Years ago, I was in Carnegie Hall for a performance of Mahler’s Symphony No. 2 (“Resurrection”). At the end, the audience stood and applauded. That included me and a friend of mine, a young conductor. As we were applauding, I turned to him and said, “Just the greatest piece ever written, no big deal.” He nodded firmly. I then said, “Along with Mahler 9.” Again, he nodded firmly.
I was exaggerating. There is no “greatest.” But still . . .
The Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra played Mahler’s Symphony No. 9 in Carnegie Hall on Sunday afternoon. The VPO has no permanent conductor. It has an endless series of guests. I suppose I hear this orchestra a dozen times a year, between New York and Salzburg (especially the latter). Obviously, a conductor makes a big difference. Still, this is an orchestra you can judge on its own: as an instrument, if you will. It is a great instrument, and it sounds particularly good in Carnegie Hall.
If you happen not to like the conductor, or what he is doing with a piece, you can simply listen to the orchestra, exclusively.
In the Mahler Ninth, the VPO was conducted by Franz Welser-Möst, the Austrian who is the longtime music director of the Cleveland Orchestra. The Clevelanders visited Carnegie Hall in January. Here are a couple of lines from my “New York chronicle” in the current print magazine: “Over the years, I have heard Franz Welser-Möst give tepid performances. I have heard him give superb and exciting ones.” I did not know what to expect on Sunday afternoon.
Here is another quick excerpt from my chronicle: “My friend Fred Kirshnit, the late critic, said that Welser-Möst resembles Gustav Mahler, in concert tails and round, wire-rimmed glasses. True.” And especially noticeable when he comes out to conduct Mahler.
Welser-Möst and the Vienna Phil. delivered a very, very good performance.
The first movement was both logical and feeling. One must not be afraid of emotion in Mahler. Mahler without emotion is not Mahler. The first movement unfolded naturally. The playing was clean and transparent yet also full and rich. There are some rude sounds in this music—it’s not all elegance. The VPO players put them there. Welser-Möst did not meander much. You can meander in this movement, legitimately. Welser-Möst’s more straight-ahead approach was effective.
A stable, unstumbling horn is a miracle—or, if that’s too much to say, something really to be appreciated. Ronald Janezic was such a horn. Karl-Heinz Schütz supplied a magic flute (to borrow a phrase). The concertmistress, Albena Danailova, was sweet and assured in her solos.
(I will probably be the last person in the world to use “concertmistress.” It’s such a beautiful word. Pity to lose it.)
It is possible to make too much of nationality in music-making. Music is a universal art. Still, the VPO played the second movement—those dances—like Austrians. At some point, I had a thought: I was not noticing the conducting. I was simply listening to Mahler 9 (which is high praise of conducting).
The third movement, Rondo-Burleske, had a refined aggressiveness. As much as the second movement, it was folkish, characterful. It was also precise. That could almost be taken for granted, from these forces.
Welser-Möst was never on auto-pilot. He was always alive to the score, not going through the motions.
The opening of the Adagio—the closing movement—was good. (How could it not have been?) But it can be more heartrending, more stabbingly painful. The Adagio in general can be more emotional than it was—more wrenching. Welser-Möst declined to milk. There are many over-milkers in the world. But under-milking can be an error, too.
This closing movement ought to have an inexorability. Did it? Mainly, I suppose. In my judgment, this was the least successful of the movements. But the bar had been set very high.
Regardless, the Vienna Phil. made sumptuous sounds. “This really is Mahler’s orchestra,” I thought. That can be a cheap phrase: “Mahler’s orchestra.” Gustav Mahler has not conducted this orchestra in almost 120 years. But the phrase did occur to me . . .
Mr. Janezic, the principal horn? In the Adagio, he demonstrated that you can play high and soft, even on that instrument. I mean, you can’t. I can’t. Many a French-horn player can’t. But he can.
It was a first-class experience, this Mahler 9 in Carnegie Hall. Standing and applauding with the rest of us was Emanuel Ax, the veteran and famed pianist. It is always nice, somehow, to see a top musician in the audience. Maybe that could be the subject of a little essay sometime.