Minnesota Orchestra & Osmo Vänskä: Mahler: Symphony No. 3
BIS Records

Every Mahler symphony transfixes in its own way, be it the poignant leave-taking of the ninth, the tragic death-blows of the sixth, or the pastoral splendour of the fourth. Of the nine (ten if one includes the Deryck Cooke-completed tenth), the second and third form a natural sub-group in showing the composer, in each case, gathering multiple stylistic directions into a single yet nevertheless sprawling statement. With the release of the Symphony No. 3 in D minor (1895-96), conductor Osmo Vänskä and the Minnesota Orchestra bring their years-in-the-making, ten-part Mahler cycle to a close. Coinciding with the release, BIS has made the fifteen-hour cycle available as a box set to go along with earlier complete sets of Sibelius and Beethoven symphonies by the company and conductor.

If the performance of the third sounds particularly inspired, the circumstances under which it was recorded were likely a factor, given that the symphony was recorded in late 2022 at Minnesota's Orchestra Hall in recording sessions following concert performances. Like a band entering the studio after workshopping material on tour, the MO and Vänskä were clearly primed to capture the material for posterity. The pristine clarity of the recording shows that the acoustics of the hall lent themselves as well to documenting the performance as would those offered by a conventional studio. Every detail of Mahler's score, which includes woodwind and brass sections, a percussion arsenal, women's chorus, vocal soloist, and boys' choir, is captured vividly in the company's exquisite rendering, and the impression the listener forms is significantly enhanced as a result. In this iteration, the orchestra's augmented by the Women of the Minnesota Chorale, the Minnesota Boychoir, and English mezzo-soprano Jennifer Johnston.

Mahler was nothing if not ambitious, and his two-part third symphony, about which he wrote, “The whole of nature will have a voice in it,” inarguably reflects that in its grandiose, 100-plus-minute design. At thirty-five minutes, the opening movement alone is longer than some composers' full symphonies, and the five movements that follow, which include a moving song for vocal soloist set to text by Nietzsche, a delightful children's song, and a deeply elegiac finale, are about as wide-ranging as could be imagined. As perplexed as the audience might have been upon first hearing the work, Mahler did develop a thoroughly worked-out plan for the symphony, as indicated by descriptive titles he fashioned for each movement when explaining the work's meaning to friends at the time of its creation. In liner notes, Jeremy Barham provides a detailed account of those titles and their associated meanings; in simplest terms, in the opening movement, Pan's awakening coincides with spring's, after which summer arrives; in the second part, enlightenment is achieved through progressive exposure to nature, animals, humanity, angels, and love. (It should also be noted, however, that Mahler came to reject the programmatic aspect and deemed the titles for the symphony as “utterly inadequate,” even if he did nevertheless accept its general shift in emphasis from nature to humanity to God.)

The encompassing first movement opens dramatically with a brooding eight-horn melody rendered more intense when followed by viper-like trumpet fanfares and a series of funeral march and lyrical episodes. Even though the music repeatedly fluctuates between joy and despair, each wildly contrasting section flows fluidly into the next; the impression of continuity is enhanced when the transitions are executed as effectively as they are by the orchestra. In the movement's frenzied passages, it attacks the music with fervour; in its gentler moments, it plays with the kind of delicacy one associates with a small chamber ensemble. Mention must be made of trombonist R. Douglas Wright, whose solo near the end of the movement is unerring. The symphony's second part begins with the beguiling charm of its second movement, all lustrous textures and lilting rhythms. Allusions to the fourth symphony surface, and one's also reminded at times of the woodland spookiness of the seventh. The general air of serenity is light years removed from the drama of the opening movement, but extreme tonal contrast remains solidly in place for the remainder of the symphony.

The opening movement isn't the work's only large-scale undertaking. The scherzo third lasts nineteen minutes, the finale almost twenty-four, and even the Nietzsche-set fourth is, at ten minutes, long. Prototypical Mahler, the scherzo veers between sardonic bite, pastoral languor, melancholy lament, and youthful exuberance, with once again the shifts in tone handled flawlessly by the orchestra. Much as Wright helped distinguish the opening movement, Manny Laureano does the same here in the splendid Posthorn solo he delivers midway through the scherzo. Singing the “Midnight Song” poem from Also sprach Zarathustra, Johnston elevates the fourth movement with a beautifully calibrated performance that's neither too reserved nor overwrought. Its impact is bolstered by luminous orchestral backing that's impeccably attuned to her delivery. The mood brightens with the onset of the fifth movement, which finds the two choirs gloriously intoning material from the folk song collection Des Knaben Wunderhorn, the writing again foreshadowing the symphony to follow and the music sparkling and the tone celestial. The childlike innocence of that brief movement sets the stage for the profound expression of the finale, which Vänskä delivers at a commendably patient tempo. The feeling of peaceful acceptance emanating from this moving hymn is palpable, and the tension that accrues during its slow climb to triumphant resolution is powerful.

August 2024