Gustav Mahler (1860-1911)
Symphony No. 1 in D Major
London Philharmonic Orchestra/Ken’ichiro Kobayashi
rec. 2024, Abbey Road Studios, London
Exton OVCL00858 SACD [57]
I was very disappointed with Ken’ichiro Kobayashi’s recording of Mahler’s Fifth Symphony [see review], that appears to have been made during the same sessions as this new recording of the First. He is undoubtedly a great Mahler conductor, under-appreciated perhaps in much of Western Europe and the US (he has held successful appointments with the Hungarian National PO and Czech PO, along with others in his native Japan), but his recording of the Fifth with the London PO, his fourth of the work, sounded tired and laboured, an old man’s view of the music – hardly a good omen then for a new recording of the First Symphony, with its music full of youthful impetuosity, as well as visions of an early morning day with its sense of wonder, birdsong and moments of blinding jubilation.
I must say though that the opening of this new account promises something special, the sustained strings of the orchestra gently wafting out of the speakers while, further on, the trumpet fanfares sound genuinely ‘from afar’ as the score instructs, as do the hunting horns in the final movement. Kobayashi’s daybreak is gentle and his birdsongs are remarkably lifelike, expertly captured by the Exton engineers in a way that they do actually sound as if floating on the still early-morning air. As with the Fifth Symphony, the playing of the London Philharmonic is quite superb and the sonics demonstration-worthy, quite possibly the best this symphony has ever received, encompassing the barest whisper to the mightiest orchestral roar comfortably in its stride, the sound rich and lifelike at all times. Similarly, there is a care with the interpretation, as every strand of Mahler’s orchestration is lovingly revealed as the symphony slowly comes to life from its nocturnal slumber; such is Kobayashi’s skill and imagination, I cannot remember hearing a performance that genuinely sounded as if it really was Nature awakening, rather than a musical depiction of that scene. And yet …. I was a little surprised that the first movement exposition repeat was omitted, not least since this is a studio recording and, as the movement progressed, I began to sense an iron-grip from the podium that is rarely loosened. The musical tone-painting may be astonishingly lifelike, but it is all sounds a bit too ‘professional’, lacking a sense of child-like wonder so memorably evoked by Klaus Tennstedt in his studio account with the same orchestra, as well as (even better) live with the NDR Symphony Orchestra [review]. Further on, the climax of the first movement’s recapitulation does not quite erupt in the blaze of sunlight as it should, since the exultation seems muted when everything is held so firmly in check by the conductor.
It is a similar story with the second movement, the performance sounding more like a final rehearsal, with every note carefully articulated, every accent expertly placed, but with none of the relish and panache that Barbirolli invests in the music in his recording with the Hallé from 1957. The central trio is played beautifully, but also rather straight and poker-faced, containing none of the sly and knowing looks Kegel inspires from the players of the Dresden Philharmonic Orchestra in an oft-overlooked, much underrated account, while the close of the movement evinces the same watchful tread of the opening, so unlike Sir Adrian Boult, also with the London Philharmonic, who stuffs his English stiff upper-lip into his waistcoat pocket at this point, then twirls and swirls the music dizzyingly towards the finishing line [review]. It seems to me that Kobayashi unfailing delivers everything Mahler asks for in the score during this movement, except the actual music itself.
Happily, The Huntsman’s Funeral March of the third movement is much better, with Kobayashi employing a solo double-bassist, rather than the entire section as was briefly in vogue for a while in the early years of this century, an example of knuckle-headed editorial intervention with musical editions. The London Philharmonic’s double-bass soloist deserves much credit for delivering the music ‘simply’ as instructed by the score which, at the same time is infused with a sense of mournfulness while, once more, the LPO woodwinds are on superb, characterful form – ‘delicious’ is the word I used to describe them in my notes. The central section, inspired by quoting music from the fourth song from Mahler’s Wayfarer Cycle, ‘Die zwei blauen Augen’, is absolutely exquisite in Kobayashi’s hands, trumped only by the honeyed warmth Bruno Walter almost uniquely finds in his last recording with the Columbia Symphony Orchestra, while the close of this movement, hushed and quiet, reveals once again the excellence of the Exton engineering, with each note on cymbals and tam registering, at once both eerie and lifelike.
The opening of the final movement erupts as it should, but once more the conductor is keen to keep things under control to ensure everything is heard, in particular the manic violin figurations under-pinning the orchestral explosions elsewhere. This part of the symphony has always a challenge for conductors who may perhaps be inclined to sacrifice clarity for drama; in my experience, only the violins of Simon Rattle’s Berlin Philharmonic have the muscularity to make themselves heard over unrestrained orchestral fireworks going off elsewhere [live on the BPO’s own label]. Further on, during the stormy development section, there is a split horn note that should have resulted in a re-take with a studio recording, but my criticisms of the first movement resurface once more, since everything seems so tightly controlled, with the resulting excitement miserly rationed; comparing this same section with Bernstein and the Concertgebouw Orchestra [review] or, in more recent times, Yannick Nézet-Séguin with the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra [review], demonstrates in spades what is missing here. Except ….. after that central orchestral tsunami has subsided and the music from the opening of the whole symphony is reprised, one cannot but admire once more the placing of the horns in the sonic landscape, as the twittering birds return and Kobayashi conjures up an extraordinarily life-like image with his orchestra. Yet the repeat of the yearning string melody further on does not culminate in an especially moving climax, after which the iron grip from the podium is loosened only just enough to allow the coda to rise to the occasion, delivering a rousing conclusion, with the LPO trumpets absolutely stupendous.
Perhaps that coda reveals everything that is so right, but also quite wrong with this recording. Ken’ichiro Kobayashi is eighty-five years old in 2025 and this is his fourth and, therefore most likely, final account of Mahler’s First Symphony, which is distinguished by fluid tempos, stunning sonics, superb orchestral playing and an interpretation that is quite astonishing at times in evocating Nature, with its warm sunshine sparkling on the early-morning dew, as the birds fly aloft joyfully singing in celebration of the dawn of a new day. In Kobayashi’s hands, everything is just so perfect, every note expertly articulated, his orchestra delivering all that he asks of them – albeit from a recording studio; and that is the rub. As the final note of this performance died away, I was left wondering just how good it all could have been had it instead been live in the concert-hall, complete with the frisson of jeopardy that a one-off concert occasion brings, as well as a sense of abandon when an orchestra is caught up in the magic of the moment and then strains on the leash as the sparks start to fly. With this recording, it is only in the coda of the finale that Kobayashi dares to loosen the reins slightly, with the musical gains repaid a thousandfold. How curious is it then in a world where virtually every live transmission now seems to be released on compact disc or DVD, that I should find myself wishing for just that with this release, rather than the increasingly rare studio recording we are instead treated to here? In conclusion, this is a could-have-been-great Mahler First, but instead is one that is caged and restrained by the confinements of a studio, rather than being set free in a concert to fly aloft along with those birds imagined by Mahler in his marvellous score, in what then should have been one of the very finest accounts of all.
Lee Denham
Availability: Exton
