It seems the City Of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra had to draft in some extra players to handle the size demands imposed by Mahler's Sixth Symphony because there were certainly more musicians on the stage than there are listed in the programme – most notably a couple of extra percussionists and an additional harpist. Other ranks seemed somewhat enlarged also. Possibly because of this sheer weight of numbers, possibly because of a hundred and twenty years of musical evolution, or possibly because of the conviction of Mahler's writing, Haydn's Symphony No. 43 seemed, once the interval had passed by, to be little or than period filler in the evening's show. Being for strings and oboe, with a few horns, the texture is far less varied, the flavours less piquant and the effect less effective – though when taken in isolation barely a word could be said against it. But once that throbbing insistent beat that opens the first moments of the first movement of Mahler's Sixth, that imperious martial march, all thoughts of Haydn are gone. Many theories have been thrown around regarding this symphony, the 'Tragic' as it has become known; theories regarding the prophetic qualities in his own life, the three blows of fate that finally do for the hero, but it is the less personal premonitions that come across more strongly, especially seen from the far other end of the twentieth century – it is the stride of fascism, the dark clouds that have swept across all nations that are emoted by that first theme, those are jackboots stepping in time. But to make such presumptive claims is to give too much credence to hindsight and personal baggage. This first movement combines the two themes, the triumphal march and a sweet theme like sunshine illuminating a deep lush valley between two great arms of mountain which is supposedly associated with Alma Mahler. The contrast between these two is really quite startling – the unmovable throb of the bass beat juxtaposed with the sweep and passion of the second theme, with its little moments of laughter which are highlighted with a tiny glockenspiel motif, which themselves are juxtaposed a little further on with quite demonic moments of laughter in one of the march variations, this time picked out with the xylophone. At the heart of this long first movement is a passage of stillness, removed from either of the themes that were being developed. This is marked by the rattling of distant cowbells which represent 'the last terrestrial sounds penetrating the remote solitude of mountain peaks' – so maybe we have risen from that valley where the light plays and the warning crash of marching boots sounds. But this stillness goes on and on, and is such utter contrast, such still perfection that when, with an almighty burst the orchestra strikes up a joyous little theme, leading back to the original full sound, there is a tremendous surge of relief, a tension that had built unnoticed through that ethereal stretch is pricked and the martial triumph is back. The second movement, the Scherzo which Mahler later swapped round with tonight's third movement, features childhood themes and onomatopoeic sequences of children's games, which, like Alma's theme, are slowly subsumed and overtaken by military triumphalism, as if even innocence is no escape or no excuse. And this is the overwhelming experience and message of the rest of the symphony, that fate is great and vast and the individual, no matter the brief happinesses he finds, the moments in the sun, will be swamped, will be overrun by powers outside his ken. It is a long symphony, but satisfying, especially in the final moments where it, like the listener, becomes exhausted, trails off, seemingly inconclusively until with one final cry against everything – a last hand reaching for the sky, perhaps – it ceases. Quite thrilling. |
