Programming Mahler’s Das Lied von der Erde (The Song of the Earth) is never easy, as its duration of over an hour makes it a mighty second half of any concert, yet it is not long enough to be presented on its own. The Australian Chamber Orchestra and its Artistic Director Richard Tognetti’s solution to this problem was to pair it with Wagner’s Siegfried Idyll in the first half, followed by three songs by Mahler’s wife, Alma. The works were thus connected by similar playing forces (Das Lied in a chamber arrangement), sharing German late-Romantic musical idioms, performed as unconducted chamber pieces, even if Tognetti directed the musicians with his head movements and bow.
This approach came with its natural advantages and disadvantages. Every instrumentalist had to take full responsibility for their part and contribute as a soloist; indeed, the concentration, technical preparation and the attention to details of the ACO musicians never failed to impress. The downside was the vulnerability of ensemble playing. While it seldom surfaced as a major problem, the many and specifically prescribed rubatos in Wagner's Idyll were often sacrificed in order to keep the music fully together. Most of the composer’s instructions to this heavenly birthday present to his wife, Cosima, refer to a calm, even slow pace of performance (ruhig bewegt, immer langsamer etc). The main reason why Tognetti’s tempi often appeared rushed was not their slightly faster than usual pulse but because the breathing space between phrases and the lush sounds of this genuinely “idyllic” music felt disciplined, rather than relaxed.
Alma Schindler composed dozens of Lieder before marrying Gustav Mahler, who all but forbade her to continue her artistic ambitions as a condition of their marriage. Three of these songs, skilfully orchestrated by David Matthews, were offered here to make posthumous amends, given a tender performance by mezzo soprano Catherine Carby. With clear German diction and a caring affinity towards the rubato of the vocal line, she made them sound lovely, even if they left less of an artistic mark than the works between which they were wedged.
Sub specie mortis, or under the guise of death, was Bruno Walter’s comment about Mahler’s late masterwork, Das Lied von der Erde. It may be true, but the composer’s pantheistic joy in the beauty of Earth served as another powerful inspiration. In between his monolithic Eighth and Ninth Symphonies, this music delights with its chamber music-like qualities, possibly the reason why Schoenberg transcribed it for a much smaller ensemble, albeit he left it for Rainer Riehn to finish. There were thus only 16 musicians on stage (but playing many more instruments) accompanying Stuart Skelton and Carby, who alternated between songs.
As in the Siegfried Idyll, the sonic proportions between the string players and the rest of the ensemble presented some challenges. The five solo string players were exceptional, yet not fully united. Tognetti's idiosyncratic style of vastly different types of vibrato – and often extensive portamenti – made his sound always noticeable and unique, if not always in a favourable way.
Skelton’s Heldentenor voice was ideal for the odd-numbered movements, powerful, yet velvety when needed. His singing followed the best Lieder traditions convincingly, even if he seemed to fight vocal difficulties, most noticeably toward the end of Der Trunkene im Frühling. Carby, although with a more operatic approach, proved to be a worthy partner, maintaining sublime dignity and a reduced vibrato in the chilling death march of the final Der Abschied.
