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            Gustav MAHLER (1860-1911) 
               
              Symphony no.4 in G major [52:02] (1), Songs from “Des Knaben Wunderhorn”: 
              Urlicht [4:59] (2), Trost im Unglück [2:11] (3), Lied 
              des verfolgten im Turm [3:51] (3), Lob des hohen Verstandes 
              [2:21] (3), Rheinlegendchen [3:16] (2), Revelge [6:43] 
              (3)  
                
              Margaret Ritchie (soprano) (1), Concertgebouw Orchestra, Amsterdam/Eduard 
              van Beinum (1), Lorna Sydney (mezzo, 2), Alfred Poell (baritone, 
              3), Vienna State Opera Orchestra/Felix Prohaska (2, 3)  
              rec. April-May 1952, (1), Brahms Saal, Vienna 1950 (2, 3)  
              Song texts not included  
                
              MAGDALEN METCD 8004 [75:23]   
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                  The history of Mahler 4 on record is intimately bound up with 
                  the Amsterdam Concertgebouw Orchestra. Under Van Beinum’s long-serving 
                  predecessor, Willem Mengelberg, they set the symphony down in 
                  1939. This was not quite the first version – the symphony had 
                  been recorded in Japan – but it was the one that established 
                  the work in the public eye. Mengelberg was known as an admirer, 
                  disciple and friend of Mahler; also as the ultimate in personalized 
                  interpretation and “changements”. Van Beinum served a considerable 
                  apprenticeship as Mengelberg’s second-in-command before taking 
                  full charge after the war. Yet he was the antithesis of Mengelberg, 
                  a faithful servant of the score, unglamorous but far from dry 
                  or uninspired.  
                     
                  This Mahler 4 was recorded when memories of Mengelberg were 
                  still vivid among many players. The curious thing is that the 
                  typical string portamenti, of which Mengelberg was a 
                  supreme master, remain substantially in place. They are executed 
                  so finely that one cannot feel Van Beinum has tried to discourage 
                  them. What would be really fascinating would be if somebody 
                  could find a tape of him performing the same work as a guest 
                  conductor, maybe in London where orchestras had long abandoned 
                  portamenti as a habit and would have provided them only 
                  if Van Beinum had specifically asked for them and worked at 
                  them. Would he have done this, I wonder?  
                     
                  When I say this is curious, I mean that it is odd to hear so 
                  much well-controlled sliding in the context of a performance 
                  that otherwise treats the score with Mozartian purity. The result 
                  is that the symphony is often made to resemble high-class light 
                  music that periodically goes off the rails. Or, at any rate, 
                  a slightly furrow-browed cousin of Elgar’s “Wand of Youth” – 
                  pieces which Van Beinum interpreted with great insight. The 
                  elegance of Van Beinum’s opening is magical but as the movement 
                  develops there seems a refusal to allow the music its more uncomfortable, 
                  even brutal, aspects. Or its more emotional ones – the cello 
                  theme is kept “clean” in spite of the warmly coloured playing. 
                  I found myself listening with admiration but not very much involvement. 
                   
                     
                  Another symptomatic aspect is the treatment of the treading 
                  bass at the beginning of the slow movement. In Van Beinum’s 
                  hands it provides a sort of Schubertian perpetuum mobile. 
                  Go to Bruno Walter, faster overall in this movement, and the 
                  ostinato bass notes actually cause the music to stick at times. 
                  Rather like a boat gently drifting downstream and sometimes 
                  dragging its keel on the bottom. This combination of movement 
                  with dragging is the essence of Mahler interpretation, the common 
                  feature between the otherwise very different conductors who 
                  have excelled at his music. On the basis of this highly proficient 
                  performance I am not sure Van Beinum belongs in that category. 
                   
                     
                  Margaret Ritchie’s contribution to the finale has drawn a fair 
                  amount of criticism over the years. There are some ungainly 
                  sounds at the beginning and at times she sounds like a pantomime 
                  witch. An odd view of the “heavenly life”. On the other hand, 
                  having complained that the tendency of the seemingly innocent 
                  music to break into violence has been elegantly swept aside 
                  thus far, I must say that Ritchie is not afraid of ugliness 
                  in the first two verses, settling into something more heavenly 
                  for the concluding one. The orchestra responds to her interpretation 
                  and in truth I found this movement the most interestingly performed 
                  of the four.  
                     
                  The recording is very clear in the upper register, less well-defined 
                  in the lower. This is fairly typical of Decca’s work in the 
                  early days of LP. The transfer is truthful, retaining a certain 
                  bass rumble, which you quickly forget even on headphones. There 
                  is no attempt to add extra brilliance at the expense of the 
                  characteristic Concertgebouw warmth. In short, it is as though 
                  you had the original LXT issue and high class equipment to hear 
                  it on.  
                     
                  The battle-lines were drawn early over this recording. Comparing 
                  it with Bruno Walter’s New York version – originally on 78s 
                  – “The Record Guide” by Edward Sackville-West and Desmond Shaw-Taylor 
                  (1955) remarked: “The two LP issues create a dilemma, less for 
                  the keen Mahlerite, who is unlikely to hesitate, than for the 
                  amateur of first-class recording. Van Beinum secures a good, 
                  straightforward performance and, considering the complexity 
                  of the score, the recording is a triumphant success. But one 
                  only has to listen to the opening of the symphony in the Columbia 
                  edition to become aware how much more idiomatic, how much gentler 
                  and more lovingly phrased, is Walter’s rendering.” In reality, 
                  Walter’s opening is so very much slower that you would need 
                  to listen to several minutes of each just to get the hang of 
                  what the respective conductors are doing. Granted that, I think 
                  the judgment still stands. And I would add that the more abrasive 
                  elements register better with Walter too, though they may have 
                  been explored even more scarily since.  
                     
                  The Vanguard recording of 13 of Mahler’s “Knaben Wunderhorn” 
                  settings was issued in the UK by Nixa on 2 LPs. Six were sung 
                  by Alfred Poell, the remainder by the Australian mezzo-soprano 
                  Lorna Sydney. Since we are given just six here, it is maybe 
                  a pity that Magdalen did not simply concentrate on Poell. A 
                  Vienna State Opera regular, he has an honoured place in some 
                  of the most famous opera sets ever made, in particular as Count 
                  Almaviva in “Le Nozze di Figaro” and Faninal in “Der Rosenkavalier”, 
                  both conducted by Erich Kleiber (Decca). His vivid characterization 
                  and rich tones are remarkably well caught by the 61-year-old 
                  recording. Once again it is difficult not to agree with “The 
                  Record Guide”, which found him “little short of superb”. In 
                  the case of Sydney, the excellent presence of the recording 
                  only emphasizes her lack of vocal lustre in the lower register 
                  and unimaginative, literal phrasing. “The Record Guide” noted 
                  that her “contributions are on a much lower level” and maybe 
                  I should have left it at that too. Back in the early 1950s the 
                  authors could nevertheless feel that “her singing, inadequate 
                  as it is, cannot prevent the issue of these records from being 
                  a most exciting event”. Little did Messrs. Sackville-West and 
                  Shaw-Taylor imagine the choice that would face the listener 
                  as the 21st century entered its second decade!  
                     
                  Felix Prohaska is a straightforward Mahlerian, but one who recognizes 
                  the pungency and bite of Mahler’s orchestral colours better 
                  than Van Beinum. There is a feeling of shared Viennese tradition, 
                  as opposed to the sensation that Van Beinum is coming to compromises 
                  with an orchestra trained to play Mahler in another way. All 
                  this adds positively to our appreciation of Poell’s performances 
                  and the orchestral sound, if backward, still registers well. 
                  Prohaska can also be enjoyed in the Sydney songs, but it’s not 
                  as if other conductors haven’t conducted the music well since, 
                  and with better soloists.  
                     
                  A lot of companies offering LP transfers limit their documentation 
                  to a track list and dates. So it’s worth pointing out that Magdalen, 
                  though they don’t provide sung texts and translations – you 
                  can find these on Internet quite easily – do give full notes 
                  on the music and the performers.  
                     
                  To return to my original point. Van Beinum’s Mahler 4 takes 
                  its place in the Concertgebouw Orchestra’s history. As well 
                  as expected versions by his successors Haitink and Chailly, 
                  this orchestra also appeared on the first Solti and the last 
                  Bernstein versions. This in itself will provide Mahlerians with 
                  ample reason to study it.  
                     
                  Christopher Howell  
                     
                   
                   
                   
                 
                
              	                                                  
                  
                  
                                                                                                                       
                  
                  
                  
                  
                
                 
                   
                 
                 
             
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