sounding of the cowbells Mahler famously incorporated in this symphony. Note that in this passage (roughly 8:21 to 9:57 of the Barbirolli recording) he's playing with musical materials we heard in the previous example:


New Philharmonia Orchestra, Sir John Barbirolli, cond. EMI, recorded August 1967

Most obviously, that zestful engagement with life is expressed in the whole of the Andante moderato.

I might add that I don't recall ever experiencing the end of the first movement as "a happy and resounding close." Me, I'm pretty much exhausted by this point -- at least in a performance that has really engaged with the music.


WHICH BRINGS US TO THE QUESTION OF THE
"CORRECT" ORDER OF THE MIDDLE MOVEMENTS

Here's how Jack explains the problem:

In the first published edition of the Symphony (1906), the Scherzo movement was placed second and the Andante third. Then in the second edition (1908), this order was reversed. Now, Prof. Erwin Ratz, President of the I.G.M.G., maintains that the composer, who he says had been "influenced" in this respect, "very soon realized that the basic plan was thereby disrupted, and accordingly restored the original sequence," but that his instructions were never implemented by the publisher. In the Critical Edition, and in this recording, therefore, the Scherzo again precedes the Andante.

Jack, you'll note, is carefully undogmatic on the point. Not so most other Mahler enthusiasts, to whom it doesn't seem to occur that Mahler himself may have been of two minds about it. For me the best case for the "discredited" order -- the Andante preceding the Scherzo -- is the sheer exhaustingness of the first movement. Even though the Finale is in fact longer and emotionally more demanding, I think by then we're prepared for it. (We better be!) And I don't think the Finale is as draining as the first movement. By its end, I can sure use the balm of the Andante rather than the renewed assault of the Scherzo.

I suspect that Professor Ratz is simplifying in declaring that Mahler's first change of heart was solely the result of pernicious "influence," and that his second change of heart was clear and unequivocal. I'm prepared to believe that Scherzo-before-Andante was the composer's ultimate preference, but the choice to see it as a settled, black-and-white matter seems to me characteristic of the kind of "thinking" that refuses to see (or hear) complexity and ambiguity. I think Mahler himself recognized that there's a case to be made for both sequences, and while performers may well choose to accept what appears to be his final thinking, they may also wish to hear it the other way.

(Note that on CD, as long as you don't have a recording that splits the Sixth Symphony down the middle between two CDs, you can use your remote control to flipflop the middle movements irrespective of the conductor's, or record company's, choice.)


NOW, FINALLY, WE'RE READY TO START WORKING
OUR WAY THROUGH THE MAHLER SIXTH SYMPHONY

Or almost. I think two additional paragraphs from Jack Diether's booklet note will be a great help us in getting us started:

Coupled with the emphasis on martial rhythms in this Symphony is its proliferation of percussion. Here Mahler employs the heaviest battery of any of his works, a battery which has aptly been called an orchestra in itself. In addition to the hammer, it includes cymbals, triangle, tam-tam, Rute (birch rod), snare drums, bass drum, timpani, glockenspiel, xylophone, celesta, cowbells and low chimes. The rest of the orchestra comprises piccolo, 4 flutes (third and fourth flute doubling piccolo), 4 oboes, 2 English horns, 3 regular clarinets, D clarinet, E-flat clarinet, bass clarinet, 4 bassoons, contrabassoon, 8 horns, 6 trumpets, 3 trombones, bass trombone, bass tuba, 2 harps and string choir.

This is the largest orchestra ever used by Mahler except in his works with chorus, and it reflects the titanic conflict raging within the orchestra itself in these pages. All the razor-sharpness and the delicacy of Mahler's instrumentation are here, combined with a suggestion of colossal forces in deadly opposition, one against the other. The multiplication of instruments is used purely to set these forces in vivid, seemingly three-dimensional relief. The tragedy itself is in the epic vein of King Lear: though the tragic conclusion is preordained, there is an unfettered vitality and exhilaration in the interim struggle.

MAHLER: Symphony No. 6 in A minor

(with descriptive comments
on the movements by Jack Diether)

i. Allegro energico, ma non troppo

The A-minor march subject and the ardent F-major lyric theme are the principal components of the exposition. Mahler told his wife at the time of composition that he had tried to express her in this lyric theme. "Whether I've succeeded," he said, "I don't know; but you'll have to put up with it." There is an optional expository repeat, not taken in this recording. [J.D. was referring to the Leinsdorf-RCA recording, of course, but this is also true of the Barbirolli-EMI. Repeats, by the way, are another matter on which mindless musical ideologues take mindlessly absolute positions.] The middle part of the development section introduces a quiet pastoral subject, like the memory of a boyhood idyl, in which cowbells are heard in the distance. The triumphal coda is ushered in with a burst of bells and percussion.

New Philharmonia Orchestra, Sir John Barbirolli, cond. EMI, recorded August 1967

ii. Scherzo: Wuchtig (Heavy)

Here the marching tread is transformed into a grotesque pounding beat in 3/8 time, again in A minor. The main section is shrill and cacophonous, with bone-rattling xylophone -- but opening up fantastic, Hieronymus Bosch-like vistas. In the Trio section, the triple-beat pounding is softened into something resembling a half-humorous parody of an old-fashioned minuet (Grazioso, F major). In the main reprise the "fate" motif looms up suddenly, bringing panic in its wake.

New Philharmonia Orchestra, Sir John Barbirolli, cond. EMI, recorded August 1967

iii. Andante moderato

The idyllic mood takes over once more, in the remote key of E-flat major. Again the cowbells are heard in the distance, and the
music swells to heights of beauty and passionate longing. In the characteristic opening theme of this Andante, the initial reference to "The Last Rose of Summer" is sweetly nostalgic, while the melodic use of the minor-third tone (G flat) at the fourth bar casts a sorrowful shadow of the central "fate" theme:

London Philharmonic Orchestra, Klaus Tennstedt, cond. EMI, recorded live, November 1991

OR IF WE DO THE MIDDLE MOVEMENTS
THE OTHER WAY 'ROUND . . .

ii. Andante moderato

Cleveland Orchestra, George Szell, cond. Columbia/CBS/Sony, recorded October 1967 [can you believe it? another Mahler Sixth recording made in 1967! and another good one]

iii. Scherzo: Wuchtig (Heavy)

New York Philharmonic, Leonard Bernstein, cond. Columbia/CBS/Sony, recorded May 1967

iv. Finale: Allegro moderato

The slow introduction (Sostenuto) is cast in C minor, the relative minor of the preceding key. It begins with an upsweep of celesta, harps and violins, met head on by the "fate" motif with its martial rhythm. After a silence and a dark new beginning, phantoms flit softly past as church bells instead of cowbells now sound in the distance, and a solemn chorale is intoned, punctuated once more by the crash of the fateful rhythm. The Allegro itself (A minor) is in extended sonata form, with two separate developments in its central portion, each of which is initiated by one of the hammer blows; in each case, for many pages, the music goes reeling from the shock. "The crescendos and climaxes of this movement," Bruno Walter once said, "resemble in their grim power the mountainous waves of a sea that will overwhelm and destroy the ship." During the first development, a new, springier marching tread is set in motion by the bass drum, which is resoundingly whacked on each beat by the birch rod. After the return of the introductory Sostenuto, the aspiring second main theme (originally D major) is recapitulated before the principal A-minor march-chorale, thus permitting the latter to lead directly to the tragic fulfillment in the coda -- including a dissonant and heavy-laden threnody for trombones.

London Philharmonic Orchestra, Klaus Tennstedt, cond. EMI, recorded Apr.-May 1983


A QUICK NOTE ON OUR RECORDINGS

By now you must have guessed that I really, really like the 1967 Barbirolli Mahler Sixth with the New Philharmonia, and since by now we've heard all of it save the Finale, I hope this doesn't need much explanation. It takes a great spirit to get the upper hand on this massive and mighty yet hauntingly intimate piece, and Sir John surely had that. In addition he marshals the orchestra with a mastery he didn't always manage (or perhaps attempt).

Klaus Tennstedt also had a large spirit, to go with his expansive view of the Mahler Sixth. Since last night's preview we've heard a bunch of performances of the great Andante moderato, but in some 45 years of listening to the piece I've never heard a performance of the Andante as breathtakingly majestic or enthralling as this one from the 1991 Tennstedt live performance issued by EMI (currently unavailable; I haven't heard the 1983 Proms performance issued on the LPO's own label). For the Finale we switch to his magisterial 1983 studio recording, from his dark, powerful and frequently underrated EMI complete Mahler cycle. (As much as I love many live Tennstedt performances, which often do have an in-the-moment intensity not heard in his studio recordings, I think the people who insist that the live performances are "better" really don't have much idea of, or at least sympathy for, what Tennstedt was all about as a musician. The studio recordings often have a quality of fully considered, "for the ages" permanence that the live performances, for obvious reasons, don't have.)

For today's performance of the "reverse-order" Andante and Scherzo, I've purposely chosen performances that fit together, of a fleeter, harder-driving sort. (The Scherzo is from Leonard Bernstein's first recording of the Sixth, from which we heard the Andante last night, along with part of his 1976 Vienna video recording and his 1988 DG Vienna live recording.)


ABOUT MAHLER'S SONG "REVELGE"
(MENTIONED ABOVE BY JACK DIETHER)

We've heard a number of Mahler's settings of poems from the folk anthology Des Knaben Wunderhorn (The Youth's Magic Horn), but not, I believe, either of the great "military" songs, "Revelge" and "Der Tamboursg'sell." I think we'll rectify that next week, and among the recordings we'll hear are stunners by bass-baritone José van Dam.

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