Symphony No. 4 in G
Gustav Mahler (1860-1911)
Bedächtig. Nicht eilen (Deliberately, not rushing); In gemächlicher Bewegung. Ohne Hast (In leisurely movement. Without haste);
Ruhevoll (Peacefully); Sehr behaglich (Very comfortably)
There may be no composer more self-referential than Gustav Mahler. The final movement of this evening’s Fourth Symphony, in which a soprano conjures ‘a child’s vision of heaven’, was intended to round off his Third Symphony, a work which quotes it thematically even though the song itself was withheld. The movement pre-dates the Third Symphony, having originally been composed as one of the series of songs based on a collection of folk poetry, Des Knaben Wunderhorn (The Youth’s Magic Horn). Mahler referred musically to part of his Fourth Symphony in his Fifth Symphony, so it is hardly surprising that critics and others have enjoyed theorising about what Mahler was ‘saying’ because of the thematic links – musical, literary and biographical – running through his works. The song’s words won’t dilute or thicken the plot here because there is no plot. He wasn’t ‘saying’ anything.
This symphony, unlike his previous three, was never saddled with an explanatory text that the composer would later regret … Mahler was already moving toward an inner drama that could be expressed exclusively in musical terms. (Phillip Hutcher)
What is that ‘inner drama’? Some have described it as a journey from simplicity to complexity, others as a quest for the innocence of childhood. Yet others (ourselves included, maybe) prefer to lend ears to this composition without preconception or speculation. With that in mind, we explore the landscape to locate features that confirm where we are on this musical journey, and pinpoint special moments.
In all four movements, there is abundant melodic invention. Indeed, within the first minute, four themes couched in the simplest of settings vie for our attention – almost Mozartian in style were it not for the arresting jingle of sleigh bells. We could think of this as carefree, sunshiny music, only occasionally overshadowed by moments of turmoil and dissonance. The interweaving of the melodies is remarkable indeed, and we learn later that the first movement anticipates the last movement, thus strengthening symphonic cohesion.
The second movement, a sort of devilish waltz, features a solo violin that has been re-tuned to create a more penetrating sound. It was apparently inspired by Arnold Bocklin’s picture entitled Self-Portrait with Death playing the Fiddle. Mahler instructs the violinist to play it ‘… like the fiddle one knows from the street, not the concert hall.’ As in the first movement, the melodies tumble over each other freely. Some imaginative orchestral effects are noticeable as well. Listen out for a repeated, high-pitched ‘ping!’ for harp and pizzicato violin, reiterated in varied form from time to time.
The long third movement is a theme with variations. Its simplicity is touching and its slow unwinding almost ethereal in character. If the music floats, we must float with it, faintly aware that the formal scheme is based almost exclusively on the opening musical material. Stand by for surprises all the same. Eventually it accelerates and jolly episodes compete for our attention. Following those moments, the music slows and seems to weaken but, without warning, there is a detonation of sound, built on a single chord. It’s a false alarm, because that also fades, and the movement ends with a question rather than an answer. What’s going on?
The finale begins: a three-verse song that shows us why the Fourth Symphony is so ingenious. This song had been composed about nine years earlier, and we now realise that the other movements have been preparing us for its appearance through sharing or hinting at its melodic material. No wonder it seems familiar. With the ‘child’s vision of heaven’ complete and leaving us enchanted, the music fades for the last time, listeners eventually left uncertain as to when the symphony really ends.
The most frequently performed of Mahler’s symphonies, the Fourth had a tough birth. The première in Munich, conducted by Mahler in 1901, was largely unsuccessful, some factions in the audience booing the work enthusiastically. Mahler had no illusions about the problems of acceptance. He remarked,
It begins as if it couldn’t count to three but then launches out into the full multiplication table, until at last it is reckoning dizzily in millions upon millions.
If we don’t quite know what this means, we do know that familiarity has bred acceptance and affection for a characterful, magnetic yet sometimes mysterious work.
Gustav Mahler (1860-1911)
Bedächtig. Nicht eilen (Deliberately, not rushing); In gemächlicher Bewegung. Ohne Hast (In leisurely movement. Without haste);
Ruhevoll (Peacefully); Sehr behaglich (Very comfortably)
There may be no composer more self-referential than Gustav Mahler. The final movement of this evening’s Fourth Symphony, in which a soprano conjures ‘a child’s vision of heaven’, was intended to round off his Third Symphony, a work which quotes it thematically even though the song itself was withheld. The movement pre-dates the Third Symphony, having originally been composed as one of the series of songs based on a collection of folk poetry, Des Knaben Wunderhorn (The Youth’s Magic Horn). Mahler referred musically to part of his Fourth Symphony in his Fifth Symphony, so it is hardly surprising that critics and others have enjoyed theorising about what Mahler was ‘saying’ because of the thematic links – musical, literary and biographical – running through his works. The song’s words won’t dilute or thicken the plot here because there is no plot. He wasn’t ‘saying’ anything.
This symphony, unlike his previous three, was never saddled with an explanatory text that the composer would later regret … Mahler was already moving toward an inner drama that could be expressed exclusively in musical terms. (Phillip Hutcher)
What is that ‘inner drama’? Some have described it as a journey from simplicity to complexity, others as a quest for the innocence of childhood. Yet others (ourselves included, maybe) prefer to lend ears to this composition without preconception or speculation. With that in mind, we explore the landscape to locate features that confirm where we are on this musical journey, and pinpoint special moments.
In all four movements, there is abundant melodic invention. Indeed, within the first minute, four themes couched in the simplest of settings vie for our attention – almost Mozartian in style were it not for the arresting jingle of sleigh bells. We could think of this as carefree, sunshiny music, only occasionally overshadowed by moments of turmoil and dissonance. The interweaving of the melodies is remarkable indeed, and we learn later that the first movement anticipates the last movement, thus strengthening symphonic cohesion.
The second movement, a sort of devilish waltz, features a solo violin that has been re-tuned to create a more penetrating sound. It was apparently inspired by Arnold Bocklin’s picture entitled Self-Portrait with Death playing the Fiddle. Mahler instructs the violinist to play it ‘… like the fiddle one knows from the street, not the concert hall.’ As in the first movement, the melodies tumble over each other freely. Some imaginative orchestral effects are noticeable as well. Listen out for a repeated, high-pitched ‘ping!’ for harp and pizzicato violin, reiterated in varied form from time to time.
The long third movement is a theme with variations. Its simplicity is touching and its slow unwinding almost ethereal in character. If the music floats, we must float with it, faintly aware that the formal scheme is based almost exclusively on the opening musical material. Stand by for surprises all the same. Eventually it accelerates and jolly episodes compete for our attention. Following those moments, the music slows and seems to weaken but, without warning, there is a detonation of sound, built on a single chord. It’s a false alarm, because that also fades, and the movement ends with a question rather than an answer. What’s going on?
The finale begins: a three-verse song that shows us why the Fourth Symphony is so ingenious. This song had been composed about nine years earlier, and we now realise that the other movements have been preparing us for its appearance through sharing or hinting at its melodic material. No wonder it seems familiar. With the ‘child’s vision of heaven’ complete and leaving us enchanted, the music fades for the last time, listeners eventually left uncertain as to when the symphony really ends.
The most frequently performed of Mahler’s symphonies, the Fourth had a tough birth. The première in Munich, conducted by Mahler in 1901, was largely unsuccessful, some factions in the audience booing the work enthusiastically. Mahler had no illusions about the problems of acceptance. He remarked,
It begins as if it couldn’t count to three but then launches out into the full multiplication table, until at last it is reckoning dizzily in millions upon millions.
If we don’t quite know what this means, we do know that familiarity has bred acceptance and affection for a characterful, magnetic yet sometimes mysterious work.