Image courtesy New York Philharmonic Archives
Mahler’s Symphony No. 2 “Resurrection” stands as one of the most profoundly moving and emotionally all-encompassing works in the classical repertoire. Written over the course of six years and started even as Mahler was still writing his Symphony No. 1 "Titan," his Second Symphony poses, and perhaps even answers, some of the most charged questions about the human experience.
As Mahler wrote in his own program note for this piece in 1901: “We are standing at the coffin of a beloved person. His life, struggles, sorrows, and will pass once again, for the last time, before the eye of our soul...What now? … Is all this only a desolate dream, or do this life and this death have some sense?—And we must answer this question if we are to go on living.”
In one of those classic Mahlerian juxtapositions of emotion, the funereal first movement is followed by a graceful Andante Moderato that recalls nothing so much as a carefree Viennese waltz—at least until a satire inspired by St. Anthony’s sermon to the fishes elbows its way in; it is an expansion of a setting from his song cycle Des Knaben Wunderhorn ("The Youth's Magic Horn"), which he wrote as a cynical, mocking example of preaching to the unconvertible.
The glorious “Urlicht” (“Primeval Light”) then follows; one of the most radiant songs imaginable, its text also comes from Des Knaben Wunderhorn, another a perfect example of how throughout his output, Mahler kept re-examining material through different prisms. Finally, in the soaring final movement, Mahler answers his own questions about mortality in sunbursts of sound: “Rise again, yes, rise again/Will you my dust,/After a brief rest!”
For a long time, recordings by conductors who knew Mahler personally tended to dominate album recommendations. From this realm come the oft-cited Otto Klemperer and Bruno Walter recordings; Walter in particular creates a forceful presence, and Maureen Forrester's famous "Urlicht" is just luminous. Benefitting also from a stellar remastering, the Walter is an easy recommendation. The Klemperer, is rightfully iconic as well, though one might even say that it could have benefited from even a bit more reflective lingering in the details (which seems slightly odd to say, given Klemperer's reputation for stateliness).
Particularly after the resurgence of interest in Mahler beginning in the 1960s, some wonderful interpreters of his music emerged--and no one was a greater champion than Leonard Bernstein, who recorded the "Resurrection" with his New York Philharmonic twice, once for Columbia and also in a later recording for Deutsche Grammophon, with fire and empathy. Bernstein related to Mahler on so many levels: both men pursued double careers as composer and conductor (and throughout their respective lives, both struggled with balancing that duality); both grappled with their Jewish identities; and both spent their lives wrestling with overarching--even overwhelming--questions about the nature of the human experience. All of those qualities come to the fore in Bernstein's extraordinary Columbia recording, with his close friend and colleague Jennie Tourel as the mezzo.
One conductor who has framed his entire career around this symphony is Gilbert Kaplan, who has led orchestras around the globe in this work and produced his own critical edition of the score. (His appearances at the podium of many of the world's best orchestras has been no small source of controversy.) A former finance journalist and financier by profession, he became so obsessed with this one symphony that he has recorded it twice, including with the Vienna Philharmonic and the London Symphony Orchestra--and it is the only entire work that Kaplan conducts. His musicianship isn't transformative (and it is arguable that his edition of the score isn't hugely illuminating), but his ardor for and dedication to this piece is undeniable.
Ivan Fischer's rather sprawling 2005 recording with his Budapest Festival Orchestra might lack tautness, but the players relate Mahler's mitteleuropean elements with idiomatic flair--and the climaxes are thrilling. Another modern recording well worth considering is the one Pierre Boulez made with the Vienna Philharmonic: referring to Boulez' intellectual rigor and to his sense of architectural construct has become quite a cliche, but this recording those facets are well-polished. What Boulez also brings to bear, however, is a sense of muscular grappling with the score. Moreover, the very fine mezzo Michelle DeYoung, who has made "Urlicht" as much a signature for her as did Maureen Forrester in a previous generation, sings beautifully for Boulez.
One of the great "Urlicht" singers of the late 20th century was the Lorraine Hunt Lieberson, whose transcendent performance is just one hallmark in another wonderful Mahler Second, this time helmed by another great American Mahlerite, Michael Tilson Thomas with his San Francisco Symphony, in a live recording from 2004. (It's also worth mentioning that Tilson Thomas alit on another superb singing talent, the Canadian soprano Isabel Bayrakdarian, who appears on his "Resurrection" as well.) San Francisco's Mahler cycle is not entirely even, but the Mahler Second is simply astonishing--and the superb sound only enhances the full-throttle experience.
The City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra isn't exactly a renowned Mahler orchestra, but what they accomplish under the baton of Simon Rattle is epic in its volatile extremes, but also exudes an inner warmth, and even grace, that makes it plain how much these musicians adore Mahler. The recording that Klaus Tennstedt made live with the London Philharmonic Orchestra in 1989 is a profoundly moving experience, ending in a transcendent glow that seems all the more miraculous for the existentialism of what has preceded it.
With so many tremendous versions of the "Resurrection" Symphony available, it's impossible to name just one as the ultimate interpretation--and once a listener gets hooked on Mahler, one inevitably collects numerous recordings, both historical and modern. Nevertheless, start with the Bernstein/NY Philharmonic reissued on Sony, and make way with haste to at least the Walter, Rattle, and Tennstedt as well.
Browse more editorial features here
by Anastasia Tsioulcas
