Mahler’s Fifth

Mahler’s Fifth

Royal Albert Hall

It's Saturday night and I'm already weighed down with the packed Proms schedule from today. I'm behind the live schedule, so it's knocking on for midnight when I start playing this last Prom of the day. I'm getting into bed and I play it through my headphone cans. For me, it's not the best time for the BBC to pull out these bad boys, i.e. Berio and Mahler. Don't want night terrors tonight, thank you very much.

It's a stark opening to Rendering by Berio, which I'm led to believe has Schubert's unfinished symphony at it's core. So it's difficult to know who to give the credit to. Almost thought we were on for another Beethoven's Ninth there for a minute: the instrumentation is deep and works on multiple levels. It's big in scale, and in this way it puts me in mind of Wagner's Die Walkurie. It sounds good; glad I put it on! Yes, I can really get on board with this. Excellent!

By the time the first half finishes I am at the end of my rope, and ready for bed. Mahler will have to wait until Sunday.

I listen to Mahler's Fifth wholly in the car, but in various chunks throughout the morning/early afternoon as I flit from my parents' place in Irby, Ness Gardens, our late-grandparent's bungalow in Neston [soon to be sold], and back to my own house in Runcorn [nicer than it sounds - could have called it a canal-side cottage in Cheshire]. It concludes at exactly the moment I park up in the drive - nice one!

The opening to this Mahler, I note, sounds a bit like Mendelssohn [I get a flashback to the Theme to Midsummer Night's Dream Prom I attended in 2016, for some reason.] It's not bad, you know. But, again, it's music on a big, industrial scale. Apparently the fourth movement of this was sent to Alma Schindler as some sort of declaration of love. She later married him. In my experience, such a gesture would get me blocked and ignored for life. It's all right for some.

Danish National Vocal Ensemble (Bristol)

Danish National Vocal Ensemble

Bristol

This Saturday afternoon I caught up with an old friend for a cake-and-coffee in Hoylake. We last got together about seven or eight years ago (funnily enough, at the exact same venue and at the same time of year if memory serves) but we picked things up like it was yesterday. [For posterity: the venue was Barbetta's (formerly 'Toast') on Market St, and I had a latte and a slice of carrot cake].

So it is that I'm listening to rest of today's packed Proms schedule a few hours behind, with thanks to BBC Sounds.

This Prom, as the title suggests, is to be largely choral stuff. For me, this is something of a struggle to put into words, because I'm much more at home with instrumentation. It's the Danish National Vocal Ensemble, and I believe these are the same peeps that so successfully contributed to Beethoven's Ninth at the Albert Hall the other night.

This afternoon in Bristol, however, we start with Bach to set us in the mood. The presenter notes that this piece is thought to be something to do with funerals [I'm sure she puts it more eloquently than that, but I can't remember her exact words]. It's Bach, so it certainly sounds heavenly. 

Second piece is by Ethyl Smyth. Apparently she spent a spell in gaol, and that's something she has in common with Bach! Did not know that - must look it up.

Absolutely clueless as to what to comment as the running order contiunues, except to say that most of it is pleasant, and some of it reminds me of a Christmas choral work I've recently come across and enjoyed, namely Lully, Lulla, Lullay.

Images created with ChatGPT.

Mahler’s Third

Mahler's Third at the Royal Albert Hall

As if Mondays aren't traumatic enough. The whole World, we are told via Radio 3, in one piece of music. From the gruesome, to the most divine.

One thing's for sure, it is going to be epic, even if I don't like it. 

The opening is grand on the brasses, and it sounds good. Not long, though, before it turns sinister. Gets a bit more pleasant about ten minutes in. Some roller coaster moves when my clock shows 19:25. [For reference: the show started at 19:00]. 

At the end of the first movement I leave the living room for the kitchen. It's hot dogs tonight.

The second movement is more peaceful. Fair enough, Mahler. The vocals at 20:12 make for a refreshing change, and the incoming church bells are here to lighten things up!

There's gentle strings at 20:26.

It's nice at 20:37, probably because it's wrapping up for the night.

One of the longest symphonies ever written. Mahler, I expected nothing less.

Mahler and Boulez

Mahler and Boulez at the Royal Albert Hall

I decide that I will try to give Boulez a second chance after the hideous late-nate paring of Boulez and Berio earlier in the season. I needn't have bothered. Still struggling to understand how anyone can listen to this music for enjoyment? Surely the best place for it would be over a movie scene where the drugged-up protagonist has been dumped in a hall of mirrors? Perhaps 'confusion' was Boulez's artistic intention, but for calling it music he should have been prosecuted. 

Image: Pixabay.com

The second half is Mahler, whom I slightly prefer. The music is still chaotic; nay, apocalyptic. But at least it is glued together properly. A grandstand of chaos, one might call it. I'm drawn to the words of Harold Steptoe, as I think it was he who once said: "Mahler... compared to you, Picasso is a load old crap."

Mahler’s Resurrection

 Mahler’s Resurrection Symphony

I was at home with my parents on Saturday night - we had a night of Fawlty Towers on DVD - so I am therefore listening to Mahler's Resurrection Symphony on BBC Sounds on Sunday afternoon. This is evidently a BIG prom for classical aficionados, as apparently the tickets to this one sold out on the day tickets were released back in May. We are about to hear a lengthy piece of work, with many existential questions being asked. 

My bike got a flat tyre last week when I was cycling to work, so I decide to try to fix this while I'm listening. I'm not successful in prizing the tyre off,  partially snapping both of the tyre levers I bought yesterday. I resort to using the flat end of a tablespoon - and this does help - but I only get the first side of the tyre off the rim. As I struggle and get frustrated, the music plays on. I'm reminded of that darky comic scene on Abigail's Party when Beethoven's Fifth blurs out of the stereo, as one of the leading characters suffers a heart attack. 

Admitting defeat, a vocal movement of the music begins, followed by an increase of catastrophic bursts. I know how Mahler feels.

Mahler, and Monolgues for the Curious

Tonight marked a shift in my attendance at the proms, as I gladly welcomed the Royal Albert Hall into my back kitchen via BBC Radio 3.

I was unsure what to expect, but I would actually say the absence of the visuals sort of enhanced the experience!

The introductory preamble was muted somewhat by my meal-for-one finishing off in the microwave [a co-op irresistible chicken and chorizo paella that I picked up on my lunch break this afternoon - my Monday routine being somewhat skewered by arriving back from London at 10pm last night].

It’s the BBC philharmonic orchestra this evening (note to self: must once again look up the distinction between concert, philharmonic, and symphony orchestras).

We start off with a proms premiere, Tom Coult’s Monologues for the Curious. And I have to say I am very curious when I hear the music has been inspirited by the writings of MR James. I am familiar with the author’s Christmas ghost stories, so this is surely going to be something dark, erratic, and a bit confusing? The Jamesian imagery certainly came out in the music, and I felt a resoance with my own mood as I sat alone, tucking into my microwaved fare.

Next up we have Gustav Mahler’s Symphony no. 7. The opening, to my untrained mind, sounded heavy on the big-end brass, and akin to the opening of an early Hitchcock movie. The piece then moves on to some more subtle nuances, and minuscule fanfares. A bit later on I get the feeling of being lost in a forest, and as it progressed I jotted down some things without trying to think about it. They were, in order:

1) A troubled peace

2) Some pomp and a grand statement

3) A confusion between it all.

And that was that. I wonder if my learned friends were as blissfully confused as I was?