Conductor Francisco Lecce-Chong

MAHLERTHON AT SRS WEILL HALL CONCERT

For an orchestra to perform any of Mahler’s nine symphonies is a considerable undertaking, as not only do they require significant orchestral forces, but the individual musicians’ parts range from merely difficult to occasionally virtuosic. As conductor of Europe’s finest orchestras, including those in Budapest, Hamburg, and later both the Vienna Court Opera, the Vienna Philharmonic, and lastly the New York Philharmonic, Mahler was accustomed to having elite musicians at his disposal, and wrote accordingly.

Given the length of many of his symphonies, performing them could also be a test of simple physical endurance for the musicians as well as for the conductor. By the end of a Mahler symphony, the conductor, musicians, and hopefully the audience can (or at least should?) be physically and emotionally drained. More impressive, then, that the Santa Rosa Symphony, together with the combined choruses of Sonoma State University and Santa Rosa Junior College, essayed three consecutive performances of the C Minor Symphony (No. 2) beginning Dec. 7.

At 85 minutes, the sheer length of the “The Resurrection” Symphony, as well as its somewhat unusual five-movement form, presents a logistical problem. Symphony audiences might not be ready to sit through a single piece for that length of time; on the other hand, it’s not quite long enough to fill an entire program on its own. The composer recognized this. While the first and last movements are each significantly longer (at about 25 and 35 minutes, respectively) than those of a more traditional symphony, they “bookend” the three inner movements. The second and third are each around 10 to 12 minutes long. The fourth, at barely five minutes long, could almost be considered an integral introduction to the final movement, which follows it attacca with no intervening pause.

Mahler’s score demands a pause of at least five minutes between the first and second movements, ostensibly to allow the audience time for reflection. With this in mind, conductor Francesco Lecce-Chong commissioned a nine-minute introductory piece, specifically for the Mahler, and using the same orchestral and vocal forces, by Jonathan Leshnoff. Its title, “Warum hast du gelitten?” (“Why have you suffered?”), might suggest a hitherto-undiscovered Bach cantata, but in fact is based on selections from Mahler’s extensive correspondence with friends and loved ones.

The Dec. 8 matinee performance filled Weill Hall to capacity. For “Warum hast du gelitten?” the orchestra was joined by soprano Esther Tonea and the SSU chorus. The piece opened quietly with just strings and harp, perhaps intentionally reminiscent of the Adagietto from Mahler’s 5th Symphony, with the soloist asking the question, “why have you suffered?”, which Mahler wrote (on music manuscript paper) as a poem to his wife Alma and answered by the chorus with excerpts from other letters with his thoughts about the Resurrection Symphony. Ms. Tonea’s phrasing fit the music perfectly, although both she and the chorus were inevitably overshadowed by an orchestral climax utilizing all the forces Mahler musters for the second symphony, including no less than ten horns and six trumpets, as well as double tympani, extensive additional percussion, and augmented woodwinds as well as the usual strings. It died away to a quieter ending in the same C minor key as the beginning of the symphony. Mr. Lecce-Chong allowed only a moment of well-deserved applause before unleashing the volcanic opening of the symphony’s first movement, with 16th-note runs played with total precision by the basses and cellos.

Mahler originally conceived the first movement as a standalone symphonic poem entitled “Totenfeier” (Funeral rites) before putting it aside, then reviving it five years later for the Resurrection Symphony. During its 25 minutes, it ranged from a solemn march (sometimes with almost a military brass band feeling) to a major key “redemption” theme in the strings and woodwinds, with moments reminiscent of Wagner, finally returning to the march, with the impression of dying away in the distance…before the final shocking fortissimo descending triplet chromatic scale, followed by the equally shocking pianissimo final notes. I’m sure the orchestra and audience alike were ready for the intermission at this point.

In typical Mahler style, the second movement began as a cheerful Laendler, an Austrian country dance in 3/4 time, played at first by only the strings, then gradually joined by winds and brass. After a stormy midsection, the piece returned to its simple, almost wistful style. Particularly impressive were both the balance between winds, brass, and strings in the midsection, and the precision of the extensive pizzicato section played by all the strings together in the recapitulation that ends the movement.

The third movement is an orchestration of “Saint Anthony’s Sermon to the Fishes,” one of the songs from Mahler’s cycle (originally for voice and piano), “Des Knaben Wunderhorn” (“The Boy’s Magic Horn”). Performed here without voice, its flowing string lines, reminiscent of Smetana’s “Moldau,” evoke the river where the saint preached to the fishes. The movement at times has an ironic tone, emphasized by Mahler’s use of “klezmeric” pentatonic harmonies and progressions; Mahler himself suggested that the saint’s decision to preach to a watery congregation may have been prompted by his possible overconsumption of certain other liquids. A fugue at the center of the movement gave the SRS brass section a chance to shine, while the ending shows influence from the final movement of Mahler’s first symphony.

Per the composer’s instructions, there’s no pause between the third and fourth movements. The fourth is another “Wunderhorn” setting, this time performed with alto voice, and soloist Gabrielle Beteag effortlessly showed that the part is entirely and comfortably within her range. German is a difficult language for even native speakers to sing and Ms. Beteague’s exemplary diction and tenderness of tone were a perfect fit for the movement’s initially mourning, but finally hopeful, lyric,

And so, once again with no pause, on to the final movement, beginning like the first movement with a run of fortissimo 16th notes in the basses and cellos. A strong first statement of what will be the “Resurrection” theme is followed by a moment of silence, then by a horn call from offstage. Mahler’s score specifies “as many horns as possible, played very loudly from a great distance.” After a brief development and another break, the brass choir introduces a new theme based on the dies irae plainchant. This, too, is developed, until a sudden moment of quiet, with a birdcall in the flute (Kathleen Reynolds) and piccolo and further offstage horn and trumpet calls, ushers in the first a capella entrance of the chorus (with the SSU chorus now joined by that of SRJC) and soprano soloist.

It was at and beyond this point that a somewhat distracting issue arose. For venues like Berlin, where the work premiered in December of 1895, Mahler had sufficient resources available for all the offstage horns and trumpets in addition to those in the orchestra (although his famously prolix instructions in the score—verging on micromanagement—also noted when these could, if necessary, rejoin the orchestra “but avoid making any noise to disturb the a capella chorus”. This may have worked well in the relatively dimly lit concert halls of the era, but on the brightly illuminated stage of Weill Hall, with the orchestra set up on risers, the various unavoidable comings and goings of horns and trumpets to left and right were quite evident.

Fortunately, everyone was back in place for the second entrance of the chorus, joined by both soloists, to introduce Mahler’s own text of redemption and resurrection, leading up to the triumphant “I shall die, so as to live” finale. Another slightly disturbing issue was audible here, at least from the reviewer’s seat in the first row of the balcony: Mahler insisted on actual church bells for the last moments of the piece, rather than the usual percussion-section tubular chimes, and I’d have to agree; the clangor of SRS’s set, played fortissimo, was jarring, overriding the orchestra, chorus, and even the organ (marked “volles Werk”, “use all the stops”, in the score). The final chord brought on an instant absolute roar of applause, continuing for minutes as the conductor acknowledged the soloists, chorus directors, individual orchestra players and sections, and finally the performers as a whole.

Overall, it was a splendid performance of an ambitious program, and one that augurs well for the orchestra’s plan, over the next several seasons, to perform the full cycle of all nine Mahler symphonies, including the Eighth, requiring even larger forces and sometimes called “The Symphony of a Thousand”. Perhaps we might even hope they will program the six-movement “Das Lied von der Erde,” which Leonard Bernstein called “Mahler’s greatest Symphony,” or the complete “Des Knaben Wunderhorn.”