My heart is tired. My little lamp expired with a crackle, minding me
to sleep. I come to you, trusted resting place. Yes, give me rest, I
have need of refreshment! I weep often in my loneliness. Autumn in my
heart lingers too long. Sun of love, will you no longer shine gently to
dry up my bitter tears?
Even if Mahler was not a deeply superstitious man, he could hardly be
blamed for thinking that the hammer blows of fate featured in his 6th
Symphony had not been completely fulfilled by this time in his life. As
previously mentioned, the wife with which he poured all his earthly
devotion into was unfaithful. His heart had the potential to give up any
day. His first child had died of scarlet fever. He had been fired from
his 10-year job at the Vienna State Opera, no small part due to
antisemitism. He wrote to Bruno Walter that "with one stroke, I have
lost everything I have gained in terms of who I thought I was, and have
to learn my first steps again like a newborn." At this point, with
everything toppling into dust, Mahler was left with few options other
than to keep doing what he was best at- thrusting himself into his
craft. These cataclysmic events had only started to take root during the
years of composing the 8th, and I firmly believe that he simply could
not write another work like it during this tribulation. It was in his
calmest states that he was in his most earth-shattering moods. Instead,
this most personal of composers was inspired to pour out the most
personal of compositions. He buried himself in a book of ancient Chinese
poems translated into German, and find innumerable fodder for
development in this piercing poetry of existential despair and
pantheistic mysticism. Inspired again to turn to his "home" genre of the
song cycle, he aimed to produce his penultimate essay in the form. The
result, The Song of the Earth (originally his 9th Symphony, but
retracted due to superstition), can safely be called the 2nd real piece
of 20th century music after his own 6th. The real question is- how has
such an insanely, almost wrongfully personal work become such a
cherished piece among music devotees?
Maybe it's because it simply taps into a universal thread of humanity
that binds us all together- the desire to cope with the looming,
inconvenient reality of death by groping desperately for answers. We
need to understand that this is raw, ravishing poetry. No one who
listens to The Song of the Earth should go without following along with
the original texts. The music of the first movement may cast an aura of
convincingly ardent passion, but unless we know the ideas Mahler is
actually communicating, we do not really understand the point: The
heavens are ever blue and the Earth shall stand sure, and blossom in the
spring. But you O man, what long life have you? Not a hundred years may
you delight in all the rotten baubles of this earth. Here we
encounter a truly universal dilemma, one that appears in everything from
the Bible's book of Ecclesiastes to the musings of Sartre and
Heidegger. But Mahler's treatment of it is unique. He always viewed
himself as an outcast, a wanderer, a derelict on the face of the earth.
Even as a Jew, he always decried his outcast status in nearly every
professional circle. This is why he searched so sweepingly and so
epically for answers. Das Lied is the culmination of a metaphysical
adventure that started with the Songs of a Wayfarer. Mahler finds
stability and constancy in nature and in the fact that men in all their
complexity must fade away. His musical facade conjures up appropriate
images of autumn leaves flurrying to the ground, blades of grass
speckled with dew, and spring flowers shooting up as the text demands. A
nearly perfect sense of introspection is portrayed. The autumnal
metaphors are especially striking. This music is replete with
heart-rending melodies, lush harmonies, and sparkling orchestration. But
really, this is music about heartache and resignation. This is music
that touches an exposed nerve of the century and of the collective
consciousness, music that glorifies beauty and dolorousness, music that
tries to rinse away the pain of living through drink, music that can
literally hurt us if we dwell too much on it. Mahler, in his classic
sardonic wit, feared that his audience would go home and shoot
themselves. I implore you not to dwell too much on this music and its
corresponding poetry. As a window into the soul of an everyman who
happened to be an artist, it is invaluable. But just remember, next time
you hear the fading utterances of ewig, ewig... as a bard's mandolin
strums and a heavenly celesta sends us into infinity, remember what
Mahler is really saying, and remember the essence of the eternal
transience that defines the soul of Mahler- always scoping the universe
for solutions to problems that multiply within all of us.
Where do I go? I go, I wander in the mountains. I seek peace for my
lonely heart. I wander homeward, to my abode! I'll never wander far.
Still is my heart, awaiting its hour. The dear earth everywhere blossoms
in spring and grows green anew! Everywhere and forever blue is the
horizon! Forever ... Forever ...
Copyright statement: text copyright Davis C. Smith, used with permission.
Singapore symphony orchestra under Lang shui with Warren Mok (tenor) and Ning Liang (alto)
BIS records, 2007, 70 min (Amazon link)
The German texts of Das Lied von der Erde were based on translated versions of Chinese poems by Li Bai, the famous Tang dynasty wandering poet. In 2005, a Cantonese version was prepared by Daniel Ng. The Cantonese language was chosen as it bears closest resemblance to the lost 8th Century Northern Mandarin dialect in which the original texts were written. I had been trying to get hold of this version for a while, but when I finally succeeded, I was disappointed. The Cantonese lines do not really add something, and indeed distract as we are used to the German lines. This holds especially for the tenor. The sheer class of the composition is still undeniable, but all in all, this is an interesting but in the end superfluous experiment.
Munchener Bach-Orchester under Hansjörg Albrecht with Sibylla Rubens (soprano), Renee Morloc (alto), Markus Schafer (tenor) and Markus Eiche (baritone)
Oehms records, 2011, 62 min (Amazon link)
Partially based on Mahler's first drafts, partially based on own ideas, Albrecht created a new interpretation of this work, in which four different singers are used. The tenor tackles movements 1 and 5 as usual, but he is replaced by a soprano for movement 3. For the even-numbered movements, he chooses a blend of Mahler's approved choices, giving 2 and 4 to the alto, and the monumental final movement to the baritone. Does it work? Actually it is not bad at all, although I would love to hear this version by a stronger ensemble.
Wiener Philharmoniker under Jonathan Nott with Jonas Kaufmann (tenor)
Sony records, 2017, 61 min (Amazon link)
If someone can go from two to four soloists, why not the other way? Kaufmann, on paper as a leading Wagner-tenor eminently suitable for the tenor part of this work, came up with the idea to sing all six movements. Undeniably a tour de force in concert, but more easily realizable in the studio. Also here, does it work? Frankly, no. He makes an effort, and comes of remarkably well in the even numbered movements, but the missing contrast in voices from one part to the next cannot be overcome. Not recommended.
Ensemble Musique Oblique under Philippe Herreweghe with Hans Peter Blochwitz (tenor) and Birgit Remmert (alto)
Harmonia Mundi records, 1994, 63 min (Amazon link)
Das Lied von der Erde is scored for a massive orchestra. Arnold Schoenberg began to arrange it for chamber orchestra, reducing the orchestral forces to string and wind quintets, augmented by piano, celesta, harmonium and percussion. Schoenberg never finished this in his lifetime, and the arrangement was completed by Rainer Riehn in 1980. This severely reduced version has two obvious advantages: it is easier to arrange a performance, and there are more choices available for the singers. In particular the tenor, who does not have Wagner Heldentenor qualities to combat the usual stunning orchestral forces, and can show more expression than usual - as demonstrated very well on this recording by Hans Peter Blochwitz. And as good as Christa Ludwig's performances are, with Birgit Remmert I have less problems actually hearing the words. The disadvantage is of course that some of the lusciousness of Mahler's orchestral tapestry is unavoidably lost. On the other hand, it is stunning how much of the atmosphere of the original work is maintained in this bonsai version. In the end, I still clearly prefer the fully orchestrated versions, but this is well worth listening to.
Markus Vorzellner with Bernhard Berchtold (tenor) and Hermine Haselböck (mezzo)
Cavi-Music label, 2009, 72 min (Amazon link)
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Copyright statement: the cited text is copyrighted by Davis C. Smith as indicated. The images are either in the public domain or deemed fair use.
