Reviews
The first movement, I. Andante comodo (moving) described by Alban Berg as the most beautiful ever written by Mahler, opens in an atmosphere of foreboding and mystery with gentle figures in strings, harp and horns. The somber mood projects sadness and yearning with two principal melodies. The one by the second violin has the calmness of resignation while piercing chords by the trumpets speak of passion and intense agony. These ideas alternate, rising to several great climaxes to culminate in a complete transfiguration of the opening motives in a nearly cacophonous collapse. It never recovers as solo instruments seem to wander aimlessly leading into the final resignation of the coda. In the second movement, Im Tempo eines gemächlichen Ländlers (in a leisurely, rustic fast-paced waltz), Mahler writes music as a stream of consciousness. His emotional expression uses melodies and devices wound around each other that are engaging, even charming but he does not develop or sustain the ideas by the rules of earlier compositions. A folk-like dance with a suggestion of mockery distorts into bitterness and sarcasm—a comment with scorn on worldly pleasures, or perhaps on the pointlessness of life? These two views intermingle in increasingly complex ways, only interrupted once by a gentle, nostalgic trio. The Third movement, Rondo-Burleske (very fast and defiantly) with the weight of a finale, is an expression of burning scorn. It is also Mahler's most modern movement, using complex and dissonant linear counterpoint. The brass offer troubled intensity. There are moments of mellow lyrical expanses but these are soon overtaken by overwrought bluster. This wild pandemonium is interrupted suddenly by a transcendent section reminiscent of the beginning of the symphony. The melody for strings is passionate but soon returns to a diabolical, and frantic grim ending. Movement IV Adagio. Sehr langsam und noch, opens with a lovely, lyric section (very slow but still held back are his instructions). A "hymn-like" passage of a stately character seems to express Mahler's deepest yearnings. First violins and basses are prominent as the whole orchestral sound grows. The rich music expands. Quiet follows as clarinets and woodwinds take the lead. All strings together offer a dazzling, expanded sound only to be overcome by an overwhelming sense of doom. As if a new day begins, the sound glistens brightly, anxious violins mellow and squeeze into a smaller and smaller sound. Lights dim in the hall for a sustained stillness as all motion stops. After one and one-half minutes Maestro Jacobsen slowly lowers his baton and the audience responds. Leaving the podium and the stage, he returns to acknowledge each section of players who stand for our enthusiastic applause. We had been warned by the usher who handed us the program that this was a 90-minute program without intermission. I discovered Mahler's music in the 60s but this was the first time we'd heard the work live and sitting six rows from the stage at the Sandler, bathed in Mahler's music, we found it deeply moving. Friends we spoke with afterward did too. Eric Jacobsen danced through the performance with a intense involvement, beautiful to see. Meeting him at a small reception afterwards we had a friendly discussion on the timing of the movements found on various CD recordings and his own 82 minute performance, compared with Bruno Walter's 69 minutes and Herbert von Karajan's 84 minutes.
Mahler's 9th symphony has a sense of repose and epic finality all at once. One of the best things about being a musician is returning to playing the same pieces. Often, it brings back memories of the last time one performed the work, giving a rich emotional patina to the work one is playing. The last time I performed Mahler 9 with the orchestra, I was Assistant Concertmaster, and therefore played the first violin part. Since that time, I stepped down as Assistant Concertmaster in order to take my new position as chair of the Instrumental Music department at The Governor's School for the Arts. This time, I played the second violin part. What a wonderful experience! It is an especially gratifying symphony to play second violin, because Mahler gave a large amount of prominent thematic material to this section. So much of the symphony is written antiphonally: the first and second violins sometimes compete to "outdo" one another in various motifs. For this season, Music Director Eric Jacobsen chose to seat the two violin sections on opposite sides of the stage. This was the first time I had ever played on stage left in the orchestra, which was very exciting. Often, sitting even a few inches in one direction or another can bring different parts to the fore, and I relished the opportunity to hear instruments I had not heard before in my previous time playing Mahler 9. It is hard not to think of transitions when playing this piece, especially in the long, meandering and contemplative last movement. Maestro Jacobsen's choice to dim the lights at the end of the movement really drove home the transcendental nature, and gave a spiritual quality to the performance, enjoining the listeners to think about "endings" in general. I can't think of a better way to close the VSO's season, and I felt very privileged to be a part of it. Back to Top
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