That this is not your typical Mahler Sixth is clear right from the light, songful, even goodnatured opening. Tempos are quick. The underpinnings of the march are lightweight and almost bounce. Rhythms come more from the top of the beat than the bottom, creating more lift than usual. Pacing is impetuous. The overall sound is built from the top down, which results in bright textures based on luminescent woodwinds and somewhat thin violins. The effect sometimes resembles a rock skipping over water. Schwarz doesn’t slow down at the “Alma” theme, which is more impulsive, angular, and energizing than adoring, though things do deepen and become a little more urgent by the development. (The repeat is taken.) The deep breath supplied by the cowbell section is effective. The luminous woodwinds emerge as one of the strengths of the performance in their long, songful passage before the big retard that precedes the trombones’ quiet statement of the march theme. The ending is exhilarating. All of this exudes a certain clarity and is devoid of Central European angst and passion. If Mahler’s Sixth Symphony is about a hero, as some contend, this protagonist is youthful, high spirited, naive, and rather polite. He may even speak with a British accent.

The most effective movement is the Andante, here placed second. (The otherwise adequate notes say it comes third!) Its beauty is derived mainly from the serenity and lucidity of the woodwind playing. The youth’s ardor is wistful, even sweet. Even when things become more complex, the music retains its clarity and willingness to move on without darkening its mood, lyrical ardor, or naivete. One consequence of this clarity is the emphasis on the somewhat ungainly key relationship between the Andante’s E-flat and the first movement’s A minor. The result is not jarring or irritating, but it is more noticeable than on any other performance I’ve heard. This key relationship is one of several complex arguments that come into play in the debate over whether the Andante should come second and the Scherzo third or vice-versa. I continue to prefer the Andante in second position, but I now understand a little better why some people disagree.

The politeness and British nature of Schwarz’s approach and Liverpool’s playing are apparent in a Scherzo that tends to soften, polish—and civilize?—Mahler’s biting attacks and harmony. The dance-like passages exude a certain (and quite nice) formality—like a proper royal ball. The strings lay on some Mahlerian portamento here and there, but it doesn’t sound as if it’s in their collective soul to sob, so to speak, in this way.

Liverpool’s lack of weight and tonal richness in the violins is exposed in the opening passage of the finale. The same can be said for the brass, particularly the horns. Mahler needs great solo horn playing, and while it is good here, it is not the big, noble horn sound produced by the London orchestras. The upward tilt of the tonal spectrum conti
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Gerard Schwarz’s Mahler cycle, recorded in 2005 but appearing on silver disc just now, continues with this solid reading of the Sixth Symphony. While for me it misses the deeply felt angst of the Bernstein-Vienna Philharmonic version (DG 427697, on two CDs), it certainly would not discredit anyone’s collection. In many ways it resembles Bernard Haitink’s first Concertgebouw version, which I always rather liked until Bernstein pinned me to the wall.

One feature of this recording that scores points over both Haitink and Bernstein is the transparent, almost 3D orchestral detail achieved by engineer David Pigott, and in this very difficult work I commend him highly. One of my complaints with so many modern classical recordings, particularly orchestral, is the tendency towards ambient goop that distorts details. Schwarz and Pigott have outdone themselves in making every string pizzicato, bell, piccolo, and muted horn passage sound with extraordinary clarity. Perhaps I wouldn’t be so particular about this aspect had this been a symphony of Haydn or Beethoven (though they, too, deserve proper balance), but I’ve always considered Berlioz and Mahler to be special cases, which is one reason I have (and appreciate) very few monophonic recordings of either composers’ work. In addition to the instrumental clarity, Pigott also uses the wide range that digital recording makes available to present a “terraced” sound in which one can discern quite clearly the many fine gradations that Schwarz achieves—not only pianos and mezzo-fortes and fortissimos, but also pianissimos, sforzatos, and every shade in between.

For a good comparison of Bernstein’s reading to Schwarz’s, listen to the last few minutes of the first movement. With Schwarz, everything is in place, conducted at steady tempos that almost border on metronomic, the varied sections of the orchestra diverging and coalescing towards a splendid climax. Then listen to Bernstein: a flatter perspective, not as discrete an orchestral texture, and a tempo that works its way from somewhat slow and trudging to a martial pounding that almost seems to want to burst your speakers. The orchestral sound is much rawer, but so is the feeling: the flutes and trumpets almost sound hysterical, at the end of their emotional rope. A tightening of tempo is suddenly relaxed for a few seconds before the last eight bars come crashing down around you.

Schwarz and annotator Barbara Heninger are at odds on the order of the middle movements. Heninger says that though the second score edition and Mahler’s own performances placed the Andante before the Scherzo, “he is said to have wished his original order restored in later years. It is in this order, Scherzo followed by Andante, that the symphony is generally presented, as it is in today’s concert.” She then discusses Scherzo before Andante, but Schwarz follows the opposite route. Personally, I like this sequence better, if for no other reason than that the Scherzo res
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American conductor Gerard Schwarz leads the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic once again in a compelling account of Gustav Mahler that will stand comparison with the best in the canon. This time it is Mahler’s Symphony No. 6 in A Minor. Known as the “Tragic” Symphony, it’s a work many listeners find difficult to love in spite of the fact that it is straightforward, hardly deviates at all from the home key throughout its 78 – minute length, and benefits from the obvious pains the composer took to make his artistic purpose clear.

Even more than most of Mahler’s symphonies, the Sixth is autobiographic, seemingly portraying in music the struggles of an artist-hero (Mahler himself, of course) against his detractors, fate, and ultimately, death. Even to the casual listener, it will be apparent that there is an extraordinary amount of conflict in this work, beginning with the headlong impetuosity of a brutal, trampling march in the opening bars, which Mahler will later contrast to a fervent second subject which most critics equate with the composer’s feeling for his wife Alma, the great love of his life. One gets the impression of armed conflict in this opening theme, and in fact it is like war itself, something that compels men to march to its tempo, no matter how inhuman. Besides the second subject, there is an interlude with the sound of cowbells. Incongruous as they may seem here, they represented for Mahler associations of deep peace and happiness in a turbulent life.

As you might guess, this work allows Gerard Schwarz manifold opportunities to exercise his penchant for making points, both subtle and trenchant, throughout. Despite the claim in the liner notes that the present performance follows Mahler’s wish to have the Scherzo precede the Andante, it is in fact the latter that we hear first (as it is in the printed edition). We have respite here from the prevailing conflict as well as from the dominant key. Here it is E-flat Major, with a calm pastoral mood tinged with regret, as if it were all to vanish, culminating in a luminous E Major. And yes, those cowbells make an appearance again. The Scherzo picks up where the grim march of the opening movement began, adding a dance in irregular time as the trio (Is it mockery? Childhood innocence?). Schwarz builds the extraordinarily long and intense Finale (28 minutes) up to a stunning climax, heralded by chilling A major/A minor chords in the brass and a final hammer blow, “like the stroke of an ax” (Mahler) that can leave no doubt as to the hero’s fate.