Dr Kultur: AB neo-expressionismus zyklus II. Wolfgang Rihm. Bruckner 7. DSO Berlin. Kent Nagano. Rayanne Dupuis. Philharmonie. 19.03.11.

Over-riding theme to this second pairing of mature Bruckner symphonies with contemporary work commenting upon it seemed to be German-ness, opening with work of particularly critical, soul-searching, deconstructionist perspective from Wolfgang Rihm. Kent Nagao conducted at the Bavarian State Opera four years ago his 35 minute monodram - Das Gehege (‘The Bawn’). Gabrielle Schnaut played the woman, Anita, accompanied by dancer as ‘eagle’ at its word premiere – pared with Strauss’s Salome (portrayed by Angela Denoke). Its text is the final scene of play by Botho Strauss, Sclusschor (title allusive to finale to the Beethoven Ninth).

A woman, night the Berlin Wall has fallen, has by stealth entered the Berlin Zoo and become involved with a caged eagle she finds therein and frees from its cage. She implores the bird to engage with her, taunts it to come nearer her, which it does. As the bird becomes more provoked, she becomes haughtier, more intrusive on its space - to point the bird then lunges at her; she then kills it, then emerges from the scene drenched in blood. A golden eagle, symbolizing Germany, with crises to which Germany has subjected herself to over the years, gets left subject to interpretation. Parallel between the eagle becoming an object of desire and Jokanaan’s severed head for Salome in Munich became obvious. Suggested is some ideation of the ego, concept of national identity closely related thereof.

Rihm’s rhapsodic scoring, definitely more conservative than his two full-length operas, evokes past musical heritage, but commenting upon such as in effect zooming in and out, alternatively subtly and abruptly for effect of varied distances and perspectives. Two orchestral interludes feature procession on echoing pizzicati, chimes, interspersed winds, brass all in detached whole tones to evocative, distancing Orinetal-esque effect. This all works confluent with the varied emotional, psychological states of Anita during strange encounter in question. Reference to an extended diatonic past musically has for Rihm something more to do with memory, recollection than anything else - challenged, confronted here full-out. Subversive it is to reveal tonality as Rihm does - left constantly floundering, between being subject to brass interjections from without and prone to self-destruction from within. All this seems to work parallel to the shattered psyche of the woman and morbid association in neurotic, even erotic identification with the bird to an aggressive extent - as Jens Laurson for MusicWeb Internat’l has indicated. Brass interjections help bring to the fore ramifications of extending tonality into numerous seventh, ninth, eleventh chords, overlapping thereof.

Over suspended dissonance in harmonics, other instrumentation, Das Gehege begins with assertive lines of reproach for decaying features of aging bird in question - parallel to revulsion one feels at first seeing the head of Jokanaan to start final scene of Salome. As contrast one has the woman muse elaborately over concept of ‘Wald’ – repeating the word a dozen times, to close this monologue, accompanied by varied orchestral reminiscences of what has transpired – ending below trailing off concertmaster harmonics over vast unfilled space. Mood for such development is elegiac - several waltz-like allusions to the music of Richard Strauss also, ranging from warmly nostalgic to sultry, debauched - latter as during Anita’s depraved observation of the bird’s decaying physical condition, i.e. in lusty chest tones on ‘Rippenkorb’ (repeated). Both at moment’s notice can abruptly break off into jagged, agitated stretto through violent swoops, half-glissando up in the strings – feigning strong beating of bird wings - peppered by highly dissonant brass interjections. Echoing of lyric lines, phrasing in harmonics, high woodwinds also comes across detached, less so poignantly elegiac writing for oboe and English horn.

Several quiet interludes in this create sensation of time suspended – with ostinati running through them seemingly devoid of any better than vaguely allusive connection to what has preceded or will follow them. ‘Time shards’ Michael Cherlin speaks of, regarding Arnold Schoenberg’s Erwartung definitely come to mind - likely Rihm’s least contrived sounding allusion thereof in ‘Das Gehege.’ March like rhythms emerge at moment’’s notice with little regularly paced to accompany, even during one interlude of increasingly clastic application of Alberti figuration in the strings. Concertmaster solo riffs off the section Alberti on harmony a whole tone up to accompany tellingly Anita addressing the eagle with line ‘Wo ist dein Doppenbild?’ Such reference to march rhythm, other musical allusion to militancy arrives by wonderfully varied means of instrumentation, placement, whether to the fore (and without tune to accompany) and/or functioning as something without aim, direction - ephemeral or upon which one at best can only obtain a tenuous grasp.

Onomatopaeic references to nature abound, such as telling extended moment for principal flute and concertmaster on harmonics playing exposed lines reflexively imitating each other as Anita reflects on how much or how little the eagle does toward matching her disturbed frame of mind. Free floating line of harmonics tremolo in exposed concertmaster solo, thinly accompanied during closing paragraphs is one more instance. Qualified masterpiece, mildly contrived as this work sounds, even through its air of nostalgia, there is some potent undercurrent here – remindful of how Rihm’s other operatic work, Conquest of Mexico for instance, really pushed the envelope.

For comparison’s sake, long track by Nancy Gustafson and Markus Stenz with Gurzenich Koln can be heard on youtube, for which we can be grateful. Both orchestras sound equally at home capturing the idiom, fully internalizing this music. Nagano and his more histrionic soloist Rayanne Dupuis – with hollower sound, slightly greater impetus to vent hysteria, but less warmth than Gustafson - lent this work the more detached perspective. Written very well, comfortably for the voice, animated here is much gestural variety, affectation through well connected line of recitative, arioso, declamation, melisma - all helping provide unifying quality to elaborate psychological landscape on display. Dupuis’s low notes were less secure, less lustrous, thereby less suggestive of deeper motif than those of Gustafson. Hardly less authoritative, less imaginative though has been this rendition.

Kent Nagano then offered Bruckner’s Seventh relatively along conventional lines, drawing full bloom out of DSO Berlin strings for their broad lines to abet sustaining fairly moderate pace for its first two movements. His perspective still seems mildly averse to bringing out what might be construed this music’s hieratic aspects. In fact, to avoid such intangibles, some interpretative sameness or generality took over sometimes. While openly maintaining linear clarity throughout the first movement, some specific turn of phrase, innate nuance thereof got mildly streamlined away.

Direct shaping of broad opening theme was good, but by there being some emphasis on strings projecting their sound forward, a little stodginess crept in early with violins extending out noble first theme toward its crest. Nagano then, assisted by his winds, regained focus overall shape with the second theme, winds providing very good light pulsated ring for ongoing current underneath. Buildup through ascending line in the strings thus sounded more circumspect. Not much there was to do to bring things down to making all down to earth; bourree like third subject opened with plentiful character until Nagano felt inclined toward arching, projecting line to emerge thereof, then to deftly close first large section of this movement. Reposeful opening of next section got slightly heavily enveloped – much ardor then drawn out of line DSO Berlin cellos with which to reply to wind’s first theme inversion.

Somewhat lean, dry in persuasion, loud C Minor transition, inversion Nagano avoided rushing excessively, although making slightly conspicuous mild slowing up for restatement of the first theme when it can enter more surreptitiously instead. Restatement of first theme material transformed in relaxed frame of mind held forth better appeal to Nagano; simplicity with such through altered third subject in a redefining new key then took over very nicely. Steeply arched first theme consequent based paragraph eloquently issued forth - pressed forward trumpets then to blaze forth moments later bringing all to a fine, noble conclusion.

Nagano moderately pacing the Adagio, may have curiously only achieved shallow depth in feigning simplicity at its core while stopping at only suggesting spiritual fervor associated therein. Warmly intoned by DSO strings, expression for opening paragraph sounded ready to settle for generically elegiac. Melos radiated through lyrical second subject; better shape got achieved with first subject reprise - anticipating ascent through early climax (in C Major). Sequencing of consequent to the main theme got provided good color, shape, contrast thereby. Nagano eschewed underlining or sentimentalizing reprise of second subject for sake of ear’s grasp of this episode’s harmonic function, placement within keeping intact majestic subtly contrasted entirety on display. He also thus subtly hid notion of too much riding on the surface, Overall profile became stronger during final reprise of the main idea for body of the Adagio, over slowly running sextuplets; Nagano held line supple and firm, even if making climax to the Adagio more suggested than cumulative. Hush over coda, with Wagner tubas, other brass very warmly framed conclusion to this with fine resolve.

Good swagger held sway for rollicking scherzo - good spring to line persisting through re-transition to restating the opening trumpet call. Voicing filled much out, helping make light incisive segue toward carrying line forward. Most all got confidently projected toward brightly ending both scherzo and its return, while keeping tempo rock steady. Strings drowsily gathered fine shape for the Trio. Nuance in brief measure for underpinning trombone got missed, however. Line sumptuously filled out with angst before fine passing state of repose got easily restored.

Through ruddy double basses picking it up, the finale’s first theme started off at a strongly syncopated jaunt. In fine contrast with how this opened, sobriety filled out chorale idea to follow. Nagano mildly distended jagged unison augmentation of opening idea before infusing first reprise of chorale with extra warmth. Development of mostly opening theme’s inversion lent overall line slack through repeat of jagged brass augmentation – until exaggerated reach for fully weighted high B from brass to forcefully frame, then cut idea off. It took until imminent coda for the brass to fully regain poise. Nagano then called emphatically for greater stillness and awe with which to provide chorale one final stopover. With aplomb, toward perhaps shaking off several cobwebs about to accumulate moments earlier, Nagano forthrightly brought shards of opening theme back in, then urgently started coda with fresh unblemished reprise of the same. Arched crescendo organically branched out, while veering near precipice well calibrated to overall line. With more thrust, after over-emphasis on half cadence right before, Nagano set most all ablaze for exalted conclusion to effort here.

Many have reckoned the Sixth Symphony preview of the Seventh - both very different from each other in numerous ways. The Seventh, in contrast with the Sixth, just on its surface - where Nagano seemed most comfortable hanging out – has the bolder profile and outline than the already daring Sixth, mixed with, especially in the Adagio, a more rarefied quality perhaps effacing Nagano’s temperament and outlook on how Bruckner should go. The Seventh, at its winsome surface, is still special - with qualities for its guilelessness that can get overlooked, and has by many before. Within its persuasion to engage more with present world lying before us, Nagano expressed greater ease with the Sixth, its unique demands, as evident at the 2005 BBC Proms and on disc. The Seventh, on this outing has proven an only slightly more elusive challenge for him.

Lyric Opera of Chicago: Kat'a Kabanova - Miller production, Karita Mattila in qualified success at repeat of 2004 Met triumph. November, 2009.

Memories come flooding back. Two of my best operatic experiences of this past decade, to open a new mil, have involved my favorite opera of Leos Janacek, Kat’a Kabanova. It was also great to have seen Elisabeth Soderstrom in the part here in Houston in the early 1980’s - paired with a fine, since little heard from Kabanicka (Jan Curtis) but it was as though as having occurred in a vacuum; both production and conducting (John DeMain) were so glib - DeMain’s only attempt at Janacek while here.

The next Janacek to see here was the very fine David Alden production of this Dallas had seen already (starring Elena Prokina and Judith Forst), starring here Catherine Maliftano and as Boris on short notice, Raymond Very. As expressionistic as it was, enhanced by the intense musical leadership of Asher Fisch and played in one act – though slightly undercut by hard look about Maliftano (though singing and acting the part very well) and by some tremolo from the Kabanicka - it stopped short of going too far this way. It also has proved one of David Alden’s very finest productions (as revived very recently by English National Opera) and also the most riveting evening of musical theater I had attended yet at Wortham Center downtown.

Equally fine and not to be under-rated is the Jonathan Miller production from the Met - loaned out to Lyric for this. Equal to Soderstrom in the part, maybe only other time thus far, was Karita Mattila in the title role. Capturing the innocence of Kat’a, her intense guilt feelings, remorse, psychological depth that must invest all this, intense desire for freedom, and soaring line to accompany all this made Mattila’s identification with Kat’a complete. Fortunately some of the same elements of her interpretation have persisted to this day, but sad to report here, not quite the same flexibility of voice to carry it all forward – with Lyric the easier place to sing than the Met.

The Met broadcast played Christmas Day and featured Judith Forst (Kabanicka), leading a very strong supporting cast (Silvasti, Merritt, Very as Kudrjash, Kozena, Ognovenko). The only thing that had me wondering was with Jiri Belohlavek’s relaxation of dramatic tension to perhaps beyond a good extent, even though moments of relaxation for nocturnal tryst should be palpable. Belohlavek appeared quintessentially attuned to Janacek (as fine rendition of Osud at the Proms proved recently) and for Act Two, that helped make up for some gap in tackling this score.

Belohlavek benefited from much focused interaction among cast of tremendous depth the Met put together – and also plentiful rehearsal time the Met still provided its guest conductors at that time. Very oddly, it was played on Christmas across the U.S. - a day after Houston had been dusted off with snow (first time to ever happen Christmas Eve) and hours before first news breaking of disaster in Indonesia that wretchedly took too many lives. It was a crisp, clear afternoon here; once Kat’a Kabanova finished, I had to suspend joining holiday festivities to go biking outdoors for a half hour to come up for air.

It was still evident from excellent investment in the text that the Miller production of Kat’a Kabanova was most likely one among best handful of productions the Met opened while under Joe Volpe (along with Miller’s Nozze di Figaro, the Wernicke Frau ohne schatten, Dorn Tristan und Isolde especially once revived for Met in HD, Flimm Fidelio starring Mattila – and under-rated Don Giovanni from 2004 - Marthe Keller).

Markus Stenz made a highly coveted Lyric Opera debut to conduct Kat’a Kabanova and had a good cast on hand to achieve almost similar results as heard from the Met five years ago. The soulful tug in the Lyric orchestra cellos during the prelude and piquant accents in light percussion and winds (with sleigh ride motif) were very apt, but also a tendency, toward maintaining a familiar romantic aura to the sound, to shy away from making angular as indicated some of Janacek’s rougher edges. Broken horn ostinati cutting into the texture for accompanying provocative dialogue from supporting cast on stage got underestimated.

Karita Mattila, as Kat’a, started out very promisingly, with Kat’a as we first see her under such heavy reproach. Though perhaps a little mature in timbre and heavier than ideal, she still brought out some of the soaring line in her extended scene with Varvara, concerning the birds, how much Kat’a would enjoy being like them – oblique reference to Puccini’s Madama Butterfly that Janacek had seen and loved. In desperate pleas to her husband toward end of Act One, Mattila affectingly took on some hardness, rigidity one associates with the Kabanicka, but therein also laid a risk of undercutting later passages.

It was still very evident that this was repertoire that still would suit her voice better than the heavier Puccini roles. Sense of guilt at first meeting Boris here sounded truly overwhelming, but she then moments later allowed both voice and persona to free up for sense of Kat’a being able to at least halfway enjoy this moment of freedom. It was also evident however that the very top of the voice, any notes lying more than a half-tone above the staff are no longer so reliable as they once were. Certainly the final monologues of the part brought to mind, in despair expressed, those in final scene of Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk – with Shostakovich having sought out Janacek’s musical example as well for similar social situation between the two heroines. Katerina, in the Shostakovich, is a part that would be ideal for Mattila to pick up very soon.

Katya’s plea to Boris to give alms to every beggar he meets made it a little too far into the throat to have the still resolve of someone so innocent as Kat’a is and determined to also end one’s life. One left this encounter with what had been a great interpretation of the title role with a little tougher or harder impression than desirable.

Judith Forst repeated her tough, malevolent Kabanicka from the Met five years ago, ideally so. It is not in the music or text to play the Kabanicka as victim of the social situation, as much as a continuing perpetrator of it, but one still sensed some hint of a woman trapped into the way she behaves or too willingly succumbing to her role as ever omniscient, omnipotent matriarch of the village. Even a hint of some warmth would come through vocally. Forst, while still playing the Kabanicka as the villain she is, also humanized the part, lifting it above caricature and thus making it more frightening than could a stock villain instead. Together with a little fruitiness to the timbre, she also found some of the Slavic wildness to Janacek’s writing. This joined her Pique-Dame Countess in Houston recently as one of the finest things I have ever heard her do. This was an altogether supreme and worthy achievement with this part, and one clearly lived in for some time with authority to show for it as well.

Brandon Jovanovich was very near as successful as Boris. He revealed fine baritonal depth to low notes, and free extension to an easily produced top. One found a Boris here, if not as acutely specific to its interpretative demands as Jorma Silvasti, more than close enough toward getting it just about entirely. There was a diffident shyness here, definitely which he allowed to be exposed in the final scene for Boris’s not being able or willing to stick around and up for what is right, regardless the cost. The sincere passion he feels for Kat’a and strong desire to break free, and also heavy sense of apprehension with going farther than he should with what is at stake were very apt.

Jason Collins was the sweet-toned, lyric Tikhon, but to a fault. As utterly determined, choleric the Kabanicka is, she might have decided by time action takes place that it may be her son’s fault things go so miserably. Even as pathetically impotent a character this is, he still makes his feelings, though ineffective toward any goal, heard –as Chris Merritt clearly did so at the Met. With a little more risk-taking for Tikhon, Collins may have it. Otherwise, this thankless part just blends into the wallpaper instead. Andrew Shore also started light as Dikoy – curious also being Alberich at Bayreuth under Thielemann (for one more summer), excerpt for hint of Bayreuth bark to indicate it here.. Low notes lacked depth. Judith Forst played their one scene together slightly more passively than usual, but fortunately Shore rose to the occasion for the dispute with Kudryash over the origins of electricity for what helped make an exciting start to Act Three.

Casting of the younger couple provided curious results. Liora Grodnikaite was the distinctively highly energetic Varvara - with tone having a cutting edge to it, Varvara’s interaction, especially with Kat’a, seemed more on edge, pushy, aggressive than is the norm. What playful innocence Varvara has, even if it looked it, vocally got pushed to the wayside. Maturation on Varvara’s part was felt, in her observing the consequence of what has transpired, but still within context of somewhat unvarying tone and attack.

Matching Forst in being ideal casting, but the very opposite in terms of character, was the Kudryash of Garrett Sorenson. This is for sure a future Boris, Laca, Albert Gregor. Everything about Kudryash got characterized here with easily produced top and slightly richer tone than may be always the norm. Sorenson managed to keep things light for this part, but also enlightened what progressive, ambitious characteristics and motives Kudryash has. Sorenson made on purpose a little heaviness in accent with the first folk song he gets in Act Two, but with all words and accents pointed just right. Kathleen Leemhuis made the eager, saucy Glasa - Amber Wagner as Feklusa and Paul La Rosa as Kulagin fine as well. The hearing of Boris and Kat’a toward very end of Act Two sounded too ‘echo chamber’ to be sufficiently backstage.

Markus Stenz, according to expectations, brought consistently good line, sweep, and ardor to this auspicious assignment. Until he got to the passages most specifically rehearsed for this – Act Three apparently – his Janacek suggested a glibly internationalized feel. Stenz’s objective take was clear, as was for the first two acts certainly lusty engagement with the music’s broader folk elements. Opening of Act Two had the slightly uneasy sway and swagger to it one seeks, then scene with Dikoy and Kabanicka good detachment as well. Support for his singers was consistently supple, including notably for Kat’a’s brief monologue about the birds midway through Act One.

The love scene in Act Two provided fine contrast between graphic depiction from Mattila, orchestra alike of her utter despondency or dread at attempting tryst with Boris and then acceptance with new shaft of light and lyricism to flood out the music, revealing that at last the stronger desire has won out - so mercilessly repressed until now. For sure, an oasis of temporary peace, real satisfaction follows. Denying at least in spirit what Janacek might indicate as to tempo relationships, Stenz became bent on lingering over so much. While the music describes so well stillness, a current carrying the action forward underneath and the utterly ephemeral character of the situation are still paramount. Such got missed here; Janacek could have almost been writing Jenufa again instead. The three fortissimo eruptions just past fading away voices of Varvara and Kudryash consequentially got mildly deflated.

Stenz then very effectively sustained line in Act Three through the ruminative laments of Kat’a in her despairing solitude, with light openly let in to anticipate and continue momentarily through Kat’a’s relief at opportunity to see Boris one last time. The violence and rapid interplay of all variety of contrasting elements during the storm were such, without for making special display, to prove Stenz fully on top of all issues involved in conducting this - what may have been subdued for getting insufficient rehearsal time for earlier scenes. The cumulative surge through the final two or three pages of this paralleled his very well stressed accenting with which he infused closing pages of Act One, bringing a very resourceful Lyric debut and this masterpiece to a fine close, with Kabanicka’s cool, cutting lines from Forst to cap it all off.

BBC: Halle Orchestra. Markus Stenz - Reflections on varying stages of life. Mahler 4. Schubert. Carolyn Sampson. Manchester (UK).

Markus Stenz’s one other appearance for a complete Mahler symphony cycle at Bridgewater Hall, involving both the Halle and the BBC Philharmonic, continued here with the Fourth. Numerous symphonies in the series are accompanied by including a new work that reflects upon what Mahler symphony, to begin with, is on the program. With the Second, space constraints prevented my mention of Crossing the Alps by Colin Matthews, a choral piece of flexibly shifting bi-tonalities, lasting eight minutes. It all sounded as challenging, compared with really crossing the alps, as technical climbing of sidewalk along north face of Uxbridge Road – for all the effort troupe seen putting into it. Inoffensive but unmemorable was this setting of Wordsworth.

This program, that opened with the original, then discarded second movement of Mahler’s First Symphony, called Blumine (recorded by Ormandy, Ivan Fischer, Mehta, Frank Brieff before, as part of the First), featured as companion to the Fourth - with Franz Schubert’s ‘Einsamkeit’, D. 620, as orchestrated by Henze protégé Detlev Glanert.

The sweet naivete of Blumine made it an ideal opener. Markus Stenz and strings of the Halle made febrile rustle of the breeze that, so facile, ushers in the bel canto melody, that principal trumpet of the Halle sang forth with tartly sweet ardor. What dark currents occur in the middle section of this were well pointed - also well pointed how short-lived they are, with gentle push forward into Neapolitan for relative minor key and then subtonic to the C Major Blumine is in - to reprise main idea in B-Flat Major. After colorfully moving through tertiary related key areas to full blossoming out in C Major, all here just wafted by with fine ease in ascending light, violins to most exquisite close.

‘Einsamkeit’ (“Solitude’) is set to poetry - philosophical testament - by Johan Mayrhofer, bosom buddy of Franz Schubert at the time - Schubert just barely out of his teens. The model of Beethoven’s unusually successful An die ferne Geliebte came to Schubert’s mind – toward his putting together probably his first song cycle - slightly longer than the Beethoven. Each of the six strophes making up this poem – each paired with antistrophe – begins with a heartfelt request, ultimately taken together covering some, figuratively speaking, of what is called the Seven Stages of Man – according to insightful liner notes by Graham Johnson (in Hyperion’s Schubert edition).

Two facts remain for introducing this piece. First of all, one title in ‘Winterreise’ coincides with the name of this song; similarity between that simple piece and this ends there. Paradoxically, this is not quite the best poetry that Schubert ever set to music. Reading it without the mostly inspired music to which it is set can strike one as pedantic, even quite naïve, clichéd. Beethoven, Johnson explains, conformed in what text he chose to more conservative among contemporary tastes than did Schubert in picking Mayrhofer.

Detlev Glanert has settled for pastel colors, smooth contours - more than likely he should have – in orchestrating the Schubert. Otherwise, this is successful work and here got played very well. Mellow lower winds introduce opening scene in an abbey, where we may more conventionally expect brass to more hieratic effect, with narrator, soprano Carolyn Sampson in this instance, pensively reveling in the solitude of abbey life (likely during which Schubert met Mayrhofer). Sampson came across here shade or two too light for singing this, but largely made up for any lack for the covered tone with which she expressed over chromatic harmony the first episode’s pensive thought – verging on deep melancholy. Stenz most effectively underlined trumpets cutting through strings to catch very well the restiveness to characterize the first antistrophe – cause for anxiety the idea of breaking free from abbey life.

Schubert expresses the quest to be active in life and then past another antistrophe to be among mix of good company by most Biedermeier means, so that Glanert is mostly free of fault for not coming up with the most imaginative solution to these two brief strophes, except for, in scoring, missing the hollow tone of repetitiveness and of the text itself toward end of the latter. The antistrophe in-between follows a hearty, naïve march in the winds to take us through moment of pensive daydreaming out to rural landscape, with it audible shepherd’s horn softly replaced by trumpets and flutes within perfectly bucolic air - Sampson’s voice filling things out so well. The yearning Sampson conveyed during third antistrophe, in E-Flat Minor, was most affecting.

Following a romanza (fourth strophe) with Sampson finding ideal bliss to fill out Schubert’s underlining of ‘Liebe’ and seligkeit’, Glanert most effectively has scored, with arch detachment probably the least effective passage of this piece – fourth antristrophe with its thinly inspired bellicose accents. Firm slow cortege on marked dotted rhythms for what followed got very close to as effectively scored. From Sampson for next strophe, while picking up pace of the dotted rhythms, one missed the firmness expected from a deeper voice, toward making felt the stark antiwar protest of the lyrics here. All peacefully opened out with guileless ardor into great contentment found at last in solitude, nature all about - with Glanert having strings undulate the least intrusive lilting barcarolle rhythm which Schubert has had accompany the narrator’s final lines.

Carolyn Sampson was less than perfectly ideal in sustaining legato for such a passage, but feeling for the text, emotional purity and quest for finding as much tonal variety as is feasible all worked to her advantage. She is hardly more at fault to attempt this than Robert Holl or Nathan Berg who take the entire song a third down, and are each mildly too heavy for it, while she has settled for ‘Einsamkeit’s original key.. Stenz here made a consistently most sensitive accompanist, catching so well the willfully shifting moods of this piece, understatedly scored by Detlev Glanert.

Stenz, after interval, then proceeded to make close to a true bucolic romp out of first movement of the Mahler Fourth Symphony, still stopping short of making something two-dimensional or shallow out of this – as for instance did Abbado for DGG thirty years ago. Tempo choices for playing the introduction and reprise thereof were inconsistent here, willfully so, but all working within a context where, as Stenz hears it, everything can sound forth spontaneous and free. One should not more than lightly begrudge Stenz for taking such open liberties. All parody, pomposity, latter including that of the French horn in way he randy-toned went about the quote from Beethoven’s Fourth Piano Concerto in the coda, got underlined here with wonderful fervor and intensity - always stopping short of getting self-conscious or excessively breaking line. Harsh muted trumpet, mixed with percussion and flute sonorities rang out in full relief, especially during the Development. Toss-off of music to trail off from quote of upcoming Fifth Symphony opening ideally made the sublimely ephemeral thereof, with slow lilt into recapitulation mid-phrase to follow. The subito piu mosso off the sleigh bells to open the first movement was hardly at all excessive. Parody in underlining Haydn-esque closing theme with hard bumps forward where called for was ideal.

One had throughout the first movement the feeling of musicians being highly well prepared and at once thoroughly, unabashedly enjoying themselves, so simply bringing out this music’s rough edges. Stenz’s interpretation has reminded me here somewhat of Jonathan Nott’s with Bamberg at the Proms several years back – arguable whether more ideally or not - in more of a Romantic filled out sense - yet without shirking any of this music’s frequent asperity or harsh dissonances. Such held true in the macabre scherzo, with sting on high F in G Minor in violins most searing in its main section. Only the ‘ohne hast’ that Mahler marked for the scherzo seemed to get put aside. The most Vienniese lilt otherwise characterized Stenz’s manner, with Lynn Fletcher’s playing demonic fiddle with good arch tone.

Incisively placed muted trumpet staccato arpeggios in reprise of the main section of this contrasted with the lazy gait Stenz gave reprise of the simple laendler trio section that opens out from F Major to, understated by Stenz, idyllic episode in D Major with all deft grace possible. Stenz toward end of final reprise of main section only missed underlining French horn on brief solo to extent he should. Winds, though, explained the going bad of fairy tale only as apologetic for the consequences. Such made, without turning coy, for just the height of badness in confronted odd scenario here.

Schubertian restful poise was found to open ‘Ruhevoll’ - the ‘poco’ in Poco Adagio ideally well observed. Stenz, breathing the lines of this so naturally through Halle strings, eschewed making the utterly sublime out of opening the movement that to 101 strings level can in all truth become far too limned too early on, insipidly so, but not here. All was internalized to extent that one hardly could resent lack of there being much of a slowdown as marked for the first Minore episode in this double variations movement. As episode proceeded, Stenz gradually infused it with deep requisite yearning, expressive depth. Stenz, though seeming slightly restive in moving return to the Maggiore - Mahler only gradually having shifted the pace - beautifully made up for what only by some may be construed wrong by completely waiting for the zuruckhaltend (holding back) to be marked toward end of this episode to observe it. By some standards such strict observation was most unusual; it also proved so refreshing.

Oboe starkly opening second Minor episode in Phyrgian mode G Minor prefigured impassioned outcry in strings in tritone-related C-Sharp Minor with something veering toward Italianate fervor in handing such out so openly.. Stenz then eschewed making too exaggerated - back in Maggiore - the speed-ups to follow, content with pointing the humor of doing so with plentiful detail for point to fully get across. Again, very refreshingly, Mantovani failed to make it through rear or stage door for reprise of Poco adagio, coming upon the grandiose pomposity that follows to ‘open gates of Paradise’, sense of which Stenz clearly on purpose maintained as still seeming at a distance. He most unusually brought out conspicuously an open non-harmonized third/fifth on D (with only fourth below in harps to give it so hollow support) in muted horns, chimed with hollow tone right before bombast to ensue.

In sonorities to follow ‘gates of paradise’ only expressing longing or desire to completely dissolve into the blue, allusion found before to 1950’s dance hall pop very refreshingly did not emerge here. If any moment in Mahler has perhaps resembled something Lawrence Welk so often, this one has. Stenz, with his background in Second Vienna School through Rihm, Stockhausen, Henze, will not allow it.

With that consideration in mind, the ‘himmlische Leben’ finale opened with unforced ease - good pointing of laendler throughout with hard accents on off-beats for touch of roughness or contaminazione made intact. Pace moved breezily forward - without pushing too hard ahead - until final stanza in E Major. Acrid however were the pushed loud ritornelli based upon sleigh bells from opening movement, as Stenz pointed them. Carolyn Sampson found herself vocally on home turf here for sure, keeping innocence of this vision completely with the words themselves, thus refraining from making coy her lines or vocal color. Her voice then filled out for relaxed gait with which Stenz took the final and most sublime stanza that again so warmly brought this symphony to a close.

Here was a Fourth fully attuned to the ‘Wunderhorn’ of Mahler’s early adulthood, with bucolic element infusing it never put away for more sublime heights to be achieved here or anywhere. Accents of what is to follow in Mahler, in his later symphonies, in clearly but gently progressive manner, got fully observed and as unashamed of their dissonances - without having to skewer ensemble balances to get them. By contrast to that was the fully song-like ardor Stenz lent the second theme of the first movement and stark, ebullient lift he gave the jugglers-in-the-temple marcia idea – announced boldly on solo flute early during the Development.

The Halle Orchestra returned in this series with the Eighth and Ninth Symphonies conducted by their music director Mark Elder. During its Barbirolli days, the Halle would most frequently get deduced, perhaps accurately so as being third tier or lower rung second tier. Barbirolli would be taken aback by the stark relief and flexible manner of phrasing Mahler Stenz has availed himself of here. Barbirolli openly shirked music expressing modernism to exceed either that of Schoenberg’s Pelleas, Delius, or Malcolm Arnold. Other than some weakness in the double basses, the Halle is under such men as Elder, Stenz, and Nagano before, an ensemble today most assured, including in twentieth century and progressive repertoire. It now ranks out near front of the line among plethora of second-tier orchestras islands and continent wide.

BBC - Halle Orchestra: Mahler Second in fine, driven account by Markus Stenz - 10.02.10

The Mahler Second Symphony, closing with the Klopstock ode, Auferstehung (‘Resurrection’), to which Mahler added a few verses of his own, is likely - before embarking on the Sixth, especially for its great finale, the most progressive and challenging Mahler wrote, It also aspires for lofty aesthetic heights and elicits the most striving, dramatically and musically, to make them as anything he ever wrote.

What often gets missed is what elucidates the most naked progressivism possible for those who can see or hear it. The Second lays out its structure in such a way to challenge all odds. It also most frequently gets partly overlooked because of so much overlay of theatricality for what Mahler is surmised to graphically depict in its finale. Numerous interpreters of the Second, including even some famous names, appear not foolhardy enough to avoid temptation of leaving things just at that, most notably Leonard Bernstein, at least on both of his first two recordings, for CBS, hardly less the one he recorded in London than the previous.

Mahler, for one, never subtitled the symphony ‘Auferstehung.’ On the other hand, he had not developed the contrapuntal mastery that later one hears hinted at in the Fourth, and is still being developed past what is so well mostly academically achieved with the Fifth. It had become fully integrated into his compositional processes when he got around to the Sixth. Forget the Sixth’s deceptively starting out along conservative lines formally; the sprawling ‘sonata quasi una fantasia’ finale does not take any hostages.

Among Mahler interpreters today, someone with experience in some of the most progressive of twentieth century music – Henze, Stockhuausen, Rihm – should be most adept to conquer the Mahler Second Symphony. Markus Stenz’s recording of this with the Melbourne SO has received accolades in some quarters as its greatest recording nobody has ever heard. It has never in any format been available over here.

One of probably only a handful of disappointing movements in the very fine Gielen Mahler cycle (Hannsler) is probably the finale to the Second, for perhaps mildly excessively the academic approach - not quite catching quite this music’s full scope. One often settles from the podium of leaving interpretation just to depict events the music supposedly describes, even graphically so, and letting with (mostly) clear beat everything else take care of itself. Many people have left concert halls the world over much satisfied with performances that end up so, and yet there has to be a feeling of something too superficially achieved, such as for instance on at least Bernstein's first two recordings. Problem with making theatricality out of the finale, such as also did Solti is that Mahler introduces a tension within having an existentialist grasp of what was before him. He expresses such by a certain internal fragmentation in how he builds structure to most emphatically the finale to the Second; in doing so he broke new paths – more so than in the Third Symphony to follow. Johannes Brahms, upon only having heard the first three movements of the Second, correctly indicated Mahler ‘composer of the future,’ with so many around proclaiming it Richard Strauss.

Markus Stenz is, along with Nott and Metzmacher, a conductor to watch very closely today, including in his progress at conducting Mahler, after very striking impression he made at the Proms with the Gurzenich Koln on the Mahler Fifth in 2008. I enjoyed very much listening to his new disc of it with them this past week. He prudently understated here with the Second that he had at all in mind a more expansive Romantic approach or really, latent, in fact somewhat of a hybrid with such for just about all of this up until its finale. With measure of intellect Stenz has, this proved curious.

The revised ‘Totenfeier’, first movement of the Second, opened with stark realism and forthright rhythm and structural sense, holding forth great promise for what might follow. Even tremoli in the strings, occasionally heard as being still a little thin with the Halle, helped sustain tension, pulsation, and line very effectively here. Nodal points, numerous in the first movement, all received very astute placement, making full dramatic effect out of each without having to bloat Mahler’s textures or put on any grand display Halle’s resources. An at once gritty, old-world quality in sound especially on brass sonorities assisted toward their finding all internal dissonances thus so very well, Stenz achieved more with in effect less. Stenz also attended to diffusing space for textures to open out to full extent for especially lyrical pages – second theme suffused with transfigural light each time - each time individually in context of both what was to come before and follow.

Contributions from Halle brass varied from cutting incisiveness to muted, deep accents from lower reaches - very warm French horns in-between. At a few points, Stenz excitingly, even perhaps excitably made something a bit fractious, through brilliant agitato string writing, but with all clear goal in mind very well attained, keeping paramount the highest priority of dramatic clarity and firm structural sense. He drew out of this music its deep funereal colors and contrasting sublime light that still shines through, even at times slightly during some of the darkest passages of the first movement. Muffled accents on timpani down low right before momentary E-Flat Minor reprise of start to the first movement, following perfect Wunderhorn mirth through light procession in the woodwinds was moment rapt, rife with musical and dramatic tension, succinctly achieved. Pointing of the ‘Weh’ motif in the first two movements, in always being placed so beautifully and poignantly, was always spot-on - also to anchor disparate contrasting strands of development especially in the first movement.

Placing violins very far back for long last arch to the musical line in the first movement during the coda showed a penchant also for some risk-taking with this music. Stenz pulled such off with solid vigor. One welcomes Stenz perhaps taking on a little more of an urgent pace with this music, for still more acute sense of what this music is about without making any diminution of it - doing so possibly risk in and of itself. For what he had before him here, he chose tempo for this most sensibly, toward getting everything he asked for here quite definitively so.

Slightly heavy accent underneath combined with gentle lilt above, and simplicity in picking up the music’s rustic accents in-between definitively characterized the Andante moderato– within context of always comfortably forward moving pace. Stenz always closely observed proportions between contrasting Maggiore and Minore sections with very flexible, blossoming gemutlich, melos infused shaping of violin section descant and cello section obbligato lines for the former, yilelding nothing to excess or bathos. For first trio, Stenz prudently placed entering high violin triplets behind repeat eighth-note E-flats on solo horn, toward making both arch and fully satisfying profile of the main theme for both Minore sections. Contrasting with such astute formal sense was the gentle air of nostalgia he had waft through so many lyrical accents this music picks up - including in making long transition out of especially second trio (‘Minore’) into closing A section.

The third movement, while still being good, revealed at several critical junctures that Stenz could not prove quite entirely foolhardy in getting past a few unscathed. He made very prickly the pointing of the Wunderhorn theme – ‘St. Anthony preaches to the fishes’ – such moment of clipping best to overlook because Stenz effectively made it enhance characterizing this music so well. He wisely understated the often thwack upbeat to open this scherzo, to make complete sense of the rocking lilt serving violin line obbligato that at first plays here simply as introduction to the theme. Clarinet arpeggio in odd intervals could have used both a little more pointing and a little stronger underpinning, but capture of lilt into the first simple trio section was most engaging. Strong digging in on cellos and basses for starting the second trio section was distinctive at first; the second time it occurred it did so disproportionately with Stenz having undercut, clipped endings to ‘paradise gone bad’ middle section he had so beautifully introduced in a translucent E Major with fully voiced trio of trumpets. Anticipatory frolic, pomp to it was excellent.

What space Stenz can allow such moments, that here tend to end with too rapid descending run back into main theme - what pointed rubato, dissonance expanding allargando he can give these will provide solution to common error here. Stenz ultimately made full relish of the very open peasant frolic of this and of this music’s contrasting macabre elements and capture of Elysium as well.

‘Urlicht’, sung lyrically with intimate feeling by mezzo Katerina Karneus, but with Stenz reining in his forces a bit far back behind the vocal line, came across most effectively. Karneus lightly pointed out the angst, ardor, Wunderhorn naivete, and sense of what to grope for as profound through the highly expressive text with fine evenness of line. Orchestral principals characterized their solos with abundant sensitivity and profile, fully supportive of Ms. Karneus.

The monumental finale to this symphony, while not receiving a bad rendition, proved a bit of a letdown after expectations Stenz had raised already. Ferocity and exultation through respectively the most agitated and affirmative passages of the finale were not undercut, except for some of what lies beneath them and between so many multifaceted episodes upon which the finale to the Mahler Second is built. This is true within reckoning this music in the best possible way as designed from modus operandi or impetus that puts, as broadly interpreted, orthodox Roman Catholic faith to doubt – as much as quite differently does the Universalist text of both Klopstock and Mahler. One can even posit that there is within the finale of the Second Symphony, without the cumulative contrapuntal mastery that informs so much of the Sixth what ultimately made it then a very real possibility – not near just so much indicated by change at third from major to minor mode - originating from the ‘Weh’ in ‘Klagende Lied.’ Aspects of the design of the Second are deceptively simple. Mahler was not yet the full craftsman he was to become less than ten years later.

After curiously understated opening to the finale, Stenz held on very well through all the mystery to follow, finding very fine placement of the differing, contrasting voices from afar. Once into louder tutti sections, leading into suggestion of a development section for this finale - while on purpose ultimately being unsatisfactory as such - Stenz lost somewhat the focus he had maintained so well before. One is so used to opening segue into this expanding out, even almost ad infinitum at times, so much that one has to be really thinking ahead of what consequences might be of doing so even halfway. The broad brush digging in by strings for trumpet led marcia (marked Kraftig) is another. Stenz proved himself undaunted in handling complex textures through all the first extended loud tutti, making them all acutely clear, even including what is often inaudible; oxymoron for Stenz, broad sense of structure thereof – fragmentation built therein there to so emphasize that this is from which the most violent struggle arises – replaced such specific indication of what is quintessential here. Only by measuring Stenz’s efforts by the highest possible standards, did things go awry. Acutely, such occurred a minute after ‘false recapitulatory start in F Minor (approached from subdominant - B-Flat Minor), with closing very long descent thereof on diminished chord having proven flaccid here.

Past a slightly enervated, unstable, but still well characterized sequence of episodes - thanks again to consistently fine work from numerous Halle principals - starting with 'agitato' introduced on ‘Weh’ by doleful trombone, the Halle Choir entered well. Slightly gummy attack apart at first, Halle Choir’s keen attention to excellent balances and to expressive meaning of their text restored confidence for all involved. For being placed slightly forward, Susan Gritton had discerning ear to place tone slightly back to achieve right degree of mystery to her opening solos; she then joined Katerina Karneus for duet of freely open expressive ardor, helping bulld toward exultant conclusion to overall a fine account of the Second Symphony.

Stenz, for most concluding episodes, relocated his very fine grasp of formal objectivity that had, in conducting this had intermittently evaded him earlier. One should look forward to encountering him doing a work again soon which he has given much care and attention - and then of course with more in place than even now.