Bernard Haitink regrettably had to back out of this week’s Chicago Symphony concerts for health reasons; while this was certainly cause for disappointment amongst concertgoers, it was largely allayed by the distinguished substitute to be found in James Conlon, who certainly knows this orchestra inside and out, having previously served as music director of the CSO’s summer residency at Ravinia for over a decade. He presented deeply probing works of Schubert and Mahler, demonstrating the intimate connection he has built with these musicians over the years.
Eerily foreboding sounds in the low strings opened Schubert’s Symphony no. 8 in B minor, invariably known as the “Unfinished”. Wonderfully clear and lucid playing from the clarinets complemented the strings, and in due course the cellos brought forth a gorgeously songful melody. This was a testament to Schubert’s fertile creativity and fecund imagination as moments before the cellos had been used in the seemingly bottomless darkness of the opening. Conlon embraced the repeat of exposition, a wise interpretative choice given the movement’s massive sense of proportion, and a preparation for the intense drama of the development. Regrettable, then, that the movement’s quietly mysterious conclusion was marred by a disastrously timed cell phone ring.
The horns were a little out of tune in the second movement’s beginning, but this was quickly resolved, yielding an atmosphere of untroubled, E major serenity. The principal winds each had solo passages and collectively were on very strong form. Peaceful as the movement may be, it was not without ample drama, but in a much more understated way than one would find in Beethoven, for instance. While the debate continues over whether or not this symphony is actually unfinished, under Conlon’s baton the two extant movements made for a very satisfying whole.
Mahler’s incomparable Das Lied von der Erde made up the bulk of the program, easily the composer’s most personal and inward-looking work. Comprised of six songs with texts lifted from German translations of Chinese poetry, they are deftly arranged so as to form a coherent symphonic arc in this ingenious melding of symphony and song cycle. Vocal duties alternated between mezzo-soprano Sarah Connolly and tenor Stephen Gould.
It was announced from the stage that Gould was suffering from a cold; this was unfortunately apparent in the opening “Das Trinklied vom Jammer der Erde” which makes substantial vocal demands, lacking the projection over the very large orchestra one would otherwise expect from this heldentenor. A highpoint of the song is the recurring phrase “dunkel ist das Leben ist der Tod”, pushing the upper limits of the tenor’s range increasingly higher in each reappearance, yet absent was a true Mahlerian sense of struggle. Still, given his less than ideal health, one couldn’t help but admire his stamina. Mahler was a composer who featured prominently in Conlon's Ravinia programs, and he negotiated the dense orchestrations with aplomb and direction in this truly symphonic opening song. Above all, it was clear how Mahler utterly courses through the veins of both orchestra and conductor.