Gergiev Marathon : Russians and Mahler, Elbphilharmonie

Where does Valery Gergiev get his energy ?  Two livestreams back to back from the Elbphilharmonie, both programmes hefty. Mahler Symphony no 4 together with Das Lied von der Erde - a combination most conductors wouldn't dare essay on the same night, let alone after the previous night's all-Russian concert - Stravinsky, Rimsky-Korsakov and Shostakovich Symphony no 4.  The players of the Munich Philharmonic Orchestra must be exhausted.  Yet Gergiev looks calm and refreshed.

He has done Stravinsky's Funeral Song, (Chante funèbre) op 5, so often that it's almost his trademark. Please read my piece Lost No More about his premiere of the piece in St Petersburg in 2016 with the Mariinsky Orchestra. As he did then, he paired it with Rimsky-Korsakov's suite from The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh and the Maiden Fevroniya.  This combination is important, given the connection between Rimsky-Korsakov and the young Stravinsky. Towards the end of Funeral Song, (Chante funèbre)  we might detect the last, long chords of The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh.  While Stravinsky spoke fondly of the Funeral Song, it's a transitional work rather  than a stand alone major work, so it does need to be programmed as intelligently as Gergiev does.  The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh is a much more sophisticated piece, its colours at once delicate and luscious. It's a Gergiev favourite, too, and  this performance was very good indeed.  This time, though, his main focus was Shostakovich Symphony no 4 in C minor op 43. Again, this is something Gergiev could conduct in his sleep if he wished but here he shaped it with the clarity it needs. Some conductors get away with clumsiness in Shostakovich because some audiences like noise and butchness.  But Gergiev delineated the more elusive passages, bringing out the finesse that lurks behind the surface brutalism.  If there is hidden meaning in this symphony, those wayward wind and horn passages might represent free spirits uncowed by the larger forces around them.

The real surprise, for me anyway, was the quality of Gergiev's Mahler on this occasion. To say he's hit or miss with Mahler is an understatement.  One of the most horrible Mahler 4's I've heard was Gergiev, but here he was good, alert to the vulnerability that is  so much part of this symphony, which sometimes makes it feeel threatening to some.  In the first movement, he captured the jaunty sleigh ride well, so it felt purposeful rather than random jollies.  Life is a sleigh ride, full of thrills, but eventually we all die, which is why it connects to the last movement.  Great restraint in the other movements too : the moment should not end too soon.  The soloist, Genia Kühmeier, stood behind the orchestra. The acoustic of the Elbphilharmonie seems to favour singers by spreading sound around them rather than blasting from behind. She was sensual rather than otherworldly but that's perfectly appropriate, given the joy the child takes in earthly pleasures.

Following Mahler 4 with Das Lied von der Erde takes guts, maybe foolhardy guts,  but Gergiev and the Müncheners pulled it off.  Skill there, plus stamina.  Some very good moments, especially the winds, with a decidedly "oriental" touch at times.  Andreas Schager sang the tenor part, Tanja Ariane Baumgartner the alto.  Schager's a very good Wagnerian, a born "stage animal" who inhabited the part psychologically, as good opera singers do.  If his voice sounded stressed at times, it didn't matter. The protagonist is supposed to be stressed, so terrified of death that he drinks himself into oblivion.  One of the best Das Lied von der Erde tenors ever was Peter Schreier whose edgy earnestness conveyed the full horror of his predicament.  Good balance between Schager and Baumgartner, her serenity an answer to his fears. 

Powerful statement - Rattle Metamorphosen, Das Lied von der Erde

By pairing  Mahler Das Lied von der Erde (Simon O'Neill, Christian Gerhaher) with Strauss Metamorphosen, Simon Rattle and the London Symphony Orchestra were making a truly powerful statement. The Barbican performance last night was no ordinary concert. This performance was extraordinary because it carried a message. Metamorphosen deals with annihilation, the symbolic death of civilisation. Das Lied von der Erde confronts annihilation but offers transcendance, through metamorphosis.  Whether Rattle realized or not, the Massacre of Nanking started on this day, 80 years ago, one incident in a century of horrors. Music doesn't exist in a vacuum. It can enhance our sensitivity to what happens around us.

In Metamorphosen, Strauss overturns the cliché that strings are necessarily "romantic". His strings operate together like a chorale, in which the voices are too numb to articulate except through abstract sound.  Hence the haunted sussurations, generating a haze of sound which both suggests and obscures meaning.  The bombing of German opera houses was, to Strauss, symptomatic of a much wider trauma : the scenes of past triumphs literally going up in smoke. Rattle and the LSO strings defined  the textures so well that the effect was almost claustrophobic : moments when the first violin rose above the density shone, illuminating the background.  Rattle also, suggests how "modern" the piece is, with its subtleties and its Night and Fog ambiguity.

Simon O'Neill and Christian Gerhaher were the soloists in Das Lied von der Erde, an interesting combination since their voices are so different, and a choice which also intensified meaning.  In performance, singers interact with each other, and with the orchestra, so a good choice of singers contributes to interpretation.

O'Neill is a Wagner tenor, capable of great force. He's also a singer who inhabits roles, bringing out the psychology of the characters he portrays. Wagner heroes aren't nice, or romantic, so the metallic quality in O'Neill's timbre works particularly well in suggesting inner conflict.  Some of his keynote roles are Siegmund and Tannhäuser, men who have experienced life to the full.  In Das Trinklied von Jammer der Erde,  the tenor does not want to die, and struggles against Fate. Defiantly, he raises his Gold'nen Pokale to drink himself insensate. Even when O'Neill sang the word "Das Firmament" he laced it with poisoned irony. The harsh truth is that apes will howl on abandoned graves. In Chinese culture where heritage is sacred, this image is horrific : the Id consuming the Ego, barbarity annihilating civilization. When O'Neill sang the words "wild-gespenstische Gestalt", he spat them out with a savagery that showed how well he understood the context.

In complete contrast, Christian Gerhaher sang with serene smoothness,  which worked well with O'Neill's intensity. DasTrinklied vom Jammer der Erde and Der Abschied form two pillars, between which the protagonist reflects upon his life. The voices don't operate in dialogue, but suggest  different parts of the same persona, as does the mirror image of  the half  moon bridge reflected in the pond.  Gerhaher had been singing for years before he shot to international stardom in Tannhäuser with an astonishingly beautiful O du holdes Abendstern, still his signature role.  Wolfram represents purity, the Wartburg tradition where battles are fought by song. Wolfram's a paragon, Tannhäuser raddled and cursed, but Elisabeth chose the bad boy, who had lived.  Gerhaher is one of the finest Wolframs ever, but O'Neill, is an excellent Tannhäuser.  In so many ways, this Das Lied von der Erde could have been Tannhäuser the Rematch, a level of meaning that's essential to understanding.

Das Lied von der Erde represents a traverse from life to sublimated afterlife. The images in this song symphony are pretty, but doomed.  O'Neill established the right emotional tone, while Gerhaher's serenity acted a foil.  The images in the text are pretty, but pointed.   The young men will no longer prance on their horses as they did when young, the friends in the pavilion will part. Gerhaher's calm smoothness reminded me  of Kuan Yin, the Goddess of Mercy, who salves troubled souls. Lotus blossoms dignify Kuan Yin in Chinese mythology. The roots grow in darkness and dirt, but the flowers grow towards the sun. The maidens pluck them because they are edible : a source of nutrition in every sense. Eventually the poet/protagonist is silenced, with only a bird (woodwind) as guide (like Siegfried).  Then in Der Abschied  the journey metamorphosed onto another level altogether.  Gerhaher's singing here was exquisite, well modulated and even paced, the last words "ewig...ewig...ewig" expressed with depth and richness.

This Rattle/LSO Das Lied von der Erde was also outstanding because Rattle understood its structural architecture.  The work is remarkably symmetric, dualities creating internal links within and between each section. The singers’ voices are paralleled by flute and oboe. The repeating refrain "Dunkel ist das Leben ist der Tod" connects to the much more esoteric "ewigs" with which the work ends.  Each song ends with an emphatic break, which Rattle clearly marks, for each song closes a door and moves on. In Der Abschied, there are multiple inner sections, interspersed with orchestral interludes which serve to mark transitions. Whatever is happening now is beyond the realm of words alone: like a kind of transition in which something is gradually distilled into a new plane of existence.  Think about the Purgatorio in what would have been Mahler's tenth. A pulse like a heartbeat throbs in the early songs,  which gradually resolves into the calm almost-breathing stillness in the end.  It may be fashionable in some quarters  to knock Rattle on principle because he's successful and famous, but that overlooks the fact that he has very strong musical instincts.  And the LSO plays for him as if divinely inspired.

Unique ! Jonas Kaufmann Das Lied von der Erde

Jonas Kaufmann Mahler Das Lied von der Erde is utterly unique but also works surprisingly well as a musical experience.  This won't appeal to superficial listeners, but will reward those who take Mahler seriously enough to value the challenge of new perspectives.  A single voice in a song symphony created for two voices?  Not many artists have the vocal range and heft to sustain 45 minutes at this intensity but Kaufmann achieves a feat that would defy many others. Das Lied von der Erde for one soloist is a remarkable experiment that's probably a one-off, but that alone is reason enough to pay proper attention.

The dichotomy between male and female runs like a powerful undercurrent through most of Mahler's work.  It's symbolic. The "Ewig-wiebliche", the Eternal feminine, represents abstract concepts like creativity, redemption and transcendance, fundamentals of Mahler's artistic metaphysics.  Ignore it at the risk of denaturing Mahler!  But there can be other ways of  creating duality, not tied to gender.  Witness the tenor/baritone versions, contrasting singers of the calibre of Schreier and Fischer-Dieskau.  For Das Lied von der Erde, Mahler specified tenor and mezzo/alto, the female voice supplying richness and depth in contrast to the anguish of the tenor, terrified of impending death.  This is significant, since most of Mahler's song cycles and songs for male voices are written for medium to low voices, and favour baritones. Tenors generally get short-changed, so this is an opportunity to hear how tenors can make the most of Mahler.  .

Kaufmann is a Siegmund, not a Siegfried: his timbre has baritonal colourings not all can quite match. Transposing the mezzo songs causes him no great strain.  His Abschied is finely balanced and expressive, good enough to be heard alone, on its own terms. What this single voice Das Lied sacrifices in dynamic contrast, it compensates by presenting Das Lied von der Erde as a seamless internal monologue. Though Mahler uses two voices, the protagonist is an individual undergoing transformation: Mahler himself, or the listener, always learning more, through each symphony.  Thus the idea of a single-voice Das Lied is perfectly valid, emotionally more realistic than tenor/baritone.  All-male versions work when both singers are very good, but a single-voice version requires exceptional ability.  Quite probably, Kaufmann is the only tenor who  could carry off a single-voice Das Lied.

With his background, Kaufmann knows how to create personality without being theatrical, an important distinction,  since Das Lied von der Erde is not opera, with defined "roles", but a more personal expression of the human condition.  This Das Trinklied vom Jammer der Erde  is unusually intense, since the person involved emphatically does not want to die.  The horns call, the orchestra soars, but Kaufmann's defiance rings with a ferocity most tenors  might not dare risk.  Wunderlich couldn't test this song to the limits the way Kaufmann does. Schreier, on the other hand, infused it with similar courage, outshining the mezzo and orchestra in his recording with Kurt Sanderling.  This heroic, outraged defiance is of the essence, for the protagonist is facing nothing less than annihilation. Twenty years ago, when Kaufmann sang Das Lied with Alice Coote in Edinburgh, I hated the way he did this song, as if it was a drinking song.  Now Kaufmann has its true measure, spitting out the words fearlessly, taking risks without compromise.  No trace whatsoever of Mario Lanza! This  reveals a side of Kaufmann which the marketing men pushing commercial product like the Puccini compilation will not understand, but enhances my respect for Kaufmann's integrity as a true artist.

After the outburst of Das Trinklied, Der Einsame im Herbst is reflective, with Kaufmann's characteristic "smoky" timbre evoking a sense of autumnal melancholy.  This is usually a mezzo song,  so at a few points the highest notes aren't as pure as they might be, though that adds to the sense of vulnerability which makes this song so moving.  Von der Jugend is a tenor song, though no surprises there.  If Kaufmann's voice isn't as beautiful as it often is,  he uses it intelligently.  The arch of the bridge mirrored in the water is an image of reversal. Nothing remains as it was.   In Von der Schönheit Mahler undercuts the image of maidens with energetic, fast-flowing figures in the orchestra. This song isn't "feminine". The protagonist is no longer one of the young bucks with prancing horses. He has other, more pressing things on his mind.  Der Trunkene im Frühling usually marks the exit of the tenor, recapitulating Das Trinklied vom Jammer der Erde.  Though there are tender moments, such as the bird song and its melody, the mood is still not resigned. Kaufmann throws lines forcefully : "Der Lenz ist da!", "Am schrwarzen Firmament!" and, defiant to the end with "Laßt mich betrunken sein!"

Jonathan Nott conducts the Wiener Philharmoniker. creating an atmospheric Abschied with muffled tam tam, woodwinds, strings, harps, celeste and mandolin.  Excellent playing, as you'd expect from this orchestra.  Just as the first five songs form a mini-cycle, the Abschied itself unfolds in several stages, each transition marked by an orchestral interlude.  The dichotomy now is not merely between voice types but between voice and orchestra: altogether more abstract and elevated.  This final song is the real test of this Das Lied and Kaufmann carries it off very well.  Now the tone grows ever firmer and more confident.  There are mini-transitions even within single lines of text, such as the beautifully articulated "Er sprach....., seine Stimme war umflort...... Du, mein Freund".  At last, resolution is reached. The ending is transcendant, textures sublimated and luminous.  The protagonist has reached a new plane of consciousness not of this world.  Kaufmann's voice takes on richness and serenity. He breathes into the words "Ewig....ewig" so the sound seems almost to glow.  Utterly convincing.  This isn't the prettiest Das Lied von der Erde on the market, but it wouldn't be proper Mahler if it were. It is much more important that it is psychologically coherent and musically valid.  Too often, interesting performances are dismissed out of hand because they are different, but Kaufmann's Das Lied von der Erde definitely repays thoughtful listening.

Song Cycle within Song Symphony : Goerne, Mahler Eisler

A song cycle within a song symphony - Matthias Goerne's intriuging approach to Mahler song, with  Marcus Hinterhäuser, at the Wigmore Hall, London.  Mahler's entire output can be described as one vast symphony, spanning an arc that stretches from his earliest songs to the sketches for what would have been his tenth symphony. Song was integral to Mahler's compositional process, germinating ideas that could be used even in symphonies which don't employ conventional singing. Goerne's programme was structured like a symphony, through which songs flowed in thoughtful combination, culminating in the Abschied from  Das Lied von der Erde, revealed as a well-constructed miniature song cycle in its own right.  Goerne is more than a superb singer. He's a true artist who illiminates the musical logic that underlies Mahler's music.
Song is the voice of the human soul. With remarkable consistency, from beginning to end, Mahler's music poses questions about the purpose of human existence in the face of suffering and death, Nearly always, transcendance is found through creative renewal.  Thus this programme began with Der Tamboursg'sell (1901), so well known that it symbolizes the whole Des Knaben Wunderhorn collection of songs. The drummer boy is young but he's being marched to the gallows, for reasons unknown. "Gute Nacht, Gute Nacht!"  Goerne's tone rumbled with chilling darkness, as if haunted.  Das irdische Leben (1892-3) followed, paired with Urlicht, in the piano song version, though it's better known as part of Mahler's Symphony no 2, sung by an alto. This was a thoughtful pairing. Das irdische Leben isn't just about child neglect, but opens onto wider issues like the nurturing of artists. In Urlicht, the protagonist refuses to be turned away, determined to reach its destiny. The song occurs at a critical point in the symphony, where the soul has passed through purgatory and is heading towards resurrection. In Goerne's programme, it is halted, temporarily, though we know there will be resolution. These first three songs thus form a kind of prologue for what is to follow.
Goerne has been singing Mahler for decades, though he hasn't recorded much, which is a loss to posterity as his Mahler is deeply thought through and perceptive.  He's been singing Hanns Eisler even longer, since he grew up a child star in the DDR where Eisler's childrens' songs were well known   He recorded Eisler's German Symphony op 50 (1957) with Lothar Zagrosek in 1995.  Eisler's German Symphony is a song symphony, an "Anti-Fascist Cantata" setting poems by Brecht and Ignazio Silone. Goerne's recording of Eisler's Hollywood Songbook in 1998 is a masterpiece, easily eclipsing all others.and still remainsthe classic.  At the Wigmore Hall, Goerne combined two specialities into a well-integrated whole, the Eialer songs functioning as middle movements expanding the themes in the Mahler songs.

Eisler wrote Hollywood Liederbuch while in exile in Hollywood, pondering on the nature of German culture and identity during the cataclysm that was the Third Reich.  Although Eisler is often colonized by pop singers, these songs are serious art songs and include settings of Hölderlin and Heine and really need to be heard with singers like Goerne who can handle the tricky phrasing and vocal range with the understated finesse they need.  These are songs of existential anguish, expressed obliquely because the pain they deal with is almost too hard to articulate.  For this recital, Goerne chose songs set to some of Brecht's finest poetry, like Hotelzimmer 1942 where Brecht describes neatly arranged objects. But from a radio blare out "Die Seigesmeldungen meiner Feinde". Goerne flowed straight into An den kleinen Radioapparat, reinforcing the connection between the two songs so they flowed together as one larger piece.  The piano parts are written with delicacy, suggesting the fragility of radio waves and the vulnerability of life itself.

Brecht, like Eisler, was a refugee, fleeing from persecution.  After this first group of Eisler songs, Goerne placed Über den Selbstmord. The contrast was shocking. The mood changed from suppressed  anxiety to outright horror. Goerne brought out the surreal malevolence, his voice rasping with menace. "Das ist gefährlich". The song is a deliberate reversal of Romantic imagery - bridges, moonlight, rivers - and sudden, unplanned suicide. Goerne sang the last phrase, letting his words hang, suspended  "das uberträgliche Leben"....coming to a violent sudden end on the word "fort".

A brief respite when Goerne recited lines from Blaise Pascal, which Eisler set with minimal coloration to the Brecht Fünf Elegien, refined miniatures about daily life in Los Angeles, where everything seems normal.  Three more songs of poisoned "normalcy"- Ostersonntag, Automne californien and In die Frühe before a return to the grim reality of  Der Sohn I and Die Heimkehr.  Then again Brecht and Eisler overturn Romantic nostalgia. "Vor mir kommen die Bomber, Tödlicher Schwärme" and a horrific parody of a Homecoming hero.  The songs in the Hollywood Liederbuch can be presented in any order, but Goerne arranged them here in a pattern which suggests deceptively light andantes cut short by brutal scherzi. 

Mahler's Das Lied von der Erde progresses from frenzied denial to transfigured acceptance, expressed through a series of very distinctive songs.  In this performance, context came from the songs that had come before, widening the panorama.  Bethge's texts evoke China a thousand years past. Once again, many face what Brecht and Eisler went through. Hearing the Abschied in this context is uncomfortable, yet also uplifting, for it reminds us that the grass will grow again. Hearing the Abschied for piano also makes us focus on the structure of the song, and the way it, too, develops in a series of distinct stages, like a miniature song cycle, like Das Lied von der Erde itself,  "wunderlich im Spiegelbilde".

The orchestral Das Lied von der Erde predicates on the tension between tenor and alto/mezzo, a typical Mahler contrast between unhappy man and redeeming female deity, but as a stand alone, the Abschied lends itself perfectly well to other voice types. Goerne thus resurrects the Abschied for baritones, connecting the songs of passage, whether they be passages through death or domicile.  The message remains the same. The darker hues in Goerne's voice suggest strength and solidity,  values which emphasize the earthiness of the imagery in the text.  He sings gravitas yet the high notes are reached with grace and ease. At the moment he's singing particularly well, better even than when he recorded Eisler's Ernste Gesänge in 2013, also with songs from the Hollywood Songbook.  Marcus Hinterhäuser's playing was exquisite, so elegant that he made the piano sound like pipa or erhu, revealing the refined, chamber music intimacy in the song that the orchestral versions don't often access.  Although the piano/voice recording with Brigtte Fassbaender, Thomas Moser and Cyprien Katsaris has been around for years, there's no comparison whatsoever. At times I thought Hinterhäuser might be playing a new, cleaner edition of the score, since his playing was infinitely  more beautiful and expressive. I suspect he's just a much better pianist, and he and Goerne have worked together a lot in recent years. As Hinterhäuser played the long non-vocal interludes, Goerne was visibly following the score, listening avidly. That's how good Lieder partnerships are made.  As Goerne sang the last "Ewig....ewig...."  I couldn't bear for the music to end.
you might want to read more :

Schubert Winterreise staged Aix, Goerne, now out on DVD
Brahns exults ! Vier ernste Lieder Goerne Eschenbach
Mahler early songs, orh Berio, Goerne
LOTS and lots on Mahler, Eisler, Lieder and  Goerne, please explore
 This review also appears in Opera Today

Autumn Elegy: Das Lied von der Erde, Bernarda Fink Prague

Jiří Bělohlávek in ceremonial robes, after receiving his honorary doctorate. photo credit Academy of Performing Arts, Prague, June 2016

Jiří Bělohlávek conducted the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra at the Rudolfinium, Prague, last week, in Tchaikovsky and Mahler, with soloists Joshua Bell, Bernarda Fink and Pavel Cernoch. The Rudolfinium is a shrine to the blossoming of Czech music and national spirit. A statue of Antonin Dvořák proudly faces the building. The interior is beautifully unrestored, the ambience enhanced, gracefully, by the fading patina of the gold painted columns and the mellow glow of antique wood panelling. Yet the orchestra members wore flowers, symbolizing Spring, for the concert marked the start of a new season. Renewal amid the autumnal weather outside, and the vintage atmosphere inside the hall.  Utterly appropriate for a performance of Mahler's Das Lied von der Erde.

Bělohlávek has conducted the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra and National Theatre for years, and has brought authentic, idiomatic Czech music to the world. Once he cut a striking figure with his bouffant hair and sturdy body language. Now he's frail, thin and bald, but if anything, that's added to the impact of his performances.  As Abbado showed in Lucerne, tough challenges can inspire. Bělohlávek may not have been a particularly Mahler-oriented conductor, but so what? He understands the  fundamental emotional depth of Das Lied von der Erde and that counts for a lot. This was an elegaic performance, not rushed, not somnolent,  but dignified. The composure of those who are truly strong from within themselves.

The trumpets attacked, with truculent fervour. Das Trinklied is no "drinking song". Dunkel ist das Leben, ist der Tod. The protagonist isn't giving up without a fight.  Life is short but what lies ahead but an ape, grinning in the moonlight?  For me, Trinklieds need a sense of feisty defiance. Golden goblets mean nothing when wine runs out.  Pavel Cernoch, a regular at the Czech National Theatre, doesn't have honeyed tones, but gets the right sense of anguish.

This framed the characteristic warmth of Bernarda Fink's voice, making one appreciate what she's singing about, and why.  She's not in the first bloom of youth, but that would be inappropriate. Instead, Fink sings with the poise of maturity. The "gold" in Das Lied von der Erde lies in the timbre, and in delivery informed by life experience.  Although her roots are Slovenian, Fink grew up in South America, and came to Prague when she was a Junge Mädchen.  Perhaps this had a bearing on her performance, which was magisterial yet sensitive : characteristic Bernarda Fink, but this time with extra, personal expressiveness.

The glow in Fink's singing was amplified by the orchestra, whose highly individual sound, honed on the feistiness of Czech repertoire,  balanced warmth with pungent spirit, again, utterly appropriate to Das Lied von der Erde. Nostalgia, yet not sentimentality, a sense of loss, yet not of meek submission.  Von der Jugend kicked off with energy  : already we can hear the images of movement to come in Von der Schönheit. where the orchestra played with sprightly vigour : the image of young men on prancing horses. The last, quiet moments cast a chill, as they should, a detail which is often overlooked.

Der Abschied began gently, suggesting the gathering of clouds: autumnal mists filled not with mellow fruitfulness, but something altogether more mysterious. Clarinets, bassoons, horns and harp : something cosmic is happening . The flute swoops in graceful ellipse : moving us on. Der Abschied moves in a series of stages, a miniature "procession" as Mahler's transitions so often resemble.  Bělohlávek observed the long central interlude carefully, for it is during this section that the transformation, whatever it may be, germinates.  When the vocal line returns, we've entered a new scenario. "Er stieg vom Pferd": the moment of departure. Fink's singing became even more gracious. The winds sprang up, almost literally, leading to another transit. "Ich wandle nach der Heimat".  Then the celeste, truly "celestial",  and we're on another plane of existence, where the earth becomes green again, and blossoms bloom "Ewig.....ewig".

Joshua Bell, Bělohlávek and the Czech Philharmonic began this concert with Tchaikovsky beautifully played, but for me, this Das Lied von der Erde was one to remember.

Mahler on Chinese instruments

Mahler Das Lied von der Erde adapts Chinese poetry and uses figures reminiscent of Chinese music. Mahler had a friend who had recordings of Chinese music, so it's possible that Mahler had an idea what they sounded like. So why not transcriptions for Chinese instruments. Below, an arrangement for cello, piano, clarinet and dizi , a  Chinese flute. It's a chamber reduction so isn't as lush as a full western orchestra, but closer to Chinese traditions which favour small ensembles or solo instruments.

Some years ago,there was a Das Lied von der Erde with texts sung in Chinese..this necessitated rearranging the music itself, since the texts in Chinese don't scan the same way as German texts. Part of the beauty of Chinese poetry is the way characters are arranged on the page, meanings left open to interpretation.the rearrangement was by Sharon Choa. The tenor was Warren Mok.

Anyway, here's the transcription for four instruments :

Kurt Sanderling, Dunkel ist das Leben, ist der Tod

Kurt Sanderling has died, a few days short of his 99th birthday. A true Berliner, born in what was then East Prussia, exiled in 1935 to the USSR, where he spent his formative years. In 1960, he returned to Berlin to head the Berlin Symphony Orchestra and later the Dresden Staatskapelle. Sanderling was one of the great names in music in East Germany, which is a key to his style. He's uninfluenced by the glitz of the west, or  by capitalist commercial pressures. Despite the repression of the DDR regime, it was a haven for high musical standards. Unlike so many conductors in the west, Sanderling knew first hand, and for longer than many, what it was like living in a totalitarian state, which may or may not give his work a different perspective, to. say, Herbert von Karajan,  Sanderling's Cold War rival. 

Sanderling is specially well known for his Shostakovich, since he knew the composer personally, and worked with Yevgeny Mravinsky. Seek out his recordings of Shostakovich which are masterful. Sanderling was also thoroughly versed in other Russian repertoire, for obvious reasons, but his work with "western" composers is even more interesting. His Sibelius, for example, is craggy, nothing like Karajan, though both are individual, much closer, one thinks, to the composer than the softer, Romantic style popular earlier.

Sandertling also had a passion for Mahler, which he shared with Shostakovich. One of my absolute all-time favourite Mahler Das Lied von der Erde is Sanderling's recording from the 1980's with Peter Schreier,  Birgitta Finnila and the Berlin Symphony Orchestra.  Schreier is unbelievably intense, full of depth and nuance. Sanderling, too. This is a performance of rare intensity where savage anguish mixes with exquisite refinement. Finnila is not quite in that league, though she's better than many. It's just that Sanderling and Schreier are so good. This is a keynote recording because it's so uncompromising.  Get it HERE. There's a new DVD release where Sanderling conducts it but  probably no comparison except for die-hard fans of English singers and orchestras.

Because Sanderling's main career was so tied up with the eastern bloc and its socialist ideals, we're fortunate that recordings are plentiful and cheap (and lots more in the archives from radio broadcasts). Top recommendation is the 16 CD set from Berlin Classics. It's huge and comprehensive, and has appeared on other budget labels, like Brilliant Classics for £9.99! (though that's no longer available, like the complete-ish Shostakovich set)  Here too is a rare interview (auf Deutsch) with Kurt Sanderling in Berlin, 2004. Very informative.

Listen below to the clip of Sanderling's Das Lied von der Erde. How Schreier curls his tongue and spits out resistance, then warms as he sings of the sensual second Goldener Pokale. Every phrase deeply felt "Herr dieses Hause" with defiance. Nothing comfortable about this! The trumpet call, the strings which seem to search infinite heights. Then the sudden end, life cut off short. Ferocity in this song matters, for it's a counterbalance to the Abschied. No loss, no transcendance. Without the ferocity of this first song, the impact of the Abschied is muted. There's nothing "pretty" in Das Lied von der Erde. In the unlikely event I'd have to choose one perfect Mahler moment, this is it.

Aldeburgh Rattle CBSO Mahler Messiaen

This year's Gala opening evening at Aldeburgh sold out to top, top level Friends within moments. Thousands wanted to hear Simon and Mrs Rattle back with the CBSO, his old band, Aldeburgh regulars for many years.  The choice of  programme was daunting : Mahler's Das Lied von der Erde after Messiaen's Et expecto resurrectionem mortuorum. Could any contrast be more extreme? And in a small auditorium like the Maltings at Snape ?

Messiaen dreamed that Et expecto resurrectionum mortuorum could be performed in the mountains of the French Alps, booming across vast valleys. It's probably the most monumental piece in the whole repertoire and can even raise the roof at the Royal Albert Hall. At Snape, it's a wonder Health & Safety didn't intervene. Anyone with migraine or inner ear problems is probably still suffering. 

I've been writing about Messiaen and about Et expecto resurrectionum mortuorum  for years, so please look up this link HERE which leads to other links, so you can keep exploring. Rattle conducted a good Messaien Et exspecto at the Barbican earlier this year, but at Snape sound considerations did make a difference, which you can even hear on the BBC broadcast.

More interesting was Mahler's Das Lied von der Erde.  When Magdalena Kožená first started singing Mahler, she didn't seem like a typical Mahler mezzo. On the other hand stereotype delimits.Nothing in the rule book demands dark-hued sobriety. Indeed, as Claudio Abbado showed in Berlin, translucent, shining textures emphasize the uplift in the music. There Anne Sofie von Otter's singing was pure and deeply committed. Diva doesn't sit well in a piece whose whole message is transcendance over worldly pettiness. Kožená's voice is prettier than von Otter's but she hasn't quite the same fierce sense of character. On the other hand, it was clear from this performance that she wasn't herself: her chest sounded constricted. Pacing herself carefully to conserve her reserves, she couldn't let go as she would probably have done in better circumstances. 

Michael Schade has sung the tenor part in Das Lied von der Erde many times: nothing spectacular but also nothing wrong, either. Fair enough, considering that this was the gala opening of a non-Mahler festival and no-one was nit picking. Rattle and the CBSO were the draw and fans would not have been disappointed.

Abbado Mahler Das Lied von der Erde Berlin - review

There was no way any performance of Mahler's Das Lied von der Erde with Claudio Abbado and the Berliner Philharmoniker would be anything but good. It was Mahler's Todestag after all,  everyone was reverent. But it exceeded all expectations because of Anne Sofie von Otter. She's by no means a typical Mahler singer, but that's exactly why she was so fantastic.

Scrap the clichés about how Der Abschied "should" be done: von Otter goes straight back to the score, and moreover to her soul, the source of real Mahler singing. Her voice is on the light side, so don't expect ultra-rich sumptuousness. There are different ways of expressing emotion. Von Otter's performance was wonderful because it was pure and direct. No diva-like affectations, no self-conscious playing to the audience. Such things impress, but ultimately they are ego trips for the singer, putting a barrier between listener and music. And Das Lied von der Erde, like so much Mahler, is about the sublimation of the ego.

Von Otter's interpretation highlighted Mahler, not herself. She's not as youthful as she was, but her voice is in excellent shape, enhanced by the depth emotional maturity can bring.  Complete technical control, firm tone, no wavering for adornment's sake.  Throught the text, there are references to lotuses and to ponds, which in China, almost always imply lotuses. These links are not superficial chinoiserie but fundamental to the whole meaning of this symphony. Lotuses are the symbol of purity becuase they rise upwards from murky depths. They look delicate but they're resilient. They survive and renew themselves year after year. Von Otter's singing has a pellucid quality that reminds me of the simple, unfussy purity of the lotus. She has grit and strength, but she projects legato so it expands with radiant lucidity. This is the essence of  O Schönheit! O ewigen Liebens.

Von Otter's clarity worked perfectly with the way Claudio Abbado conducted the Berliner Philharmoniker.  Can any other orchestra match the Berliners for lucidity and sheer finesse?  This was a performance that connected to the many images of darkness, contrasted with shimmering light in the text and in the music - mirror reflections, sparkling water, sunlight.... instruments reflected by others (flute/clarinet, violins/harp). Unmuddied, unsullied.  Even tutti moments were sharply outlined. Three mandolins, heard clearly and distinctly. And what lines - strutting, angular ostinato, not heavy handed but energetic.You could "see" the horses' muscles, and imagine the throbbing of a heartbeat, all references to a powerful life force.  Even more exquisite the surging, shimmering lines, rising ever upwards.  Combining Das Lied von der Erde with the Adagio from what would have been Mahler's Tenth Symphony enhanced both works. Shorn of the rest of the draft movements, the Adagio can be interpreted different ways, but Abbado and the Berliners know what was to come. Together, the two works are a hymn to life and the transcendence of death.  Hence, free-spirited exuberance rising from absolute technical refinement. Abbado looked even more haggard than usual, but even that added to the sense that this concert was a milestone experience.

Jonas Kauffmann, too, has matured. This performance showed him singing with much greater depth and gravitas than ever before. Das Trinklied vom Jammer der Erde isn't a drinking song. On the contrary, it's a savage, passionate protest against death and its curtailment of earthly happiness. Kaufmann spat out the lines about the ape on the tomb with appropriate violence. The image is horrific, especially for Chinese sensibilities. The ape represents the triumph of barbarism: apes aren't schön gekleidet and don't write verse or converse. Kaufmann's interpretation was flawless, impressively dignified. Unfortunately, his voice showd signs of strain, probably from having come fresh from a glorious Siegmund. But it didn't really matter if his top wasn't quite as smooth as it could be. Much better that he put his effort into emotional truth into what he was doing, singing meaning rather than surface beauty.

Although the live broadcast is over, the Berliner Philharmoniker will be archiving this concert, so it will be available online in the Digital Concert Hall. It was amazing, opening up new interpretive possibilties. Hearing it made me feel high, not on alcohol, but with the joy of life.  Please read my other posts on Mahler, Abbado, Das Lied von Der Erde and other related subjects.,. Lots on this site that's original, not seen anywhere else.

Das Lied von der Erde - personal musing

Amazing Mahler  Das Lied von der Erde from Berlin, Claudio Abbado, Anne Sofie von Otter, Jonas Kaufmann and the Berliner Philharmoniker. Shattering performance, I'm still shaking, one of the most powerful I've ever heard. Full commentary later, but for now, some personal observations on why and how such music can affect us. There is nothing wrong with listening like an autistic actuary, because emotion is messy. But for me, listening without making connections isn't listening at all. 

Because it's Mahler's Todestag, it would be churlish to deny the extra-musical impact of this performance. What lies beyond physical life? Maybe it's all one big con trick. But it does have a bearing on how we live in this world. Which is why it's fascinated people of all cultures for millennia. Listening to Das Lied von der Erde tonight, I kept thinking not only of Mahler but of my father, who resembled the composer in many ways although he couldn't stand Mahler's music, preferring Verdi. My Dad grew up in China. He was familiar with pavilions aus grünem und aus weißem Porzellan, and really did sit with friends talking about art, history and culture. When he was a refugee in the war, he climbed on the roof of the camp to look at the stars, even though he was crippled. South China was so much part of who he was that he withered in exile, like an uprooted plant, even though he kept active and learned many new things. In his old age, he kept a statue of Li Bo, the drunken poet, beside his favourite chair.

His last illness dragged on against all odds. He was a rational scientist but when the time came, he struggled on refusing to give in.  Being just as logical as he, I thought I'd be prepared at the end.  But no way. I shattered like an infant, unable to think straight for months. Any music seemed ludicrously trivial in the face of death. Then one day, much later, it felt like he was speaking to me "It's OK, I have reached the other side". And suddenly, inexplicably, Der Abschied from Das Lied von der Erde came pouring into my mind, full volume, full of feeling. For the first time, its complete meaning hit me, far greater than the text and music alone. It was like a message from my Dad, that whatever the transition was, it had passed and he was at peace. Totally, insanely illogical, as Mahler was the last composer my Dad would have communicated through. So maybe up wherever he is, he's chuckling at the irony.

For me, now when I hear Das Lied von der Erde, I think of the lotuses that appear almost casually in the text. Yet they are integral to the whole meaning of the song symphony. Lotuses grow in mud. Their roots are tough and fibrous. In summer, whole lakes can be covered by their strong, blue-green leaves. The flowers emerge, the petals so delicate-looking they seem like supernatural spirits. From mud, to purity. In the autumn they die back, but even in the north, where there is snow, they come back again in all their glory, in the spring.
Please see my other posts on Mahler and on Das Lied von der Erde, like THIS.

Live, Abbado, Mahler Das Lied von der Erde Berlin

Live on Wednesday 18th May, the anniversary of Mahler's death one hundred years ago. Claudio Abbado conducts the Berliner Philharmoniker in Mahler's Das Lied von der Erde, paired with the Adagio from what would have been Mahler's Tenth Symphony. LINK HERE.

This anniversary year has been marred  by too many jumping on the bandwagon. Abbado and the Berliners will, however, do the composer justice. This could be a concert to remember for a long time. Soloists are Anne Sofie von Otter and Jonas Kaufmann. I first encountered Kaufmann singing this at Edinburgh, years ago, when he'd just moved out of the Munich training system.  It was a disaster. As someone said at the time "But isn't Das Lied von der Erde a set of drinking songs?"  which kind of summed it up. "No, it's not", I wept.  Fortunately for all of us, Kaufmann has matured tremendously. Years ago I used to think he'd be best in repertoire that suits the soft focus of his voice - ideal in Strauss, Rossini etc - but his Lohengrin and Siegmund show he's developed. Anne Sofie von Otter's voice has become richer and deeper too, "warmed by life" which does count for something. There's more to Mahler than surface magnificence. What makes him what he is is, I think, emotional complexity, which comes from within.

I will be writing a full commenatry about this AMAZING performance later, but for the time being here arev two other posts on Das Lied von der Erde, one about the Chinese imagery and the other about more personal experiences.  Please come back, there's lots on Mahler on this site and original stuff you won't find elsewhere !

Maureen Forrester RIP

Maureen Forrester has passed away. Here is a nice "Canadian" take on her which shows what she meant to Canadians ".....the embodiment of earth-mother, reigning queen and good sport made her the shining model of what Canadians want a diva to be." It's moving because it isn't like all the standard bios that the media will trot out. The writer knew what she meant, personally.

Maureen Forrester meant a lot to me though only through recordings. This is one of the best, I think, with Fritz Reiner (More on the same stream). You can't know Mahler singing til you've heard her, such depth, such warmth, such refinement!  There are lots of Mahler mezzos and of course we need to hear them all!  Her career as a singer ended too early and she suffered a long twilight, but Maureen Foirrester is way up there in the constellation.

Mahler Von der Jugend - what the garden tells me

Mitten in dem kleinen Teiche
Steht ein Pavillon aus grünem und aus weißem Porzellan.

This is a pavilion in the Lou Lim Lok Gardens in Macau. It's nothing very special, just a 19th century merchant's, nothing like the fabled classical gardens in Suzhou, some of which date back a thousand years, but it's nice. Many years ago I did a big project there to illustrate Mahler's Das Lied von der Erde, getting shots at dawn, before the tourists came, timed to when the lotuses were in full bloom. And now I can't find the file!

There are many pavilions in the garden, but this is the one in the middle of the lotus lake, reached by a beautiful walkway that curves and bends nine times. The idea is that you approach the pavilion not by a straight route, but one that makes you ponder the different vistas you see on the way. Gradually you shed the cares of the world til you reach the pavilion where you can be at peace. The whole concept of Chinese gardens is that you follow paths that reveal different aspects as you move around. With each turn you see things from different angles, perspectives. You're not supposed to see everything at once.

Each day, different vistas. This photo, by Cody Chan, is probably May, before the lotuses come into flower. Already, though, it's hard to tell that under all that greenery, the ground is not solid, but water. Illusion again. In winter you see the water and the outlines of the lovely walkway, and "landscape rocks" in amazing shapes that look like distant mountains. (you can just spot one of them in the photo on right of walkway). But the lotus roots live on, hidden, under the soil at the bottom of the lake, waiting for spring. So already embedded is the idea Die Welt schläft ein!.

Although Mahler's poem refers to "white porcelain", the glaze used in South China is almost always green, bluey-green, sometimes varied with ochre yellow, but blue green is the colour of nature and renewal.

Auf des kleinen Teiches stiller, Wasserfläche zeigt sich alle, Wunderlich im Spiegelbilde.

Throughout China there are bridges which arch steeply over water, so their reflections form perfect circles like the moon. The idea is a solid structure defying gravity, yet uniting air and water, reality and illusion. So "wunderlich im Spiegelbilde", amazing mirror images, "Alles auf dem Kopfe stehend" Everything stood on its head.

Even as the friends sit happily in the pavilion, drinking and chatting, everything they take for granted is reversed in the reflection in the water. Nothing, however precious, remains unchanged.

Wie ein Halbmond steht die Brücke, umgekehrt der Bogen.

Ten years ago I went to a lot of trouble getting the photos of the garden set up at just the right angles, just the right light and timing. Now they're lost. But I couldn't be writing this now if I hadn't learned then about the metaphysics of Chinese gardens. Besides, losing all that work expresses the spirit of Das Lied von der Erde. Material possessions are ephemeral. What counts is what you carry in your soul.

Please read my other posts on Das Lied von der Erde, especially the one on the literary sources and cultural icons, which is HERE. Eventually I'll try to do more, so what I've learned will help others when ich wandre in die Berge.

photo credit Beijing

Haitink, LSO - Das Lied von der Erde, Barbican 11th October

For a placid soul, Bernard Haitink never ceases to surprise. After all these years, you'd think you can predict what he'll do, so you don't go and he pulls off something wonderful, And then you go and get disappointed because he's off on a limb. But that's a better thing than if he churned out the same thing all the time. Now he's getting older and frail - he avoids the steps up to the stage as much as possible - you feel you want to hear him regardless, for old times' sake if nothing else. And he still delivers.

Although Haitink has conducted Mahler's symphonies countless times, his forays into Das Lied von der Erde have been less frequent. His recording with Janet Baker was so long ago, it doesn't reflect what he does now).This isn't an ordinary symphony, but a song symphony where songs act as movements. It's certainly not operatic, but the predominance of words shows that Mahler is trying to emphasize meaning. This isn't abstract sound, but has purpose. Metaphysics as music, perhaps.

Although there are no "characters" in this piece the interplay between male and female voices is significant on a deeper level than vocal balance. In Das Trinklied, the symphony is fully "of this world" seeking escape. In Der Abschied, Mahler finds transcendence in images of eternal renewal. In between these poles lie the four songs which mark a passage from past to future. Der Abschied itself develops over a series of stages, until the resolution, which then floats away in that miraculous ewig... ewig...... when sound itself dissolves into the silence of infinity.

So Das Lied von der Erde is more than symphony but a strange new hybrid of music and song. Perhaps the closest equivalent is Kindertotenlieder, where five songs form a transition from dark to light, from harrowing grief to deeper understanding. Pierre Boulez once said he found his way to Mahler via the songs, which is perceptive, because song in Mahler is crucial.

In many ways, Das Lied von der Erde operates as three units - conductor and orchestra, and the two soloists. People often joke that there hasn't been aa perfect performance because none has managed the perfect combination, and to some extent that's true, to varying degrees, and usually it's a mixture of all factors. Often the weakest link is the tenor, because the all-important Abschied belongs to the female voice. But as I've written before, it's a kind of tradition that tenors don't understand what the drunken poet represents, and sing with too much luscious charm. Li Bao is no Mario Lanza. Even Jonas Kaufmann made a mess of the cycle at Edinburgh a few years back.

Tonight's tenor, Anthony Dean Griffey, stepped in for Robert Gambill at short notice, but he's sung the part many times. If anything some slight stiffness in his voice in the first song helped dispel the soft-grained cosiness that marked Robert Dean Smith's performance with Haitink a few years back. Although there were balance problems with the orchestra at first, Griffey and Haitink judged each other more carefully fairly soon into Das Trinklied. In Von der Jugend, Griffey was more at ease because it's a wonderfully vivid song. If its true depths weren't reached, it's no discredit to him, as only a very few singers have achieved that feat. When the concert is broadcast (BBC Radio 3, 22nd October), the miking should show what was lost in the acoustic of the Barbican Hall.

Only a few years ago, Christianne Stotjin made her first high-profile UK debut at the Oxford Lieder Festival, where many new singers have made a name. She's sung with Haitink many times, so she was the reason I wanted to attend this performance. In Der Einsame im Herbst, she had moments of uncharacteristic clouded diction, but in the Abschied she showed why she's one of the leading Mahler mezzos around. She saved Vladimir Jurowski's recent Mahler 2nd almost single-handed.

Perhaps something was clouding the beginning of this Das Lied orchestrally too, as there were a few close calls before the first song pulled together. As usual with Haitink, orchestral soloists were showcased to advantage, through the conductor's lover of fine detail. Haitink doesn't hurry. He'll sacrifice thrust for pointillist perfection. Once I heard him conduct the first movement of Mahler's 2nd so slowly that the line began to break up, and the players could barely sustain the legato. Yet it worked, in the end. With some orchestras this isn't a good idea, but with the London Symphony Orchestra, where standards are so high, this attention works well. I've never heard the double basses quite so chillingly hollow as in the passages in the Abschied which mark the transit from one plane of existence to another. Ir takes some doing to get instruments as naturally resonant as these to sound like harbingers of death. Not a pretty sound at all, but well judged: a pity that more conductors don't realize that the beauty of this music masks traumatic fear of the unknown.

Repeatedly, Haitink's left hand fluttered downwards, keeping the orchestra in check, pacing an Abschied as solemn as a procession. For procession it is, with carefully gauged stops and starts and subtle changes of emotional direction, until the music enters another place, filled with light and freedom. "Die liebe Erde" sang Stotjin, her face aglow. Clearer and brighter came the textures in the orchestra. "Allüberall und ewig". Rich, round vowel sounds evoking the richness of spring and the promise of harvests to come, and the ripening of vines as yet unknown.

Before Das Lied von der Erde, came Schubert's 8th, the Unvollendete. Perhaps because I love the melody in this so much, I expect it to be played with lively vitality. This time Haitink's discretion didn't work for me, because he smoothed out the quirky kinks I like so much in this piece. Recently some survey said people like classical music because it's "relaxing", and this performance certainly was. Maybe I was too fired up for Mahler to relax enough to enjoy it. Please read about Haitink's M9 at the Proms HERE

How Chinese is Mahler? Das Lied von der Erde

Das Lied von der Erde was inspired by Die chinesesches Flöte, a translation by Hans Bethge of Chinese poems. Mahler was known to have had a contact who had wax cylinder recordings of Chinese music, but whether he actually heard these or not, Asian music was not unknown in artistic circles at that time. The wonder is not that things oriental were known, but that modern opinion judges things by modern standards and underestimates the past. One newspaper writer greeted this year's "Japanese" Prom with derision! But it's clear that many European composers were drawn to exotic worlds because they opened alternative horizons, whether inspired by Japanese or other forms. (Please see HERE for the role of Japanese music on Debussy). Orientalism showed how alternative tonalities and modes could exist and flourish. No orientalism, no modern music?

One interesting thing about Chinese poetry is that, like the Chinese language, it's not as dependent on strict syntax as western language is. Chinese is a tonal language, which (I think) you learn by assimilating sounds rather than learning grammar. Often no filler words like "the" or other denominators, etc. In Cantonese there are nine tones, each of which changes the meaning of a sound. "Ma" can mean "mother", "horse", even "marijuana" depending on tone and context. Chinese poetry too is meant to be read rather than spoken, so the very way the characters are set on the page is intrinsic to the concept.

Think too of painting. In western art, everything is filled in. In Chinese art, blank space is part of the composition, and there are different means of showing perspective. Just as in language and poetry meaning depends on interpretation. More depends on the sensitivity of the observer. It's a very different sensibility, but artistically very fluid and creative.

A great deal has been written of the poems used by Bethge and Mahler and their possible Chinese originals (please see Teng-leong Chew's commentary). There's also an adaptation of Das Lied von der Erde set in Mandarin (merely four tones) based more closely on original sources. Whole books could be written about the subject! But on a more basic level, the poems of Li Bai (Li Po) connect to a very Chinese concept, where a poet turns his back on material things, the better to contemplate the universal. Throughout Chinese literature, the artist is a lone figure, even when enjoying convivial pursuits like poetry parties. Though most lived scholarly lives, one ideal was living as a hermit, in the mountains at one with nature, abandoning the conformity and materialism of the world. Thus Li Bai was a "drunken" poet: in vino veritas, a loosening of inhibition. He could express himself under the guise of being drunk, or moonstruck. So somehow Mahler intuited how the drunk in Das Trinklied connects to the abnegation of Der Abschied.

There are a few details in Das Lied von der Erde which are culturally significant but often overlooked. In Das Trinklied, half hidden by the glowing haze of the goldnen Pokale is the image of the ape, howling at the moon over the grave. It's horrible but even more horrible to a Chinese. In Chinese culture, honouring one's forebears is almost the basis of society, and that means taking care of graves and memorial tablets. Whoever's interred in this grave really must have been fogotten, if wild apes can sit on it and wail. What's implied is the very end of civilization. Human beings write poetry, seeking wisdom. Apes howl and don't think.

That's why I'm so fond of Peter Schreier's performance (recorded with Sanderling) which really captures the implicit horror of the poet's situation. There's a tradition of using laid-back opera singers in Das Lied von der Erde, dating back at least to Patzak and Wunderlich. Perhaps wine connects to luxury in the west, so fruitily lush (deliberate pun) voices are often chosen, as if this symphony were a vehicle for a Mario Lanza bacchanale. But Li Bao wasn't a bon viveur: his drunkenness isn't droll, but had a deeper purpose, understood on a completely different level in Chinese culture. Das Lied von der Erde needs, I think, the inwardness of a Lieder singer who connects to the terrifying images and implications of death and annihilation. Engaging with these depths makes the Abschied all the more transcendent. You wake from a hangover with a woozy head, but what you don't wake from is death. So stuff the Maria Lanza wannabes and pray for a tenor who knows where Mahler is coming from and where he's heading.