On a cold, wet and unseasonably wintry October evening, the Berliner Philharmoniker's performance of Mahler's Fifth Symphony with Gustavo Dudamel was truly special. What a way to celebrate the 60th birthday of the Philharmonie, one of the most amazing concert halls in the world. Just walking into the auditorium and seeing the orchestra nestled with the audience so close, was awe-inspiring!
The evening's birthday celebrations started with two works commissioned 60 years apart, both celebrations in their own very different way. The first, a Fanfare by Boris Blacher for three groups of off-stage brass – four trumpets, four trombones and six horns – was quite literally surround sound at its best, wrapped around the audience in the auditorium.
The second, was Serbian composer, Milica Djordjević's Little firefly, glaringly illuminated and frightened by unbearable beauty. Intended as a representation of emotions experienced as a child growing up in Serbia, Little firefly features numerous extended instrumental techniques with little sign of melody or lyricism. Instead, a series of increasingly intense colour palettes and textures building to a roaring and blinding explosion, resulting in an unexpected and abrupt silence. Djordjević believes that “a world without sound is a scary thing”. In this quest, she succeeded.
The main event of the evening, Mahler's Fifth Symphony, is a work of contrasts, of fate, humour, longing and joy. With Dudamel at the helm, this was a performance full of drama and tension. There is a wonderful intimacy in the Philharmonie. Some believe that a building's design can improve the quality of music-making. In the Philharmonie this is very true. You could hear absolutely everything. The music was so fresh, so alive and at times so delicate.
One could not help but marvel at the sheer musicality on stage. Guillaume Jehl's opening trumpet motif set the tone. At times, he just made the audience wait that extra second on the dotted rhythm or held the last note of a phrase just a moment longer. His tone fluctuated between fateful menace and delicate flutters.
The cellos and woodwind's moment to shine came at the beginning of the second movement before, bells aloft, the horns reverberated through the hall. At the centre, Dudamel expertly and effortlessly timed the climaxes majestically. With dynamic contrasts rarely witnessed, this performance was awesome as an overwhelming wash of emotion swept the music ever forward before an almighty gong punctured the air.
Principal horn Stefan Dohr took to his feet for the joyful third movement. With a virtuoso performance full of freedom and deftness of touch, Dohr slid into the occasional note, adding the merest hint of vibrato. Dudamel and the violins joined the fun, making us wait for the return of the Ländler theme, clearly relishing the joke!
A wonderful stillness descended as the harp and strings opened the Adagietto – Mahler’s love letter to his beloved Alma. Dudamel’s expansive gestures hinted at a menace lurking beneath. The range of emotions and the orchestra's enjoyment of the music were as much a part of the performance as the music itself. Second violin melodies high up the D-string, propelled us towards a dramatic conclusion before dying away to nothing.
All was a foretaste of the glorious finale to come, full of trills and turns, crashing cymbals and thundering bass drum. The Berlin Phil was magnificent – quite simply, one of the finest readings of a Mahler symphony I have ever heard.
