Pristine has chosen a striking cover design for 
          this issue to reflect the cosmic nature of the 
Resurrection Symphony: 
          artwork based on photos from the Hubble Space Telescope is used as the 
          backdrop to the image of Bruno Walter, baton poised. This is a recording 
          that was almost never completed: the sessions were delayed by a year 
          following Walter’s heart attack in March 1957, just after he had 
          recorded the fourth and fifth movements. 
            
          Walter’s way with this mighty work has been revered since it first 
          appeared; regarding its musical content, I have nothing much to contribute 
          beyond reiterating the many virtues already commented upon by previous 
          reviewers. This is a recording which belongs in every serious Mahlerian’s 
          collection; the question is whether a newcomer or an established collector 
          should contemplate forking out for this XR re-mastering by Andrew Rose. 
          
            
          I have long been a fan of Pristine’s engineering and just recently 
          extolled the extraordinary clarity and depth which Mr Rose has breathed 
          into the Furtwängler La Scala 
Ring. I am invariably impressed 
          by what he can do for venerable recordings and I can certainly hear 
          how he has reduced hiss, enhanced lower frequencies and revealed the 
          brass and chorus in greater glory. However, after repeated close comparison 
          with the CBS issue - originally very well recorded by Philips - I cannot 
          in all conscience claim that anyone who already owns it need rush to 
          replace it with this Pristine single disc, especially as the CBS double 
          CD set, offering the First Symphony too, is available at bargain prices. 
          Indeed, occasionally I even felt that that the CBS engineering retained 
          more bite and body than the Pristine version. 
            
          Walter’s vision for this work is one of quiet mastery and concentration; 
          there is nothing showy or interventionist about his conducting but under 
          his direction the music seems always to be doing just what it should. 
          He never lingers or indulges and those looking for the equally masterly 
          but very different, slower approaches of Tennstedt or Levine or Klemperer’s 
          more granitic assault, will be surprised. Walter’s version fits 
          neatly onto one disc but he never seems to be rushing. He storms heaven 
          with an orchestra - here correctly credited as the New York Philharmonic, 
          which was originally billed as the “Columbia Symphony Orchestra” 
          for the usual contractual reasons - which plays out of its skin. 
            
          The key to the first movement lies in the instruction “maestoso”; 
          Walter maintains a steady, majestic and inexorable stride in this funeral 
          march, but also permits the pastoral interludes to unfold gently, uniting 
          the two moods with a firm sense of purpose. His control is absolute; 
          he knows how to meld the contrasting and conflicting moods into a coherent 
          narrative. When the menacing opening theme returns on the insistent 
          brass, the discords build and build to a thrilling climax at 14:54 before 
          the tantalising offer of consolation subsides into a wholly ambiguous 
          conclusion, reflecting Mahler’s ambivalence about his search for 
          God; Walter displays a wholly convincing understanding of the spiritual 
          dimension of this symphony. 
            
          The Andante unfolds with lilt and charm; Walter’s subtle rubato 
          and the singing cello tone effortlessly convey the recollection of happy 
          memories in a past life. This restrained style perhaps carries over 
          too much into the “St Anthony preaching to the fishes” movement, 
          eliciting a criticism from some quarters which has some validity, that 
          he is a tad too blithe and relaxed to capture fully the grim and bitter 
          irony of the saint’s efforts; the music here should sound like 
          a metaphor for the circularity and pointlessness of life’s frustrations, 
          but yet again Walter secures a powerful close to the movement. 
            
          “Urlicht” is tender and prayerful, as it should be. Maureen 
          Forrester’s smoky, rich-toned contralto, with its appealing, flickering 
          vibrato, is amongst the very best in this music; only Janet Baker in 
          her many versions and perhaps Jessye Norman for Maazel surpass her. 
          The monstrous finale is simply glorious: Emilia Cundari - a singer with 
          whom, I confess, I am entirely unfamiliar - is silvery and soaring, 
          while Forrester intones her text like the Cumaean Sibyl. The Westminster 
          College Choir is wonderfully expressive, first mysterious, then impassioned 
          and ecstatic. The otherworldly off-stage effects in the “Grosse 
          Appel” are highly effective and in the last ten minutes are amongst 
          the most serene and ethereal of any recording. Consistent with his strategy 
          in directing the whole symphony, Walter makes a slow-burn progress towards 
          an overwhelmingly powerful climax. 
            
          Whether you buy it on Pristine or CBS, this is an essential interpretation. 
          
            
          
Ralph Moore  
          
          Masterwork Index: 
Mahler 
          2  
          
          Movement timings:-  
          1
st mvt. Allegro maestoso [21:37] 
          2
nd mvt. Andante moderato [10:37] 
          3
rd mvt. In ruhig fließender Bewegung [10:46] 
          4
th mvt. Urlicht - Sehr feierlich, aber schlicht [4:11] 
          5
th mvt. Pt.1 - Im Tempo des Scherzos - Wild herausfahrend 
          [13:28] 
          5
th mvt. Pt.2 - Wider zurückhaltend - Langsam - Misterioso 
          [19:01]