Gustav Mahler (1860-1911)
Symphony No. 10 in F sharp (second performing edition by Deryck Cooke)
New Philharmonia Orchestra/Wyn Morris
rec. 1972, Walthamstow Assembly Hall, London,
SilverOak CD SC010 [84]
Although this recording was originally issued on a Philips LP, it eventually found its way on to CD on the now defunct SilverOak label. The disc is rare; currently the only ones available are expensive and from Japan. However, you may hear it on YouTube. John Quinn reviewed it along with the Eighth Symphony in 2016 when they were issued together on an HDTT Blu-ray Audio disc, but again, that is no longer available.
Coming straight to this from Eliahu Inbal’s rather disappointing recording on Denon, I was immediately struck by the intensity, sense of concentration and steadiness of the playing here. It’s slow, yes, but never slack and the sonority of the orchestra is so seductive. There is just a rightness about Morris’ interpretation which strikes home. (Having written that, I checked with JQ’s review to discover that – spookily, possums – we had opened out respective reviews with virtually the same observations – so that must be right, yes?)
Morris then opens out into the broadest and most affecting delivery of the great melody running though the first movement that I have encountered and he was the first to treat it thus. The recording is full but detailed; the bass is especially full. There is sometimes a little rawness to the playing which is not out of place with this most emotionally wrenching music – and by that, I do not mean technical failings such as poor intonation but rather a kind of attack and release I miss in recordings which are too polite or polished; the horns, in particular whoop and blare, the “Scream” is wonderfully anguished, and the coda is bitter-sweet, the vibrato-free strings whistling their daringly extended and etiolated held high notes like stratospheric wind.
The first Scherzo is rumbustious and galumphing, taken at a country pace as opposed to that of conductors who rush through it and thereby jettison its clumsy charm. The Trio is warm and jocular but the Scherzo returns with just a little edge and bite – and kudos again to the braying horns. The brief Purgatorio chunters along disingenuously, the little martial flourishes, stabbing brass blasts and nagging woodwind jabs cumulatively creating a nervous, even threatening, feeling; Morris captures its emotive ambivalence perfectly. The second Scherzo is downright menacing despite its meretricious, three-quarter-time bonhomie; Morris keeps a firm grip on its structure, applying plenty of rubato without letting the momentum stall. The quiet but percussive conclusion is ominous, leading seamlessly into the desolate opening of the finale, a mood compounded by growling low brass, woodwind and double basses punctuated by properly distanced drumbeats. The flute solo is otherworldly and the strings sing angelically; not being harried by a conductor eager to push on, they have time, paradoxically, to allow time to cease and to weave magic. The returning drumbeat and monitory trumpet triplets cannot stifle their message of hope and a grand battle ensues, resolving into the serene coda. Morris’ more leisurely speed allows us to savour those deliciously unexpected intervals and chromatic harmonies. The final ten minutes are as lovely as those on any recording I know.
This is the work of a Mahler conductor who knows exactly what he wants and what he was doing. What a pity this has not yet been remastered and re-issued for all the Mahlerites out there, as it goes to the top rank of my favourite recordings of the Cooke orchestration alongside those by Rattle and Harding. Meanwhile, you may hear it on YouTube and I suggest you select the upload of the CD version rather than the Philips LP.
Ralph Moore
