(++++) SCALING THE HEIGHTS

Mahler: Symphony No. 8 (“Symphony of a Thousand”). Carolyn Sampson and Jacquelyn Wagner, sopranos; Sasha Cooke and Jess Dandy, altos; Barry Banks, tenor; Julian Orlishausen, baritone; Christian Immler, bass; Minnesota Chorale, National Lutheran Choir, Minnesota Boychoir, Angelica Cantanti Youth Choir and Minnesota Orchestra conducted by Osmo Vänskä. BIS. $19.99 (SACD).

Mahler: Symphony No. 9. Minnesota Orchestra conducted by Osmo Vänskä. BIS. $19.99 (SACD).

Mahler: Symphony No. 10 (version by Deryck Cooke). Minnesota Orchestra conducted by Osmo Vänskä. BIS. $19.99 (SACD).

     Osmo Vänskä’s nearly two-decade term at the helm of the Minnesota Orchestra had the sort of turbulence, and ultimate triumph, that only a composer such as Mahler could capture in music. A 16-month contract dispute between musicians and management midway through Vänskä’s tenure led him to resign as the orchestra’s 10^th music director – only to return after the musicians accepted a pay cut (deemed necessary to avoid dissolving the orchestra altogether) and gained greater artistic input and control. Before the lockout started in 2012, Vänskä had already spent a decade honing the orchestra into one that could stand at the pinnacle of American ensembles and rival many of the best in Europe. After the interregnum, Vänskä and the musicians plunged back into their work with the strongest of wills, and the result was – among other things – one of the best Mahler symphony cycles ever recorded. A few of the earlier performances had their slightly tentative moments: the orchestra coalesced around Vänskä’s exceptionally well-thought-through interpretations despite a few missteps here and there. But as the Mahler series continued, conductor and ensemble produced recording after recording of rare scope, power and intensity – most clearly in their readings of Mahler’s last three symphonies.

     This cycle on BIS has not been released in the symphonies’ actual sequence: the most-recent recording is of Symphony No. 8. And what a recording it is! The sound of these SACDs has been exemplary throughout, and never more so than here, where astonishing clarity allows perfect audibility of everything from the remarkably quiet passages to those that gave the work its nickname of “Symphony of a Thousand.” The clarity and intensity of Vänskä’s approach are apparent from the very start, where conductors must make a choice as to how the chorus sings the words, Veni creator spiritus – are the words a prayer, imploring the Holy Spirit to enter, or are they more of a command? Vänskä opts decisively for the latter interpretation as the movement strides forth boldly. The quick initial pacing conveys a sense of enthusiasm plus expectation. Imple superna is strongly contrasted in tempo, with very fine vocal blending in this expansive section. Orchestral elements and interludes are especially strong, with the excellent audio quality notably highlighting the bells and the first-rate brass – while chamber-music elements (such as the solo violin) balance the huge masses of sound to good effect. Dissonance is emphasized at the start of Accende lumen sensibus, and this whole section is delivered with tremendous power and enthusiasm – with the words obviously being of special significance to Mahler. The sweetness of Pacem dones protinus is also notable. In its totality, this is a jubilant performance, with the re-entry of the organ near the end cementing the instrumental component.

     In the symphony’s second part, the concluding scenes of Part II of Goethe’s Faust, the opening Poco adagio re-sets the scene immediately and very impressively. Although the work is essentially a grand cantata with a strong vocal focus, Vänskä is highly sensitive to the instrumental elements that serve to tie the whole thing together. Mahler's scene-painting here is exquisite, and Vänskä's pacing is just right. So is his attentiveness to the thematic material, as when Mahler in this transition introduces the music that will eventually conclude the whole work, presenting it repeatedly and insistently – although its full significance becomes known only at the very end of the symphony. Quiet and a sense of wonder blend when the chorus enters, and tremendous sincerity is projected by the soloists in what is admittedly some rather abstruse/mystical verbiage. Vänskä, the singers and orchestra do an exceptional job of differentiating the sound of the various sections – Mahler's use of multiple choruses is beautifully highlighted, with the glowing strength of the instrumental material holding everything together and underlining the amazingly variegated vocal writing. There is exceptional sweetness in the instrumental material before Dir, der Unberührbaren, which like all the solos is sung with deep reverence and conviction. It is doubtful that the boys' and youth choirs fully understand the meaning and philosophical implications of what they are singing, but it is a credit to Vänskä and choir directors Mark S. Johnson and Elizabeth Egger that the lines are delivered with such sincerity as well as such an appealingly pure sound. Although all the solo singers are excellent, Carolyn Sampson is especially outstanding in two separate roles. Her pure ethereality as Mater Gloriosa is wonderfully contrasted with her comparatively earthy Magna Peccatrix – she has a marvelously adaptable voice. The final chorus' swelling from extreme quiet to overwhelming sound is extraordinarily well paced, bringing this exceptional performance to an exceptional end.

     Mahler did not so much “top” each symphony with the next as take each in a different direction from its predecessor – yet with some structural elements remaining distinctly “Mahlerian” to tie together the entire symphonic cycle. In the first movement of Vänskä’s reading of the Ninth, there is slight hesitancy at the open, which sounds just right; then the music strives for lyricism and finds it in the strings. There is a pervasive sense of struggle from the start, a yearning for peace and acceptance/resignation that is not to be found until the end of the fourth movement. The faster material ups the emotional ante: Vänskä keeps the pacing strong, and sometimes headlong, the rhythms carefully articulated, the swelling and subsiding of sound managed carefully, even elegantly. The emotional conviction of this performance is what stands out. Then, just when the energy seems about to flag midway through the movement, Vänskä pulls the music forward into a passage of heightened tension and drama. The brass section is a standout here: both warm and precise, it sounds much like the brass in a first-rate European orchestra – unusual for an American ensemble. The chorale three minutes before the end is elegantly played and almost unbearably sweet, and the conclusion evaporates into evanescence that sounds fraught with meaning.

     In the second movement, the rhythmically emphatic opening – again with outstanding brass contributions above the strings – brings strength but not heaviness. There are elements of awkward dance reminiscent of the third movement of Beethoven's Sixth, but the scope here is larger and more personal, more internalized. The dissonance of the contrasting second section stands out – this is heavy-handed (or heavy-footed) music that remains determinedly earthbound, as if in contrast to the ethereality of much of the first movement. The return of the initial section lightens matters a bit; but there is a level of twisted humor, almost sarcasm, underlying it. The final five minutes heighten that sense as the music becomes increasingly frenetic, more insistent on its dissonances; and then there is a sudden slowdown to something approximating the movement's opening – but the context is different, paving the way for the Rondo-Burleske. The solo instruments toward the second movement’s end are suitably pointed and played with strong rhythmic assurance. And then, in the third movement, the sarcasm is made explicit, Vänskä seeing to it that the music takes on a frantic quality from the start, sweeping and swooping – led by brass but with especially pointed woodwinds, which come into their own in this movement. The nonstop activity envelops all sections of the orchestra, which tumble over one another in what often sounds chaotic but in fact is very carefully controlled and structured. Vänskä gets this duality just right, juxtaposing a sense of burgeoning chaos with close attentiveness to the movement's underlying form. It is a wild ride, interrupted at its center by somewhat strained (and restrained) lyricism that seeks to find order in the apparent chaos – only to fall back, first reluctantly/tentatively and then enthusiastically/almost orgiastically, into the earlier chaotic realm. The essential weirdness of the movement is allowed to flower fully here in a truly breathless conclusion.

     It is left for the finale to bring closure to the apparently incompatible complexities of the first three movements. Vänskä understands this from the movement's start, setting a very broad Adagio tempo that strongly emphasizes the warmth of strings rather than the acerbity of the other orchestral sections as heard in the previous movement. Mahler's unusual indication for this movement is not always observed. It is Sehr langsam und noch zurückhaltend – "very slow and still reserved." In what sense "reserved" is meant is a matter for each conductor to decide. Vänskä takes it to mean that the undeniable emotionalism of the movement must not be so over-the-top as to become cloying. He focuses on extracting gorgeous sound, especially from the strings, and keeping the movement's pace regular enough to carry listeners along with its emotional expressiveness – which he does not emphasize to the point of overdoing either its sweetness or its pervasive sense of resignation. Even knowing that there is a Mahler Tenth, it can be hard at the end of the Ninth to imagine what more the composer could possibly have to say: there is a glowing beauty to this movement that seems to sum up so much of what the symphony has been expressing – indeed, what all the symphonies, individually and collectively, express. Unlike the slow conclusion of the Third, which is equally extended, the finale of the Ninth does not seem to look outward to God but inward to a kind of self-awareness melded with acceptance of mortality, of the evanescence of consciousness. It is a huge credit to this performance that it inspires thoughts of just that sort of meaning and meaningfulness, solving nothing but pointing toward a solution both specific to Mahler and universal for all those experiencing his music. Thus, the exceptional quiet at the end comes across as a kind of peace that passeth all understanding.

     Where could Mahler possibly go from here? The unfinished Tenth Symphony, which would certainly have undergone changes had Mahler lived to complete it, nevertheless does take matters several steps further than the Ninth – as is made clear by the Deryck Cooke performing version of 1976/1989 that is used by Vänskä (and that is still the best, although there are now at least half a dozen others). Vänskä has clearly studied Cooke’s realization with extreme care. In the first movement, there is exceptional delicacy at the open, after which the odd and eerie dancelike lyricism comes through particularly well. There is a sense of unending expansion and striving through the first third of the movement. Then it becomes more exploratory, wandering musically but still firmly centered emotionally – and always exceptionally well-played. There is a tremendous contrast between the quiet just before the famous eruption of a nine-note dissonant chord, which comes as a genuine shock and seems impossible to follow – yet Mahler does follow it, just as he followed his Ninth Symphony with this movement. The quiet portions are exceptional, almost inaudible yet piercingly clear in their delicacy and careful emphasis. The very end is a perfect example of Mahler’s skill at writing chamber music for large orchestra. Then comes the second movement and first Scherzo, producing a notable structural parallel with Mahler’s Seventh, but with dissonance more pronounced. The whole is a somewhat off-kilter dance. In the third movement, again, the delicacy is notable, and Vänskä shows an excellent sense of rhythmic vitality. This is a very short movement, but it is packed with thematic materials that will reappear later. The fourth movement and second Scherzo opens intensely, its jagged rhythms hinting at anguish. The sense here is of a constant threat that can erupt anytime. Again, dissonance is a crucial component of the music: the movement seems to argue with itself, with lyrical/quiet passages contrasted with intense/louder ones, all within a kind of stop-and-go structure. The sound world here is deliberately odd; for example, Mahler combines “oompah” rhythms with muted trumpet sounds. The use of solo instruments and timpani at the end, and the very quiet conclusion, are highly impressive in this reading.

     Then the finale appears attacca, and again strangeness of sound is front-and-center: the muffled drum that Mahler heard in a funeral procession comes as a shock, after which the movement seems to grow organically above its cortège elements. The strings evince a lyricism here beyond that of prior movements. The sense of yearning familiar from earlier symphonies develops here as well, but is interrupted by further muffled drum strokes and reminiscences of earlier movements. It is, all in all, a strange and expansive movement. Unlike Bruckner's finales, which have an inevitability about them even if that becomes clear only in retrospect, this conclusion never fully clarifies where it is going emotionally or structurally – until, in its second half, it unites all the disparate elements of the symphony (including a recurrence of the nine-note dissonant chord) to produce a wholly satisfying sense of summation. The ending manages to be heartfelt, uplifting and foundationally sad at the same time – a remarkable emotional combination to which Vänskä pays precise attention.

     There is a remaining irony to Vänskä’s excellent presentation of Mahler’s last three symphonies, in that these recordings are not in fact the conclusion of his Mahler cycle with the Minnesota Orchestra – despite the fact that he has now left the ensemble. The gigantic Third Symphony remains unrecorded, a victim, like so much else, of scheduling issues associated with the COVID-19 pandemic. Surely Vänskä will return as conductor emeritus for that final capstone of what has proved to be a thoroughly remarkable Mahler cycle. This is a sequence that is fully deserving of the attention, and the accolades, of every Mahler aficionado.