(++++) SYMPHONIES CONSIDERED, RECONSIDERED

Sibelius: Symphonies Nos. 1-7. Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Jukka-Pekka Saraste. Ondine. $34.99 (3 CDs). 

Mahler: Symphony No. 6—arrangement for piano four hands by Alexander Zemlinsky. Inna Faliks and Daniel Schlosberg, piano four hands. Sono Luminus. $16.99. 

     Jukka-Pekka Saraste has had more than three decades to hone his interpretations of Sibelius’ symphonies – although on the evidence of his three recordings of the cycle, his readings were very strong from the start. Still, there are certainly differences that have emerged since Saraste (born 1956) has aged and, musically speaking, matured. His first cycle, recorded 1988-1992 with the Finnish Radio Symphony Orchestra, was disciplined and rather cool, played well and revealing the works’ differing structures to good effect. His second series, with the same orchestra in 1993, featured live recordings and captured a more-spontaneous, less-studied atmosphere than the earlier sequence. And now Ondine has released Saraste’s third Sibelius cycle, consisting of six live recordings from 2024-2025 coupled, a bit oddly, with a 2026 studio reading of Symphony No. 1. What this release shows without a doubt is how thoroughly Saraste understands Sibelius: balance and tempos (some incorporating information that Saraste received from Sibelius’ son-in-law, conductor Jussi Jalas [1908-1985]) seem self-evidently correct, there is both heft and delicacy in the playing of every orchestral section, and the attentiveness to the transitional sections in which the music abounds is handled with an ease and grace that the earlier cycles never quite attained. The finale of No. 3, the two sections of the first movement of No. 5, and the varying interconnected elements of No. 7 are among the aspects that especially benefit from the precision with which transitions and connections are handled. The sheer consistency and beauty of the orchestral playing benefits all the symphonies equally, and if there are a few occasions on which Saraste seems to hold back instead of unleashing maximum passion, that is a characteristic that has changed little in his style over the decades: he prefers control and a natural unfolding of the music to anything with even a whiff of the overwrought. Balance is the order of the day in No. 1, which holds back a bit in the finale but is shaped with considerable care throughout. No. 2 is one of several symphonies here taken at quicker tempos than before – likely the Jalas influence – and the result is a work whose momentum never flags, although the emotional impact of the finale becomes somewhat muted. Post-performance applause is included for this symphony and No. 5, for some reason, but not for the four other live recordings. No. 3 is another reading that is quick by clock time, but it never feels rushed, and its warmth and wealth of inner detail are exceptional. No. 4, long a particular specialty for Saraste, offers more of an inner tragic landscape than a universal one, lacking a sense of desperation but with Saraste handling the symphony as a personal statement of inward turmoil – a convincing if rather unusual approach to the pervasive bleakness of this work. No. 5 is a touch lacking in emotional intensity, but the nobility of the majestic “swan” theme in the finale is outstanding even if the work’s overall excitement is held somewhat in check. No. 6 is exceptionally well done, nuanced, light, clear and quick, but never feeling too fast and never lacking expressivity. And No. 7 is noble as well, focused on all the detail in the work’s construction and allowing it a greater measure of optimism than other conductors tend to find in it. Every single symphony is handled with thoughtfulness, understanding, a strong sense of commitment to the music, and orchestral playing that ranges from the top-notch to the simply gorgeous. Saraste has thoroughly understood this music for more than 30 years. This latest cycle shows a further expansion of his understanding and an even greater ability to communicate what he has found in the symphonies – by allowing them to speak for themselves without any sense of imposition, much less arrogance or untoward insistence, from the podium. 

     It is worth remembering that when Sibelius wrote his symphonies (1899-1924), opportunities to hear them, much less hear them repeatedly, were extremely limited. Recorded sound was nonexistent or in its infancy, and unless an orchestra happened to be performing a work that one happened to want to hear at a location to which one could go without substantial difficulty, symphonies in their original scoring were largely inaccessible. But they were not wholly inaccessible, thanks to the proliferation of pianos that by this time had reached their modern design and were capable of becoming an “orchestra in miniature” – certainly since Liszt used them that way. Pianos in one’s home were the gateway to orchestral music for many years, and this in turn led to a proliferation of arrangements of grand-scale symphonic music for the piano. For example, Schoenberg’s famous Society for Private Musical Performances, which he started in 1918, was a notable venue for arrangements for piano or small ensemble of grand-scale music. And even before that society began, piano arrangements were popular as the primary method of disseminating complex new music. Schoenberg’s group may even have been inspired by Schoenberg hearing Mahler and Alexander Zemlinsky perform Mahler’s Symphony No. 6 in Zemlinsky’s arrangement for piano four hands. It is this arrangement that Sono Luminus has now released in a thoroughly convincing if ultimately disappointing performance by Inna Faliks and Daniel Schlosberg. The disappointment is not in the playing, which is sensitive and skillful. Nor is it in the overall presentation, although that does have some shortcomings. The issue is the arrangement itself: in the 21^st century, with Mahler now in the standard orchestral repertoire and with technology making multiple versions of his symphonies readily available, it is impossible not to hear how inadequate the piano, “orchestra in miniature” or not, is for transmitting the flavor and complexity of this music. Mahler’s brilliant orchestration, his chamber-music-like use of members of a large orchestra, cannot be reproduced here, any more than can the effect of the hammer blows in the symphony’s finale. Again and again a modern listener is going to hear this piano reduction and find it a diminution, which was not at all Zemlinsky’s intent; again, he and Mahler played this arrangement together, and Schoenberg listened to them do so. By the standards of today, this work for piano four hands is woefully inadequate; indeed, it was pale by the standards of the time in which Mahler wrote it (1903-1906). But Mahler and Zemlinsky both knew that this piano version gave the symphony its best chance of being heard by a widespread audience; in fact, its only real chance. Faliks and Schlosberg are to be commended for undertaking to perform the symphony this way and allow today’s audiences to hear how listeners in the distant past were able to experience the music. And in truth, the piano score has some advantages of its own: Zemlinsky, himself a composer of some skill, knew when middle voices were important, when rhythmic contrasts needed to be brought to the fore, when shifts between delicacy and full-bodied strength were called for; and he did an expert job of focusing the music on precisely the areas where Mahler wanted it focused. Certainly the version for piano four hands lacks the orchestral music’s grandeur, depth and subtlety, but it is sensitively made and offers not only a good basic guidepost to the symphony for those unfamiliar with it, but also a kind of bare-bones display of the skeletal framework on which Mahler built the imposing edifice that is the work for full orchestra. That said, the actual presentation of this CD is a bit peculiar. For one thing, Faliks and Schlosberg incomprehensibly omit the exposition repeat in the first movement, throwing off the symphony’s scale and balance to a degree not inherent in Zemlinsky’s arrangement. For another thing, the program notes with the recording do not discuss what piano is used: Faliks is a Yamaha artist and Schlosberg a Steinway artist (for the record, they use a Steinway model D). For a third thing, the CD package gives the symphony’s total time (just 69:20 with that repeat omitted) but gives no timings for the individual movements (16:39, 11:50, 11:39 and 29:12 for those who are interested). That smacks of laziness or lack of genuine interest in the production – which is hard to reconcile with the verve that the pianists bring to their interpretation. All in all, this Mahler/Zemlinsky CD is, for modern ears, a curiosity and a portal to a much earlier time both musically and technologically. It is not a disc to which listeners are likely to return frequently. But as a chance to explore Mahler in a way no longer generally available, much less central to the modern listening experience, it is very much worthwhile for audiences already familiar with Symphony No. 6 in the form in which Mahler intended it to be heard.