A home run! Chailly takes Part One “Allegro” but surely not “impetuoso”, as Mahler instructs. Problem is, only five bars into the symphony Mahler also writes “Don’t hurry”. It’s a bit of a conundrum, and if there’s a conductor alive who can suggest unhurried impetuosity, I’ve yet to hear him. Chailly barely slows down at all for the first entry of the vocal soloists, and a glance at the score only confirms the correctness of his decision: “In tempo, slightly (but imperceptibly) relaxed, but still very flowing,” Mahler indicates. Chailly then keeps the music moving inexorably right up through the tremendous central double fugue, and when this great passage explodes into the most thrilling return to the opening cries of “Veni, creator spiritus!” since Bernstein’s LSO recording, the long-term strategy initiated by that apparently slow opening becomes crystal clear. This isn’t the only way to conduct the music (I still prefer a quicker initial speed), but it’s certainly one of the better ones, and by keeping all of those normally slower (and in many other performances interminable) solo interludes pressing forward as Mahler intended, Chailly binds together a movement that often comes across as inappropriately sectional. “Tradition is slovenliness!” Mahler used to say, and it’s entirely in keeping with this dictum that he would take advantage here of the opportunity to dispense with that great cliché of Romantic sonata-form first movements–first subject fast and loud, second subject slow and quiet. Not that most conductors don’t ignore his intentions and play it that way anyway! Clichés die hard.
The second movement (Part Two) presents fewer interpretive problems, but like the first benefits from Chailly’s scrupulous observance of Mahler’s detailed instructions, most of which exhort the conductor to keep the music moving along smartly. The wind playing in the prelude maintains the legendarily high standards of the house, and the recording places the vocal soloists in a natural, well-balanced perspective against the orchestra’s gorgeously detailed accompaniments. The singers are all very good. Peter Mattei’s Pater Ecstaticus sounds fabulous, Jan-Hendrik Rootering wobbles a bit but remains audible throughout his entire bass register–and doesn’t Chailly keep the orchestra on its toes during his solo! Tenor Ben Heppner’s tone thins a bit when he sings quietly in his highest register, but at least he does indeed sing quietly, and he has just the right heroic timbre the rest of the time. More to the point, he’s scrupulous in his observance of Mahler’s dynamic indications. Note, for example, the way he really hits those sforzando diminuendos during his “Blicket auf!” solo at the words “Jungfrau! Mutter! Königin!” Heppner understands, as Mahler intended, that these exclamations aren’t orders, but pleas culminating in a request for grace. Most other tenors might as well be playground monitors yelling at a crowd of unruly kids for all they sound like penitents seeking the favor of the Mother of God.
Among the women Anne Schwanewilms stands out for her stunning Soprano II/Una Poenitentium. The other principal soprano, Jane Eaglen, sounds a bit raw on top, but then she’s really there to supply a powerful edge to those high Cs in the first movement, and she delivers handsomely. Both contraltos make a fine impression, Anna Larsson especially, and Chailly thankfully moves energetically through the three consecutive female solos, culminating in a very swift trio that never becomes the screechfest we sometimes hear. All of this further vindicates Mahler’s detailed notes to his interpreters and offers the greatest possible contrast to the “all-in-one-basic-tempo” approach that Chailly adopts for Part One. It’s here, for example, that so many conductors who successfully manage the first movement (Horenstein, for instance) flounder. Mahler’s style in Part One is polyphonic, Baroque, architectural. Steady, logically related tempos support its structure as a buttress supports a cathedral. In contrast, Part Two is dramatic, even operatic, and its contrasting speeds and sectional form need to be characterized as much as possible both to diversify its greater length and to compensate for the more modest level of decibels (until the very end, at least). Play it “straight” and it’s dull. Chailly is never, ever dull.
Clearly Chailly put a lot of thought and effort into understanding what makes this music tick, and his idiomatic, soulful leadership, abetted by magnificent orchestral playing, fine singing by the soloists and choruses, and a stunningly truthful recording (but play it loud!), add up to a very satisfying musical and emotional experience. One more important but critical point: Chailly absolutely pegs the closing pages. For once the offstage brass aren’t located in another county–they sound brilliantly present, which is exactly what should happen. Mahler locates them “in a separate position” and not “backstage”. They should accordingly sound as loud if not louder to the concert audience as the orchestral brass, and certainly not farther away as so often happens on recordings. (Anyone who has heard the piece live can attest to this fact). Chailly also observes the Luftpause (breath-pause) before the three final crashes on cymbals and tam-tam and, wonder of wonders–you can actually hear them both! Bravo!
