It is sometimes possible to know within the first 30 seconds of a performance that your mind is about to be blown. I felt it this past weekend in Marian Anderson Hall, where Yannick Nézet-Séguin and the Philadelphia Orchestra played Mahler’s Symphony no. 2 in C minor, “Resurrection” for the first time in 12 years.
The sheer weight of the string tremolos in the opening bars, paired with a decrescendo so precise it took my breath away, assured me immediately that the music was in good hands. That feeling was affirmed moments later by the ominous figures in the low strings – curt and slashing without ever turning vulgar – and by the diligent architecture brought to the Allegro maestoso, with its shifts from funereal austerity to glimmers of grace. The Philadelphians may not play this symphony every day, but they feel it in their bones.
The bombastic quality of the first movement supplied expected thrills, but the statement of the secondary themes in the horns and woodwinds were equally notable for their elegance. Nézet-Séguin varied moods with the ease of flicking a light switch. And although he didn’t observe the full five-minute rest instructed by Mahler after the section’s conclusion – who ever does? – he allowed enough space to suggest the turmoil had passed, giving way to sunnier views of a religious afterlife.
The Andante wafted in on a cloud of elegance. Here and in the third movement Scherzo, Nézet-Séguin tightly controlled elements that might elsewhere come across as kitschy: the extended pizzicato sections, the tang of klezmer in the strings and woodwinds, the aggressive timpani and offstage percussion. The mounting tension ratcheted up perfectly to the triple-forte climax of the third movement, which offset the gentility heard in much of this section and set the mood ideally for the peacefulness of Urlicht ahead.
After a spectacular outing last season in Mahler 3, Joyce DiDonato returned as alto soloist here, cementing her reputation as a leading interpreter of this music. If some higher ascending phrases in Urlicht seemed slightly outside her comfort zone, they were offset by her sterling musicality and deep connection to the text. Rarely have I heard the speaker’s admonition that she is from God and will return to him sound so visceral or so assured. Ying Fang, her soprano counterpart, handled her duties in the fifth movement equally well – impressive particularly because she was placed not amid the choir, as is customary, but on a raised platform between harps and percussion.
The finale held the audience’s rapt attention across its long duration by highlighting sharp contrasts. The offstage horns sounded distant and dreamlike one moment, insistent and menacing the next. The transition from the wrathful conclusion of the first section and the angelic entry of the chorus was precisely calibrated, with members of the Philadelphia Symphonic Choir barely whispering, without rising from their seats. Joe Miller prepared the choir with flawless intonation and dynamic range, and Nézet-Séguin’s early experience as a choral conductor made for seamless integration throughout the movement. DiDonato and Fang melded well together, the latter’s “O glaube” sounding especially ethereal for its total lack of vibrato.
Amid the deafening (and deserved) applause, I thought back to my first exposure to this symphony, a performance by the Royal Concertgebouw at Carnegie Hall when I was a high-school freshman. I can say without an ounce of hyperbole that it was a life-altering experience. I left this Mahler 2 sure that it had the power to change someone else’s life too.
