The last time I reviewed a recording of Mahler’s Third Symphony I stated again my belief that in this work above all of Mahler’s we must look to a group of recordings made over thirty years ago. Only there can we reach into what I believe to be the real soul of this amazing piece. It is surprising that two of those recordings I consider indispensable were not even made for commercial release but for radio broadcasting. Sir John Barbirolli’s recording on BBC Legends (BBCL 4004-7), the recording I find I return to most often, was made for broadcast albeit under studio conditions; likewise a superb concert recording by Jean Martinon and the Chicago Symphony Orchestra from 1967, only available in a commemorative box and crying out for single release. Among the commercial studio recordings from that time Jascha Horenstein (Unicorn UKCD20067) still shines out with Rafael Kubelik’s (only available now as part of a complete cycle from DG) running it very close. If you add Leonard Bernstein’s first version from the same era (Sony SM2K61831) you have a profile of recordings that musically will last you for a lifetime and which, for me, have yet to be equalled in true understanding of what makes this crazy work tick. The dedicated audiophile will, of course, need to purchase more up to date recordings but music making surely comes first.

It takes a particular kind of conductor to turn in a great Mahler Third. No place for the tentative, or the sophisticated, particularly in the first movement which will dominate how the rest of the symphony comes to sound no matter how good the rest is. No place for apologies in that first movement especially. No conductor should underplay the full implications of this music’s ugliness for fear of offending sensibilities. The lighter and lyrical passages will largely take care of themselves. It’s the "dirty end" of the music - low brass and percussion, shrieking woodwinds, growling basses, flatulent trombone solos - that the conductor must really immerse himself in. A regrettable trait of musical "political correctness" seems to have crept into more recent performances and recordings and that is to be deplored. If you want an example of this listen to Andrew Litton’s ever-so-polite Dallas recording. There is much to admire in some recent recordings by Tilson Thomas, Abbado and Rattle to name just three from recent digital years. However they don’t approach their older colleagues in laying bare the full implications of the unique sound-world Mahler created in the way that I think it should be heard. The edges need to be sharp, the drama challenging, Mahler’s gestalt shrieking, marching, surging, seething and, at key moments, hitting the proverbial fan.

Rafael Kubelik’s superb DG recording had one drawback in that the recorded balance was, like the rest of his Munich studio cycle, rather close-miked and somewhat lacking in atmosphere. It never bothered me that much, as you can probably imagine, but just occasionally I felt the need for a little more space. As luck would have it, this Audite release in the series of "live" Mahler performances from Kubelik’s Munich years comes from the same week as that DG studio version and must have been the concert performance mounted to give the players the chance to perform the work prior to recording in the empty hall. It goes some way to addressing the problem of recorded balance in that there is a degree more space and atmosphere, more separation across the stereo arc especially. It thus offers an even more satisfying experience whilst still delivering Kubelik’s gripping and involving interpretation with the added tensions of "live" performance. There is a little background tape hiss but nothing that the true music lover need fear. So here is another "not originally for release" broadcast recording of Mahler’s Third for the list of top recommendations.

Like all great Mahler Thirds this reading has a fierce unity and a striking sense of purpose across the whole six movements, lifting it above so many versions that miss this crucial aspect among so many others. Tempi are faster than you may be used to. It also pays as much attention to the inner movements as it does the outer with playing of poetry, charm and that hard-to-pin-down aspect, wonderment. In the first movement Kubelik echoes Schoenberg’s belief that this is a struggle between good and evil, generating the real tension needed to mark this. Listen to the gathering together of all the threads for the central storms section, for example. Kubelik also comes close to Barbirolli’s raucous, unforgettable "grand day out up North" march spectacle and shares his British colleague’s (and Leonard Bernstein’s) sense of the sheer wackiness of it all. Listen to the wonderful Bavarian basses and cellos rocking the world with their uprushes and those raw, rude trombone solos, as black as an undertaker’s hat and about as delicate as a Bronx cheer or an East End Raspberry. Kubelik also manages to give the impression of the movement as a living organism, growling and purring in passages of repose particularly, fur bristling like a cat in a thunderstorm. Too often you have the feeling in this movement that conductors cannot get over how long it is and so they want to make it sound big by making it last for ever. In fact it is a superbly organised piece that benefits from the firm hand of a conductor prepared to "put a bit of stick about" and hurry it along like Kubelik.

In the second movement there is a superb mixture of nostalgia and repose with the spiky, tart aspects of nature juxtaposing the scents and the pastels. Only Horenstein surpasses in the rhythmic pointing of the following Scherzo but Kubelik comes close as his sense of purpose seems to extend the chain of events that was begun at the very start, still pulling us on in one great procession. The pressing tempi help in this but above all there is the innate feel for the whole picture that only a master Mahlerian can pull off and frequently only in "live" performance. Marjorie Thomas is an excellent soloist and the two choirs are everything you would wish for, though Barbirolli’s Manchester boys - all urban cheekiness straight off the terraces at Old Trafford or Main Road - are just wonderful. In the last movement no one offers a more convincing tempo than Kubelik, flowing and involving, never dragging or over-sentimentalised. Like Barbirolli, though warm of heart, he refuses to indulge the music and the movement wins out as the crowning climax is as satisfying as could be wished.

This is a firm recommendation for Mahler’s Third and another gem in Audite’s Kubelik releases.

The last time I reviewed a recording of Mahler’s Third Symphony I stated again my belief that in this work above all of Mahler’s we must look to a group of recordings made over thirty years ago. Only there can we reach into what I believe to be the real soul of this amazing piece. It is surprising that two of those recordings I consider indispensable were not even made for commercial release but for radio broadcasting. Sir John Barbirolli’s recording on BBC Legends (BBCL 4004-7), the recording I find I return to most often, was made for broadcast albeit under studio conditions; likewise a superb concert recording by Jean Martinon and the Chicago Symphony Orchestra from 1967, only available in a commemorative box and crying out for single release. Among the commercial studio recordings from that time Jascha Horenstein (Unicorn UKCD20067) still shines out with Rafael Kubelik’s (only available now as part of a complete cycle from DG) running it very close. If you add Leonard Bernstein’s first version from the same era (Sony SM2K61831) you have a profile of recordings that musically will last you for a lifetime and which, for me, have yet to be equalled in true understanding of what makes this crazy work tick. The dedicated audiophile will, of course, need to purchase more up to date recordings but music making surely comes first.


It takes a particular kind of conductor to turn in a great Mahler Third. No place for the tentative, or the sophisticated, particularly in the first movement which will dominate how the rest of the symphony comes to sound no matter how good the rest is. No place for apologies in that first movement especially. No conductor should underplay the full implications of this music’s ugliness for fear of offending sensibilities. The lighter and lyrical passages will largely take care of themselves. It’s the "dirty end" of the music - low brass and percussion, shrieking woodwinds, growling basses, flatulent trombone solos - that the conductor must really immerse himself in. A regrettable trait of musical "political correctness" seems to have crept into more recent performances and recordings and that is to be deplored. If you want an example of this listen to Andrew Litton’s ever-so-polite Dallas recording. There is much to admire in some recent recordings by Tilson Thomas, Abbado and Rattle to name just three from recent digital years. However they don’t approach their older colleagues in laying bare the full implications of the unique sound-world Mahler created in the way that I think it should be heard. The edges need to be sharp, the drama challenging, Mahler’s gestalt shrieking, marching, surging, seething and, at key moments, hitting the proverbial fan.


Rafael Kubelik’s superb DG recording had one drawback in that the recorded balance was, like the rest of his Munich studio cycle, rather close-miked and somewhat lacking in atmosphere. It never bothered me that much, as you can probably imagine, but just occasionally I felt the need for a little more space. As luck would have it, this Audite release in the series of "live" Mahler performances from Kubelik’s Munich years comes from the same week as that DG studio version and must have been the concert performance mounted to give the players the chance to perform the work prior to recording in the empty hall. It goes some way to addressing the problem of recorded balance in that there is a degree more space and atmosphere, more separation across the stereo arc especially. It thus offers an even more satisfying experience whilst still delivering Kubelik’s gripping and involving interpretation with the added tensions of "live" performance. There is a little background tape hiss but nothing that the true music lover need fear. So here is another "not originally for release" broadcast recording of Mahler’s Third for the list of top recommendations.


Like all great Mahler Thirds this reading has a fierce unity and a striking sense of purpose across the whole six movements, lifting it above so many versions that miss this crucial aspect among so many others. Tempi are faster than you may be used to. It also pays as much attention to the inner movements as it does the outer with playing of poetry, charm and that hard-to-pin-down aspect, wonderment. In the first movement Kubelik echoes Schoenberg’s belief that this is a struggle between good and evil, generating the real tension needed to mark this. Listen to the gathering together of all the threads for the central storms section, for example. Kubelik also comes close to Barbirolli’s raucous, unforgettable "grand day out up North" march spectacle and shares his British colleague’s (and Leonard Bernstein’s) sense of the sheer wackiness of it all. Listen to the wonderful Bavarian basses and cellos rocking the world with their uprushes and those raw, rude trombone solos, as black as an undertaker’s hat and about as delicate as a Bronx cheer or an East End Raspberry. Kubelik also manages to give the impression of the movement as a living organism, growling and purring in passages of repose particularly, fur bristling like a cat in a thunderstorm. Too often you have the feeling in this movement that conductors cannot get over how long it is and so they want to make it sound big by making it last for ever. In fact it is a superbly organised piece that benefits from the firm hand of a conductor prepared to "put a bit of stick about" and hurry it along like Kubelik.


In the second movement there is a superb mixture of nostalgia and repose with the spiky, tart aspects of nature juxtaposing the scents and the pastels. Only Horenstein surpasses in the rhythmic pointing of the following Scherzo but Kubelik comes close as his sense of purpose seems to extend the chain of events that was begun at the very start, still pulling us on in one great procession. The pressing tempi help in this but above all there is the innate feel for the whole picture that only a master Mahlerian can pull off and frequently only in "live" performance. Marjorie Thomas is an excellent soloist and the two choirs are everything you would wish for, though Barbirolli’s Manchester boys - all urban cheekiness straight off the terraces at Old Trafford or Main Road - are just wonderful. In the last movement no one offers a more convincing tempo than Kubelik, flowing and involving, never dragging or over-sentimentalised. Like Barbirolli, though warm of heart, he refuses to indulge the music and the movement wins out as the crowning climax is as satisfying as could be wished.


This is a firm recommendation for Mahler’s Third and another gem in Audite’s Kubelik releases.

Weiche Weiten zwischen zwei exzellenten Mahler-Interpretationen liegen können, zeigen diese zwei Einspielungen unter Kubelik und Gielen.

In der live im Müncher Herkules-Saal gemachten Aufnahme peitscht Kubelik sein Orchester stringent und fanatisch durch die Symphonie, mit einem dramatischen und spannungsgeladenen 'Straight forward'-Musizieren, das streckenweise einen atemlos ekstatischen Charakter annimmt. Diese Unerbittlichkeit resultiert denn auch in schnellen 74 Minuten, welche die insgesamt sehr packend gespielte Symphonie bei Kubelik dauert, während der bedächtige Gielen ganze 10 Minuten mehr braucht. Ein enormer Unterschied!

Gielen macht natürlich weitaus mehr Musik hörbar als Kubelik und erzielt eine ebenfalls starke und ergreifende, ja sogar Frösteln auslösende Spannung aus der intellektuellen Durchdringung heraus und aus einem überaus nuancierten Spiel.

Das Schicksal schlägt bei Gielen ganz anders zu als bei Kubelik, hintergründiger, schauriger und mit ausladend großer Wucht. Und es reflektiert die Mahler-Musik nachfolgend in Bergs prächtig resalisierten 'Drei Orchesterstücken', die im Anschluss erklingen, vor dem Andante aus Schuberts 10. Symphonie, das Brian Newbould nach den 1978 gefundenen Skizzen Schuberts fertig stellte. Gielen dirigiert den Klagegesang sehr emotional, gefühlsintensiver jedenfalls als Mahlers Sechste und Bergs Orchesterstücke und setzt so einen ergreifenden Schlusspunkt hinter Musik, deren dämonischen Charakter er zwingend umsetzt.

Weiche Weiten zwischen zwei exzellenten Mahler-Interpretationen liegen können, zeigen diese zwei Einspielungen unter Kubelik und Gielen.

In der live im Müncher Herkules-Saal gemachten Aufnahme peitscht Kubelik sein Orchester stringent und fanatisch durch die Symphonie, mit einem dramatischen und spannungsgeladenen 'Straight forward'-Musizieren, das streckenweise einen atemlos ekstatischen Charakter annimmt. Diese Unerbittlichkeit resultiert denn auch in schnellen 74 Minuten, welche die insgesamt sehr packend gespielte Symphonie bei Kubelik dauert, während der bedächtige Gielen ganze 10 Minuten mehr braucht. Ein enormer Unterschied!

Gielen macht natürlich weitaus mehr Musik hörbar als Kubelik und erzielt eine ebenfalls starke und ergreifende, ja sogar Frösteln auslösende Spannung aus der intellektuellen Durchdringung heraus und aus einem überaus nuancierten Spiel.

Das Schicksal schlägt bei Gielen ganz anders zu als bei Kubelik, hintergründiger, schauriger und mit ausladend großer Wucht. Und es reflektiert die Mahler-Musik nachfolgend in Bergs prächtig resalisierten 'Drei Orchesterstücken', die im Anschluss erklingen, vor dem Andante aus Schuberts 10. Symphonie, das Brian Newbould nach den 1978 gefundenen Skizzen Schuberts fertig stellte. Gielen dirigiert den Klagegesang sehr emotional, gefühlsintensiver jedenfalls als Mahlers Sechste und Bergs Orchesterstücke und setzt so einen ergreifenden Schlusspunkt hinter Musik, deren dämonischen Charakter er zwingend umsetzt.

Ganz aus einem Guss dirigiert Karabits [...] muss sich auch nicht vor den Referenzaufnahmen von Joó Árpád und Rafael Frühbeck de Burgos verstecken.

Was [...] deutlich herauskommt, ist die Sorgfalt, mit der Kubelík die schillernden Klangfarben des Orchesters herausarbeitet. [...] Man spürt da auch heute noch die grosse Emotionalität, die Kubelík in seinen Live-Darbietungen immer wieder freisetzen konnte. Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau mimt den Psychopathen Blaubart facettenreich und noch ohne die Manieriertheit seiner späteren Jahre.

The Audite label continues to put collectors in their debt by issuing live performances conducted by Rafael Kubelik. This issue is particularly valuable since I can’t immediately recall many instances of commercial recordings of Schubert’s music by Kubelik.

There is much fine music in this Mass setting, one of the two most substantial that Schubert composed. I regret that there’s not more for the soloists to do. They don’t feature at all until the Credo, and then in a limited way, after which they have more to do in the Benedictus and Agnus Dei. Kubelik’s team make the most of their relatively limited opportunities to shine. This Mass is a substantial composition in which most of the musical argument is carried by the chorus. Schubert could have pruned it a bit, especially in the Gloria and Credo, without sacrificing much.

In this performance the Kyrie flows nicely. The Gloria starts strongly and Kubelik and his forces make good use of dynamic contrast. I was glad, but not surprised, to find that Kubelik keeps the music moving forward nicely. For my money, however, there are some excessively repetitious passages. The central section of the Gloria, starting at ‘Domine Deus’ (4:41 in this reading) is dramatic and the Bavarian trombones ring out assertively and darkly. The music is quite jagged at times and Kubelik makes the most of this. But surely Schubert extends this section too much? In even this well paced performance the section lasts over four minutes and I find my attention wandered a bit. Equally, the fugue with which the Gloria rather predictably concludes is too extensive. I like Kubelik’s sprightly pacing, despite which his choir articulates the notes well, but even so three and a half minutes is a trifle excessive for the material.

The soloists finally get involved – or some of them do – in an andante terzetto in the Credo at ‘Et incarnatus est’ When I first heard this performance I thought the section sounded a bit laboured. But the tempo is virtually identical to that adopted by Wolfgang Sawallisch in his fine 1980 EMI recording, by coincidence also with the Bavarian choir and orchestra. A comparative listening exercise suggested to me that the reason that the passage sounds better under Sawallisch is because his soloists phrase the music more lightly and imaginatively. The musical material for this section is echt-Schubert but for all its merits I do wonder if he should have indulged in a repetition of the music after the choir has sung ‘Crucifixus etiam pro nobis’. Apart from any musical considerations the repetition of ‘Et incarnatus’ at this point makes no textual sense. As in the Gloria this movement concludes with a fugue, lasting this time for some four minutes. Once again I found myself wishing that Schubert had edited his material – and it’s an exacting sing for the chorus as I know from personal experience. However, Kubelik’s choir delivers it very well.

The opening of the Sanctus is majestic in Kubelik’s hands. The lively ‘Osanna’ is well sung; the choir demonstrates, as they do throughout the piece, lots of commitment and they sing with good, unforced tone. In the Benedictus we hear at greater length from the soloists – the full quartet this time – and they do well.

The concluding Agnus Dei is a powerful movement. In the first four bars that the basses sing there’s a tiny moment in which the singing is just less than unanimous. This is remarkable in that it’s the only (and very minor) choral blemish that I noticed throughout the whole performance. The choir and orchestra project the dramatic passages here very strongly and they’re just as successful in the much more subdued music for ‘Miserere nobis’.

This is a very good performance of Schubert’s Mass, which, despite its occasional longueurs, is a fine work. Kubelik conducts with dedication and with fidelity to the score. He’s well supported by his singers and orchestra. I’d rank this reading as pretty much on a par with Sawallisch’s, which I’ve admired for many years. The recorded sound is very pleasing. I’ve only listened to the disc as a conventional CD. Audite explain in a booklet note that the recording is presented on what they call a Listen and Compare basis. This means that on an SACD player "one can hear the unrevised historical archive recording [on separate tracks] following the restored version." I’d advise SACD collectors to read the note in full for themselves.

Anyone who doesn’t have a version of this work in his or her collection could do far worse than invest in this recording.

Passionnément admirée et commentée par Alban Berg, la Neuvième Symphonie (été 1909) qui commence, comme on l'a souvent dit, là où se le termine Le Chant de la Terre est sans doute ce que Mahler a écrit de plus extraordinaire. Symphonie sur la mort, certes, mais non symphonie dans laquelle la mort est un souhait: on y trouve acceptation mais aussi défi, rage envers la lumière qui s'éteint, et profonde ambivalence. Son premier mouvement est la page la plus complexe et parfaite du compositeur, plus neuve que bien des compositions ultérieures de Schoenberg, Berg et Webern. Plus qu'ailleurs, les procédés techniques d'écriture épousant étroitement le contenu de la pensée musicale. L'ensemble de ce mouvement est traité mélodiquement, comme si ses quatre cent cinquante-quatre mesures n'étaient formées au fond que d'une seule et unique mélodie. Toutes les démarcations entre les périodes s'estompent ; les débuts de phrase n’excédant pas la durée d’une mesure se multiplient dans tout le mouvement. Le discours s’y ralentit légèrement, accompagné par la respiration lourde du « narrateur », l’avance presque pénible d’un récit qui porte, mesure par mesure, le fardeau de la progression symphonique.

Après une remarquable Cinquième Symphonie et une splendide Première (« Choc »), toutes deux enregistrées « live » à la Herkulessaal de la Résidence de Munich, Audite Schallplatten propose un nouvel inédit de ce cycle de concerts Mahler/Kubelik/Radio bavaroise, enregistré le 4 juin 1975 au Bunka Kaikan Concert Hall de Tokyo. Plus subtil, plus « libre » que dans son enregistrement de studio avec le même orchestre (DG), Rafael Kubelik offre une Neuvième Symphonie sobre, raffinée, exemplaire par la clarté, la mise en valeur de la complexité polyphonique et par une réflexion aiguë sur l’équilibre des tempos. Si les deux mouvements médians sont moins anguleux, oppressants que dans les deux versions de Bruno Walter ou qu’avec Klemperer, Horenstein, Ancerl, Mitropoulos, Sanderling, Abbado ou Bernstein/Concertgebouw, le sens de la respiration, de l’articulation dans l’essentiel premier mouvement et dans le finale aboutit à des résultats incisifs et étonnants, quoique bien différents et sans doute moins fiévreux que ceux des enregistrements de Barbirolli/Berlin (EMI) ou de Bernstein/Berlin (DG). Comme avec Karajan/Berlin « live » (DG, le must), mais sans atteindre le même souffle ni la même urgence visionnaire, chaque note, chaque timbre est pensé avec autant de souplesse que de rigueur, le discours traçant, dans un climat plus fantasmagorique que survolté, de longues lignes lyriques d’une poésie parfois presque minimaliste.

Passionnément admirée et commentée par Alban Berg, la Neuvième Symphonie (été 1909) qui commence, comme on l'a souvent dit, là où se le termine Le Chant de la Terre est sans doute ce que Mahler a écrit de plus extraordinaire. Symphonie sur la mort, certes, mais non symphonie dans laquelle la mort est un souhait: on y trouve acceptation mais aussi défi, rage envers la lumière qui s'éteint, et profonde ambivalence. Son premier mouvement est la page la plus complexe et parfaite du compositeur, plus neuve que bien des compositions ultérieures de Schoenberg, Berg et Webern. Plus qu'ailleurs, les procédés techniques d'écriture épousant étroitement le contenu de la pensée musicale. L'ensemble de ce mouvement est traité mélodiquement, comme si ses quatre cent cinquante-quatre mesures n'étaient formées au fond que d'une seule et unique mélodie. Toutes les démarcations entre les périodes s'estompent ; les débuts de phrase n’excédant pas la durée d’une mesure se multiplient dans tout le mouvement. Le discours s’y ralentit légèrement, accompagné par la respiration lourde du « narrateur », l’avance presque pénible d’un récit qui porte, mesure par mesure, le fardeau de la progression symphonique.

Après une remarquable Cinquième Symphonie et une splendide Première (« Choc »), toutes deux enregistrées « live » à la Herkulessaal de la Résidence de Munich, Audite Schallplatten propose un nouvel inédit de ce cycle de concerts Mahler/Kubelik/Radio bavaroise, enregistré le 4 juin 1975 au Bunka Kaikan Concert Hall de Tokyo. Plus subtil, plus « libre » que dans son enregistrement de studio avec le même orchestre (DG), Rafael Kubelik offre une Neuvième Symphonie sobre, raffinée, exemplaire par la clarté, la mise en valeur de la complexité polyphonique et par une réflexion aiguë sur l’équilibre des tempos. Si les deux mouvements médians sont moins anguleux, oppressants que dans les deux versions de Bruno Walter ou qu’avec Klemperer, Horenstein, Ancerl, Mitropoulos, Sanderling, Abbado ou Bernstein/Concertgebouw, le sens de la respiration, de l’articulation dans l’essentiel premier mouvement et dans le finale aboutit à des résultats incisifs et étonnants, quoique bien différents et sans doute moins fiévreux que ceux des enregistrements de Barbirolli/Berlin (EMI) ou de Bernstein/Berlin (DG). Comme avec Karajan/Berlin « live » (DG, le must), mais sans atteindre le même souffle ni la même urgence visionnaire, chaque note, chaque timbre est pensé avec autant de souplesse que de rigueur, le discours traçant, dans un climat plus fantasmagorique que survolté, de longues lignes lyriques d’une poésie parfois presque minimaliste.