At last, David Zinman’s long-awaited Mahler Eighth
has arrived. His has been a most rewarding cycle so far; indeed,
the Second, Fourth and Fifth are among the finest I’ve
heard in recent years. I was slightly less enthusiastic about
the First and Third, but there is still much to enjoy in those
readings. The Sixth and Seventh strike me as the least successful
of the lot, with Zinman less surefooted in these more precipitous
scores. Again, though, the freshness and transparency he brings
to these symphonies is wholly admirable, and the benefits in
terms of clarity, colour and line can outweigh minor structural
issues.
Speaking of which I’ve found the most successful Eighths
demand a conductor with a long view, one with a sure sense of
the music’s final destination and, in Part II, an ability
to sustain momentum and pulse. There are many fine Mahler Eighths
out there, from Bernstein in the 1960s (CBS/Sony) through to
classic Solti in the 1970s (Decca), Tennstedt in the 1980s (EMI),
Gielen in 1992 and 2001 (Sony and Hänssler) and, most recently,
Antoni Wit on Naxos. The latter was something of a revelation,
Wit combining all - or most - of those essential qualities in
a recording of real thrust and power. To my mind that’s
a much more compelling and coherent performance than Boulez on
DG -
review -
which, for all its starry credentials, is only sporadically successful
overall.
The choruses and soloists who play such a pivotal role in this
work need to be well drilled and blended. In the main the recordings
I’ve mentioned work well in that regard, although there
are inevitable caveats about certain solos and choral balances.
I’m inclined to be more forgiving of such lapses if the
overall thrust and shape of this symphony is properly managed,
so that when the finale hoves into view there’s a thrilling
sense of musical and emotional catharsis. But it must be carefully
prepared for, one musical and dramatic peak after another, and
that’s often where performances of the Eighth come unstuck.
One recording I haven’t mentioned so far is the famous
Horenstein/LSO version from 1959 (BBC Legends). Of the many recordings
and live performances I’ve heard over the years this holds
a special place in my affections. For starters it has all the
tension and risk-taking that come with a live performance - and
the fluffs - but any criticisms are simply swept away by the
majesty and power of this classic reading. What’s more,
the BBC engineers surpassed themselves with a recording of astonishing
depth and detail. Mandatory listening for all Mahlerians, I’d
say, and a reminder of just how high the bar has been set for
this symphony.
In Zinman’s hands the opening hymn has plenty of weight,
the organ very much in evidence. True, there may be less
impetuoso than
usual here, but as the work unfolds it becomes clear Zinman has
opted for a broad, rather measured, view of this music, with
tempi adjusted accordingly. In ‘Imple superna gratia’ the
soloists aren’t as focused as they need to be - more on
that later - although the bells are nicely caught and the organ
adds to the well-upholstered sound. And that’s a real disappointment;
after producing seven airy, spacious and finely detailed recordings
in the cycle so far, the RCA engineers have come up with a close,
rather diffuse sound for the Eighth.
At Tempo I Zinman’s tempi become more of an issue; yes,
Mahler does write ‘ohne hastig’, but this is just
too ponderous for my tastes. And in the ‘Accende lumen
sensibus’ I missed that initial orchestral flare, just
before Mahler really turns up the wick and the choruses take
flame. I also missed the sense of breadth and width that the
best Eighths convey, and I did begin to wonder whether the forces
here assembled proved too much for the Tonhalle. That might explain
the narrow soundstage and the lack of air in this recording,
noticeable on both the CD and SACD layers. So, when the opening
hymn returns it sounds congested and rather joyless.
The boys’ splendid singing in ‘Gloria Patri Domino’ certainly
lifted my spirits a little. The timps are just superb here, the
organ a powerful, pulsing presence. And at last there’s
real radiance at the close. But this all comes at a cost, the
general lethargy of this performance making the climaxes seem
overheated by comparison. I began to wonder just how Zinman was
going to navigate the literal and metaphorical peaks and valleys
of Part II. Wit is very persuasive here, and there’s a
wonderfully rapt quality to his reading as well.
Zinman’s Part II starts well enough, but it’s clear
there’s little of the mystery that others find at this
point. On the plus side, Zinman does uncover the loveliest colours
and teases out all kinds of instrumental nuances. These are qualities
I admire in the rest of his cycle, but this time round that accompanying
lightness of touch seems to have deserted him. That said, there
is plenty of urgency and amplitude in the Più mosso section,
the Zurich band playing with commendable passion and bite, the
lower brass suitably sonorous. After that the chorus and echo
section - ‘Waldung, sie schwankt heran’ - seems a
touch prosaic, even contrived, adding to the growing sense that
Part II is going to be just as uneven - and frustrating - as
Part I.
This movement is just too fragmented for my tastes, a series
of discrete tableaux rather than a meticulously organised symphonic
whole. The soloists aren’t terribly focused either; they
don’t give the impression they’re listening to each
other and singing as a close-knit team. Stephen Powell’s
Pater Ecstaticus is reasonably well sung, although he does struggle
under pressure, and the Pater Profundus - shared between Askar
Abdrazakov and Alfred Muff - isn’t very well projected.
Zinman’s mannered phrasing and slow tempi cause real problems
for these soloists, who have to resort to a Wagnerian bark rather
than cultivate a smoother vocal line. Thank heavens for the angelic
choirs, who give this broken-backed performance a much-needed
lift.
Tenor Anthony Dean Griffey’s ‘Höchste Herrscherin
der Welt!’ comes across as rather plaintive, his voice
marred by a distracting beat. There’s some soothing balm
in the gorgeous harp figures of ‘Dir, der Unberührbaren’.
Oh, if only this performance were so beguiling all the time.
As for the women, Juliane Banse’s Una Poenitentium has
plenty of reach and Melanie Diener’s Magna Peccatrix is
fine, but Yvonne Naef’s Mulier Samaritana is much too uneven.
There are times when vocal shortcomings might be less of an issue;
for instance, Wit’s soloists aren’t A-listers, but
the overall sweep and surge of his reading is such that it hardly
matters. In Zinman’s case sluggish tempi - and the close
recording - leave the singers cruelly exposed.
Doctor Marianus’s commanding ‘Blicket auf’ should
arrive as if on the crest of a deep swell that soon breaks as
a great wave in the symphony’s closing pages. Sadly, it’s
no such thing; but since the undertow that usually propels us
towards the shore is missing from this performance, that’s
hardly surprising. The choruses acquit themselves very well at
the close, the organ, tam tam and cymbals simply magnificent.
this is one of Mahler’s most overwhelming finales and,
in fairness to Zinman and his crew, they bring it off rather
well.
Perhaps when a recording is as eagerly awaited as this any sense
of disappointment is bound to be magnified. And I can’t
tell you how underwhelmed I am by this new Eighth; that it fails
in so many ways - musically, dramatically, sonically - is cause
for regret, especially when Zinman’s earlier recordings
hinted at a great Mahler cycle in the making. True, few conductors
are equally successful in all the symphonies, and at least the
Ninth, Tenth and Das Lied von der Erde are still to come.
Ever the optimist, all I can say is onward the Ninth!
Dan Morgan
Pater Profundus - Askar Abdrazakov
and Alfred Muff (basses) 
[24:25
+ 57:30] 
