(++++) SEASONS OF LIGHT AND DARKNESS

Mahler: Symphony No. 3. Jennifer Johnston, mezzo-soprano; Women of the Minnesota Chorale, Minnesota Boychoir, and Minnesota Orchestra conducted by Osmo Vänskä. BIS. $42.99 (2 SACDs).

     The famous opening of Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities contains not only the juxtaposition of the bright and the dark but also the remark that “it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.” And that is a particularly apt, if reversed and oversimplified, way of looking at and listening to Mahler’s monumental emotional explorations in his Symphony No. 3. Performances that get to the heart of the feelings underlying the music by unfolding its structure with care and eloquence are always uplifting experiences. And the completion of Osmo Vänskä’s superb Mahler cycle – occurring after his departure from Minnesota, because of COVID-related scheduling issues – beautifully fulfills the promise of his earlier recordings.

     The excellence of this reading announces itself from the very beginning, as the eight horns ring out with tremendous clarity, as if with a call to arms. But then the music subsides into perfect, evocative silence: the SACD sound from BIS is excellent, and that includes lack of sound. Vänskä makes the movement’s procession almost funereal at first, but soon broadens the scope so it gives the impression that something enormous is awakening. Is it benign? Malign? Indifferent? An open question at this point. The brass is remarkably effective here, with Vänskä bringing out some midrange material that is not often clearly heard. The pace picks up after about six minutes, and the delicacy of the scoring becomes apparent: Vänskä highlights individual touches to excellent effect. Again and again the music subsides into quietude, seeming to contemplate where to go next; again and again, Vänskä pulls it forward into new realms that connect surprisingly seamlessly with ones already explored – while opening new vistas ahead. Getting the silences right is surprisingly important in Mahler, and in this enormous movement it is truly crucial – a fact that Vänskä clearly understands. Holding this massive movement together is an achievement for any conductor; granting it cohesiveness despite the ways in which it meanders is an even bigger accomplishment. The silken playing of the orchestra focuses listeners' attention throughout and produces a feeling of anticipation for what comes next. Vänskä allows each of the interwoven episodes of the movement full expressiveness while providing an effective overarching view of the music, which in this performance is on one level a self-contained tone poem (in this one way along the lines of the first movement of Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 4) – but on another level, and at the same time, is a gigantic curtain-raiser for even more exploration and splendor still to come. The percussion use two-thirds of the way through is especially outstanding, actually carrying along the more-melodic instruments to the recapitulation of the opening – which thus makes perfect sense in this context. Vänskä gives the impression of taking his time throughout the movement, but the pacing is not actually slow: it is expansive, which is exactly what the movement requires for its full effect. The ending, partly as a result, is genuinely thrilling.

     The gentle simplicity and straightforward prettiness of the Tempo di Menuetto contrast strongly with the multifaceted complexity of the first movement. The pacing is essentially andante, walking pace, and the effect is of a pleasant and largely unchallenging stroll through nature, with some underlying yearning, although for what is not (yet) clear. Here Vänskä keeps all themes and sectional balance as clear as possible, and touches of special delicacy, such as the solo violin two-thirds of the way through, are handled effectively and with affection. Then the third movement brings a light and almost humorous rhythmic bounce, nicely paced to contrast with the second but never too fast. Much of the music seems to float placidly and lightly, but periodically there are contrasting full-orchestra passages whose dissonance is emphasized. Again Vänskä perfectly approaches the chamber-music-like touches of solo trumpet, solo violin, solo flute, and of course the posthorn – whose sound, although warm and beautiful, seems to come from a world different from that of the rest of the movement. The contrast of the solo posthorn with the massed French horns is particularly well done. The movement percolates toward its end with increasing disquiet that helps foreshadow the concerns of the fourth movement. The ability of the orchestra to play extremely quietly – individuals and sections alike – is especially noteworthy, producing an otherworldly sense of space and sound as the movement glides toward its emphatic but somewhat unsettled conclusion.

     The exemplary BIS sound shows its value throughout this recording, and no more aptly than in the extreme quiet of the beginning of the fourth movement, before Jennifer Johnston’s voice emerges as if from palpable darkness. Johnston sings with deep expressiveness and feeling, complemented by instrumental passages that skillfully underline and highlight Nietzsche's words, the emphasis on ewigkeit as fraught with meaning here as ewig will be much later in Mahler’s music, at the end of Das Lied von der Erde. After this, the contrasting brightness of the start of the fifth movement is immediate, but this movement’s words soon turn darker – despite the children's voices elevating the discourse. The verbal promise of heavenly joy seems less than certain because of Mahler’s contrast, skillfully put forth under Vänskä, between the words and the instruments underlying them. Thus, the concluding bell sounds raise hope, if not expectation. It is left to the profound sense of peace that Vänskä immediately evokes at the start of the final movement to pull the audience toward eternity and its joyous placidity. The pacing of this movement is key to its success, and Vänskä knows this, avoiding too broad an approach but keeping it at a slow enough speed to let all the beauties and subtleties of the orchestration emerge bit by bit, as if the petals of a gigantic flower are opening gradually to the sunshine of everlasting love. By the time the material from the first movement recurs, the emotional transformation through which the composer has taken listeners is complete, the evanescence of life now absorbed into eternity. What Mahler has done here musically is truly remarkable – and by the time of the monumental conclusion of the movement, what Vänskä has done to elucidate the composer's world-encompassing concept is so convincing that it cements Vänskä's Mahler cycle as one of the very best available anywhere.