The scope and scale of a Mahler symphony can present a challenge in finding a suitable work to pair it with on a concert program. This weekend at The Cleveland Orchestra, Music Director Franz Welser-Möst devised an inspired coupling, juxtaposing Arthur Honegger’s Third Symphony with Mahler’s orchestral song cycle Das Lied von der Erde. Both were written in the wake of tragedy – political for Honegger, personal for Mahler – and pull the listener into philosophical, world-weary musings.

Franz Welser-Möst conducts The Cleveland Orchestra © Yevhen Gulenko
Franz Welser-Möst conducts The Cleveland Orchestra
© Yevhen Gulenko

Composed in the immediate aftermath of World War 2, Honegger’s Third bears the epithet “Liturgique”, and each of the three movements is titled with an incipit from the Catholic liturgy. The Dies irae showed in no uncertain terms the devastation from the war. Despite the composer’s Gallic origins, the unsettling rumblings of the machines of war brought to mind the war-torn works of Prokofiev and Shostakovich. Under the conductor’s razor-sharp direction, the Clevelanders gave a white-hot, precisely executed account of the score’s complexities.

De profundis clamavi formed the central core of the work, a bit more calming and reflective than the preceding in a search for peace. Honegger’s rarefied lyricism resounded, but moments of clangorous strife were never distant. In the closing Dona nobis pacem, a foreboding march-like theme took shape, colored by crunchy brass. In a particular stroke of genius, the work concludes with a peaceful passage, as if floating above the desolation. Touching solo passages from the flute (Jessica Sindell) and violin (Joel Link) made it all the more captivating.

Although Das Lied von der Erde was originally scored for alto and tenor soloists, Mahler indicated that a baritone could take the place of the alto, a directive that was followed in these performances. This was my first time hearing the work with two male voices, and it was an appealing way to hear it afresh, giving it a darker, more earthbound weight. More so than any of Mahler’s numbered symphonies, the quality of the performance is dependent on the quality of the singers. Tenor Limmie Pulliam and baritone Iurii Samoilov were amply up to the considerable task.

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Iurii Samoilov and The Cleveland Orchestra
© Yevhen Gulenko

The opening Drinking Song of Earth’s Sorrow drew one in with vigor to the unique world of Ancient Chinese texts translated to German, covering the range of the human experience. Pulliam’s bold tenor cut through the thick orchestrations; the repeated invocations of “dark is life, dark is death” served as hinge points, each more strained than the last. The Lonely One in Autumn began with some very fine playing from oboe Frank Rosenwein, painting a more intimate scene than the previous. Samoilov’s gently cascading voice gave the text a certain wistful resignation.

Of Youth and Of Beauty made for a lighter centerpiece. In the latter, the depth of Samoilov’s baritone drew it into a more pensive realm, and orchestral interludes added heft. Pulliam was haughty and energetic in the rambunctious Drunken One in Springtime, a markedly different outlook than the scene in autumn. The length of the first five songs combined, The Farewell took matters into the extraordinary. The otherworldly sounds that opened gave one goosebumps, and its valedictory lyricism pulled at the heartstrings. A great challenge for Samoilov, the final song demanded deep reserves of control, and his meditations were aided and abetted by the orchestra’s nuanced, thoughtfully judged playing in this sublime farewell to life.

*****