Mahler’s Ninth, his
greatest completed symphony as well
as his last, is an almost unparalleled
challenge for orchestra and conductor:
four huge movements, each with its own
complex, idiosyncratic architecture,
each presenting huge difficulties of
ensemble and execution. Add to that
the sheer physical and nervous stamina
required to bring it off, and it becomes
clear why this is something of an Everest
amongst great symphonies.
It’s not surprising,
then, that a performance which is ideal
for every listener is unlikely to be
found, though many outstanding versions
exist, by many of the greatest conductors
of the past fifty years or so. Walter,
Bernstein, Barbirolli, Haitinck, Klemperer
have all recorded the work at least
once, and there are fine modern discs
by the likes of Zander and Tilson Thomas.
But this symphony,
written in Mahler’s final years when
the heart disease that was to kill him
was beginning to sharpen his already
intense awareness of mortality, needs
something special in the way of involvement.
It certainly gets that in this live
performance from the early 1970s by
Bruno Maderna and the BBC SO. In many
ways, Maderna was the work’s ideal interpreter;
as a composer himself, he felt part
of a tradition that stretched back to
Mahler and beyond, and regarded Mahler
as his stylistic mentor.
Of infinitely greater
significance is the fact that Maderna
almost certainly knew that he was suffering
from terminal cancer, and would thus
clearly have empathised totally with
the sense of panic and devastation that
lurks in waiting on nearly every page
of the symphony. The recording is poor
– a run-of-the-mill live relay from
the RFH, with constant audience noise,
coughing etc. Yet the BBC SO play as
if their lives depend on it, and there
are quite wonderful contributions all
round. Balance is unkind to the strings,
yet, when given the chance they produce
very great beauty of tone, and capture
the neurotic emotions compellingly.
The awesome climax at the heart of the
great first movement (track 1 around
19:25), with the ensuing funeral march,
is nothing short of terrifying, the
bells chiming the end of a nightmare,
calling us back to a maimed reality.
The two middle movements
are equally brilliant, the Rondo-Burleske
in particular receiving a shattering
reading, pushing the music close to
insanity in its blundering violence.
Only in the final Adagio did
I experience a certain disappointment.
This is in part because, inevitably
in a movement with so much very quiet
music, the audience noise becomes for
the first time a major problem. Partly
it is because this is the section of
the work which Maderna seems to find
most difficult to conduct. He pushes
the music on in places where Mahler
specifies the exact opposite, e.g. track
4 at 9:21, where he allows the music
to press forward, though Mahler asks
for ‘stets sehr gehalten’ – ‘stay very
held back’. Maderna also indulges in
some unnecessary histrionics, with a
huge break before the tempo primo at
12:04. Still well worth hearing, though,
with some more very lovely string playing.
Temperamentally, I
think, Maderna was far more ‘in tune’
with the visionary and expressionist
tendencies of the first three movements.
Nevertheless, this CD is an extraordinary
document, and a must for anyone who,
like me, is an abject admirer of this
great masterpiece, and of the remarkable
musician conducting it, who died far
too early.
Gwyn Parry-Jones
BBC Symphony Orchestra/Bruno Maderna 
