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nature: about summer, and what the flowers and animals, the night, and the morning bells
tell us. The work ends with the subject of love and life in heaven, using Nietzsche and a
text from Des Knaben Wunderhorn. Mahler employs a posthorn, a utilitarian instrument
of a bygone era, to connect the worlds of the everyday with those of memory and the
imagination. A tam tam signals death. The sense of awe at midnight is followed by a
childlike suggestion of heaven. The symphony closes with a massive orchestral elegy, an
apotheosis built calmly but eloquently. One senses the ultimate and mysterious synthesis
of disparate and mysterious threads that life is.
In the Fourth Symphony in G major (1900–01), Mahler returns to a smaller scale, using
sleigh bells in the opening and in the last movement. The symphony ends quietly with a
setting of a folk song text that Mahler first composed in 1892. In this symphony, the
shortest of the nine, one senses Mahler drifting away from explicit literary and
philosophical programs as a structural underpinning for his music. Yet originally the
Fourth, which carried the description of a “humoresque,” and was intended to be lighter
in spirit than its predecessors, explicitly sought to evoke in a more carefree manner
everyday life, charity, the dawn, and a world without sorrow.
In the Second, Third, and Fourth Symphonies Mahler drew on his song writing and on his
fascination with early romanticism as expressed by Des Knaben Wunderhorn. In the Fifth
Symphony in C-sharp Minor (1902), Mahler turned in a different direction restricting
himself to the purely instrumental forces he had employed in the First. Although he
abandoned the use of explicit literary programs, in the background of the Fifth fragments
and evocations of his many songs and their meanings are audible sufficiently to suggest
some narrative intent. Opening with a funeral procession, the symphony has one of
Mahler’s characteristically bizarre, grotesque, and wild scherzos. It also contains a
famous fourth movement, an Adagietto, a searing love song. The symphony ends with an
intense affirmative fifth movement, a highly contrapuntal and triumphant finale.
The Sixth Symphony in A Minor (1904) is perhaps Mahler’s most confessional and
personal work. Written in four movements, its huge orchestra includes cow bells and a
large percussion battery. There is no program, but the work was written for his wife
Alma. The Sixth is famous for its wide emotional range and intensity and its combination
of sinister march rhythms, sardonic dance elements, and direct lyricism. Hammer blows
suggest fate and shimmering ethereal sounds, a magical spiritual realm tied to nature.
Mahler’s overarching subject is, once again, the terror and pain of love and desire.
Almost as personal is the Seventh Symphony in E Minor (1905). The Seventh is even
more daring in architecture and sound than the Sixth. Using a mandolin and guitar, there
are two episodes of “night music” among the work’s five movements. Even though the
symphony suggests Mahler’s characteristic fascination with nature, dreams, and the
imagination, the formal organization of the music is foregrounded. The work gains
meaning through music that is detached from a literary or explicit emotional story line.
Alma believed Mahler might have been inspired by a Rembrandt painting. In the
Seventh, Mahler experiments with discontinuity and fragmentation, using waltz and
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landler rhythms. Solo sounds and contrasting ensemble groups enter and exit in an
arresting manner throughout the translucent musical argument..
In the Eighth Symphony in E-flat Major (1906–10), Mahler returns to the epic scale of
the Second Symphony. He uses a chorus in a grand philosophical and musical statement
suggestive of an oratorio or a massive cantata, such as Max Reger’s setting of Psalm 100.
The first part sets the hymn “Veni Creator spiritus”; the second, the closing scene from
Faust Part II. This explicitly dramatic and theatrical work was followed by the last
completed symphony, the Ninth in D Major (1908–09), a work that seems to dwell on
death and loneliness. It is perhaps Mahler’s most modern work. One contemporary noted
that it “annoyed the older generation and delighted the young, provided they had the
capacity for fantasy.” It was the Mahler symphony Alban Berg most admired.
In all nine symphonies Mahler alternates between the evidently tragic to the sardonic and
the humorous, always punctuating the music with disarming simplicity, lyricism, and
intimacy. Taken as a whole, and given the recurrent allusions to the outside world both
natural and man-made, Mahler’s symphonic output does actually seem to mirror modern
life itself in all its variations and contradictions. Despite the carefully constructed and
tightly logical musical architecture in each work, continuity and coherence in Mahler
derive as well from an apparent absence of stability. In this way the symphonies succeed
in persuading the listener that he or she is experiencing the transposition of a
psychological dynamic between inner reality and the external world into music.
In his many songs, Mahler perfected the connection between the subjective construct of
meaning and musical gesture. In perfecting the genre of the orchestral song, he proved
himself the heir to the song tradition of early 19th century musical romanticism, that of
Schubert and Schumann in particular. Each of Mahler’s songs has its own character in
which the music deepens and illustrates meanings the particular language of the poetry
cannot communicate directly. The song cycles—particularly the settings of Rückert, the
Kindertotenlieder (Songs on the Death of Children, 1901–04), and Lieder eines
fahrenden Gesellen (Songs of a Wayfarer, completed in 1884 and extensively revised), in
which each movement is a self-contained song text—are nearly symphonic in effect. The
greatest of these symphonic song cycles is Mahler’s last, Das Lied von der Erde (Song of
the Earth, 1908–09), consisting of six songs based on texts by the 8th-century Chinese
poet Li Tai Po and translated by Hans Bethge for Tenor and Alto. The six sections of this
work, considered by many as Mahler’s finest achievement, represent the ecstatic aspects
of life and the spiritual experience of alienation, loss, and death: “Das Trinklied vom
Jammer der Erde “ (The Drinking Song of the Sorrow of the Earth), “Der Einsame im
Herbst” (Loneliness in Autumn), “Von der Jugend” (Of Youth), “Von der Schönheit” (Of
Beauty), “Der Trunkene im Frühling” (Intoxication in Springtime), and “Der Abschied”
(Farewell).
But in all of Mahler’s music, the operatic impulse, the dramatic and often even the
artifice of the theatrical is always present. The listener is caught up in the musical
narration from often abrupt beginnings that suggest the middle of an event, as if a curtain
rose for the listener on a prior event, even if only implied. Mahler’s music shocks by
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defying expectations through sudden shifts and halts, interruptions, and recollections of
fragments, and by the extreme use of instruments at the highest and lowest registers. The
daemonic is set side by side with the innocent. A self-conscious sense of beauty is
shattered by intentional harshness just as a sense of security is juxtaposed with danger.
The near and the far interact against one another. Counterpoint generates both
consonance and dissonance so that the stability of both is undermined. All this renders
Mahler’s music adequate to the experience of modernity.
Mahler’s Legacy
After Mahler’s death, particularly in the years between the two World Wars, many
composers sought not to emulate him, just as Mahler himself sought not to imitate
Wagner or Bruckner. In the generation that followed him, composers charted a different
path, one using lighter sonorities, smaller ensembles, less repetition. They attempted to
reclaim a more formal and abstract musical logic, one less tied to narration and
illustration, away from any hint of realism, either interior or exterior. Only Berg
attempted to remain true to the intensity of musical expressiveness of Mahler’s music. In
this sense Berg was Mahler’s most direct heir and successor.
Two exceptions to this twentieth century trend can be found, first in the music of Dimitri
Shostakovitch and second in the work of Jean Sibelius. At the suggestion of Ivan
Sollertinsky, a friend of Shostakovitch and the first Russian to write a book about Mahler,
Shostakovitch, shunned by Stalin in the mid-1930s, turned to Mahler’s legacy as a
symphonist in order to restart his career as a composer. Indeed, the symphonic output of
Shostakovitch, from the suppressed Fourth Symphony (and the popular Fifth) to the last,
the Fifteenth, can be considered direct responses to the example of Mahler. The narrative
of Shostakovitch’s symphonies is different, however. In his case, a surface of external
narration, a variant on musical socialist realism, is complicated by a competing and often
sardonic and ironic interior dialogue characteristic of Mahler. Sibelius, whom Mahler met
while he was in Helsinki (who, like Mahler, went to Vienna to study music) in his own
was pursued more directly the Mahlerian ideal of the symphonic form as evocative of
both nature and the subjective experience.
But Mahler’s most powerful influence on subsequent musical composition came in the
second half of the 20th century when modernism in music—the rejection of tonality and
the notion of music as a medium blatantly expressive of emotion and experience—ran
aground with the public. Beginning in the mid-1970s, particularly in North America and
Europe, composers rediscovered Mahler, and through his music the possibilities of
tonality, expressiveness and narrative forms. He no longer seemed to represent the end
point of late–19th-century romanticism but rather a new point of emancipation from the
strictures of twentieth-century modernism. Mahler became the apostle of postmodernism
and a new eclecticism in musical style that encompassed minimalism and the simplicity
and directness of popular music. The inclusiveness of Mahler’s sound world became an
inspiration.
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To composers and audiences in the late 20th century and the early 21st, Mahler’s music
has suggested the story telling power of the sound film, with all its epic scale and yet
capacity to convey the intimate. The sense that Mahler’s music most successfully
parallels our ordinary experience of time and emotion but does so without a stage and the
visual has helped sustained its popularity. The richness and variety of its gestures and
sound have not been dimmed by our contemporary acoustic environment, its
relentlessness, its absence of silence, and its terrifying volume and density. A century
after Mahler’s death, Mahler’s music seems of the present and not an artifact of history.
Its power is not cloaked under an archaic, old fashioned surface. This is in part due to the
debt generations of movie score composers have owed to Mahler, from Erich Wolfgang
Korngold, who literally grew up in Mahler’s shadow, and Aaron Copland, who was
inspired by Mahler’s orchestration, to John Williams and Howard Shore.
The magic of Mahler’s music is that it succeeds as music alone, requiring nothing but
itself to make its point. It never makes for easy or comfortable listening. It is at once
inspiring and troubling, disarmingly direct, and elusively philosophical. It is for that
reason that Mahler has taken his place alongside Beethoven in the hearts and minds of
musicians and listeners in the concert halls of symphony orchestras all over the world.
Suggestions for Further Reading and Listening
Readers will notice that there are no footnotes, but for those who want to inquire further
there is a massive four-volume biography by Henry-Louis de La Grange published in
English by Oxford University Press. There are also many one-volume biographies in
English. Norman Lebrecht has edited a volume called Mahler Remembered, and Donald
Mitchell has written several fine books on the music of Mahler. Alma Mahler published
her own memoir, and Natalie Bauer-Lechner’s recollections have also appeared in
English. The most challenging interpretation of Mahler’s music remains Theodor
Adorno’s monograph, Mahler: A Physical Physiognamy.
Those interested in listening to Mahler’s music should take comfort in the fact that any
recording available on iTunes or on CD will suffice. Mahler’s output as a composer is not
massive, so there isn’t that much to choose from, and his works are easy to find. More
important, however, is that no recording can do justice to Mahler’s sound world, so
readers are encouraged to attend any performance anywhere that they may be able to get
to. There are therefore no recommended recordings.
Leon Botstein (b. 1946 in Switzerland) is an American conductor and the President of
Bard College (since 1975). Botstein currently serves as the music director and principal
conductor of the American Symphony Orchestra and the Jerusalem Symphony Orchestra.
He is also co-Artistic Director of the Bard Music Festival. He also serves as the Board
Chairman of the Central European University.
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