Gustav Mahler (1860-1911)
Symphonies Nos 1-9
Czech Philharmonic/Semyon Bychkov
rec. 2018-2025, Dvořák Hall, Rudolfinum, Prague, Czechia
No texts or translations
Details of contents beneath review
Pentatone PTC5187490 [11 CDs: 709]

I suppose the first question is: where is Symphony No. 10? Surely any self-respecting Mahler conductor these days would consider including it in one of its many versions now that it has been so often played and recorded, and it is established in the repertoire – although perhaps you might expect a Mahler 10 obsessive like me who has recently reviewed 22 different recordings, to complain about that… however, now that we are in a position whereby any supposedly complete edition of Bruckner’s symphonies has to include the “Study” and “Nullte”, it seems to me that Maher should be afforded the same courtesy – and some would want Das Lied von der Erde, too. Its inclusion in a box set is hardly unprecedented; it was included in the superb Bertini set I recently reviewed, though it, too, has no Tenth.

That aside, here are “The Nine”. The box as a whole has already been reviewed once – and indeed, recommended – by my colleague John Quinn, and he was one of those who had previously on this site reviewed the first five symphonies – some of which were reviewed twice or even three times; I provide the links to those reviews below. There is almost unanimous agreement about the excellence of the recorded sound but the absence of texts and translations for the Second, Third, Fourth and Eighth symphonies is a blot (especially as they were provided in the individual issues of the first three of those). It is also generally agreed that the orchestra plays with great tonal beauty and a special character, especially in the warm, reedy woodwind; reservations concern whether Bychkov’s interpretative stance places refinement and control over passion and excitement. In general, the final four symphonies have been viewed as superior to the earlier ones and it is known that Bychkov deferred performing the later symphonies until he felt ready to do so, but with the exception of the Second, that is not a generalisation which accords with my own findings, and reviews of symphonies 1 to 5 here on MusicWeb are decidedly positive – although again, my review of the Fifth was less enthusiastic than that of my two colleagues. However, alongside my attachment to the Tenth, for me, if any Mahler symphony cycle is to be recommended then for a start, the First must be a success – clearly, I am a Mahlerian of extremes…

The documentation is not clear regarding which of these are studio recordings and which were assembled from live performances. In response to our enquiry, Pentatone claimed that these are all live performances but I am dubious; the first five, at least, sound as if they are are studio-made and the last four seem to be live composite from concerts – but I am not at all sure about that, as there are absolutely no extraneous noises and they might as well all be studio recordings. I guess it doesn’t much matter.

Symphony No. 1

I pretty much agree with everything JQ has written in his review; the opening certainly captures  a sense of “the dawn of time” and the orchestra’s playing of the ensuing lyrical passage based on “Ging heut’ Morgen über’s Feld”  is relaxed, genial and wholly engaging, but when “skies darken” temporarily, as JQ aptly puts it, they are equally adept in creating atmosphere, so we move with ease from primal mystery to bucolic idyll, to foreboding, to celebration with a splendid climax at 14:40 – everything is decidedly comme il faut.

The Scherzo is rumbustious and rustic – it is a mistake to underplay its rough-hewn aggression – and the depth of sound in the bass combined with the sonority of the horns really makes an impression. The Trio is sly and slinky, the strings applying just the right hint of portamento; again, this is just how the movement should go. The slow “hunter’s funeral” movement, too, is ideally paced and coloured and the “Lindenbaum” interlude is exquisitely shaded. I hear no lack of attack or excitement in the opening of the finale and the beauty of the big tune four minutes in is fully realised by the warm Czech strings and enhanced by Bychkov’s judicious application of rubato. The music really surges under his hands, helped by some sterling work by his timpanist in the central section before the music defaults to the opening of the symphony, making a telling dynamic and emotional contrast. The build-up to the end from about seventeen minutes in, is thrilling, crowned by crowing horns and thwacked timpani – I cannot fault it.

For obvious reasons, this was the first symphony I listened to in the box and I was mightily impressed, forming the opinion that if every subsequent performance matched it, this would be set to vie for quality with any other.

Symphony No. 2

Remarkably, this recording of nearly 87 minutes is fitted on to one disc – although be aware that some listeners might find that the last track will not play on their equipment. (The same applies to symphonies 6 and 9.)

This has already been extensively reviewed by three colleagues: review; review; review. David Phipps makes the striking statement that it is “the most melodic and songful presentation of this music that I can recall ever hearing” and has nothing but praise for every aspect of this most spacious and detailed of accounts until his one great caveat regarding the sound, in which “this recording comes up tragically short” owing to the lack of bass. The second MWI reviewer, David McDade, ascribes this more to the deliberate aesthetic choice of lightness rather than any deficiency in the engineering, while praising the “freshness and wonder that certainly sated my palette jaded after too many grandstanding accounts”. The third reviewer, JQ, also accorded the recording his approval without finding any particular fault in the sound beyond observing that the bass instruments “could be more pronounced at times” and that the dynamic range might be too extreme.

I have to say that I am underwhelmed by the start which I find lacks bite and drive compared with the granitic Klemperer recordings (studio and live) whereby I first came to know and love this music; it is all too soft-edged for me , even if I recognise that it is very well played and realised in beautiful spacious sound – and I tend to agree that the lower frequencies are not exactly deficient but somewhat muted – although perhaps that is the consequence of the choices of balance and prominence Bychkov imposed on the orchestra. The lyricism remarked upon by my fellow reviewers is very much in evidence six minutes in, in the rising figure for woodwind after the strumming harp; this is music which offers more consolation than terror and I feel a bit short-changed. The march beginning half way begins ominously but the climaxes with cymbal crashes are under-powered and the brass should surely scream more wildly. Frankly, I find the whole thing muted and minimised.

The mood of the Andante is likewise gentle – but is that really what Mahler wanted? A charming interlude devoid of uneasiness? The Scherzo features more lovely woodwind playing but again I miss a more unsettling, even demonic element the music surely requires – it is simply too tame and the central Trio for close-harmony trumpets sounds more like the introduction to a Donizetti aria. The temperature rises a bit for the climactic scream at 8:42 – but not enough. Elisabeth Kulman sings “Urlicht” in a rather strange choirboy style and her nasal tone has none of the depth and bloom of singers such as Janet Baker, Christa Ludwig or Maureen Forrester – she is really very ordinary indeed.

You will not therefore be surprised to learn that I find the finale to be likewise under-powered and I have to turn up the volume to compensate for its lack of impact. It starts well enough; the remote trumpet is highly atmospheric and the brass chorale is wonderfully mellow but the march section is tepid. The offstage brass calls against the trilling flute are superb and the entrance of the Prague Philharmonic Choir is magically hushed but the soprano soloist is shrill and has too pronounced a vibrato, and I find Bychkov’s pace for the passage including the alto solo to be sluggish. Despite the contribution of the fine choir, the apotheosis is a non-event compared with really released versions on my shelves by Bernstein, Levine, Mehta, Tennstedt et al.

As such, I find myself at odds with my fellow reviewers. This is not a “Resurrection Symphony” I will return to – and I find it a great disappointment, given that the First provides such a promising start to the cycle.

Symphony No. 3

This was very favourably reviewed by JQ (review) and Simon Thompson (review – “Recommended” and one of his Records of the Year 2025) – and after the disappointment of the “Resurrection”, I am pleased to say that I can echo and endorse their enthusiasm. There is a tremendous sense of space, presence and occasion about this recording and the playing, both in ensemble and individually, by the orchestra is remarkably fine, headed by the trombone solos, all realised in superbly engineered sound.

Bychkov is never hurried as he sets out the panoply, parade and procession of the first movement but nothing drags. His subtle control of dynamics is a great asset: the central march is first very gently treated but he gradually rachets up the tension to generate real grandeur. The reprise of the opening fanfare by the horns is very impressive and there are many little atmospheric touches, such as when – and here I quote JQ as I was equally struck by it – “the little side drum tattoo is delivered offstage (it seems)”and the conclusion is triumphantly ebullient. The second movement swoons delicately in arch fashion like a playful matron and the soft playing is very precise, all the runs and pizzicati tight and together. Bychkov is indulgent here, deliberately hamming up the Viennese schmalz for the sliding strings (please excuse that horrible mixed culinary metaphor…). The Scherzo is first sly and perky – perhaps taken a little swiftly given the instruction “Ohne Hast” but it is very winning and the dreamy post horn interludes are perfectly played and positioned. The fourth movement with the mezzo-soprano solo opens in mysteriously hushed and stilled fashion – and JQ is again right about the unusual and highly effective innovation of the oboe and cor anglais applying a grace note to the second note of the nightbird cries, giving it an odd little catch; I like it very much. Catriona Morison sings with stately beauty. The ladies’ and boys’ choirs are good but the latter could be a little less polite.

Of course, for all the excellence of the first five movements, that would count for nought if the finale does not touch transcendence – and you hear right from the rapt, rapturous beginning by the strings that it is something special; it matches Gary Bertini’s equally spacious and concentrated reading in his own Mahler box set and the majestic account by Abbado and the VPO. The climax at 22:26 is absolutely glorious.

I find this recording as satisfying as that of the Second is lacking – a peculiar disparity for two consecutive symphonies from the same partnership – but the recordings were separated by six years and while I would not condescend to speculate that in the interim something “matured” in the approach of a conductor already so experienced and celebrated, I can only say that for me Bychkov gets this Third totally right.

Symphony No. 4

This recording launched Bychkov’s Mahler cycle and was warmly received by two colleagues (review; review); I refer you to their reviews for more detail which it would be otiose to reiterate.

The Fourth Symphony was wholly instrumental in my conversion to Mahler in 1984 when I was living in New York; I had previously considered his music “galumphing” but Horenstein’s 1970 recording on the Classics for Pleasure label with Margaret Price seduced me and I have never looked back.

This performance is charming, refined and idiomatic in equal measure. It is noticeable how often Bychkov quite daringly employs rubato and pauses to enhance the quirkiness of the music and the “sleigh-bell” opening sets the tone. Just occasionally I feel as if he is overdoing the changes in tempo but better that than a bland, “efficient” delivery. This is the lightest, most insouciant of Mahler’s symphonies, if not without its darker moments, and there is plenty of tension in the central section of the first movement building to the climactic outburst at precisely ten minutes in. The playing is slick, sleek and sensuous, wholly responsive to Bychkov’s many subtle and unobtrusive changes of pace. I have rarely heard a more relaxed and idiomatic performance and the way the strings sing in alt at the close of the movement before the jolly conclusion is simply sublime.

The second movement scherzo has a lot in common in terms of its ironic, ambivalent tone with the “St. Anthony of Padua’s Sermon to the Fishes” movement in the Second Symphony and Bychkov neatly skirts the line between sarcasm and good humour. The slow movement is the longest and needs careful pacing; Bychkov doesn’t give too much too soon and the playing over the first six or seven minutes is very delicate; the first climax at 6:46 gains from that restraint. The climax at 17:50 is deftly handled with nice hard percussion strikes and the serene coda is exquisite.

The eternally puzzling finale with its ambiguous tension between childlike innocence and something off-colour with the eerie harmonies, screaming flutes and the references to slaughtered animals is expertly realised. Chen Reiss sings well enough without being especially individual and the anticlimactic close is properly unsettling.

This is definitely another success among the earlier symphonies.

Symphony No. 5

This has been reviewed here no fewer than three times (review; review; review) first by me, but I found myself again at odds with my fellow reviewers, insofar as what they heard as profundity in the first movement I heard as a rather dull trudge, and for me the swift Adagio lacked any sense of poetry – or indeed, ecstasy, although I found the other three movements to be much more successful.

I therefore revisited this hoping to feel able to revise my negative responses, as I have no qualms about executing a volte-face if I think my first reaction was in some way skewed or prejudicial; reviewers are allowed to change their minds as long as they are up-front and honest about how and why.

Unfortunately, I cannot say that listening again resulted in my experiencing any change of heart. I refer you to my review above (the first) as there is no point in my repeating myself. DMD and JQ present a much rosier picture and I urge you to sample this for yourself to decide which of our conflicting views reflects your own; it is available on YouTube.

Symphony No. 6

What I would by now term as the typical virtues of this cycle are abundantly in evidence: clarity and precision, tonal blend and sumptuousness, lyricism and control – and the same applies to the reservations marking some of the previous symphonies: a certain emotional restraint or lack of visceral impact, if you will. This surely is the most nakedly violent of Mahler’s symphonies, despite the intermittent appearance of the “Alma theme” and the pastoral interludes. Climaxes are just that bit soft-edged but structurally the four movements hang together through the application of Bychkov‘s unifying vision, which balances drama with delicacy. Things like the bucolic, slightly mysterious Alpine cowbell episode in the first movement are beautifully executed but to be fair, the final couple of minutes of the first opening are very animated, if not exactly thrilling. I find the second movement scherzo to be occasionally a little stolid but Bychkov certainly captures the mawkish, quizzical mood of the rustic capering. The slow movement is tenderly, indeed exquisitely played and ideally paced. From five minutes in, the music becomes fuller and more passionate and there is a great sweep and surge to the melody; the final three minutes are absolutely captivating. This movement is as fine as any and my favourite part of this recording. The start of the finale brims with gloomy menace; the low woodwind and brass are especially baleful, the horns whoop and trumpets blare and the timpani are thunderously emphatic – it is all highly atmospheric and brilliantly played. Here are the bite and edge I miss in the first movement – though perhaps that was just Bychkov bearing in mind the over-arching shape of the symphony and just keeping his powder dry for this finale. The hammer blows have great impact and there is a degree of abandon in the playing and conducting which is not always evident elsewhere; the climax is superb: more thundering drums and swirling harps in a maelstrom of despair.

If you want an account of the symphony with a rawer, grimmer, more “apocalyptic” first movement, turn to Bernstein, Tennstedt, Sinopoli, Solti or Szell. If you favour more polish and luminous beauty of playing and sound, capped by a splendidly dark finale, Bychkov will satisfy.

(As with the Second and Ninth symphonies, Pentatone has fitted this whole symphony of 86 minutes onto one disc and some listeners’ equipment might rebel and refuse to play the last movement.)

Symphony No. 7

I long struggled to appreciate the charms of the Seventh but have warmed up to it over the years. My go-to recordings have always been Solti’s, Bernstein’s first and Tennstedt’s with the LPO – with Klemperer and Sinopoli both as a “wild cards”; see Lee Denham’s comprehensive survey – but I do like the way Bychkov handles the transitions from the gawky, menacing opening to the spritelier Allegro to the lyrical passage beginning at 4:52; as in previous symphonies, he has an excellent grasp of the overall shape and melds the differing sections convincingly. As ever with this conductor, the listener has the sense of hearing everything forensically, in detail. We are far removed from the overt aggression and violence of the Sixth; this is a murky, mysterious, shadowy world of dreams and nightmares and the playing is aptly mercurial. I do not recall anyone making the central passage before the reprise of the initial broody, pacing motif so lyrical – but lyricism and subtlety are ever Bychkov’s virtues.

The first Nachtmusik movement is elegantly played with some neat rubato and seductive slides; Bychkov takes his time teasing out the faintly louche peculiarities of the score. The Scherzo is similarly weird and malevolent and the second Nachtmusik manages to be both heart-warmingly nostalgic and unsettling. The orchestra here sounds like a little chamber band, playing with the lightest touch until storm-clouds start to gather, the mandolin, harp and guitar adding to the folksy ambience, but there is always something dark scuttling around the periphery.

The Rondo finale is more overtly exuberant but I find that Bychkov’s besetting flaw of settling for “default position” good taste and restraint rather hampers its impact; I wish he would cut loose a bit more instead of always being so concerned to ensure that every nuance emerges.

This otherwise is a skilfully gauged and managed as any recording of this elusive symphony I know; the listener is left faintly disconcerted by the sustained emotional ambivalence of the music – just, I suspect, as Mahler intended. It does not displace my attachment to the versions conducted by Bernstein and Bertini but it is worthy to be set alongside them.

Symphony No. 8

The sheer depth and amplitude of the recorded sound is immediately very impressive, as is the vigour and commitment of the choir. I am less impressed by the surfeit of pulsing vibrato from the lead soprano, tenor David Butt Philip and indeed all the eight singers here exhibit this fault to some degree. The bass is a lesser offender but his voice has little weight, depth or resonance. I know this music makes fiendish demands upon the volume and stamina of singers but the answer does not reside in pushing the voice into producing an ugly bleat and I can support my complaint by comparing this with previous recordings which field a much better team. No soloist here really impresses. It is a pity because the very clarity of the sound accentuates any vocal frailty.  Compensation comes from the attack and amplitude of the choir, which is terrific, especially in “Accende lumen sensibus” (track 3) and the sonority of the brass leading into the Gloria is spectacular. Bychkov sustains enormous tension through to the climactic conclusion of Part I despite very broad tempi – so it’s a pity his soprano is screaming.

Surprisingly, given Bychkov’s prevailing sensitivity over this cycle, for me, the opening of Part II is somewhat lacking in hushed mystery; it’s all a bit gung-ho but certainly not lacking in craggy drama to reflect the landscape conjured up by the music – the playing per se is magnificent and the subsequent passage for male choir is suitably delicate. I do not like Butt Philip’s voice at all; he constantly forces and his sound is fundamentally ugly. The crucial “Blicket auf” is devoid of steady line and beauty of tone. Bychkov paces the final ten minutes after his solo very deliberately and for me the momentum flags. “Alles vergängliche” is very slow but the choir finds the breath to sustain their long phrases; unfortunately, the second soprano does not. I am not moved as I should be by the climax and conclusion disappoints, as I find it laboured rather than monumental.

This work demands great voices and those here are much less than stellar; it is the problem which afflicts many a modern recording of choral and operatic works and fatally undermines this account.

Symphony No. 9

Let me confess right away that for all that diverse conductors and aficionados declare the Ninth to be their ultimate Mahler symphony, for me it has ever featured among my favourites; I much prefer the Tenth and find that the Ninth sometimes has its longueurs in the two inner movements – that depending, of course, on how well it is delivered.

However, I invariably love the first and last movements and here the former is given a hugely grand, spacious account. Despite its lyricism, Bychkov’s attention to detail and orchestral colour means that the macabre and menacing aspects of the scoring are also given prominence: rasping muted trumpets, swirling and muttering strings, harmonic dissolution and stuttering rhythms are all pointedly brought out without the movement losing cohesion.

The second movement is sharp and perky, and the playing is admirable, although I always find it a bit long-winded. The Rondo-Burleske is attacked with enormous energy and that momentum is ferociously sustained throughout the first five minutes until the first interlude led by the trumpet, which lends a welcome breathing space between the frenetic Rondo sections. The coda is thrilling.

The finale, like the first movement, is noble and dignified; the first violins intone the chorale with a wonderfully resinous timbre and the low strings and bassoon add a growling bass layer which is really striking. The movement is long – just under half an hour – but mesmerising throughout; the solo violin passage from the leader six minutes in, is exquisite and the sheer depth of orchestral sound so sumptuous that at 8:55 the conductor cannot resist joining in with a little vocal obbligato. Moments such as the thunderous drum roll at 10:20 before the sudden dropping off into silence and the subsequent passages where the timpani underpin the drama are striking. The slow, patient, steady preparation for the central climax at sixteen minutes really pays off and the hushed, drawn-out, pianissimo conclusion is ethereal. It is this section which convinces me that this is not live but recorded under studio conditions; sadly, an audience could never be so quiet during such a passage – some moron would always hack.

While it might not be my favourite Mahler symphony, Bychkov here gives it as convincing an advocacy as you will encounter anywhere.

(As per the Second and Sixth symphonies, this is an extra-long-playing CD at 87 minutes which might be problematic on some equipment.)

*              *              *              *              *

As a whole this is a valuable and impressive Mahler cycle, played with enormous skill and sensitivity and presented in unimpeachable recorded sound. However, it has its weaknesses and does not have the consistency of, for example, the Bertini cycle; my reservations centre upon the Second, Fifth and Eighth symphonies for reasons I adumbrate above, and which is why I cannot recommend it as a set overall – but pick and choose the best here and you will be well served. 

Ralph Moore

Other review: John Quinn

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Contents:
Symphony No 1 in D major, “Titan” (1884-1888)
rec. 12-15 October, 2021
Symphony No 2 in C minor, “Resurrection” (1888-1894)
Christiane Karg (soprano); Elisabeth Kulman (alto)
Prague Philharmonic Choir
rec. 22 November & 3-7 December, 2018
Symphony No 3 in D minor (1895-1896)
Catriona Morison (mezzo-soprano)
Prague Philharmonic Choir; Pueri gaudentes
rec. 30 January – 3 February, 2024
Symphony No 4 in G major (1899-1901)
Chen Reiss (soprano)
rec. 20-26, August 2020
Symphony No 5 in C-sharp minor (1901-02)
rec. 8-11 December, 2021
Symphony No 6 in A minor, ‘Tragic’ (1903-04)
rec. 6-10 June, 2023
Symphony No 7 in E minor (1904-05)
rec. 1-5 November, 2022
Symphony No 8 in E-flat major, ‘Symphony of a Thousand’ (1906-07)
Sarah Wegener, Kateřina Knӗžiková, Miriam Kutrowatz (sopranos); Stefanie Irányi, Jennifer Johnston (mezzo-sopranos); David Butt Philip (tenor); Adam Plachetka (baritone); David Steffens (bass)
Prague Philharmonic Choir; Czech Philharmonic of Brno; Prague Philharmonic Children’s Choir
rec. 5-10 June, 2025
Symphony No 9 in D major (1909-10)
rec. 2-7 November, 2021