The first recordings of Mahler’s Third and Sixth symphonies
were made in the early 1950s conducted by London-born F. Charles
Adler with the Vienna Symphony for the S.P.A. label. Incidentally
the booklet note of this latest transfer of the Third goes into
detail about the circumstances by which the Vienna Symphony
became publicised as the Philharmonic, occasioning, understandably,
the latter’s wrath. It was the use of the ‘Vienna Philharmonia
Orchestra’ pseudonym that led to the Schwann catalogue mis-reading
it as ‘Vienna Philharmonic’ with a subsequent burn-out and a
speedy statement of the facts. That’s a historical curiosity,
and I’m sure many might think the same of this studio recording,
but not a bit of it. Bernstein, for one, is on record as having
said he learned greatly from Adler’s recordings of Mahler. And
at this time the Vienna Symphony was a fine and flexible orchestra
working, it’s true, under a punishing regime of performances
and recordings. Critics tend to snipe at the occasional pitch
sag of winds and brass in their performances, not least – on
occasion - here (though they’re rare). But it’s not surprising
given how they were worked to the bone.
This is, in fact, a deeply humane, powerful cumulatively intense
performance of the Third and it must figure in any discussion
of the work’s appearance on disc, and not merely because of
its status as a premiere recording. Adler had helped train the
chorus for the premiere of Mahler’s Eighth Symphony and he has
every right to be considered in the inner circle of Mahler’s
musical colleagues of the time. In the Third one appreciates
the hard working, sometimes stentorian tone of the Viennese
horns, and the way Adler catches the Elysian march motifs –
sample the rhythmic lift at around 11:20 in the first movement
for example. The exchanges between the solo violin and horns
- around 21:40 - are very well played and equally well balanced.
The bucolic and tense elements of the writing are also well
transmitted.
The fresh, direct and essentially unsentimentalised approach
is another fruitful quality, exemplified by the Menuetto second
movement, but when galumphing lower brass and evocative trumpet
calls are needed, as they are in the Scherzando, the orchestra
provides them. Hildegard Rössl-Majdan, too unheralded a musician
these days, sings with breadth and nobility, and the solo violinist
impresses once more in his accompanying line — was he Walter
Schneiderhan, brother of the more famous Wolfgang? The boys’
chorus is fresh and suitably verdant too. The long final movement
proves one of cumulative strength, and fine transitions. I’m
sure one could object to a lack of string heft at points, but
given the time, given the place and given the prevailing circumstances,
the whole endeavour was pretty heroic and the results moving
indeed.
The coupling is the problematic Tenth but not in the studio
version Adler recorded. Instead we have the first release of
a live broadcast from 8 April 1953, earlier than the studio
traversal – which was itself by no means the premiere recording,
in point of fact, unlike the Third and Sixth. We must also note
that editorial responsibilities have over the years shifted
and what was once confidently asserted to be Krenek’s editorship
is now ascribed to Otto Jokl. There is a real edge in this performance
of the Adagio and Purgatorio. The rather close miking does pick
up single voices in the string choirs – especially in the first
violins – but this is indicative of their commitment and intensity
of phrasing. Accenting is strong, architecture secure, and this
is another document well worth seeking out.
The booklet notes by Mark W. Kluge are really first class, packed
with pertinent detail, and tell you all you need to know. Transfers
are in the hands of Aaron Z. Snyder whose work I have praised
here before, and do so again. I appreciate that the Third has
been reissued several times, but this transfer, coupled with
a previously unissued Tenth, makes big claims on the historically
minded collector.
Jonathan Woolf
Hildegard Rössl-Majdan (alto)
