Mahler visits the Gibichung Inn of Catastrophes

Photo from Out West Arts

Last night I went to hear Mahler's 9th Symphony for the third time in roughly two years. Bookended by performances from the San Francisco Symphony under Michael Tilson Thomas was an extraordinary, had-to-be-heard-to-be-believed account led by Esa-Pekka Salonen with the London Philharmonia Orchestra last November. Salonen managed to make the entire ninety-odd minute beast compelling from the first movement through the third, and then broke my heart in half with a fourth which left me in tears afterward. MTT and the SFS aren't as nearly devastating with the same material, largely because in their hands the inner movements don't completely reconcile with the [more important] outer two. The second and third have their delights, to be sure, as if the weight of the world sitting upon Mahler's shoulders (and it was, as the piece followed a very dark part of the composer's life) were suddenly tossed off for a night out on the town, but what makes it worth attending a performance is the profundity of the first and the heartbreak of the last movements, both of which are drenched in Wagner's influence.

The first evoked loss and remorse, then angst and resignation before coming to rest at the Gibichung Inn of Catastrophes. It's not so much a journey from darkness to light as it is finally gaining a sense of tenuous security after having surrendered to something unknown and accepting what comes of the choice. The concluding solos by Principal Flute Tim Day and Concertmaster Alexander Barantschik were gorgeous. The climax of the third was a thundering success, and yes, there's a reason I have nothing really to say of interest about the second. The fourth was a master class on how to show off an orchestra, apparently done by performing the fourth movement of Mahler's 9th. It's almost as beautiful as Tristan, and there's no need to hire any singers.

The program repeats nightly through September 21. Get tickets here.