Déjà Review: this review was first published in March 2005 and the recording is still available.
Gustav Mahler (1860-1911)
Symphony No. 8 in E flat
Christine Brewer (soprano) Magna Peccatrix; Soile Isokoski (soprano) Una Poenitentiam; Juliane Banse (soprano) Mater Gloriosa; Birgit Remmert (mezzo-soprano) Mulier Samaritana; Jane Henschel (mezzo-soprano) Maria Aegyptiaca; Jon Villers (tenor) Doctor Marianus; David Wilson-Johnson (baritone) Pater Ecstaticus; John Relyea (bass) Pater Profundus
City of Birmingham Symphony Chorus; London Symphony Chorus; City of Birmingham Symphony Youth Chorus; Toronto Children’s Chorus
City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra/Sir Simon Rattle
rec. live, 5-9 June 2004, Symphony Hall, Birmingham, UK
Originally reviewed as EMI Classics release
Warner Classics 5579452 [78]
With this release Sir Simon Rattle completes his cycle of the Mahler symphonies for EMI. It’s been a long journey, one that started back in 1980 when he made his first recording of Deryck Cooke’s performing version of the Tenth Symphony – a score that, like the Resurrection Symphony, has always been especially close to Rattle’s heart. It’s been pointed out several times how carefully Rattle has built his career. There’s been a great deal of calculation on his part … and I do not use that term pejoratively. He stayed in Birmingham for 18 years, building his career and the orchestra when it would have been so easy for him to have taken one of the plum posts undoubtedly offered to him over the years.
So, too, it has been with Mahler. He has been patient in his preparation of these scores and has not rushed his fences. For example, he first performed the Fifth a good number of years ago, by his own admission didn’t do it very well and so put it to one side until he judged he was ready to have another go.
The Eighth was the last of the symphonies to be taken into his repertoire. I was lucky enough to be present in Symphony Hall on the night in August 2002 that he performed it for the very first time. Many of those performers feature on this recording too. Only one soloist has changed: Juliane Banse replaces Rosemary Joshua. But there has been one very important change. Back in 2002 the orchestra was the National Youth Orchestra of Great Britain (who performed superbly for Rattle) but now he has his old orchestra, the CBSO, at his command.
A few days after that 2002 Birmingham concert Rattle and his forces went to the Royal Albert Hall in London and took by storm the Henry Wood Promenade Concerts. I have a recording of that broadcast, which is by no means put in the shade by this new CD.
One trait (of many) that is common to the 2002 and 2004 performances is the sheer animal energy and exuberance of the performance. Rattle seems to see this problematic score in one huge sweep and from the first downbeat the listener is carried along on a musical flood tide. However, one interesting fact emerged during my listening. My first reaction, especially on hearing Part I, the Veni Creator Spiritus, was that Rattle’s is an uncommonly swift reading. I have several versions of the symphony in my collection and I expected to find that this newcomer would be the fastest of all. Not so. He takes 23’42″ for Part I whereas the other recordings that I possess range between Leopold Stokowski’s 1950 traversal with the New York Philharmonic (available as part of that orchestra’s boxed Mahler cycle conducted by various hands), which lasts 22’25″, and Klaus Tennstedt (EMI, 1986) who takes 24’40.” So Rattle’s energy gives an impression of speed that is not entirely borne out by the facts … though there are some pretty fast passages, of which more later. Where Rattle is quicker overall is in Part II, which he dispatches in 53’54″. By contrast Tennstedt, and Jascha Horenstein, in his incandescent 1959 live performance (BBC Legends), require a few seconds under 58 minutes. The nearest to Rattle in my collection is Leonard Bernstein (CBS/Sony, 1966) at 55’04″. These overall timings don’t by any means tell us the full story but they are a useful indicator.
In his fascinating review of Rattle’s recording of Mahler’s 5th my colleague, Tony Duggan referred to Rattle’s “micro-managed” way with Mahler. I know just what he means – and, indeed, that’s a description that could aptly apply to this conductor’s style in general – though I would prefer to speak of “thoughtful attention to detail.” Rattle has always been intent that every detail of a score should register. More often than not, this produces illumination but sometimes it can get in the way of the bigger picture. My listening to date of this current performance leads me to the conclusion (so far!) that any micro-managing is, on this occasion beneficial. That’s not to say that I agree with everything Rattle does but the overall vision is convincing.
Quite frankly, there’s comparatively little time for micro-management in Part I. Here much of the music confronts the listener head-on, though there are several more relaxed passages. One of the key features of this symphony is that for all the vastness of the forces employed, for long stretches they are sparingly used and there are many sections of chamber-like delicacy. However, most of these occur in Part II. Much of Part I is about grandeur, sweeping vision and ecstatic praise. Rattle, an acknowledged master of large forces, is in his element here and, as I indicated earlier, the movement appears to be over in a flash.
I’ve deliberately compared this Rattle reading mainly against the two in my own collection that I rate most highly. These are Solti’s 1971 studio recording (Decca) and the aforementioned Horenstein live performance from 1959 (BBC Legends). It seems to me that Rattle’s recording demands comparison only with such exalted peers.
Rattle gives Part I a thrilling, urgent start to which the marvellous new Symphony Hall organ makes a telling contribution. Horenstein is more measured here. His opening also has life and vigour but the pace is never such as to threaten a loss of grandeur or definition. Rattle’s account of these opening pages has definition too but perhaps misses a little grandeur. Solti’s opening, more closely recorded, is thrilling too, with some ringing tenors in his chorus. Rattle’s brisk pace means that he has to slow down at “imple superna gratia”. By contrast, Horenstein doesn’t need to do so; in his hands this passage is as lyrical as Rattle makes it but one doesn’t feel any loss of impetus.
In the bars leading up to the first rendition of “Infirma nostri corporis” (track 3, 0’18″), Rattle makes a big, rhetorical slowing, which I find rather jarring. Horenstein doesn’t resort to such measures because his tempo allows him greater consistency. It’s at this point that we realise that Solti has the best set of soloists (excellent though the rival teams are) and in this passage his soloists make particularly good use of accents to impart definition to the music.
There’s a grand rhetorical flourish at “Accende”, the launching point for a tumultuous allegro. Horenstein’s performance has marvellous weight and drive here. Despite the limitations of the rather distant recorded sound this moment really counts for something in his reading. Rattle is appreciably faster. Some may find him too frenetic here but his performers can live with the tempo and so the result is tremendously exciting. Solti is also fast and urgent though he yields a little to Rattle. When the opening “Veni Creator Spiritus” material returns it’s an immense, theatrical moment for Solti and he makes it even more overwhelming than do his two excellent rivals.
In the last few minutes of Part I the listener is swept along on a veritable torrent of sound. Rattle is exuberant and exciting here but towards the very end (track 8, from 1’48″) I feel he presses the tempo just too far – an impression I had when I heard him do the piece in Symphony Hall. For me, he sacrifices too much power and grandeur. Horenstein’s account includes a few fluffed notes but it packs a huge punch at this point, albeit at (indeed, because of) a steadier tempo. The performers give him their all, the solo sopranos soaring magnificently, and the recording can scarcely contain the sheer volume of sound. But Solti, whose totally committed performance leaps out of the speakers grabbing the listener by the throat, trumps even this magnificence. Solti storms the heavens here, his huge ensemble crowned by the ardent soprano of Heather Harper. This is a quite superb culmination to Part I in the Decca version.
Part II, a setting of the final scene of Goethe’s Faust is in many ways a huge contrast to Part I. It contains some “big moments” but much of it is on a more restrained scale and, as Colin Matthews points out in his liner note, it is a series of tableaux. The lengthy instrumental introduction is superbly shaped and sculpted by Rattle. Here his acute ear for detail is readily apparent. In the music that follows the vocal soloists come to the fore, each having an extended solo.
David Wilson-Johnson is splendid as Pater Ecstaticus. John Relyea, who is commanding in the demanding, wide-ranging solo for Pater Profundus, follows him. However, it has to be said that Relyea doesn’t quite emulate the magisterial authority of Martti Talvela (Solti). Talvela, admittedly recorded under studio conditions, is quite superb, pitching every note right in the centre. Horenstein’s soloists are very good but are recorded more distantly.
Next we hear a Chorus of Angels. This is a simply marvellous moment in the Rattle account. When I first heard it I thought it too rushed. However, further listening persuades me that Rattle has judged this passage splendidly. His singers are infectiously light-footed. Solti is steadier and has the Vienna Boys Choir at his disposal. However, I find his female singers are, by comparison with Rattle’s, too full-toned and I love the wide-eyed innocence that Rattle imparts to these pages. Perhaps it’s inevitable that in the cavernous Royal Albert Hall acoustic Horenstein’s account loses some crispness here.
Jon Villars surmounts the cruel tessitura of Doctor Marianus’s first solo well, though I suggest it’s well nigh impossible for any tenor not to sound a bit strained here. This solo is followed by a gorgeous passage for violins, accompanied by harmonium and harp. This can all too easily sound syrupy and sentimental and I’m not sure that Solti entirely avoids this trap because he plays the passage slowly (and his harmonium is too prominent.) Rattle adopts a more flowing tempo (track 18 0’00″ – 1’05″) and doesn’t milk the music but plays it with simple feeling. I like this very much … and Horenstein is similarly successful.
The female soloists now take centre-stage. There are fine contributions from Christine Brewer, Birgit Remmert and Jane Henschel, both individually and as a trio (track 19) though Solti has a stellar trio comprising Heather Harper, Yvonne Minton and Helen Watts, who all sing splendidly for him. As Gretchen, I think Lucia Popp has a slight edge over the excellent Soile Isokoski (track 20) but in the same section I find that the singing of Rattle’s children’s chorus is much preferable to the “fatter” sound of the Vienna Boys Choir (Solti).
The short solo for Mater Gloriosa (track 22) is a key moment. In his 2002 Symphony Hall performance Rattle pulled off a tremendous visual and musical coup de theatre. His soloist (Rosemary Joshua on that occasion) sang from a vertiginous, isolated perch high in the side screens of Symphony Hall to the right of the organ casing. She must have been fully fifty feet above the stage. I suspect Juliane Banse was similarly positioned this time round and the effect of distancing is quite spectacular. The lovely Arleen Auger (Solti) is too present by comparison. Horenstein’s soloist, Beryl Hatt, sounds to have been similarly distant (up by the Royal Albert Hall organ, perhaps?) but the moment isn’t quite as daring as Rattle makes it and is marred by some bronchial coughing by members of the audience.
Horenstein’s tenor (Kenneth Neate) is splendidly heroic and lyrical at “Blicket auf” but Jon Villars does equally well for Rattle. A solo clarinet ushers in the soft entry of the Chorus Mysticus and Horenstein is unsurpassed in these few bars. He achieves a rapt stillness and thereby prepares the choral entry unforgettably. The hushed entry of his choir, paced very slowly, is quite spine-tingling and not even audience noise can dispel the magic of these pages. Rattle also prepares the chorus entry very well but even he doesn’t match Horenstein for atmosphere and sheer daring, nor can his choir sing as quietly as Horenstein’s or Solti’s. The fortissimo outburst at “Alles vergängliche” is like a blaze of sunlight in the Rattle reading but it’s an equally impressive moment in the other two recordings. The very end of the Horenstein performance is tumultuous (if somewhat dominated by the drums) and Solti’s recording, with the full power of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra unleashed, is formidable. For me, Rattle rather spoils the final peroration, as he did in the first movement, by pressing the tempo too much for a few crucial moments (track 25 0’45″ – 1’12″) though grandeur is achieved with the final entry of the tam-tam and organ.
If I’ve expressed some reservations about points of detail in this Rattle recording let me remind readers that I’ve been comparing it with two other exceptional performances. Any quibbles on points of detail should not detract from the overall impressiveness of Rattle’s achievement here. Solti’s remains a classic reading, stunningly recorded (under studio conditions in Vienna’s Sofiensaal) and with a superb array of soloists. Horenstein offers a special experience. There are sonic limitations but these are as nothing when set beside the magnificence and sweep of his reading. Rattle, it seems to me, offers a “middle way”. With him you get the thrill, the risk taking of a live performance. However, with excellent recorded sound and scrupulous attention to detail in the preparation and execution of the performance you also get many of the benefits of a studio reading.
With a work as complex and unique as Mahler’s Eighth it’s impossible to suggest a “best buy,” I think. Indeed, it could almost be an impertinence. We are lucky indeed that three such fine recordings, albeit very different ones, are available. Mahler enthusiasts will want to hear all three for each sheds fresh light on this amazing score.
Though one may not agree with every detail, this new recording is a formidable achievement and a fitting culmination to Sir Simon Rattle’s recorded survey of the Mahler symphonies. Like Solti’s version was for three decades (and in many ways still remains) this new recording will, I suspect, become a benchmark. It’s not the last word on Mahler’s Eighth (there never can be a “last word” on this piece, nor on any work of performing art) but it’s a recording by one of the most thought-provoking Mahlerians of our day and one that demands to be heard.
Superbly performed by all concerned and expertly recorded by EMI’s engineers, I recommend this CD with great enthusiasm.
John Quinn
See Tony Duggan’s review for a different view
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