Symphony No. 2 Resurrection

    The earth quakes, the graves burst open, the dead arise and
    stream on in endless procession..... The trumpets of the apocalypse
    ring out... And behold, it is no judgment.... There is no
    punishment and no reward. An overwhelming love illuminates our
    being. We know and are

    From Mahler's 1894 programme for the symphony.

    Mahler rejects any programme most energetically.

    Bruno Walter writing to Ludwig Schiedmair, December 5, 1901.

    The triumph grew greater with every moment. Such enthusiasm is
    seen only once in a lifetime! Afterwards, I saw grown men
    weeping and youths falling on each other's necks. And when the
    Bird of Death, hovering above the graves, utters his last, long
    drawn-out call - Mahler said he himself was afraid for a moment
    that the long unbroken silence, requiring, as it were, the whole
    audience to hold its breath, could not possibly come off - there
    was such a deathly silence in the hall that no one seemed able to
    bat so much as an eyelid. And when the chorus entered, everyone
    gave a shuddering sigh of relief. It was indescribable!

    Mahler's sister Justine, on the first complete performance, Berlin
    December 13, 1895.

    The first time I heard Mahler's Second Symphony I was seized,
    especially in certain passages, with an excitement which expressed
    itself even physically, in the violent throbbing of my heart. And I
    was overwhelmed; completely overwhelmed.

    Arnold Schoenberg.

As has been noted, Mahler experienced a creative block after completing the
first three movements of his proposed second symphony. In February 1894,
however, Hans von Bulow died. It is ironic - and yet, perhaps a typically
"Mahlerian" irony - that the death of the man who was at least partly
responsible for Mahler's block should now help to release his muse.

As Mahler related:

    I went to the memorial service [for von Bulow] The mood in which
    I sat and pondered on the departed was utterly in the spirit of
    what I was working on at the time. Then the choir, up in the
    organ loft, intoned Klopstock's "Resurrection" chorale. [Klopstock
    was an 18th century poet of the Sturm und Drang movement] It
    flashed on me like lightning, and everywhere became plain and
    clear in my mind! It was the flash that all creative artists wait for -
    "conceiving by the Holy Ghost"!

    What I had then experienced had now to be expressed in sound.
    And yet - if I had not already borne the work within me - how
    could I have had that experience?

A friend of Mahler, Czech composer J.B. Foerster (whose Fourth Symphony,
"Easter" is well worth investigating) was also at the funeral service.

    Outside the Opera, too, I did not find Mahler. But that afternoon I
    could not contain my restlessness, and hurried to him as if to obey
    a command. I opened the door and saw him sitting at his
    writing-desk, his head lowered and his hand holding a pen over
    some manuscript paper. I remained standing in the doorway.
    Mahler turned to me and said: "Dear friend, I have it!"

    I understood. As if illuminated by a mysterious power I answered:
    "Aufersteh'n, ja aufersteh'n wirst du nach kurzer Schlaf..."

    Mahler looked at me with an expression of extreme surprise. I had
    guessed the secret he had as yet entrusted to no human soul:
    Klopstock's poem, which that morning we had heard from the
    mouths of children, was to be the basis for the closing movement
    of the Second Symphony.

Now that his block was gone Mahler worked quickly, completing the first draft
of the complete symphony by the following June.

As with their composition, the first three movements of the symphony were
performed separately, before the entire work, on March 4, 1895 at a Berlin
Philharmonic concert. The remainder of the programme, although not the new
work, was conducted by Richard Strauss, and was not a success with the
critics, although the audience was enthusiastic, particularly about the scherzo.

The first complete performance was given, in fraught circumstances - Mahler
suffering from an almost incapacitating migraine - on December 13, 1895,
again in Berlin. For Mahler the composer it was a crucial event: as Bruno
Walter recalled "he had staked his future fate as a composer upon a single
card."

The performance was a triumph, and those present all acknowledged that
Mahler the composer was now a force to be reckoned with.

The Resurrection is Mahler's first blockbuster, a five-movement 80-minute
emotional roller-coaster guaranteed to tear your heart out. This music is surely
what the CD was invented for, can there be anyone who does not respond to
it?

The most dangerous performance I know is the semi-legendary
VSO/Scherchen made around 1960. Until its CD reissue this set changed
hands in second-hand stores for considerable sums of money. Scherchen
alternates between incredibly fast and incredibly slow tempi - frequently within
bars of each other. There are parts of the 3rd movement when the conducting
sounded so analytical that I thought to myself "I bet this is how Webern would
have conducted it", but on reflection I think this living on the edge
waywardness is probably more akin to the way Mahler himself would have
done it. If you already have a good modern recording, then supplement it with
this one. No serious Mahlerian should be without it. It's coupled with
Scherchen's fine - but not quite in the same league - recording of the First
(MCA Double-Decker)

One complaint: the CD is coupling is Symphony No. 2 mvts 1,2,3,4,5(i) on
CD1 with 5(ii) and Symphony No. 1 on CD2. The break in Symphony No. 2
mvt 5 is exactly where the side break on my old Westminster LP set is.
Why????? (Apart from the obvious answer I mean.) I have promoted this to
my primary choice simply on the grounds of its inspired performance,
although it must be admitted that the recording is only fair, and there is some
rather scrappy orchestral playing.

My previous prime recommendation was for Simon Rattle's inspired 1986
version (EMI) with the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra. I first heard
the conclusion of this coming over my tinny car radio and even then it brought
a lump to the throat; it confirms Rattle, even more so than his recording of the
10th (see below), as potentially one of the great Mahler conductors. The
recording is splendid, you can really hear the organ in the closing pages for
example, and the CBSO play as if their lives depended on it. I suppose one
might argue that the opening movement is a little lacking in tension at times, but
this doesn't bother me, and there can be few singers to compare with Janet
Baker in Urlicht.

Another great recording comes from Leif Segerstam's continuing Chandos
cycle; the opening movement has more violent rubato that Rattle, and the big
climax is most impressive (especially the bass drum). Kirsten Dolberg may be
no Janet Baker, but her singing is more than adequate. The off-stage brass in
the finale is superbly captured, and the final coda is truly titanic.

One problem with the symphony, as with the Eighth, is that the coda is played
by the orchestra alone; in the concert hall this rarely seems to be a problem,
but on record it can be anticlimactic: for this reason, if for no other, I cannot
recommend the recordings by Solti (either of the 2), Abbado or Sinopoli
(whose entire finale lacks anything remotely approaching excitement).

Gilbert Kaplan's version, while cheap and brilliantly (if somewhat clinically)
recorded is a remarkable achievement for an amateur but doesn't really match
the incandescence required by the music. Kaplan explains in one of the two
accompanying 90-some (!) page booklets how he has examined vast quantities
of contemporary material in order to arrive at as close an approximation as
possible to the way Mahler himself would have conducted the work.
Personally I don't think he's succeeded; there is considerable evidence
(including the piano rolls Mahler himself made of the last movement of the
fourth and first movement of the fifth symphonies) to suggest that Mahler's
conducting style would seem much more eccentric beside the acceptable late
twentieth norms. More on this later.

Klemperer's gritty 1963 recording (EMI) is now remastered on to a single
79-minute CD - a real bargain. Klemperer's very first conducting assignment
was directing the offstage brass in a 1905 Berlin performance of the
symphony, attended by Mahler, and conducted by Oskar Fried (see below).

Stokowski's 1975 recording (RCA) is also very fine, (if this is not yet available
on CD then it should be), Stokey was, almost unbelievably, in his 90s when he
made this. The Stokowski/Mahler connection goes back a long way: he
attended the first performance of the 8th symphony in 1910, and was the first
to conduct it in the USA in 1916. There is a live 1963 Prom performance
available on the recently-defunct Intaglio label, which on the surface seems
highly attractive - avoid this, as the recording is truly dire.

Maurice Abravanel's recording has now reappeared in the first release of 20-bit
remastered Vanguard Classics CDs. While there are some fine moments, the
performance is not that special and the recording sounds clinical and artificially
spotlights solo instruments. Another major drawback is the singing of Beverly
Sills: whatever her other merits, she is evidently completely lacking in
sympathy for Mahler (in the PBS broadcast of the Carnegie Hall Centenary
Concert she called him a "horrible little man") and this comes across quite
clearly.

Bruno Walter's historic 1958 recording has recently been reissued as part of
Sony's Bruno Walter Edition. Walter attended the very first performance,
conducted by the composer, in 1895. The recording, while not up to the very
latest, is still remarkably good for its age, and the performance is very fine.

Klaus Tennstedt is not, as you may have already gathered, my favourite Mahler
conductor. I persevere with him, because others seem to find him supreme,
but I have yet to be convinced. His Resurrection is a good case in point: the
rubato in the first movement strikes me as laboured rather than natural, his
Urlicht is so slow that - for me - it loses focus, flow and pulse; and his finale
is merely so-so - are his singers shouting at the close? The sopranos certainly
seem to be, and his final coda is less than overwhelming. The recording is
good without being exceptional (rather like the performance in fact).

Recently there have also appeared - mainly on Italian labels such as Hunt and
its sibling (offspring?) label Arkadia - several historic Mahler recordings, of
which two are especially worthy of mention in this context. A live (1965)
Klemperer and a fabulous live Barbirolli (Stuttgart, 1970 the year of JB's
death). Both are highly recommended, the recordings are reasonable stereo,
and the Barbirolli shows what a truly great Mahler conductor he was. It comes
in a 3CD set coupled with a BPO 3rd, which is a wonderful interpretation
unfortunately disfigured by some poor orchestral playing, particularly in the
finale - and yes, I did say it was the BPO.... Even they can play badly.

Other historical recordings of interest include a 1951 Holland Festival
performance by Klemperer which has Kathleen Ferrier as the alto and Jo
Vincent (Mengelberg's soprano in his 1939 4th., see below) as the soprano.
This is an excellent performance, perhaps not the greatest ever, as the liner
note writer suggests, but has a unique excitement, particularly in the closing
pages. Just before the great upsurge at the words "Oh schmerz..." there is an
audible grunt (or shout) and thump presumably from Klemperer himself getting
excited. The sound is more than adequate, but there are some pops and clicks
from the original masters.

Also worth considering in the historical stakes is a 1947 VPO/Bruno Walter
which is excellent, although the recording leaves a good deal to be desired.
And, speaking of poor recordings, the very first recording of a Mahler
symphony, from 1923/4 (!!) conducted by Oskar Fried, another Mahler friend
and protege, has been reissued. This is an acoustic recording - i.e. made
before the advent of the microphone into the studio. The unnamed orchestra
was apparently only 40 strong. Available on Pearl, coupled with Jascha
Horenstein's 1928 Kindertotenlieder (another first recording) and two songs
sung by "Mme Charles Cahier" - who was the alto in the premiere of Das Lied
von der Erde (although well past her prime by the time of these recordings);
this is obviously of interest mainly to fanatics and completists like myself. It
does, however, cast even further doubt on Gilbert Kaplan's claims to
authenticity - see above. (Incidentally, Pearl claims this 2CD set to contain the
"first three" Mahler recordings - they obviously don't know about the 1926
Adagietto conducted by Mengelberg, which is now available as part of one of
their Mengelberg edition sets - wake up at the back!)