(++++) THIRD: THE SECOND

Mahler: Symphony No. 2. Christiane Karg, soprano; Elisabeth Kulman, alto; Prague Philharmonic Choir and Czech Philharmonic conducted by Semyon Bychkov. Pentatone. $15.99.

     The sequence in which Pentatone is releasing the Mahler symphony cycle featuring Semyon Bychkov conducting the Czech Philharmonic is a bit difficult to fathom. It is not just that the symphonies are out of order – so are their recording dates. The first release was No. 4, recorded in 2020; the second was No. 5, recorded in 2021; and now we have No. 2, recorded in – 2018. If the idea is to keep interested listeners guessing about what is going on and when it is going on, this sequence has certainly succeeded. Ignore the oddity of the symphonies’ order and recording dates, though, and what has already become quite clear is that this will be an exceptionally fine Mahler cycle and, in fact, is one already.

      Mahler’s Eastern European roots mean that there is a certain degree of automatic affinity between the Czech Philharmonic and this composer’s music, but that alone does not explain the high quality of these specific performances, which stand out despite the fact that nowadays orchestras everywhere have made Mahler part of the standard repertoire. Again and again in these recordings, Bychkov shows a level of attention to detail and understanding of context that produce wholly convincing interpretations that are exceptionally well-played. The sound quality of the series is also worth mentioning, especially in the new release of the “Resurrection,” which has the entire work – all 87 minutes of it – on a single disc, a feat thought impossible without diminution of sound quality until just a few years ago (and one rarely attempted even today: virtually all CDs still run 80 minutes or less).

     Bychkov opens the Mahler Second with an unusually clearly articulated string run, and makes the funereal nature of the first movement abundantly evident throughout. There is ebb and flow here not only of volume but also of tempo, although never to an exaggerated degree. The dramatic explosions of sound are well-contrasted with the quieter passages – indeed, one of the best elements of this entire performance is the effective differentiation between nearly inaudible quiet material and explosive full-orchestra outbursts. Bychkov is not afraid to progress very slowly in portions of this movement, although the music never actually drags. The result is a movement that sounds like a self-contained tone poem – neatly explaining Mahler’s own perception of the movement and his request that at least five minutes of silence be observed between the first movement and the second (not that anyone ever does that in concert or, most likely, at home either).

     The second movement is the weakest in this reading. It is always difficult to bring off after the monumental opening; under Bychkov, it is gentle and on the slow side, although the lovely flow in the strings is a big plus. As a whole, the movement is very emotional, almost cloying – a bit too overstated for the material.

     The third movement works much better. Beginning with another strong opening, here on resonant timpani, this movement has good flow from the start, with a real sense of tone painting of flowing water and the fish within it (from the song on which it is based, Des Antonius von Padua Fischpredigt). The Czech Philharmonic winds are especially effective here. So is the way Bychkov builds the basic gentleness of the material to a very strong climax, almost as if a giant wave washes over fish and preacher alike before the movement graciously and gracefully subsides.

     The fourth movement opens with the near-silence so effective throughout this performance. Elisabeth Kulman’s first words are almost whispered, in strong contrast to the chorale-like feeling of the brass. There is a sense of underlying pain beneath the beauty from the movement’s beginning. Kulman does not have an especially deep or resonant voice, but she enunciates clearly and sings with emotion that changes suitably as the movement progresses. The encounter with the angel starts with a sense of wonder, nicely communicated through Kulman’s vocalization, then quickly leads to a palpable sense of disappointment mixed with strong yearning that makes the very gentle instrumental closing an ambivalent one.

     The massive finale – its 36 minutes here split into two tracks – has a super-intense opening that highlights its trumpet calls and dissonance. Bychkov does not hesitate to descend into complete silence – as when the music becomes still before the solo trumpet is first heard, thus conveying real anticipation of what is to come. Mahler’s use of massed vs. individual instruments – the amazing way he brings chamber-music effects to works using a large orchestra – is especially clearly conveyed here. So is a sense of drift, of uncertainty, for the first eight minutes of the movement, until the exclamatory, triumphal proclamation by the brass. Bychkov’s pacing is generally deliberate, allowing the music to unfold gradually and build in a way that seems inevitable. The slight weakness here is a certain element of sprawl, caused by Bychkov’s determination to allow each section of this monumental movement to proceed at its own pace. The result is at times a bit disconnected, as if Mahler has strung together numerous episodes (which is indeed the case) without interconnecting them effectively (which is not the case). When it is time for the choral entry – splendidly handled by the Prague Philharmonic Choir under choirmaster Lukáš Vasilek – everything is very quiet indeed, but the enunciation is excellent and the gradual buildup of volume is handled effectively. Again there is a sense of almost whispering the quieter words as this climactic vocal material – including fine performances by Kulman and soprano Christiane Karg – gains steadily in intensity. The contrast between the full-throated choral sections and absolute silence is expertly handled, and there is genuine uplift in the vocal exclamations. But after all the words, this symphony has an instrumental ending, and here Bychkov makes it a genuine capstone: the bells within and above the rest of the at-full-volume orchestra produce an extraordinary conclusion that looks ahead with surprising anticipation to the “universe resounding” conclusion that Mahler would eventually bring to his Symphony No. 8.

     All in all, this is a thoroughly satisfying and highly moving performance featuring first-rate orchestral playing, a chorus that is exceptionally smooth throughout its full dynamic range, and a conception showing that Bychkov has thought the “Resurrection” symphony through thoroughly and plumbed its depths to very good effect. This performance will definitely whet listeners’ appetite for whatever symphony may be released next in this Mahler cycle – whenever that one will turn out to have been recorded.