The Symphonic Wallflower

James Joyce once said that if the town of Dublin were ever erased from the planet, it could be rebuilt brick by brick from the detailed descriptions in his own novel Ulysses. Conceivably he was not talking about structural designs or the type of brick and mortar that formed its walls, but in a word, its essence. It is that which is unsaid, unspeakable, and indescribable, and many artists struggle to capture the spirit of their inspiration. Few artists actually attain this goal, though perhaps its comprehensibility is left up to the listener, reader or viewer to make that judgment. For me, Mahler’s Second Symphony is the culmination of so many emotions: ferocity – serenity – chaos – cynicism – peace – the sublime. It portrays the unspoken possibility of existence after death and seems to create its own philosophy within its ninety-minute span.

The term "Resurrection" is taken from the title of a hymn by German poet Friedrich Klopstock, the first eight lines of which Mahler uses in the final movement of this symphony. Mahler was inspired to use this hymn while attending the funeral of friend and fellow conductor Hans von Bülow in 1894. In addition to Klopstock’s lines, Mahler added a few of his own, too.

As any biographer of Mahler will tell you, Mahler was conflicted throughout his life regarding his religious views. Raised in a Judaic household in what is now Jihlava, a small village in modern-day Czech Republic, he later converted to Catholicism, but only as a means to an end: to become conductor of the Vienna State Opera in 1897. Even though Mahler wrote Christian-based music in his Second, Third, Fourth and Eighth Symphonies, Mahler never denied his Jewish upbringing; instead he embraced it and incorporated klezmer-style fragments into them as well.
 
In Mahler’s mind (and perhaps for many of us), death is the ultimate unknown, and he seems to use this symphony as his idealistic journey to a religious awakening. From the first movement funeral march (a Totenfeier, or Death Celebration), the soul witnesses many different realms in both life and death throughout the symphony. The second movement, based on the joyous German waltz-like ländler, is more tender and contemplative; perhaps remembering the gentle (and not so gentle) moments of earthly life. The third movement, based on Mahler’s own song Des Antonius von Padua Fischpredigt (St. Anthony of Padua’s Sermon to the Fish) recalls those in life who remain brainless despite council from those who offer wise encouragement. In the fourth movement (the first time a voice is heard in any of Mahler’s symphonies), we hear an individual who pines for a more heavenly existence.

The fifth movement alone culminates the essence of the symphony for me. If I were ever stranded on an island, this would be the music I would take with me. Its triumphant, regal and heart-stopping drama somehow speaks to me. You will hear off-stage horn calls throughout the movement, announcing the arrival of a seemingly unearthly power. The climax of the movement, beginning around the fifteen minute mark, is first heralded by a soft two-note trombone "sigh" (foreshadowing the mezzo soprano’s plaintive cry O glaube – or I believe – later in the movement) and dramatically builds energy, complete with off-stage brass band, rumbling timpani, triple-tongued figures in the horns and screaming piccolos until the entire orchestra explodes into its grandest and most powerful registers for the ultimate apocalyptic climax. And just as suddenly as it all began, it abruptly pauses – causing every heart in the auditorium to stop simultaneously. The sound of that silence is captivating, and is one of few moments in music that lifts me up and breaks me down at the same time. Mahler excels at this. He captures the essence of life, religion, nature and human emotion in his music so remarkably well that he brings the listener one step closer to illumination.

Enjoy this symphony – revel in every movement. Close your eyes and listen for Mahler’s voice to speak.  I’ve been listening to this symphony for years, and I promise you it’s there.

Personally, I owe tremendous gratitude to the artists that will work together to create this memorable weekend on May 21-22, 2010: Juanjo Mena, conductor; Karina Gauvin, Soprano; Susanne Mentzer, mezzo-soprano; the Indianapolis Symphonic Choir led by Dr. Eric Stark, and most importantly to former Music Director Mario Venzago, whose idea it was to program this glorious work again after 23 years. Vielen Dank, Maestro.

(This blog is dedicated to my graduate professor Bruce Bellingham [1938-2010] from the University of Connecticut, who taught me how to listen to Mahler’s music not just as a musician, but as a human being.)