New York Classical Review

Concert experiences at a place like Carnegie Hall, where artists come in from elsewhere and then head out on their way, can be a distorting experience. The audience member has one night to hear a performer or an ensemble, a snapshot in time with little to no reference to know if the thinking and playing are typical, which direction they’re going, etc.

Carnegie patrons on Tuesday night got both a current snapshot and a glimpse of the future from the Philadelphia Orchestra’s performance of Mahler’s Symphony No. 2. The larger context is that conductor Yannick Nézet-Séguin has been leading Mahler symphonies with this orchestra in Carnegie the last couple seasons—with wildly variable results—and that they’ll be back next season as part of a complete Mahler cycle.

So this was part of a developing story of musicians thinking about Mahler, and perhaps finding where they are headed next season. And on Tuesday night for the Philadelphia Orchestra and colleagues the story was very good.

This was the best Mahler playing one has heard from this orchestra and conductor. It was sweeping, powerful, well-formed, beautifully sung. And in the larger scope, it was satisfying to hear how differently they played Mahler compared to previous performances, and how they might play it differently in the future. Because Mahler is far more than beautiful playing—his music demands much more, psychologically and musically.

Beauty is an odd but real issue. Philadelphia has one of the most beautiful orchestral sounds, but it still doesn’t quite have a Mahler sound—though it got much closer Tuesday night than previously. The strings are lush, the brass refined, the woodwinds colorful. All were great.

The string playing was superb, and Nézet-Séguin highlighted the cellos and basses and got great clarity and force from them; it just sometimes needs some rougher, more brittle timbres. Portamento was exact and dutiful, following the score but not grasping why Mahler wanted it. Mahler does things like have four flutes on the same part, mixes together single and double reeds, in part for volume but also for things like the bright, hollowed-out sound of the former, the eeriness of the latter. It’s not beautiful, it’s Mahler, and it was just shy of the mark. Perhaps the orchestra needs to learn the utility of discomfort and unease.

These are important details, but they were also inside a strong conception and through-line. It’s possible to spin out the massive, tragic first moment with greater tension, to have more interaction in the polyphony of the second and third. But it didn’t seem possible to bring more drama, even violence, to the aggressive opening and the crushing dissonant climax of the opening movement.

Nézet-Séguin’s tempos were excellent throughout, as were his modulations. Everything was slightly faster than ordinary, but not unreasonably, all logically producing a river-like narrative flow. The shape and proportions of each movement against the others were ideal, every moment felt essential and each built toward a tremendous final moment.

The conductor elicited a dynamic range, from barely a whisper to massive, ground-shaking explosions, that was incredible. The Philadelphians play loud better than any other; loudness is an essential part of Symphony No. 2, a way for the listener to really feel despair and exaltation, and it was close to miraculous how the detail and complexity in the sound equalled the volume.

With dynamics, Nézet-Séguin integrated the soloists, soprano Ying Fang and mezzo Joyce DiDonato with the orchestra. Seated at the back of the violins, they rose for their solo parts while their voices were embedded in the ensemble. He took a proper pause after the end of the Allegro maestoso, but segued smoothly and quickly from the conclusion of “In ruhig flies sender Bewegung” into “Urlicht,” which DiDonato sang with a rich, creamy sound. This was a key dramatic moment too, as one felt the palpable first step of the music’s path rising toward resurrection.

Against DiDonato’s twilight color, Fang was silvery, with equal sense of broad dimensions. The Philadelphia Symphonic Choir’s entrance in the finale was barely above a murmur, haunting and evocative and more feeling of Mahler and his sound. They were also part of the thrilling dynamic range of this performance, soft then loud voices—and their mass of colors—against aggressive and gentle instrumental music. One felt a thrill of both anticipation and satisfaction as the final pages approached. 

And now for next season.

The Orchestra of St. Luke’s, with conductor Louis Langrée and pianist Gerald Clayton, plays Ives, Ellington, Bernstein, and Gershwin, 8 p.m. March 26. carnegiehall.org