John Roos’ Blog

I am writing on Christmas Day, when the world celebrates the birth of Jesus Christ. Yet my thoughts have turned to His death and resurrection. Specifically to the Resurrection Symphony of Gustav Mahler. Mahler did not write specifically about Jesus’ resurrection but this music makes that connection almost inevitable.

My watershed experience of this symphony took place in Orchestra Hall, Chicago, on April 11, 1968. Martin Luther King had been assassinated one week earlier, and there was great unrest, violence, and anxiety. The Vietnam War was raging and the country was being polarized by opposing political forces as well as dramatic social changes.

In this intense environment, Mahler’s music, played by the Chicago Symphony under the direction of Georg Solti, was humbling and awe-inspiring. The concert, in fact, was the subject of a story in Time Magazine, which concluded, “The audience gave Solti one of the biggest ovations ever witnessed at Orchestra Hall.” It certainly was a life-changing moment for me, and I joined the ongoing ovation.

But not everyone that night was enraptured by the performance. A friend of mine left disappointed, not applauding even once. He was not moved, and declared his preference for the Leonard Bernstein/New York Philharmonic recording, performance, and interpretation.

I did not share his judgment. In fact, I have listened (often) to both of Bernstein’s recordings and simply can summon little enthusiasm. But the reaction of my friend helped me understand just how subjective the listening process can be, particularly for a work as complex and emotionally-charged as this one. At the same time, it can be futile and even foolish to declare any performance, any recording to “definitive.” The “best.” That night, at least, he was not moved by Solti/CSO.

Leading up to that concert, I had immersed myself in Resurrection symphony recordings. Bernstein had done more than anyone else to bring attention to Mahler, and was in the midst of his first cycle of Mahler symphony recordings. Many, including me, were disappointed with his Resurrection. It simply felt too extreme. Too artificial. For me, this still is not a favorite “Resurrection.”

 

Back in 1968, the consensus for “best” Resurrection among my friends and the critics I consulted was the recording of Otto Klemperer. (This recording still holds its own, particularly distinguished by the outstanding choir.)

 

Solti had recorded the work with the London Symphony to great acclaim. This recording still holds up well. But I long have preferred the recording Solti made a few years later with the Chicago Symphony. This is the recording to which I return to most often. Solti’s intensity and energy are contageous, as are his way of whipping performers into a kind of trance-like frenzy.

 

This is music that needs space and time. To be heard in context, much as I heard it in April 1968. That is true for live performances but also for recordings. Heard fresh, with fresh ears, it retains the ability to astonish. To lift the spirits. To vault the listener into heavenly realms. To feel the impact of the resurrection. But, if heard frequently, it looses some of that emotional impact.

In recent years, there have been many fine recordings which, in their own way, provide awesome experiences. Leading the way, is the new recording by the Chicago Symphony under Bernard Haitink.

 

A fellow musician, who attended the concerts from which this recording was drawn, told me just how loud this felt. As if the hall was shaking. A taste of true resurrection power described in the book of Romans. I shared this reactiong listening to Haitink/CSO. Massive sound. Extraordinary playing. Outstanding choir and soloists. This enters my pantheon of the best Resurrection symphonies.

Listening to Haitink’s interpretation, I felt “ready” to take another plunge back into the Resurrection sound world, downloading three recordings. I really enjoyed the new live recording by Loren Maazel and the New York Philharmonic. Here was first-rate sound and playing. Utterly captivating. And, what is most important, enabling me to experience Mahler’s music. I felt he was let down by his soloists, however, I do not relish the opportunity to hear them again.

I downloaded and enjoyed Gergiev’s recent live recording with the London Symphony as well as Ivan Fischer’s recording with the Budapest Festival Orchestra. Both of these are excellent recordings, and performances, to which I will return often in the years to come.

 

So, what is my conclusion? How do any of these recordings stack up against Abbado or Bernstein? Zubin Mehta? Bruno Walter? Christoph Eschenbach?

In one way, it is too soon to tell. I find it impractical, and even foolish to try to make these kinds of snap judgments. To me, music of this length and complexity needs to be savored. To sink it. There simply are too many factors. The orchestra. The conductor. The playing. The choir. The soloists. There are too many moments to relish. Too many ways to experience Mahler’s resurrection.

Thanks to the recording process, listeners can withhold judgment for years if necessary. If, for now, I am most moved by Haitink/CSO, at the same time, all of these recordings help me celebrate Gustav Mahler and his extraordinary symphony. That, to me, is the ultimate test, of these, or any other recording or live performance.

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