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Mahler: Symphonies Nos.1-9. Czech Philharmonic conducted by Semyon Bychkov. Pentatone. $74.99 (11 CDs). 

     Mahler cycles tend to be multi-year affairs: the vast performance requirements of his symphonies and the demands they make on conductors and orchestra members alike usually mean the works are recorded over a considerable period of time. Semyon Bychkov’s sequence on Pentatone is no exception: the performances date from 2018 to 2025. In one sense, though, they date back much, much further – to September 19, 1908, when Mahler himself led the Czech Philharmonic in the first-ever performance of his Symphony No. 7 (which was not very well received, a response that dogs that specific work to this day). 

     Even though, obviously, not a single member of the 1908 Czech Philharmonic is alive today, the orchestra retains a kind of collective connection to and understanding of Mahler’s music – a characteristic of institutional memory that preserves the special affinity of all first-rate ensembles for specific pieces of music and particular composers. Certainly the responsiveness of the orchestra to Bychkov, its chief conductor and music director since the start of the 2018-2019 season, proclaims the musicians’ understanding of Mahler and their comfort with his many often-mercurial moods and the compositional elements through which he expressed them. The sustained elegance of playing throughout this 11-CD set – again, even though the specific performers within and working with the orchestra differ to some extent – is one of the major reasons for its solidity and its success as a knowing and very thoughtful presentation of music that remains notoriously difficult both to perform and to comprehend fully. And that is despite some packaging that is not thoughtful, notably the omission of any sung texts – even though they were included when these performances were released individually. Pentatone’s decision to leave them out is unworthy of the excellence of what Bychkov and the Czech Philharmonic bring to this undertaking. 

     A single word to encompass so vast a cycle is virtually impossible to articulate, but if one wishes to choose one here, that word would be “heartfelt.” However careful and well-balanced the playing, however eloquent the sectional balance, however emotive the expressiveness within individual movements and in the totality of each symphony, what stands out here is the emotional (not merely technical) attractiveness of the Mahler landscape: all the beauty of sound, care of sectional balance, and thoughtfulness of pacing are at the service of Mahler’s depth of feeling and the ways in which it changes – and does not change – from the first symphony to the ninth (the lack of a Mahler Tenth in this compilation is regrettable). 

     Inevitably, Bychkov’s cycle can be nitpicked – anyone’s can – but the sheer sweep with which Bychkov approaches the individual symphonies and the totality of the nine is such that small complaints here and there simply seem churlish. Giving great credit for small touches as well as the overall approach seems much more reasonable. Bychkov really lets the music breathe: his performances do not drag, but he allows them a level of expansiveness that results in multiple symphonies lasting well beyond the usual 80-minute length of a CD – Nos. 2, 3, 6, 8 and 9 are all 85-plus minutes long (curiously, while Nos. 3 and 8 are split onto two CDs, the others are not; and No. 8 would actually have fit on a single disc). 

     The willingness to let the music expand and breathe extends to and indeed is occasioned by Bychkov’s approach to the individual elements that create the collective effect. In No. 1, for example, the first movement opens quietly, a bit slowly, so the woodland scene emerges gradually, the main song theme sounding very sweet. Throughout, this is a broad reading, the wayfarer (Mahler used the word in the sense of “journeyman” rather than someone just gadding about idly) meandering through the fields rather than being in any particular hurry to get anywhere. Careful sectional balance is evident throughout the symphony, with lyrical elements brought to the fore while Bychkov handles the discursive elements of the finale by keeping its momentum strong and managing the balance among sections carefully. 

     No. 2 features soprano Christiane Karg, alto Elisabeth Kulman, the Prague Philharmonic Choir, and particularly felicitous handling of recorded sound: as noted, all 87 minutes are on a single disc, a feat thought impossible without diminution of aural quality until just a few years ago (and one rarely attempted even today: virtually all CDs still run 80 minutes or less). The tremendous strength of the tone-poem-like first movement creates a slight disappointment in the contrasting Andante moderato that follows, which is gentle, on the slow side, and, as a whole, very emotional and almost cloying – a bit too overstated for the material. But this is one of those nitpicks whose significance fades in light of the many excellences of Bychkov’s approach, including the lovely flow of the strings in this movement and throughout the symphony. One thing that Bychkov gets right, again and again, is silence, which is as crucial in Mahler as are the massive gouts of sound that he sometimes demands. The near-silence at the start of the fourth movement greatly adds to its effect, and in the finale, 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, and makes the work’s conclusion highly effective. 

     Bychkov’s cycle proceeds with deep understanding throughout. In Symphony No. 3, it includes mezzo-soprano Catriona Morison with the Prague Philharmonic Choir and the young voices of the aptly named “Pueri gaudentes.” It is the sheer vastness of Mahler’s Third, his longest symphony, that Bychkov explores thoroughly convincingly. He beautifully grasps the solo-vs.-ensemble elements of the score, its individualism paired with gigantism, its extended pauses (notably amid the sections of the first movement and at key points in the finale) contrasted with its headlong forward progress. The brass and percussion sections of the Czech Philharmonic are simply wonderful here, as also in Symphony No. 2 – abetted by a recording that picks out individual instruments to perfection while allowing full-orchestra massed sound to flower unimpeded. Symphony No. 4 is well-paced, well-played, and well-considered throughout, with a just-right fade into the ineffable at its conclusion. In the finale, soprano Chen Reiss’ singing does something crucial by sounding childlike, unforced and naïve – akin, verbally, to having the strings use less vibrato than is common in performances today. The effect is near-magical and is right in line with Mahler’s child’s vision of Heaven. In Symphony No. 5, especially at the end of the second movement, the exceptional clarity of the recorded sound is again noteworthy, and the movement’s ending, wherein the music simply disintegrates, is highly effective. The Adagietto is a touch too quick – surprising in this set of usually deliberately paced performances – and the finale comes across as a bit piecemeal, with Bychkov not quite knitting it together. Again, though, those are nitpicks, balanced by Bychkov’s close attention to the last movement’s slight lumbering quality and his understanding that it only seems straightforward. 

     The later symphonies all get equally thoughtful, elegant explorations with far more high points than lower ones (there are no truly “low” points at all in this cycle). No. 6 is vast and heartbroken and enormous both in scale and in emotion, the astonishing finale – which here runs 32 minutes, almost as long as the opening movement of Symphony No. 3 – exploring all the feelings and concerns and psychological depth that have come before, until eventually collapsing with a level of despair that makes it quite understandable for some people to have labeled this symphony as Mahler’s “Tragic.” No. 7, which musicologist Deryck Cooke (who did what is still the best and most idiomatic completion of the Tenth) notably described as a "mad, mad, mad, mad symphony,” makes plenty of sense here, being built around the two Nachtmusik movements and the central realm of shadows (Schattenhaft) to a finale with many parallels to that of No. 5: the apparent (but not actual) straightforwardness and the simple tempo designation (Allegro in No. 5, Allegro ordinario in No. 7) that belies the underlying complexity of the material. 

     Symphony No. 8 is as massive here – and as detailed – as any audience could wish. Here the vocal performers are sopranos Sarah Wegener, Kateřina Kněžiková, and Miriam Kutrowatz; mezzo-sopranos Stefanie Irányi and Jennifer Johnston; tenor David Butt Philip; baritone Adam Plachetka; bass David Steffens; and the Prague Philharmonic Choir, Czech Philharmonic Choir of Brno, and Prague Philharmonic Children’s Choir. The gigantism of the forces is clear, and their unified and very strong merged and melded sound is impressive at all times. But here as everywhere in this cycle, Bychkov remains attuned to the contrasting delicacy of individual elements of the symphony, the care with which Mahler draws attention to individual voices and individual instruments, the chamber-like arrangement of certain sections whose orchestration is carefully designed to complement and contrast with the use of gigantic numbers of singers and instrumentalists elsewhere. Thus, the evanescence of the ascent to Heaven in Blicket auf becomes a balance of and equivalence to the material that succeeds it and ends the symphony, in which the totality of both Heaven and Earth seems to resound with grandeur, hope, and a kind of peace that truly passeth all understanding. 

     Where Mahler could and would go after this in his Ninth (and Tenth – not to mention Das Lied von der Erde) has always seemed difficult to fathom. Bychkov takes the overwhelming quiet (a phrase that fits Mahler’s Eighth as aptly as “overwhelming sound”) into new realms with Symphony No. 9, which he handles as a delicate balancing act between the joy-and-sorrow of earthly existence, on the one hand, and the resignation-and-peace of eventual Abschied, on the other. The symphony is dynamic and dramatic, balanced between utter despair and a frantic attempt (in the Rondo-Burleske) to force gaiety into a world wholly lacking in it. Eventually, Bychkov guides these incompatible elements just where Mahler wanted to take them: to understanding, acceptance, wistfulness, regret, and a level of unsurpassed calm that contrasts vividly with the glories proclaimed at the conclusions of the Symphonies Nos. 2 and 8. It is a stunning capstone for the entire Mahler cycle by Bychkov and the Czech Philharmonic, and an affirmation, if one is needed, of the depth of understanding that this orchestra (through continuity) and this conductor (through intuition, study and deep understanding) bring to some of the most complex and deeply meaningful symphonic music ever written.