Gustav Mahler was a Bohemian by birth, but the family moved to Iglau in Moravia when he was only a few months old. It was a largely German-speaking town, and Mahler never learned to speak Czech very well. For Mahler, the question of nationality was fairly irrelevant; and he stated that he was `thrice homeless, as a native of Bohemia in Austria, as an Austrian among Germans and as a Jew throughout the world.¨
The Czechs have never claimed Mahler as one of their own. It was only after the Czech Philharmonic gave the world premiere of the Seventh Symphony (1908) that the orchestra started to build a Mahlerian reputation. In the 1960s, the Prague based ensemble made some outstanding recordings of Mahler symphonies with their Czech chief conductors Karel Ančerl. Later Václav Neumann recorded the whole cycle between 1976 and 1982. Meanwhile Rafael Kubelik’s much admired Mahler recordings were made with the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra.
Semyon Bychkov, who grew up in the Soviet Union but emigrated to the U.S. 50 years ago, succeeded Chief Conductor Jiri Bělohlávek in 2018. During Bělohlávek’s tenure with the BBC Symphony Orchestra, Mahler appeared more regularly in the repertoire. Bělohlávek returned as Chief Conductor to the Czech Philharmonic in 2012 and planned to record a complete Mahler cycle, but he died before the project came to fruition. His successor, Bychkov, took over the mammoth task instead.
While a student at the conservatory Bychkov once walked into a rehearsal of the Leningrad Philharmonic between classes, not knowing what they were playing. ¨There was absolute silence, and suddenly I heard sounds that seemed almost otherworldly.¨ He discovered that he had heard the serene finale of the Third Symphony – subtitled ¨What Love Tells Me¨ – an experience that initiated his lifelong love for Mahler.
Mahler conducted the world premiere of his First Symphony – then titled a Symphonic Poem in Two Parts – in (Buda)Pest in 1889. It was not an unmitigated success, but the reviews were not entirely discouraging either. When it was performed in Hamburg four years later the score had been revised and Mahler had changed the title to Titan. In 1894 the Andante (known as Blumine) was cut, and the work was renamed Symphony in D major. Initially, Mahler provided a programmatic explanation, which he withdrew early on.
Bychkov gives the introduction – ¨Nature ‘s awakening from the long sleep of winter¨ – a guarded, slightly sinister touch, with the violins sustaining an ‘A’ for what feels like many minutes. Once the cuckoos and assorted birds start their calls – on a descending fourth, which becomes a recurring motif – it all begins to sound much chirpier. The Wanderer from Mahler’s song cycle Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen makes a brief appearance ( he returns with another wordless song fragment in the third movement) to provide yet another nature theme, steeped in romanticism. The development sees the eerie drone in A return as tension builds. The main theme of the final movement is introduced after some complicated modulations, though it is not yet fully developed.
I’ve heard the second movement’s Austrian Ländler treated with a bit more foot-stomping, crude gusto. Bychkov keeps it smooth and pleasant, which means that the contrast with the trio section’s refined waltz is less articulated. The third movement – inspired by an engraving in a children’s book depicting animals accompanying the hunter’s coffin – lacks the ironic (or sarcastic?) tone in the Czech interpretation that Mahler surely intended. The fact that he transposed the well-known nursery rhyme Frère-Jacques into a minor key and had it performed on a double bass (most effective when played slightly off-key) says it all.
This is a symphony full of contrasts and it works best when one dares to juxtapose the tragic and the comic, obviously without hamming it up. Here, the Czech Philharmonic plays playing it a little bit too safe.
The First and Third symphony have much in common, but the Third is a mightier, more complex work. Both are a paeans to nature, but the Third attenpts to embrace a pantheistic worldview. To quote Mahler: ¨All of nature speaks in it, telling deep secrets that one might guess only in a dream.¨ To his lover, the soprano Anna von Midenburg, he wrote: ¨In my symphony the whole of nature finds a voice¨
As if seven French horns in the First symphony didn’t create enough of a racket, Mahler opted for eight horns in the opening sequence of the Third. In all but one movement, several opening and subsequent themes start with an ascending perfect fourth. While the First Symphony utilised the descending fourth for bird calls, here Mahler tackles the terrifying force of nature; that ascending fourth is his opening move in a battle on this musical chessboard.
Initially every movement had a subtitle showing a natural progression: 1. Summer Marches In Pan Awakes 2. What the Flowers of the Meadow Tell Me 3. What the Animals of the Forest Tell Me. 4. What Night Tells Me, and so forth. By the time the score was published in 1898 the titles were gone. Mahler wanted ¨Some residue of mystery always to remain, even for the creator.¨
However, the philosophical plan remains helpful, particularly for an interpreter.
The primordial sounds of the opening (the original Introduction or ‘Pan Awakes’) illustrates inert nature (Winter) thawing into life. The melody spans and solos for brass are unusually long for an orchestral piece in the 1890s. According to the conductor Willem Mengelberg the trombone solo was a ¨the proclamation of death.¨ As the earth awakes, the wonderful Czech trombones, tubas and trumpets literally warm the air, while woodwinds and strings provide a murmurous pastoral setting.
However, when the miltary band marches onto the scene Bychkov appears to have dressed them in civvies instead of uniforms. He tones down the regimental air and focuses on the motivic details. Again, the execution is smooth and pleasant, but nowhere does it sound as strident or crude as Mahler intended.
The second movement opens with an oboe melody introducing a minuet that according to Mahler is treated to ¨ever richer variation¨ and some almost frantic meter changes.
In the third movement into the forest we go where we can hear the animals buzzing and chirping – it’s a happy place. As we progress deeper into the wood and the shadows grow longer, it feels as if we are joined by Puck, the merry and mischievous wanderer of the night in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. When played well this movement should trigger sentimental longing. The Czech Philharmonic achieves that sense of nostalgia, enhanced by Walter Hofbauer’s incredibly evocative posthorn solos.
After listening to flowers and animals, the fourth movement introduces the human voice. We are plunged into ¨deep (tiefe) midnight¨ with a setting of the “Mitternachtslied” from Nietzsche’s Also sprach Zarathustra. The mezzo–soprano Catriona Morison offers all the required the anguish, mournful self-reflection and¨joy deeper still than heartache.¨
In the fifth movement it is is as if the sun had broken through the dark clouds gathered in the previous movement. One would be hard-pressed to find a more joyous imitation of pealing bells – bim-bam – than the one the Pueri gaudentes boys’choir produces here. The women of the Prague Philharmonic Choir reminds us that you can attain ¨Heavenly Joy¨ through Jesus and the love of God; indeed, in his music, Mahler frequently appears fequently to lean more toward Christian imagery and mysticism than the heritage that his Jewish roots offer him.
Tchaikovsky had only recently ended his Pathétique Symphony with a slow movement, but it was still quite unusual when Mahler decided to follow a similar path. He briefly contemplated calling the sixth movement What God Tells Me. Considering that there are not many Adagios that come closer to expressing ¨the divine in man¨(to quote the author Philip Barford), the title would have been far from preposterous.
The first movement’s gloomy opening in D minor, the life-negating forces, and the existential questions posed throughout the work are finally dispelled and resolved in the all- encompassing finale in majestic D major. Bychkov paces Mahler’s vision of heaven perfecly. He takes his time without over-emphasising the yearning themes, thereby allowing the listener to luxuriate in the sheer magnitude and spiritual significance of Mahler’s achievement.
