In "one of the mightiest shouts of human aspiration ever made in music," is this the most beautiful music ever? Or this? Or this?

Or, "FOUND" FREE MUSIC (SAMPLES), Part 2

In Part 1, we enjoyed Seattle Chamber Music Society's gift of the 1st movement of Schubert's String Quintet (plus bonus music). The unconscionably delayed Part 2 is inspired by a free video preview offered by the Berlin Philharmonic's Digital Concert Hall of the orchestra's January 2026 performances, under Chief Conductor Kirill Petrenko, of a work described by Deryck Cooke as "one of the mightiest shouts of human aspiration ever made in music," which the Philharmoniker hadn't played since opening night of the 2011-12 season, Sept. 18, 2011. -- Ed.

UPDATE: A new block of performances added from a special source
2nd UPDATE (Monday): Coming up next (at the end)
3rd UPDATE (later Monday): Semyon Bychkov on Mahler 8

There's a snatch on YouTube from that 2011 Berlin Phil performance under then-Chief Conductor Simon Rattle

[2:34] "Accende lumen sensibus" ("Kindle our senses with light")
[Eventually we're going to hear a little more of this performance.]

IN ALL LIKELIHOOD YOU ALREADY RECOGNIZE THE PIECE.
(IF NOT, WILL THIS LONGER EXCERPT GIVE IT AWAY?)

I've chosen an unusual start point. It just happens that this strategic moment is one of the most beautiful musical moments I know. Yes, yes, I say that, or words to that effect, a lot here. Why, it came up in Part 1 of this post, in the cases of both the first and the second movements of the Schubert C major String Quintet. In my defense, I would point out that since I'm in charge of the Sunday Classics program, and I get to choose all the music, an awful lot of it is music that's especially close to my heart.

Let's start by just listening through this little chunk I've carved out. -- Ed.

"Imple superna gratia, gratia, quae tu creasti pectora"
("Fill with heavenly grace, grace, the breasts that thou created")

[4:10] Joyce Barker & Agnes Giebel (s), Kerstin Meyer (ms), Helen Watts (c), Kenneth Neate (t), Alfred Orda (b), Arnold van Mill (bs); Charles Spinks, organ; BBC Chorus, BBC Choral Society, Goldsmith's Choral Union, Hamp­stead Choral Society, Emanuel School Boys' Choir, Orpington Junior Sing­ers, "much-augmented" London Symphony Orchestra, Jascha Hor­en­stein, cond. Live performance from the Royal Albert Hall, Mar. 20, 1959

by Ken

In this case, the sheer beauty of the musical moment seems to me to have a crucial structural purpose, which is why I've made this seriously varied assortment of performance clips. And they really are very different -- in pacing, obviously (I've arranged them in "length" order, but performances that are closest in length may be the most different in everything else -- flow, tone(s), color(s), emphasis. Some of them may be barely recognizable as the same music. In each case, though, I encourage you to take note of how your experience is affected by the first voice we hear -- and to a lesser extent the second, and then the third, fourth, and fifth, who enter together. But especially the first, who not only introduces this melody but throughout the movement we're sampling will be sailing and soaring over the musical staff and over the ensemble.

If there's one thing our composer knew, it was voices. He spent the major part of his career in the pit of opera houses. But that didn't incline him to make life easy for singers when he wrote for them. It's more that he had ideas about how he could stretch those voices. In this case, for his top voice, the first soprano, he understood that coming in un-warmed-up she couldn't be asked to leap straight to high B-flats and Cs, and at first asked her only to show great fluidity and tonal sheen and be able to sustain crucial high A-flats. But gradually he worked in the B-flats and, yes, a couple of sustained high Cs.

Brahms knew, and so did Mahler: Being a for-real functional artistic genius is (gosh!) really hard work

"Mahler's way of thinking in music did not easily conform to the rules of the symphonic scholars. He could not contain himself in the A B A divisions of symphonic form. In this unique first movement he adapted large-scale sonata form to his own power of improvisation. He believed that music should continually grow, phrase by phrase, one section balancing another, by laws not only of musical form as usually obeyed but also by psychological and organic growth and the logic of contrast. . . ."

-- Neville Cardus, in his "Appreciation of Mahler's Third"
[reproduced in part in the last post in this Mahler 3 series]

"This final published version [of the Andante sostenuto of Brahms's First Symphony] is clearly both tauter and richer, for there is less repetition and more diversity, and Brahms has cast fresh light on his themes by bringing them into new relationships. Altogether these changes provide a deeply fascinating insight into genius at work."

-- Robert Pascall, vice chair of the New Complete Brahms Edition (and editor of the symphonies), in his notes for the Mackerras-Teldec Brahms 1

REMEMBER THE VERY DIFFERENT VERSIONS WE'VE
HEARD OF THE ANDANTE SOSTENUTO OF BRAHMS 1?

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

► A reconstruction of the "initial performing version":

► And this: the familiar published (i.e., final) version
(which we'll be hearing -- and thinking about -- a lot more!):

Scottish Chamber Orchestra, Sir Charles Mackerras, cond. Telarc, recorded in Usher Hall, Edinburgh, January 1997

WE'LL TALK ABOUT THEM, BUT FOR NOW MIGHT WE HAVE
MAESTRO M. PLAY US ANOTHER SYMPHONIC ANDANTE?

BBC Philharmonic, Sir Charles Mackerras, cond. BBC Music Magazine, recorded live in Bridgewater Hall, Manchester (England), Nov. 16, 2002 (published 2005)

by Ken

It's taken us a long time and a crazy path to get here, "here" being out-the-other-end of the first movement of the Mahler Third Symphony --

OUR CRAZY PATH TO WHEREVER WE ARE NOW:

► "Setting out to trace the lineage of Boston Symphony concert-masters back to 1962, we wind up trapped in the gigantic first movement of the Mahler Third Symphony," July 23

► "Coming momentarily (if not sooner): An adventure in musical metamorphosis -- presented in a pair of mutually accessible parts," Sept. 22

► "Part 1: Marching in anguish, or to triumph, or toward what? In the 1st movement of Mahler 3, we've sure left BrahmsWorld behind!," Sept 23

► "Part 2: Marching in anguish, or to triumph, or toward what? In the 1st movement of Mahler 3, we've sure left BrahmsWorld behind! (Then again, are we so sure?)," Sept. 27

► "Brahms knew, and so did Mahler: Being a for-real functional artistic genius is (gosh!) really hard work," today

BECAUSE THE ANDANTE SOSTENUTO IS SO DEAR TO ME,
THE SC ARCHIVE TEEMS WITH PERFORMANCES OF IT

While we've got another whole group of recordings coming up in this post, for immediate hearing I've plucked out two, from the Brahms symphony cycles I feel closest to, returning to them regularly with tingly expectation that's always rewarded. Kurt Masur's Andante sostenuto and Kurt Sanderling's are different; notably, though Masur sounds in no way rushed, Sanderling sets a still-more-spacious pace, which the Dresden players fill with glowing life. But both draw me back above all because the orchestras have achieved real identification with the music, playing not just with heart-enriching beauty and finesse but with a soul-stirring sense of really living the music, whether in melodic or accompanimental or ensemble writing -- all of it sounded and made to fit together with such fullness and depth and general "rightness" of expression.

(It sobers me to realize that I've been loving the Sandering-Dresden Brahms cycle for something like half a century now, especially enjoying, in the early decades, those beautiful Eurodisc LP pressings.)

Radu Lupu (1945-2022) [1]

Part 1: We've got a really terrific performance to hear [UPDATE:] two really terrific performances, actually!

GENERAL UPDATE (MONDAY EVENING): There's updating scattered through the post, now that I've been able to look at it and listen to some of the music in context. (Importantly, the clip of the Symphonic Dances from "West Side Story" is fixed, so that it now plays the whole thing, not just track 1!) -- Ed.

"Everyone tells a story differently, and that story should be told compellingly and spontaneously. If it is not compelling and convincing, it is without value."

-- Radu Lupu, quoted by the YouTube poster of a Lupu Brahms First
Piano Concerto with Jukka-Pekka Saraste (which we'll be hearing)

MOZART: Piano Concerto No. 19 in F, K. 459:
iii. Rondo: Allegro assai

Radu Lupu, piano; Deutsche Kammerphilharmonie Bremen, David Zinman, cond. Live performance in the Sophiensaal, Munich, July 12, 1990

[UPDATE: Not to worry, we're gonna hear the whole concerto -- which you can watch here. And by the way, note (especially if you look at the video) the average age of the poised German Chamber Philharmonic players playing their young hearts out! -- Ed.]

by Ken

Say, in our clip above (and the linked complete video), is this Radu Lupu being playful in the rondo finale of Mozart K. 459? Playful? Radu Lupu?

I guess we need to back up. We're supposed to be talking about Kurt Moll and Massenet's Werther -- unfinished business from last week's "We're going to be hearing Kurt Moll in his famously 'Unexpected French Role' -- so curtain up!," April 20, and " 'I don't know if I'm awake or if I'm still dreaming' (Do those poets know how to make an entrance?)," April 24. But, well, while progress is being made, that has bogged down a wee bit. And meanwhile I've found myself thinking about -- and listening to -- the Romanian-born pianist Radu Lupu, who died April 17 at 76.

I hadn't taken much notice of Lupu's passing. While I certainly have no lack of respect for a musician of his professional skills and career accomplishments, he wasn't exactly a favorite pianist of mine. I don't think he would crack my Top 50 list -- even a Top 50 list of pianists I've actually heard in performance. Actually, the live performances of his I recall attending were kind of, um (how to put this delicately?), stultifying. After the last of those, I kind of tended to pay less close attention to his career.

At some point, quite possibly a point when I meant to be plowing forward with matters relating to Werther and Kurt Moll, I happened upon a piece by The Guardian's Andrew Clements, "Radu Lupu: Five key performances," which begins:

We have the Leeds Piano Competition to thank for first showcasing the unique poetry of Radu Lupu’s playing: the young Romanian pianist won first prize there in 1969. That success launched his international career, but as the years went by he became a more and more reticent performer, both in the concert hall and on disc. Yet every rare opportunity to hear him was a reminder of just how special a pianist he was, in a repertory that extended from Mozart and Beethoven to Bartók and Janáček, and who was quite peerless in Schubert, Schumann and Brahms. Here are just a few examples of his art.

Ooh, there's that word: "poetry." Somehow a legend came into being that Lupu was a "poetic" performer. Maybe that made me curious to see which performances Andrew C was commending to Guardian readers. Which made me curiouser, because I was unfamiliar with most of the performances, and although I'm still in the midst of processing it all, I can say I'm enjoying taking a new look at, or listen to, Lupu. There's an abundance of interesting music-making here, and I may even be getting some sense of why performances that don't hold great interest for me may please other listeners.

The project unquestionably got off to a great start, because --

AT THE TOP OF ANDREW C'S LIST IS MOZART K. 459!

First, as promised, we're going to hear Bernard Haitink and Eugen Jochum conduct the Finale of Beethoven 9. Then we have to hear the first three movements, right?

aka "Bernard Haitink (1929-2021), part 3"
[Now updated to include the first three movements of the Beethoven Ninth Symphony, plus a complete performance (from Tokyo!), with some additional additions still to come]

Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, baritone; St. Hedwig's Cathedral Choir, Berlin Philharmonic, Ferenc Fricsay, cond. DG, recorded in the Jesus-Christus-Kirche, Dec. 1957-Apr. 1958

Franz Crass, bass; Vienna Singverein, Philharmonia Orchestra, Otto Klemperer, cond. Live performance from the Vienna Musikvereinsaal, in the Wiener Festwochen (Vienna Festival), June 6, 1960

René Pape, bass; New York Choral Artists, New York Philharmonic, Kurt Masur, cond. Live performance from Avery Fisher Hall, Dec. 31, 1999

Martti Talvela, bass; Vienna State Opera Chorus, Vienna Philharmonic, Hans Schmidt-Isserstedt, cond. Decca, recorded in the Grosser Saal of the Vienna Singverein, Dec. 8-12, 1965

by Ken

Some you have seen the not-yet-a-post version of this maybe-still-not-really-much-of-a-post, containing just the five audio files of the Finale of the Beethoven Ninth Symphony as conducted by Bernard Haitink and Eugen Jochum, as promised in Part 2 of this series.

The series: Bernard Haitink (1929-2021)

Part 1 -- Haitink conducts Handel, assorted Brahms, assorted Shostakovich, very assorted Mahler, Wagner (from Act II of Siegfried), and Beethoven (Finale of Symphony No. 9)

Part 2 -- Haitink and Jochum conduct Bruckner: Symphony No. 7: ii. Adagio; and Haitink, Jochum, and van Beinum conduct Mahler: Das Lied von der Erde: i. "Das Trinklied von Jammer der Erde" and vi. "Der Abschied" (both with "related" perforrmances involving other participants)

Part 3 -- multiple Haitink and Jochum performances of the Finale of Beethoven: Symphony No. 9

LET'S GET RIGHT TO THOSE FIVE PERFORMANCES --
THEN WE'VE GOT SOME NEW BUSINESS TO TEND TO

You've had the tease for the Finale, at the top of the post (I hope you enjoyed those four fairly different but all luscious performances!). Now it's time to hear that great bass solo in context.

BEETHOVEN: Symphony No. 9 in D minor, Op. 125:
iv. Finale: Presto -- Allegro assai -- etc.

The First Symphony sets out the modus operandi for Mahler's symphonic career

MAHLER: Songs of a Wayfarer:
iv. "Die zwei blauen Augen" ("The two blue eyes")

Thomas Allen sings the last of Mahler's Wayfarer Songs, "Die zwei blauen Augen" ("The two blue eyes"), with Václav Neumann conducting the Mahler Youth Orchestra, in Frankfurt's Alte Oper, 1991.

Christa Ludwig, mezzo-soprano; Philharmonia Orchestra, Sir Adrian Boult, cond. EMI, recorded Oct. 18, 1958

Maureen Forrester, contralto; Boston Symphony Orchestra, Charles Munch, cond. RCA-BMG, recorded Dec. 28, 1958

Thomas Quasthoff, baritone; Vienna Philharmonic, Pierre Boulez, cond. DG, recorded June 2003

by Ken

In Friday night's preview, preparing for today's assault on the Mahler First Symphony, we heard, or rather reheard, the transformation Mahler wrought to transform the second of his four Songs of a Wayfarer into the exposition of the symphony's first movement, something we first heard in the March 2012 preview post "From song to symphony -- the journey of Mahler's lonely wayfarer," when we were tackling the Wayfarer Songs. In another preview post a couple of weeks later we listened to the transformation of the second section of the final Wayfarer Song, "Die zwei blauen Augen" ("The two blue eyes"), which we just hear complete, into the haunting central section of the third movement of the First Symphony. As I also mentioned, we've also heard the second movement of the First, meaning that the only thing that will be (mostly) new for us is the Finale.


LET'S DIG RIGHT IN WITH THE FIRST MOVEMENT

What comes after Mozart's and Beethoven's minor-key symphonic opening movements?

What comes after the monumental, mysterious opening movement of the Beethoven Ninth Symphony, which we heard last week? At the link, Christian Thielemann conducts the Vienna Philharmonic in what seems to me a grindingly prosaic rendering of the thunderingly dramatic scherzo.

by Ken

I realize I should have been saying more about this amazing music we've been hearing, dipping into the two symphonies apiece for which Mozart and Beethoven composed opening movements in the minor mode. But really, when it comes to an incandescent movement like the opening one of Mozart's great later G minor symphony, No. 40, could I really have said anything more helpful than, say, "Wouldja listen to that?" And ditto when it comes to the opening movements of Beethoven's Fifth and Ninth Symphonies. I mean, we're talking here about two of the monuments of human civilization, and I thought talking should take distant second place to listening.

What we began pursuing in this week's preview is the question I raised last week: Where do you go from there?

My point was, if we accept that writing a minor-mode symphonic first movement is an uncommon and nervy thing to do, and is likely to happen only if a composer has been seized by some gripping musical material that requires it, where does he want to take his audience next?

Consider, for example, the most modest of the four Mozart and Beethoven symphonies we began last week: Mozart's earlier G minor symphony, No. 25. Let's add the second movement to the performances we heard last week of the first.

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

Sunday Classics: We're ready now to hear those "fraternal twin" symphonies, Beethoven's Fifth and Sixth

Post rehabilitated and updated, June 2018 (see below)



At top, Leonard Bernstein conducts the Vienna Philharmonic in the instantly recognizable first movement of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony (in the Vienna Konzerthaus, 1977); above, Arturo Toscanini conducts the NBC Symphony (March 22, 1952).

by Ken

The music is all set to go for this post, and I think this week I'm just not going to say very much. [Well, this was so in 2010, a little less so in 2018. -- Ed.] We've already established the chronological connection between Beethoven's Fifth and Sixth Symphonies (whose slow movements we heard in, respectively, Friday night's and last night's previews), which were created in almost a single continuous burst of inspiration, and had their first performances at that amazing four-hour-plus concert on December 22, 1808, at which not just the two symphonies but the Fourth Piano Concerto and Choral Fantasy for piano and orchestra (both of which we heard quite a lot of in a post on Beethoven's piano concertos) plus three movements from the C major Mass and the concert aria "Ah, perfido" also had their premieres -- and the composer also offered a solo piano improvisation, presumably worrying that the audience might not feel it was getting its money's worth.

We've also hinted at the thematic connection between these near-twin symphonies (fraternal twins, of course), which is basically that there doesn't seem to be one. Of course Beethoven had a horror of repeating himself, but when it comes to consecutive creations there seems also to have been an utterly understandable impulse to go somewhere wildly different.

* * *