Symphony No. 4

    There are no fortissimi in my fourth symphony.

    Mahler

    The present belongs to Strauss, the future to Mahler.

    Ernst Otto Nodnagel, at the premiere of the symphony.

    "What shocking music!" muttered somebody near me...Finally the
    first movement came to an end. We had never been so
    embarrassed - obviously we weren't going to admit we might have
    liked it! Was that really serious music?

    William Ritter, on the premiere.

In one sense this symphony was written backwards: the final movement, the
Wunderhorn song Das himmlische Leben (The Heavenly Life) having been
composed almost a decade before the completion of the symphony - which
was written in 1899-1900 - and the quick music between the verses providing
thematic material for the very opening of the symphony.

One early programmatic draft of the symphony read as follows:
Symphony No. 4 (Humoresque)

    No. 1 The world as perpetual here and now, G major
    No. 2 Earthly life, E flat minor
    No. 3 Caritas, B major (Adagio)
    No. 4 Morning bells, F major
    No. 5 The world without cares, D major (Scherzo)
    No. 6 The heavenly life, G major

The final layout of the work, in which Mahler returned to a four movement
form (almost conventional except for the presence of the soprano voice in the
finale) bears only scant resemblance to this sketch; the outer movements
correspond, but the middle four movements have been replaced by a scherzo
(in C minor) and a poco adagio (in G). According to Bruno Walter and Natalie
Bauer-Lechner, Mahler himself gave the movements the titles Death Strikes Up
Freund Hein spielt auf and The Smile of St. Ursula, respectively.

The symphony was first performed on November 25, 1901 in Munich.

The Fourth is Mahler's simplest symphony - well shortest anyway. This and
the first are the only two that come in under an hour. The finale is a depiction
of a child's view of heaven, and very angelic it sounds too - providing you
don't actually read the translation! In fact the child seems to think that the main
point of heaven is that (s)he will finally get enough to eat. The symphony has
been remarkably lucky and there are a number of highly recommendable
versions.

In terms of sheer authenticity, the 1939 recording made live with the
Concertgebouw of Amsterdam conducted by Willem Mengelberg (Philips, nla)
must top the list. Mengelberg worshiped Mahler and knew him well. He took
great pains to note down every detail of Mahler's own performances in his own
copies of the scores; this recording is, therefore, although dating from over a
quarter of a century after the composer's death, the closest we are ever likely
to get to the way Mahler himself would have conducted it.

The huge, unmarked ritardando in the opening bars immediately indicates that
this is a performance in what one might describe as the 'authentic' romantic
tradition; it is almost impossible to imagine such a performance being given
today or, indeed, what the critics might say about it. Apart from a 1926 studio
recording of the adagietto from the Fifth Symphony Adagietto (currently
available as part of a 3 CD Pearl set of early Mengelberg/Concertgebouw
recordings, in a much better transfer than the earlier EMI one), this the only
recording extant of Mengelberg conducting Mahler (although there are rumours
of an aircheck of the Eighth). Be warned, however, that the sound is less than
hi-fi and there are a number of clicks, pops and swishes stemming from the
original 78 acetate masters. Nevertheless this is an extremely important record.

The finest LP-era recording is probably the Cleveland version under the late
George Szell dating from 1966 (Sony). Szell was a great Mahlerian and it is
unfortunate that he only recorded two of the symphonies: his recording of the
sixth has only recently been reissued after having been out of the catalogue for
years, but this fourth has never been out of print, and is a wonderful testament
to his skill.

As an aside, it is remarkable to discover that the very first recording of this
symphony was made in 1930 in Japan, conducted by a Viscount Hidemaro
Konoye. This version is also available on CD (Denon), but, although it is a
surprisingly respectable performance, its chief attraction is doubtless its
curiosity value. The last few bars are missing from the original masters -
presumably the 78s ran out just too soon.

Among more modern versions those of Lorin Maazel with the VPO and Franz
Welser-M岾t with the LPO are both very fine. They are both digital
recordings and the latter, under the orchestra's erstwhile chief conductor (he
resigned a short while ago, after what appears to have been something like an
orchestrated press campaign against him - Mahler would have sympathised!),
features what must be the slowest performance ever of the heavenly third
movement - and yet it doesn't seem a second too long.

Many people swear by the famous Fritz Reiner recording from 1954. I cannot
see the appeal: the performance seems to me to have little affection for the
music, and to be harsh-edged; and while Lisa della Casa may have been the
greatest Strauss soprano of her generation, she seems very unidiomatic here.