Gustav Mahler (1860-1911)
Symphony No. 7 in E minor
Symphony No. 9 in D major
Danish National Radio Symphony Orchestra/Leif Segerstam
rec. 1991, Danish Radio Concert Hall, Copenhagen, Denmark
Presto CD
Chandos CHAN9057-59 [3 CDs: 179]

As far as I can discover, with the notable exception of my colleague Lee Denham’s admirable survey of Mahler’s Seventh Symphony, the other components of Leif Segerstam’s Mahler cycle have largely been ignored and elicited few critical responses. However, those comments I have been able to track down agree that both the sound and playing are commendable. Hence Victor Carr Jr on the Classics Today website remarked of his Sixth that “Leif Segerstam’s early 1990s complete Mahler cycle…featured big-hearted, intense, large-scale interpretations supported by committed, full-throated playing by the Danish National Radio Symphony”, whereas elsewhere Segerstam’s interpretations, have been condemned as containing too many perverse timings and too much egregious, exaggerated point-making. For example, Tony Duggan in 2001 observed that “Leif Segerstam on Chandos delivers his Mahler in sound recordings that are huge and imposing but his style can sometimes be grossly mannered almost to the point of distortion” and an Amazon review of this reissue states, “Segerstam…has created one frustrating musical experience for the listener… He cruises from section to another as if they have nothing in common with what preceded. As well as each moment is executed, I can’t seem to sense his idea of how the structure of the 7th works. I’m sold on his approach to tempo but he exaggerates Mahler’s indications so much so that I can’t find closure at the end of each movement. I listen to the whole thing and Segerstam has left me feeling that something was completely forgotten in the interpretation. It is, I must admit, a unique experience to listen to over an hour of music and arrive at nothing in the way of satisfaction.”

Them’s fightin’ words, from both TD and the Amazonian. Lee was more even-handed and I take the liberty of quoting his findings here in full:

“To say that Leif Segerstam’s Mahler Symphony cycle is ‘characterful’ would be something of an understatement – huge rubato, along with many broad tempos that brood with claustrophobic power and intensity abound, aided and abetted by the typical full and rich Chandos sound of the era.

All of these characteristics can be evidenced in this eighty-nine-minute recording of the Seventh Symphony, which opens extremely broadly – a cynic would comment that it must have been a very slow boat ride for Mahler across the Wörthersee indeed, but more open-eared people would note how the brass glower menacingly and the tenor horn roars like a beast out of the Kalevala. That the second subject is taken at a more conventional tempo is typical of the extremes of speed and rubato Segerstam habitually employs in this music but, as a composer himself, he is also very interested in the colours hidden deep within the score. For example, in the first Nachtmusik he delights in the work of the bassoons, frequently bringing them to the fore of the sound picture with results that almost rivals Horenstein (see 1968) in spookiness. The inner movements are played comparatively ‘straight’ when compared to the outer movements and, as a consequence, sound somewhat under characterised, as if the conductor has little interest in them. The final movement though does open with a terrific salvo on the timpani and the brass section has genuine swagger, although the huge rubato employed once again at the whim of the conductor, as in the first movement, does result in making Mahler’s music sounding somewhat ‘disjointed’ at times.

However, in the end one must conclude that although this is much more than just a professional run through and is all hugely characterful, it is hardly idiomatic. Nor, in spite of orchestral playing of great dedication and sensitivity, can one quite overlook the fact that the strings sound too light, even with the typical wide-screen sound furnished by the Chandos engineers of that era, which perhaps makes the orchestra sound more powerful than it really is. Quirky or revealing, depending upon your viewpoint, but undoubtedly big-hearted, this nonetheless is for the specialist collector of Mahler and/or Segerstam only.”

I can only concur with most of those observations, although in fact I find the inner movements perfectly well developed. A “knowledgeable music-loving friend” with whom I listened to the Seventh also declared himself very well pleased with the deliberateness and underlining of Segerstam’s manner, so I suggest that you sample it for yourself on YouTube and see if you agree. I can hear how some will find it heavy-handed to the point of it feeling as if Mahler is being shouted at us but there is something compelling and even mesmerising about his insistence upon bringing out and dwelling upon every orchestral colour and nuance; this is particularly striking in the two Nachtmusik movements. The second is especially eerie and even at times ghoulish. The finale is grand and imposing, replete with frequent rubati and rallentandi and benefitting from the spaciousness of the Chandos sound. I rather enjoy its almost cartoonish exuberance and the timpani are so let off the leash that the music frequently takes on an even more exotic, riotous, “Turkish Janissary” character than usual and the climax is exuberantly noisy.

The Ninth is somewhat less controversial when it comes to phrasing and emphases, but at over 94 minutes is decidedly leisurely – indeed one of the slowest in the catalogue, which features many more around the eighty to eighty-five-minute mark – but it does not drag and kudos to the Danish orchestra for sustaining such well-nourished sonority throughout. The horns are glorious and once again the timpani are a real presence. This is a kind of cornerstone or touchstone piece for so many conductors and the narration of its titanic psychomachia can take a more meditative pace. Segerstam gives it the time and space to unfold majestically and that unhurriedness allows for magical moments of suspension such as in the conclusion of the first movement. The plod of his tempo in the second Ländler movement underlines its rustic, “agricultural” nature; after all, Mahler’s instructions are that it should be “Etwas täppisch und sehr derb” (Somewhat clumsy and very stout) and in no sense prettified. The Rondo-Burleske is at first decidedly a spoilt, defiant child – a cousin of Ravel’s Enfant but a burlier, beefier bully – and his transformation into a more thoughtful individual is deftly managed and the conclusion has real momentum. The keening Adagio finale, could, I think, do with a little more finesse and restraint – the grief should burn deep within, not be manifested in surface tears – but the playing is beautiful and far from finding Segerstam’s manner episodic, I feel that he has a firm grasp over the arcing span of the movement; the final few minutes are transcendent, exquisite.

I ended my first listening to these two symphonies more convinced by Segerstam’s treatment of them than I had expected – or than they perhaps deserve, strictly speaking – and shall return to them; they are thoroughly stimulating and enjoyable and their technical and sonic excellence go a long way to reinforcing the impact of his vision. Mahler aficionados need to give them a hearing.

Ralph Moore

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