Mahler: Symphony No. 5. Grand Teton Music Festival Orchestra conducted by Sir Donald Runnicles. Reference Recordings. $24.98 (SACD).
It is hard to imagine that Mahler did not have Beethoven’s Fifth in mind when composing his own Symphony No. 5. After all, Mahler’s symphony begins in exactly the same rhythm as Beethoven’s, although the first notes differ: G,G,G,E-flat in Beethoven, C-sharp, C-sharp, C-sharp, A in Mahler. The key structure of the two symphonies also has notable although not exact similarities, with Beethoven’s Fifth in C minor (ending in C major) and Mahler’s Fifth opening in C-sharp minor (ending in D major). The parallels can easily be overemphasized and pushed too far, but they are worth keeping in mind because of the similar-but-different emotional trajectories of the two symphonies: Beethoven’s moves with clarity from darkness to light, while Mahler’s may be best thought of as moving from dark and intense complexity to a finale of comparative simplicity (a form of progress that clearly appealed to Mahler: he followed it in much the same way in his Symphony No. 7, four years after No. 5).
Mahler’s duplication of Beethoven’s opening rhythm comes in the form of a solo trumpet rather than an orchestral tutti, and in this respect Mahler’s symphony of 1902 has something in common with Sibelius’ First, finished two years earlier, which starts with a clarinet solo. Still, if Mahler’s approach was not unique in the opening of his Symphony No. 5, the work bears the unmistakable stamp of his personal interpretation of what had come before – and of his personal journey through life at a point where, for the first time, he created a symphony wholly separated from the song cycles that were the building blocks of his earlier works.
Sir Donald Runnicles shows in a new Reference Recordings release that he thoroughly understands Mahler’s musical and emotional position in this symphony. Runnicles produces an overall expansive reading that is not, however, especially slow. He gets the moods right from the start, with a very gloomy and funereal opening whose strength of emphasis makes it feel a good deal slower than the clock time shows it to be. Runnicles and the Grand Teton Music Festival Orchestra really lean into the intense emotions of the movement, and indeed Runnicles does not hesitate occasionally to hold back the music with some rubato that is intended to make an ensuing passage even more strongly felt. Generally, though, Runnicles wisely keeps the rhythm of this funeral cortège even, and the exceptional delicacy and quiet toward the end are all the more effective as a result.
The second movement, which Mahler regarded as the symphony’s emotional if not structural opening, is presented with plenty of vehemence, but with great care taken to ensure that all the individual notes of the cascade of intensity are heard, not slurred. The orchestra is at its best here: the trumpets are exceptional, and the strings, while generally astringent, show themselves also capable of great warmth. The triumphal D major chorale near the movement’s end hints at where the entire symphony will go eventually, even though this specific movement concludes in A minor. Indeed, there is a definite feeling of exhaustion and collapse as the movement’s end approaches: it is quite well done. Less creditable are the ritards within the movement, some of which are a bit too pronounced and cause the momentum to flag instead of resulting in a sense of stronger emphasis, which is presumably Runnicles’ intention.
Runnicles gives the third movement good pacing: Mahler was worried that conductors would take it too fast, and Runnicles is careful not to do so. The opening horn, however, starts modestly instead of ringing out loudly, giving more of a pleasant invitation to attention rather than a clarion call. The gentle lilt of Ländler rhythm is brought out clearly in the first portion of the movement, and as a whole there is an expansive feeling here – especially in the middle, where the pace becomes quiescent and individual instruments are highlighted. The movement in its entirety is weighty enough to stand on its own as Part 2 of the symphony, per Mahler’s label: it represents a transition in mood and a different sort of emotional heft from what is communicated by the first two movements. The speedy final section works well as a capstone.
There is another change of emotional focus at the start of the Adagietto. The harp at the beginning has a celestial feeling about it and is kept quite prominent throughout. Runnicles here insists on exceptional gentleness of expressiveness, and the movement is notable for the repeated sense of yearning halfway through – not in a Tristan und Isolde sense but more in the nature of expected and anticipated emotional reciprocity. And then comes the comparative simplicity of the finale, with its brass opening akin to that of the third movement, but featuring a much jauntier, even trivial response – certainly nothing weighty. Here there is a definite sense of having come through considerable emotional turmoil, both negative and positive, to a celebratory place, with material presented in a comparatively straightforward manner (which, as noted, will also be Mahler’s approach in Symphony No. 7 in 1906). The cheerful “chugging” rhythm of the movement, initially in the lower strings, is very apparent in Runnicles’ reading, and the hints of earlier-movement emotions are brought forth to very good effect – for example, the yearning of violins halfway through this finale. As this movement, simply designated Allegro, moves toward its conclusion, the chorale heard earlier in the symphony flowers fully and is allowed to crown the totality of the work, which it does in fine style – although the last few measures are here taken a bit too quickly to be fully satisfying.
What Runnicles and the Grand Teton Music Festival Orchestra offer here is an unapologetic Mahler Fifth, one that delves deeply into emotion without wallowing in it unduly, and one that takes the audience along on a spiritual journey that may not be grounded in verbiage, as were Mahler’s earlier symphonies, but that shows just how effectively Mahler could communicate the feelings underlying words without being bound to verbal specificity. This is a performance of understated understanding, one that allows Mahler’s musical expressiveness free rein while keeping his foundational emotional content, which can sometimes be overdone, well-balanced and clearly communicated – without becoming cloying or overstated.
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