The Eye of the Storm

Jonathan Nott and the Bamberger Symphoniker's Mahler comes to a close this Autumn with the release of the Sixth and Eight Symphonies. I will report on the latter in another post, meantime focussing my attention on the Bambergers' gripping account of the Sixth. Its wildness comes as something of a surprise after the more sober Seventh, while recalling the ferocious modernity of Nott's performance of Mahler's Ninth.

Nott launches in the first movement at a terrific pace, with real bite to the strings and a fantastic ability to bring clarity to the counterpoint. The escalating dialogue between the strings and horns in the second subject makes it even more amorous than usual, setting up the emotional chasm on which the whole Symphony teeters. The development pushes that disparity even further, with a viciously barbed march and a spacious haven of yearning solos and cowbells, following by a manic coda, like the grin in a Richard Gerstl self-portrait.

The Scherzo, placed second here, further emphasises the modernist mania of this work, looking forward to the Rondo Burleske of the Ninth Symphony, while the Andante – allowed just space and time – gazes back over its shoulder. Here Nott turns away from insanity, conjuring a consummate imago of Alpine recline, fresh meadow air and the memory of first love. It's all disarmingly simple and therefore all the more heartrending.

The strings at the beginning of the Finale are desperate to cling to that idyll, though are soon felled by a staggering abrupt reprise of the motto. Both motifs' sense of purpose provides the parameters for Nott's unbridled rendition of Mahler's most plural, most conflicted Finale. Here glee seems genuine, as if the jubilation of the Fifth Symphony might shed its vanity. Yet each time the motto returns, its power doubles, until the last statement appears cataclysmically out of the silence, destroying everything in its path. Click here to order a copy.

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