One of the latest additions of ‘Sixths’ needs to be mentioned: Christoph Eschenbach, in his third recording with the Philadelphia Orchestra on Ondine, delivers a parting salvo of grand proportions (the recording was released at around the same time he announced to step down as Music Director in Philadelphia after a tenure fraught with unease and disagreements). Next to Gielen’s and Zander’s, it’s the only modern recording of the Sixth that can be included in the ‘wild’ category. Eschenbach delivers only two Hammerblows but interestingly he takes the Scherzo first. Playing (plenty aggression) and sound on the SACD hybrid are flawless. It is heavy and heavy hitting, sometimes slow to get its own weight moving in the first movement—but rarely ever to its detriment, usually to the benefit of its ransacking, pillaging quality. The dainty, ‘Nutcrackery’ interludes and gentleness in the same movement sound all the more like false calm. Coupling it with the Mahler Piano Quartet (filling out the second disc) was a great idea, too, especially when the playing is as good as here.

The Philadelphia Orchestra’s first two releases for Ondine under Christoph Eschenbach (Bartók and Tchaikovsky) were extremely good, no doubt about it, but this Mahler Sixth is really extraordinary. Part of its success must stem from the fact that the best German conductors usually do misery especially well, finding the dark side of just about everything. If you don’t believe me, check out Kurt Sanderling’s startlingly deep and edgy rendition of Poulenc’s Concert Champêtre on Supraphon. So you can just imagine what can happen with a piece like Mahler’s Sixth. Anyone fortunate enough to have heard Eschenbach’s performances of this work with the NDR Orchestra in Hamburg will know that he has a special feeling for its harrowing intensity and expressionistic instrumental palette. Toss in the collective virtuosity of the Philadelphia Orchestra, and the result is, to put it mildly, pretty special.

One of the first things you notice about this performance, right at the beginning of the first-movement march, is the rich ensemble sound. The strings have a heft that gives Karajan’s Berliners a run for their money, but never at the expense of textural clarity, thanks to penetrating brass and woodwinds. Eschenbach’s tempo is ideal: quick enough to fulfill Mahler’s “energico” directive but measured enough to let the players really dig into the rhythm and make the music sound threatening. The second-subject “Alma theme” has tremendous passion, but Eschenbach is smart enough not to slow down and make the music wallow in sentimentality. There are two equally strong but contrasting forces battling here: the militant and the lyrical. You won’t hear the central episode, with its tinkling cowbells and celesta, done more poetically by anyone, and the same holds true of the entire coda, which rises to an ecstatic climax that once again offers intensity with no loss of energy.

The scherzo, happily placed second, also has unusual weight and an oppressive sense of menace. Eschenbach catches all kinds of characterful detail beyond the usual Mahlerian special effects (such as clattering xylophone, or col legno strings). One particularly memorable moment concerns the third and last appearance of the scherzo proper, where the trombones spit out their gracenote-laden sectional solo with a venom that’s alarmingly (and aptly) vicious. The final disintegration and wind-down (not too slow) could not have been better handled. The Andante is slower than most, a bit more than 17 minutes, or close to what Karajan did (but not as slow as Tennstedt II or the ridiculous Sinopoli). Aside from eliciting string playing that is so beautiful it will send chills down your spine, Eschenbach once again proves his sensitivity to Mahler’s idiom in the positively luminous “Alpine meadow” episode, and above all when the cowbells come painfully crashing in against the final climactic appearance of the main theme. It’s a moment that no other performance ma
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