Tag Archives: Gustav Mahler

In concert – Jennifer France, London Philharmonic Orchestra / Edward Gardner @ Royal Festival Hall – Abrahamsen & Mahler

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Jennifer France (soprano), London Philharmonic Orchestra / Edward Gardner

Abrahamsen let me tell you (2012-3)
Mahler Symphony no.4 in G major (1892, 1899-1900)

Royal Festival Hall, London
Friday 3 October 2025

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse

Tonight’s London Philharmonic Orchestra concert featured the welcome revival of a 21st-century classic. Hans Abrahamsen’s recent output may be relatively sparing, but the works that have emerged represent a triumph of quality over quantity and not least let me tell you.

Set to fragmentary lines drawn by Paul Griffiths from his eponymous novel, this centres on the character of Ophelia – its seven songs falling into three larger parts whose outlining of a ‘before, now and after’ trajectory gives focus to the arching intensity of its 30-minute span. The first, fourth and sixth of these anticipate what comes to fruition during the second, fifth and seventh – the exception being the third whose speculative vocal line is underpinned by a stealthy progress in the lower registers evoking the motion, if not the form, of a passacaglia. Elsewhere the voice evinces an intricacy and translucency that effortlessly carries the word-setting as it pivots between thought of oblivion and transcendence, before eventually being subsumed into the orchestra for a conclusion among the most affecting in recent memory.

The LPO acquitted itself ably in music which is texturally complex for all its harmonic clarity, though it was Jennifer France (above) who (not unreasonably) most impressed with a rendering of the solo part as did ample justice to its high-lying melisma and airborne flights of fancy. Edward Gardner directed with an innate sense of where this music was headed, not least in those final bars with their tapering off into silence. Relatively few pieces are recognized as seminal from the outset, but let me tell you is one such and seems destined to remain so well into the future.

France then returned (or rather stole in) for the finale of Mahler’s Fourth Symphony after the interval. His setting of ‘Das himmlische Leben’ from the folk-inspired anthology Das Knaben Wunderhorn had actually been written almost a decade earlier and was once envisaged as the finale to the Third Symphony, but it makes a natural conclusion to a successor whose relative understatement is sustained right through to this movement’s intangible end: a ‘child’s vision of heaven’ whose intended innocence becomes informed with no little experience by the close.

Gardner had steered a convincing trajectory through the preceding movements – not least the opening one whose mingled whimsy and wistfulness took on a more ominous demeanour in its eventful development, before conveying unalloyed resolve in a warm-hearted reprise and beatific coda. What is among the most striking of Mahler’s scherzo’s proceeded with audible appreciation of its pivoting between the sardonic and sublime, Pieter Schoeman’s ‘mistuned’ violin being first among equals in music whose soloistic textures were thrown into relief by the homogenous stability of the Adagio. Its double variations unfolded with a fluid intensity capped by a coda whose ‘portal to heaven’ yielded thrilling resplendence as subsided into a transcendent raptness that, in other circumstances, could have made a satisfying conclusion.

That this lead so seamlessly into the vocal finale says a great deal for Mahler’s foresight, but also Gardner’s ability to fashion so cohesive a symphonic entity. As the music subsided into subterranean chords on harp, the audience was (necessarily) held spellbound a while longer.

Click on the links for more information on the London Philharmonic Orchestra, conductor Edward Gardner, soprano Jennifer France and composer Hans Abrahamsen

Published post no.2,679 – Monday 6 October 2025

In concert – Soloists, BBC Symphony Chorus & Orchestra / Hannu Lintu @ BBC Proms: Mahler Das klagende Lied & Boulez Rituel in memoriam Bruno Maderna

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Natalya Romaniw (soprano), Jennifer Johnston (mezzo-soprano), Russell Thomas (tenor), James Newby (baritone) Carlos González Nápoles (treble), Malakai Bayoh (alto), Constanza Chorus, BBC Symphony Chorus, BBC Symphony Orchestra / Hannu Lintu

Boulez Rituel in memoriam Bruno Maderna (1974-75)
Mahler Das klagende Lied (1878-80)

Royal Albert Hall, London
Tuesday 4 August 2025

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse Photos (c) BBC Proms (from the festival’s uncredited Facebook upload)

Boulez and Mahler may not seem an obvious coupling, until one recalls the would have-been centenarian regularly conducted all the latter’s major works including that heard tonight – as well having made the first recording of its original three-part version more than 55 years ago.

When it appeared in 1975, Rituel in memoriam Bruno Maderna was thought something of an anomaly in Boulez’s output – its hieratic aura and structural (if never literal) use of repetition a homage more to his teacher Messiaen than his late colleague who, revealingly perhaps, had grown disenchanted in the avant-garde project of the post-war era. To which this work might seem an envoi – one eschewing any trace of nostalgia as it pursues its inevitable course from the response of the individual to that of the collective then (almost) returning to the singular.

Outwardly Rituel unfolds a series of litanies from one to seven players and refrains for a 14-piece brass ensemble, but such distinctions increasingly merge towards its mid-point so that its latter half is an intricate mesh of overlaid textures, moving around those groups arrayed on stage. Maintaining audible balance is crucial – in which respect, Hannu Lintu succeeded admirably, as in pacing the overall sequence (memory recalls Boulez as opting for a discreet acceleration across the later stages) so its ending conveyed arrival though hardly fulfilment.

What marked a crucial juncture for Boulez was no less evident, almost a century before, for Mahler. The virtual absence of any previous music only makes Das klagende Lied the more remarkable for conveying the essence of what its composer, barely out of his teens, went on to achieve. At this time, he aspired to opera and though this cantata was never envisaged for staging, its scenic evocation and its dramatic immediacy suggest that, had he been awarded the 1881 Beethoven Prize for his entry, his creative priorities could have been very different.

The work has fared well at the Proms, this being its seventh hearing and the third to use the edition of the original version that restores the first of its three parts and enables the latter to be heard as conceived, thereby making musical as well as dramatic sense. A leisurely course through Waldmärchen enabled Lintu to highlight the motivic richness of its prelude, and if the alternation of solo verses with choral refrains felt a little stolid, the latter stages with the discovery of the flower, the fratricide and a desolate postlude were consummately rendered.

With its anticipations of later Mahler (via Wagner and Bruckner), Der Spielmann is the most characteristic part as it pivots deftly yet pointedly between genial whimsy and ominous dread. That this latter gains the upper hand with discovery of the ‘singing bone’ is offset by the blaze of glory with which Hochzeitstück begins; the offstage orchestra – head to advantage in the gallery – underpinning an increasingly desperate course of events as the fratricide is revealed and the wedding descends into mayhem, with deathly stillness pervading those final minutes.

There was some persuasive solo singing, notably Jennifer Johnston who carries the primary narrative thread; Russell Thomas was fervent if slightly strained and James Newby warmly eloquent, with Natalya Romaniw conveying real dramatic acuity. Treble and alto roles were poignantly taken, while Lintu drew an assured response from sizable choral and orchestral forces – the latter’s quartet of harps assuming a concertante role in an orchestration whose encompassing of dramatic impetus and intimate reflection is already that of Mahler alone.

Playing for around 70 minutes, Das klagende Lied seems as rich in incident as any Mahler symphony; not all of which, whatever their greater stylistic assurance or maturity, feature a conclusion as spine-tingling as this – and one which certainly drove its point across tonight.

You can listen back to this Prom concert on BBC Sounds until Sunday 12 October – or listen to recordings of the two works conducted by Pierre Boulez on Tidal here

Click on the artist names to read more about the Constanza Chorus, BBC Symphony Chorus and BBC Symphony Orchestra, conductor Hannu Lintu and soloists Natalya Romaniw, Jennifer Johnston, Russell Thomas and James Newby. Click also for more on the BBC Proms

Published post no.2,617 – Tuesday 5 August 2025

In concert – CBSO / Kazuki Yamada: Mahler Symphony no.9 & Takemitsu

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City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra / Kazuki Yamada (above)

Takemitsu Requiem (1957)
Mahler Symphony no.9 in D major (1908-09)

Symphony Hall, Birmingham
Thursday 10 April 2025

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse Picture of Kazuki Yamada (c) Hannah Fathers

Ninth Symphonies have been a recurrent feature of this season from the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra and Kazuki Yamada. Tonight’s concert brought this to a culmination of sorts with that by Mahler and which naturally occupied almost the whole of the programme.

Whatever else, it was a performance whose scope matched the music’s ambition and not least in an opening Andante as lays claim to being its composer’s greatest achievement. Admittedly this took a few minutes to find focus, those initial bars not so much speculative as halting, but an overall sense of the movement unfolding seamlessly across its strategic peaks and troughs was undeniable, and Yamada was mindful to underline Mahler’s holding back of its expected culmination so the closing minutes mused eloquently if uncertainly on what might have been.

The middle movements can often emerge as incidental to the formal scheme, and Yamada’s take on the Ländler gave some pause for thought. Each of its constituents was vividly shaped and articulated, but a stop-start discontinuity arguably denied it that innocence to experience trajectory which, in turn, makes tangible the fatalistic humour at its end. The Rondo-Burleske was the undoubted highlight – its abrasiveness spilling over into violence towards the close, but not before Yamada had summoned the requisite anguish from its yearning trio section.

It might have been better to continue directly into the Adagio. As it was, a relatively lengthy pause left this finale sounding less a direct reaction to what had gone before than a delayed avoidance of the issues raised. Yamada’s overall handling of this movement was fine if not exceptionally so. Such as the twilit episode prior to the main climax was lucidity itself, but the conductor having already slowed to near-stasis then made it difficult to reduce the tempo further, so that the closing bars risked feeling emotionally gratuitous rather than inevitable.

What could hardly be gainsaid was the commitment of the CBSO’s response over what, for all its latter-day familiarity, remains a testing challenge whether individually or collectively. Wisely, Yamada has resisted any temptation to fashion a self-consciously virtuoso orchestra; emphasis seems to be instead on encouraging flexibility and sensitivity of response in terms of the music at hand – a more circumspect though productive approach which suggests he is happy to stay the course in terms of a partnership which is still in its relatively early stages.

Not a few performances of Mahler Nine opt for a scene-setting piece rather than first half as such. Yamada did so with Takemitsu’s Requiem – if not this composer’s first or even earliest acknowledged work, then certainly the one that established his wider reputation. The CBSO strings did justice to its subtle interplay of expressive threnody and more angular elements in a reading that fulfilled its purpose ideally. Hopefully the coming seasons will revive some of the more innovative pieces to have languished in the three decades since Takemitsu’s death.

This was the latest in what is becoming a tradition and rightly so – a page in the programme listing those ‘‘friends, members and colleagues’’ whom the CBSO Remembers with no little gratitude. From this perspective, tonight’s programme could hardly have been more fitting.

For details on the 2024-25 season A Season of Joy, head to the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra website. Click on the name to read more about conductor Kazuki Yamada

Published post no.2,502 – Monday 14 April 2025

Playlist – Sir Simon Rattle @ 70

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by Ben Hogwood

Last week the British conductor Sir Simon Rattle celebrated his 70th birthday. Since the 1980s Rattle has played a hugely important part in classical music in the UK, with important conducting posts at the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, Berliner Philharmoniker and London Symphony Orchestra. In 2023 he returned once more to Germany, as principal conductor for the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra.

In that time, Rattle has made a huge range of recordings, from Haydn to Adès via Beethoven, Grainger and Schoenberg. Resisting temptation to compile a playlist of snippets, I have opted for a small number of heavyweight recordings, including Adès‘ Asyla, Schoenberg‘s Chamber Symphony no.1 and Stravinsky‘s Le Sacre du Printemps, his first recording on starting with the LSO in 2017. Topping the bill, however, is his CBSO recording of Mahler‘s Second Symphony, the Resurrection, the piece with which he opened Birmingham’s Symphony Hall in 1991. You can listen to the playlist on Tidal below:

Published post no.2,424 – Monday 27 January 2025

In concert – BBC Symphony Orchestra / Sakari Oramo: Mahler Symphony no.6

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BBC Symphony Orchestra / Sakari Oramo (above)

Mahler Symphony no.6 in A minor (1903-04)

Barbican Hall, London
Thursday 26 September 2024

Having just extended his contract with the BBC Symphony Orchestra until 2030, which at 17 years will make him its longest serving chief conductor after Sir Adrian Boult, Sakari Oramo began the new season with this frequently impressive account of Mahler’s Sixth Symphony.

Impressive but equally unpredictable – not least in an opening movement whose tensility and even terseness was emphasized by mostly swift tempos and the nowadays rare omission of its exposition repeat, which predicated martial aggressiveness over any more yielding expression. There was no lack of deftness in the central interlude, for all that the off-stage cowbells were distinctly unevocative in their tinkling, yet the developmental passages either side exuded an unwavering purposefulness so that the arrival of the reprise more than usually made its mark. Stealthily launched, the coda duly emerged rather than burst forth though this was audibly in accord with the ambivalence of its affirmation as Oramo perceived it. Those closing bars had no lack of finality, for all that there was more of ruthlessness than joyousness in their arrival.

Speaking recently, Oramo stated his conviction in the revised order of the central movements with the Scherzo placed second. He might profitably have headed into this without pause, as to underline the consistency of rhythmic profile with what went before, but there was no hint of inflexibility here or in the trio sections which effortlessly elided between the winsome and sardonic. Equally in evidence was that fatalistic sense pervading the music as it unfolds, and so made possible a coda whose evanescent poise could not conceal more ominous portents.

From this vantage, the Andante provided if not balm to the soul, then a measure of unforced pathos. Enticingly rendered with some notably felicitous playing by the BBCSO woodwind, it was shaped by Oramo with unerring rightness through to a climax whose emotional force was the greater for its being held in check. Surprising that this movement has never attained the popularity of the Adagietto from the Fifth Symphony: then again, its salient qualities are conveyed even more completely when experienced within the context of the work as a whole.

By a similar token, it arguably matters less in what order the middle movements are played if the finale proves a culmination in all respects. That it certainly was here – Oramo imbuing its lengthy introduction with acute expectancy balanced by the visceral impact of what followed. Nor did tension fall off in those quiet but eventful interludes, strategically placed between the larger formal sections, and in which cowbells are overlaid by tubular bells for what became a haze of resonance as affecting as any more demonstrative expression elsewhere. Oramo also restored that third hammer-blow which does not so much alter the course of this movement, as confirm its resignation before fate in even more graphic terms. Nothing could have sounded more matter of fact than the baleful rumination of brass prior to that explosive closing gesture. While not the most inclusive performance, this was undoubtedly one to renew admiration in the audacity of Mahler’s conception or his conviction in bringing it off. It also gave notice of continued rapport between Oramo and the BBCSO as they begin their 12th season together.

For more on their 2024/25 season head to the BBC Symphony Orchestra website – and click here to read more on their chief conductor Sakari Oramo

Published post no.2,315 – Saturday 28 September 2024