Mahler: Symphony No. 2. Louise Alder, soprano; Beth Taylor, mezzo-soprano; Chor und Sinfonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks conducted by Sir Simon Rattle. BR Klassik. $19.99.
Mahler: Symphony No. 6. Sinfonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks conducted by Sir Simon Rattle. BR Klassik. $19.99.
Mahler: Symphony No. 7. Sinfonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks conducted by Sir Simon Rattle. BR Klassik. $19.99.
Mahler: Das Lied von der Erde. Magdalena Kožená, mezzo-soprano; Stuart Skelton, tenor; Sinfonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks conducted by Sir Simon Rattle. BR Klassik. $19.99.
Mahler: Symphony No. 9. Sinfonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks conducted by Sir Simon Rattle. BR Klassik. $19.99.
Simon Rattle’s Mahler cycle with the Sinfonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks is a long, long time coming and is not even halfway through the 11 works it will eventually include. Rattle has been leading these performances with this orchestra for more than eight years and has, in a sense, been preparing for them ever since he began conducting the ensemble in 2010. The result is a cycle almost as expansive as Mahler himself, and one whose totality will not be known until sometime in the coming decade. BR Klassik, whose reason for being is the preservation of the orchestra’s live performances, has been duly recording everything Rattle has done to date and will presumably continue doing so until the hopefully-not-bitter end.
This is not Rattle’s first Mahler sequence: he did one, earlier in his career, with the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra. But that cycle, although it had elements of strength and creativity, tended to be rushed and often superficial. The Bavarian cycle so far has been broader, giving the music many more opportunities to breathe. And this is simply a better orchestra – abetted by recorded sound that is pristine throughout. So there is much to enjoy here already and much to discover in the more-mature view of Mahler by a conductor who recently entered his seventh decade (Rattle was born in 1955).
It is worth considering the works in the order in which Mahler composed them, although Rattle’s performances and recordings are differently and rather arbitrarily arranged. Symphony No. 2 is the most recent release, in a rather curiously conceived performance from March 2026. Rattle interestingly subsumes much of the symphony’s drama within gentleness and hope. The first movement opens with strength but soon practically drips with lyricism. Overall, it is more dynamic than funereal. The quieter passages are most impressive: this orchestra plays exceptionally well when nearly silent. The delicacy and sense of inward focus are pervasive. The movement is somewhat sprawling and disconnected. Fast sections are very fast, slow ones very slow, and the overstated tempo changes create a sense of fragmentation. However, the crescendo/decrescendo toward the end is highly effective. The second movement is gentle and delicate; there is almost a sense of stasis underpinning the motion. The bucolic meandering is later transformed briefly into something of a headlong rush, but there is soon a return to a contemplative mood. The movement seems more an interlude than a locus of emotional progress. The third movement also flows well, but touches of humor are here evident, along with nice attentiveness to instrumental detail as the themes are tossed hither and thither. Again Rattle’s emphasis is on differentiating the sections, so some disconnection and fragmentation is evident. But it is no surprise that the climactic full-orchestra material is impressively played. The very quiet vocal entry in the fourth movement is well-handled by Louise Alder, building up to a plea of great feeling and beauty – an effective personalization of the text. Then the intense exclamation that starts the finale comes as a real shock, as if Rattle has been holding the full sound of the orchestra in check for this exact moment. But again this quickly subsides into a quieter landscape and then into silence before the brass heralds what is to come. There follows an extended anticipatory sense, again and again building and then subsiding: not until some eight minutes from the start does the movement find its footing and forward motion. When Rattle does unleash the orchestra's full strength, the result is highly impressive. But warmth and even sweetness keep breaking through, as if to provide ongoing reassurance. Rattle handles these sections especially attentively – as if he finds them, not the larger dramatic gestures, to be the central communicative point of the symphony. The very quiet choral entry, paralleling that of the start of the fourth movement, thus becomes the focal musical/mystical experience. And as with the orchestra, so with the chorus: great power is there when called for, but it is quiet feeling that predominates until the splendor of the last bars.
Rattle’s Mahler Sixth dates to the first month of his assumption of the title of chief conductor of the Sinfonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks, September 2023. There is something slightly tentative about it from time to time, although overall it is a solid performance. The first movement starts with a strong march rhythm, the lower strings being especially good. The contrast with lyrical elements is handled well, and most touches of rubato are appropriate and not overdone. The orchestra's usual excellence in brass is evident, from great warmth to a snarl when called for. The central quiet, solo-instrument-focused section does not so much change the mood as expand it, and the orchestra is appropriately unleashed in the more-monumental sections. The movement’s energy flags a bit here and there, but by and large the approach works well. The second movement opens very sweetly and is a bit on the slow side. There is a gentle sense of rocking warmth as it proceeds, an overall impression of the peaceful and bucolic and a sense of dreamlike drift until the last four minutes, after which disquiet disrupts the earlier mood. This leads to a third movement with especially potent timpani at the start and strong rhythmic emphasis throughout. Percussion touches add to the sense of grotesquerie, and while slower material has delicacy, Rattle ensures that a level of strangeness is always lurking. The finale opens with a definite sense of foreboding and a somewhat tentative feeling, as if unsure how to get started. The atmosphere is unsettled, the structure somewhat sprawling. As matters progress, the delicate chamber-like material contrasts well with the full-orchestra passages. Notably, the first hammer blow is very intense and seems to send the ensemble into emotional disarray, but the second blow is less forceful. All in all, the movement has considerable drama but stops short of any feeling of overwhelming despair and is therefore a touch less emotionally overwrought than it can sometimes be.
Symphony No. 7 in this Rattle sequence dates to November 2024 and shows conductor and orchestra better settled with each other. The result is a particularly strong and cohesive presentation. The first movement features a very good opening, ominous but with underlying rhythmic clarity. The brass is excellent, sounding just right for the atmospheric beginning. The stop-and-start quality of the movement does not impede its forward progress; this is a good overall concept. The last five minutes are especially effective, emphatic and rhythmically intense, and the contrast between monumental and delicate elements is particularly well-handled. In the second movement, the opening horn/muted horn call and response, somewhat reminiscent of Symphony No. 3, sets up a tranquil scene – which, however, is not quite what the movement delivers as it progresses; it is an Allegro, after all, even though moderato. The wonderfully lyrical string theme starting some three minutes in flows beautifully here. Notable is the evenness of the orchestral playing, with all sections knitted and knotted so well together. The sense is of something approximating a sylvan scene, but with enough dissonances and timpani emphases to produce a feeling of disquiet. The third movement starts deceptively gently and quietly but soon develops bite. There is a good sense here of the dancelike rhythms and their distortion, and of pervasive ironic contrasts both thematically and rhythmically. Rattle neatly manages the passages in which the first tempo sort of sneaks back in from time to time but keeps getting interrupted and upstaged. The way the movement peters out at the end is also well-handled. The fourth movement really does sound like Nachtmusik but is not super-slow – the pacing is quite good here, the atmosphere perhaps more like dusk, with delicacy throughout. The touches of the two harps are especially good, with guitar and mandolin adding to the atmospheric impression – Mahler as master orchestrator is in the forefront of this sylvan interlude. Then the finale bursts on the scene emphatically and with strength, the brass-and-timpani opening a forthright assertion after all the mixed messages that have come before. The bright mood does not continue throughout, but the comparatively uncomplicated, upbeat nature of the movement is consistent. Rattle keeps it moving forward smartly and with enthusiasm, but without driving it too hard. Like the finale of Symphony No. 5, this movement is for the most part assertively bright and emotionally straightforward. When it dips into quieter and more lyrical passages, it does so only briefly; Rattle focuses correctly on the ebullience. Toward the end the emphatic dissonance seems to hint at an element of discomfiture, but Mahler soon sweeps it away, and Rattle guides the orchestra to a sun-drenched cowbell-and-timpani-pervaded conclusion of this "Song of the Night."
Das Lied von der Erde is the earliest performance in this cycle, dating to January 2018. Yet its firmness and emotional connectivity boded well for the later material. Stuart Skelton’s voice is more consistent throughout – a bit of a weakness in the overall presentation, since Magdalena Kožená handles far more vocal material. Fortunately, she becomes firmer as the music progresses, and by Der Abschied is very impressive. The first song proffers an immediate sense of plunging into a conflicted world; Rattle sees to it that the orchestral accompaniment is very sharply defined. Skelton’s voice is solidly planted, with no unneeded vibrato. His emotional conviction is clear, and he shows no sense of strain even in his higher register. Both soloist and orchestra deliver their material with Wagnerian intensity. The second song features a very delicate oboe solo at the start, with a melancholy mood quickly established. The lower strings are notable for their warmth. Kožená’s voice is here a trifle weak, fading a bit beneath the instruments. The third song features delicacy of another kind, and there is a definite bounce to the accompaniment, with nice wind and brass touches. Skelton makes it an atmospheric pleasantry. In the fourth song, Kožená’s voice is a bit stronger and she is more comfortable in her middle range. In a fine orchestral touch, the martial section bursts onto the scene and changes the mood very effectively. The timpani are particularly strong. Then the later, sudden switch to yet another atmosphere is handled to fine effect, and the sense of yearning is well communicated all the way through to the very delicate ending. For the fifth song, Skelton provides another strong, immediate contrast. His bold voice delivers long lines that contrast with a pointed, peppy instrumental accompaniment featuring chamber-music delicacy. And then comes the dour opening of the final song – all is almost funereal at the start here. Now Kožená emotes effectively, the quiet beginning soon deepening emotionally. Although her voice is not always quite equal to the level of expressiveness she projects, the plaintive nature of letzten Lebewohl is put across very well. Rattle makes sure that the quiet instrumental passages reinforce the overall mood. The extended central almost-march material enforces the feeling of despair and farewell, becoming increasingly portentous as it proceeds, even though just what it portends is never made entirely clear. Genuine emotion comes through in the questions about where the rider is going and why he must leave – after which the music comes apart into phrases and fragments. There is almost mysticism here as the work’s end approaches, with slight differences in the accompaniments of the repeated word ewig being clearly conveyed as all fades to nothingness.
The performance of Symphony No. 9 dates to November 2021 and, along with the reading of No. 7, is the strongest offering to date in this cycle. Rattle makes the opening of the first movement very quiet indeed, as if the music is emerging from a great depth. There is, however, considerable sweetness, with less sense of foreboding or trouble than is often heard here. The string playing is simply beautiful. Portions of the movement are on the fast side, but the flow is natural and the contrast with slower sections is all the more pronounced as a result. It is an unusual approach, successful on its own terms – Rattle embraces the monumental but somewhat disconnected character of the movement. Again and again matters seem to deteriorate into or at least toward nothingness, only to re-emerge in different guise until at last everything subsides, not so much ending as evaporating. It is worth noting Mahler’s similar descriptive words in both the first and second movements' tempo indications (comodo in the first, gemächlichen in the second). Rattle seems particularly sensitive to this. The second movement is perky and bright at first but soon takes on an awkward sort of peasant rhythm along the lines of the third movement of Beethoven’s Sixth. Here, though, the dance rhythms become increasingly intense, with dissonant brass exclamations and the underlying impression of a not-quite-frantic edge to the enjoyment and celebration. After a while, timpani and brass make everything sound awkward and rather unbalanced; Rattle has a particularly good sense here of evolving or devolving rhythms. The movement becomes a kind of danse macabre and eventually, after some distinctively rhythmically unsettling solos, evaporates much as the first movement did. In the third movement, the aberrant rhythms are even stronger, giving everything a frantic quality. Discomfort comes through both in tutti sections and in individual-instrument touches. Matters are unsettled throughout, although the movement is somewhat more urbane and less intense than it can be – until the final two minutes, when Rattle really lets the orchestra cut loose. And then the finale starts with a great leap across an emotional gulf to a land of bleak beauty. Here the strings dominate, not the brass and percussion of the third movement. There is a sense of yearning from the start, but for what? Not dissolution: Rattle has the music seeking uplift but constantly falling back; the spreading-out here of the third-movement theme does not lessen its unsettled character. The very, very quiet sections are quite impressively played, as gentleness dominates but does not obscure a sense of uncertainty. The material seems always striving for comfort, for consonance in a largely dissonant tonal landscape. Again and again Rattle lets the music bring peace, or almost peace, before something new or returning from earlier in the symphony arises, emerging to say "not yet, not quite yet." By the middle of the movement, all that has been achieved is a sort of stasis. But then the climb to transcendence resumes and the strings, now supported by all the other sections, journey ever higher, guided by life experience as much as by a vision. Eventually even the third-movement theme is subsumed within an edifice of growing certainty. The striving never quite ceases, although the movement's character gradually becomes one of acceptance, attaining a kind of peace that passeth all understanding in the final four minutes. The sublime quietude of the orchestra in these last minutes pulls the music beyond and above any earthly realm into a region perhaps reachable only through music as rarefied as this.
And that conclusion of the Ninth points toward the undeniable strengths of the ongoing Rattle Mahler cycle with the Sinfonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks. Not everything is at this ineffable level, and missteps are sure to occur in future performances as they have in the ones already recorded. But Rattle’s capability for getting to the heart of Mahler and, through it, to the heart of everyone who hears Mahler’s music, bodes very well indeed for the continuation of a sequence that is unfolding over a particularly lengthy period while giving the impression that Rattle believes there is all the time in the world for it to emerge.
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