The Mantovani-style fanned chords at the start of Arthur H Lilienthal's all-strings rewrite of the Cello Concerto does not augur well, though Raphael Wallfisch rises from his freshly retextured orchestral bed determined not to allow the missing wind lines with their absent acerbities to compromise the strength of Schumann's message. He offers a convincing performance, phrasing with warmth and agility, while at the transition into the slow movement (at the start of tr 2) he achieves an affecting level of poignancy. But compare the close of the movement with Oren Shevlin's recording of Schumann's original with the Cologne WDR Symphony under Heinz Holliger, where the sting of brass and rocketing winds intensify the drama, and you soon realise what's missing in Lilienthal's rewrite, even though the arrangement was prompted by Schumann's own unrealised plan to prepare a version for string quintet. Had he done so I rather suspect it would have involved a certain amount of re-composition, not the blanket softening that we have here. And good as Wallfisch is, Shevlin suggests more of the fragile resolve that underlies the piece, fighting the dying light in a way that only Schumann could. Shevlin's tone is more subtly variegated than Wallfisch's, while his attack in the finale is toughened and springy. Holliger too keeps things stripped to the bone, sweetening the line where necessary, though never to excess, and with a level of clarity that others aim for but achieve only at a price of compromised expressivity. As to rivals, among older recordings I would especially recommend Janos Starker's Cologne version under Rafael Kubelik, recently issued by Orfeo as part of a three-disc Kubelik collection (all first-release material), probably the best we've had from Starker, simultaneously tender-hearted and tough-grained.

Most of Wallfisch's Schumann extras with piano are nicely done, the Fünf Stücke im Volkston delivered in the main with a light touch both by Wallfisch and by his fine pianist John York, the Three Romances, Op 94, and the Op 73 Fantasy Pieces similarly eloquent in a relaxed, unassuming way (barring the fiery last movement of Op 73), the Adagio and Allegro, Op 70, in many respects the disc's highlight. I wasn't too keen on the two Lieder transcriptions (both taken from the Op 39 Liederkreis collection), certainly not the start of 'Mondnacht', where the cello's presence spoils the music's solitary atmosphere, and in 'Frühlingsnacht', where the soloist ideally needs to project with greater presence.

Holliger's account of the 1851 Fourth Symphony has all the qualities that make his accompaniment to the Cello Concerto so distinctive, namely flow, transparency, and character (note the subtle but dramatic diminuendo among the horns at 4'42"). The expressive Romanze follows close on the heels of the first movement, surely as it should, the Scherzo asserts a virile presence, while the fast-paced finale is breezy and exhilarating, with plenty of light and shade. Altogether a worthy continuation of Holliger's Schumann series, with excellent playing and well-balanced sound.

[...] sowohl beide Solisten als auch der Dirigent Kubelík werfen sich mit einer wohl dosierten Mischung aus Emotion, Theatralik und der latenten Distanz einer konzertanten Aufführung ins Zeug, dass ein zwingendes Drama für die Ohren entsteht.

Here is one of the great "lost" Mahler recordings now properly restored. When Rafael Kubelik made his outstanding studio Mahler cycle in Munich for DG in the 1970s (463 738-2) he made no version of "Das Lied Von Der Erde" to go with it. This was puzzling for such a great Mahlerian who even went to the trouble of recording the Adagio from the Tenth Symphony as part of his cycle. We knew Kubelik played the work because this performance had taken place in Munich in February 1970 with Kubelik’s Bavarian Radio Orchestra and first appeared, minus a minute or two in the fourth movement and in poor sound, on a pirate label in the 1980s. A number of Kubelik’s studio Mahler recordings were made after "live" performances in the same hall at this very time (as other Audite releases have shown) so why didn’t Kubelik, the orchestra and his two soloists go on to record it for DG under studio conditions? I wonder if the answer lies in the presence of Janet Baker. At that time Baker was an exclusive EMI artist. Were plans afoot for her to record it with Kubelik but these came to nothing because of that? I know she later recorded the work with Bernard Haitink for Philips but that was some years later when perhaps contract problems were resolvable. Whatever, I know that ever since I heard the pirate version of this performance I had hoped that at some point someone would gain access to the Bavarian Radio master tapes and release them. That is what has now happened and this recording of Mahler’s late masterpiece now joins a nearly-completed "live" Mahler cycle conducted by Kubelik from various times during his Munich tenure released by Audite.


For me Janet Baker has always been the greatest interpreter of the female/baritone songs in this work. Her Philips recording with Haitink on Eloquence (468 182-2) was long awaited even when it appeared and did not disappoint her admirers. In my survey of recordings of this work I believe I paid that version the attention it deserved singling out Baker for special praise. However even then I felt her interpretation on a BBC Radio Classics release taken from a later "live" performance in Manchester and conducted by Raymond Leppard was even better – deeper, more profound. The problem was that in no way could the BBC Northern Symphony Orchestra compare with the Concertgebouw, or her conductor Raymond Leppard compare with Bernard Haitink even though hearing Baker "live" seemed to add something to her interpretation. This was partly why when I heard the "pirate" of this Munich version I hoped for an official release. This too is "live" with all the benefit that brings but this time we have in Kubelik a Mahlerian of equal stature to Haitink and in the Bavarian Radio an orchestra that comes close to the Concertgebouw in depth of response to Mahler’s sound world. Matched with Waldemar Kmentt she also appears with a tenor who is, for me, superior to James King on the Haitink version and John Mitchinson on the Leppard, fine though both are.


The key to the greatness of Janet Baker in this work is her total identification with the words. Her care for every detail of them means she lives the part where some merely describe it. Her view of the music seems from the inside out. In these movements one thinks of Baker, Ludwig and Fassbaender among the women and Fischer-Dieskau among the men. In the second song you are made to feel what it is to be lonely rather than simply have loneliness described to you. Technically too she is on top form as the wild horses passage in "Von der Schönheit" proves. At no point in this crazy music does Baker ever give the impression that she will come to grief, even though the tempo adopted by her and Kubelik is suitably swift. They had one shot at this in front of an audience and it comes off triumphantly. Listen also to the delicacy of the description of the young girls swimming in the same movement. Finally in the "Abschied" her range, emotional and musical is total. Everything is covered here from the passages of sterile enunciation to the overwhelming emotional grandeur of the climaxes and all points between subtly graded. Overall this is one of those interpretations that contain depths that will take years to plumb.


Of all the great recordings of this work I know there has, for me, so far only been one where I feel that two of the greatest interpreters are matched on the same recording. These are Christa Ludwig and Fritz Wunderlich for Klemperer on EMI. But now with this release I think there is a second since Waldemar Kmentt is just as convincing in his songs as Janet Baker is in hers. In fact I believe Kmentt can be compared with Wunderlich, Peter Schreier and Julius Patzak as the finest interpreters in the tenor songs on record. In "Das Trinklied" Kmentt is towering, challenging the music to break him in the dramatic sections, but emerging unscathed from them. The "Dark is life, is death" refrain has a world-weary depth that few save Schreier and Wunderlich can match and the "ape on the grave" climax is fearless in his nightmarish delivery. Like Baker, Kmentt can also walk the delicate passages of this work with equal effect. His description of the arrival of spring in "Der Trunkene im Fruhling" is magical and his word painting in "Von Der Jugend" piquant and sharp.


Kubelik’s greatness as a Mahler conductor was his ability to cover the whole range of the music from uncomplicated nature painting to calculated high drama and seem equally at home everywhere. He attends to all details of this music with care and discretion, always taking care of the bigger picture too, balancing it with the inner detail. Notice the woodwinds during the funeral march in "Der Abscheid" where every strand is clearly delineated, or the effect of getting his mandolin to play tremolo in the same movement marking up the chinoiserie in a most evocative and unique way. He also recognises what I have always believed to be a crucial aspect of this work. That the two soloists are the equal partners with the conductor and that he is there to support them. With great soloists like these, that is easier. But countless examples of his support for his soloists are apparent in this performance along with the preparation of his orchestra to act almost as a third soloist. The purely instrumental passages in "Der Abschied" reveal Mahler conducting of the highest order. Listen to the birds passage and also to the deep bass growls before the funeral march.


The sound recording leaves little to be desired. It is hard to tell it was made over thirty years ago for radio broadcast. I like the balances between woodwind and strings and the warmth of the acoustic around the orchestra and soloists in the chamber-like sections. The balance between soloists and orchestra are exemplary also. Even the distinctive acoustic of the Herkulessaal is made to sound perfectly suited to the music. You can hear everything and with solo players in the orchestra as eloquent as the two singers are this is important and adds another plus to this disc. In sound terms this more than matches the best versions of this work and musically it is the equal of Klemperer on EMI (5 66892 2), Sanderling on Berlin Classics (0094022BC) and Horenstein on BBC Legends (BBCL 4042-2). All very different though each one of those comparable versions are in their interpretative approach. Indeed, this Kubelik recording has the effect of taking many of the virtues of all those great recordings and stitching them into a new and deeply satisfying whole.


This is one of the all-time great Mahler recordings: a classic version of this inexhaustible masterpiece in every way. Indeed I think there are none to surpass it, perhaps only to equal it. You will be moved, delighted and changed by it. I cannot recommend it too highly as it goes to the top of my list for this work.

Wie schon in den Symphonien Nr. 1 und 5, die dieser Neunten vorausgingen, zeigt sich Raphael Kubelik auch in diesem Konzertmitschnitt wieder als herausragender Mahler-Dirigent.

Es ist schon aufregend, wie er den ersten Satz der 9. Symphonie mit seinen Todesahnungen so überaus zerklüftet darstellt. Auch das Täppisch-derbe des Ländlers wird bestens zum Ausdruck gebracht. Die Rondo-Burleske kommt sehr burschikos daher und in der Dezidiertheit der Musik, positiv zu wirken, wird dann doch deutlich, dass das alles nur erzwungene Fassade ist, Galgenhumor, wie es Mengelberg formulierte. Der etwas stockende Beginn des letzten Satzes schließlich reißt uns sofort in die Weit des Abschieds zurück, die diese Symphonie wohl für Mahler bedeutete. In einem enormen Kraftakt lässt Kubelik Mahler im Adagio mindestens zehn Mal sterben. Selten ist mir dieser Satz so unter die Haut gegangen wie in dieser Aufnahme. Selten ist langsames Sterben musikalisch überzeugender und packender dargestellt worden als in dieser exzeptionellen Interpretation.

Il est fascinant de constater grâce au disque combien certains artistes ont pu évoluer au cours de leur carrière, particulièrement dans le cas d’un musicien comme Curzon (1907-1982), qui avouait volontiers que son Mozart changeait « chaque semaine ». Bien au-delà d’une différence de galbes, de phrasé ou d’acoustique, ses 21e et 24e Concertos avec Kubelik des années 70 offrent une approche assez distincte de celles que nous connaissions de lui par ailleurs – avec Krips, Kertesz, Britten ou d’autres… Les poids allégé du son, la tension très marquée des phrasés, l’envergure des cadences (de Busoni pour le 21e, de Marius Flothuis et George Szell pour le 24e) sont bien loin du Mozart emporté qu’il avait pu nous donner par ailleurs. Quant aux concertos de Beethoven, toujours live avec Kubelik, ils marquent si besoin était une évolution – frappante dans le cas de « L’Empereur » par rapport au Decca officiel – vers un art débarrassé de tout effet, et ne tendant que vers la seule lumière.

Il est fascinant de constater grâce au disque combien certains artistes ont pu évoluer au cours de leur carrière, particulièrement dans le cas d’un musicien comme Curzon (1907-1982), qui avouait volontiers que son Mozart changeait « chaque semaine ». Bien au-delà d’une différence de galbes, de phrasé ou d’acoustique, ses 21e et 24e Concertos avec Kubelik des années 70 offrent une approche assez distincte de celles que nous connaissions de lui par ailleurs – avec Krips, Kertesz, Britten ou d’autres… Les poids allégé du son, la tension très marquée des phrasés, l’envergure des cadences (de Busoni pour le 21e, de Marius Flothuis et George Szell pour le 24e) sont bien loin du Mozart emporté qu’il avait pu nous donner par ailleurs. Quant aux concertos de Beethoven, toujours live avec Kubelik, ils marquent si besoin était une évolution – frappante dans le cas de « L’Empereur » par rapport au Decca officiel – vers un art débarrassé de tout effet, et ne tendant que vers la seule lumière.

Wie schon in den Symphonien Nr. 1 und 5, die dieser Neunten vorausgingen, zeigt sich Raphael Kubelik auch in diesem Konzertmitschnitt wieder als herausragender Mahler-Dirigent.

Es ist schon aufregend, wie er den ersten Satz der 9. Symphonie mit seinen Todesahnungen so überaus zerklüftet darstellt. Auch das Täppisch-derbe des Ländlers wird bestens zum Ausdruck gebracht. Die Rondo-Burleske kommt sehr burschikos daher und in der Dezidiertheit der Musik, positiv zu wirken, wird dann doch deutlich, dass das alles nur erzwungene Fassade ist, Galgenhumor, wie es Mengelberg formulierte. Der etwas stockende Beginn des letzten Satzes schließlich reißt uns sofort in die Weit des Abschieds zurück, die diese Symphonie wohl für Mahler bedeutete. In einem enormen Kraftakt lässt Kubelik Mahler im Adagio mindestens zehn Mal sterben. Selten ist mir dieser Satz so unter die Haut gegangen wie in dieser Aufnahme. Selten ist langsames Sterben musikalisch überzeugender und packender dargestellt worden als in dieser exzeptionellen Interpretation.

Still the enigma among Mahler symphonies, or is it that commentators still miss the point, or that the work as a whole is simply not good music? This live account, from a dedcated Mahlerian, does not readily provide answers, but makes speculation the more worthwhile.

A central factor in interpreting the Seventh Symphony is its form, each movement a sonata-rondo derivative that proceeds in circular rather than linear fashion. The outcome: a symphony which repeatedly turns back on itself, tying up loose ends across rather than between movements. Kubelík understands this so that, for instance, the initial Langsam, purposeful rather than indolent, is integral to what follows it. Similarly, the expressive central episode (8'43") is no mere interlude, but a necessary stage in the E/E minor tonal struggle around which the movement pivots. Kubelík catches the emotional ambivalence, if not always the fine irony, of the first Nachtmusik's march fantasy, while the Scherzo not only looks forward (as note writer Erich Mauermann points out) to La valse but also recalls the balletic dislocation of 'Un bal' from Symphonie fantastique. The second Nachtmusik is neither bland nor sentimentalized, just kept moving at a strolling gait, its course barely impeded by moments of chromatic emphasis. The underlying élan of the 'difficult' finale is varied according to each episode, with the reintroduction of earlier material (12'26") felt not as a grafted-on means of unity, but a thematic intensification before the affirmative reprise of the opening music: 'victory' in the completion of the journey rather than in the arrival.

Drawbacks? The extremely high-level radio broadcast, coupled with the frequent sense that Kubelík has rehearsed his players only to the brink of security, gives climactic passages a certain desperate quality — much of the detail is left to fend for itself. The six-note col legno phrase in the second movement is never played the same way twice, while the balance in the fourth movement does the guitar few favours. Yet there is a sense that this is the personal reading Kubelík was unable to achieve in the studio, before he either changed tack or lost the interpretative plot in his bizarrely laboured New York account. In their different ways, Bernstein, Haitink and Rattle are each more 'realized' as interpretations, but overt spontaneity may count for more in this Mahler symphony than any other.