Mahler's Third a symphony which, more than any other, embodies the composer's much-quoted maxim that a symphony must embrace the whole world, with beauty, catastrophe, the sublime and the ridiculous all in immediate proximity. This primetime Saturday night Prom saw Sakari Oramo conduct the BBC Symphony Orchestra in an electrifying account.
Oramo’s approach favoured brisk tempos throughout, most of all in the expansive first movement, which unfolded with extraordinarily vigorous energy. After the barren, mountainous landscape of the opening minutes, the sense of freshness instilled by the quick march was thrilling to behold. The ensuing catastrophe and return to desolation was all the more haunting for this set-up. Even with such a strong wind behind the march, there was much to admire in nimble solos for horn and violin. Elsewhere, the three trombone solos were coloured with rich character, first defiant, then mournful, then nostalgic. The coda went off like a rocket, closing the movement in riotous spirits.
The pace remained lively for the second and third movements, depicting in turn the composer’s interpretation of plant and animal philosophies. The flurries of woodwind sextuplets in the second flew off the page with the capricious bluster of a summer breeze, and the third movement bustled with raucous animal life. Few ensembles can lay claim to a better grasp of the Royal Albert Hall’s challenging acoustic than this orchestra and their Chief Conductor, and the benefits were reaped here in a high-definition portrait of the animal kingdom, with every detail plain to hear. The folksy Wunderhorn tunes were suitably rustic and Oramo indulged a sense of wildness in the brassy outbursts. Niall Keatley’s posthorn solos, played here on cornet rather than the more conventional flugelhorn, floated out from high in the gallery, sure-footed in every note and seemingly infinite in time and space.
From here, the symphony turns to more existential subject material. In the darkness of O Mensch, Finnish mezzo Jenny Carlstedt sang her pleas to mankind with luxuriantly rich warmth, characterising her soft sound first with tender love, followed latterly by imploring passion in the text. Here, perhaps, Oramo might have allowed a little more room for the music to breathe, but there was again much to admire in Igor Yuzefovich’s violin solos. At the top of the fifth movement, the Trinity Boys Choir leapt to their feet and sang their first resounding “Bimm” in one impressively clean movement. The choral sound was superbly delicate, with the Boys Choir and women of the BBC Symphony Chorus neatly balanced on opposite sides of the organ, and Carlstedt brought convincing remorse to her depiction of the stricken St Peter.
The finale, one of Mahler’s great slow movement essays, unfolded with compelling drama. Oramo indulged a wide range of tempo variations, all the while supported by a magically feathery sound from the upper strings. The brass section maintained an unfailingly beautiful sound quality in their astonishingly quiet chorale, and the final minutes glowed in the radiant – and hard won – splendour of D major.
