Mahler Symphony No. 7 in E Minor - Minnesota Orchestra, Osmo Vänskä (2020)
a recording from 2020, obviously. The 7th was first performed in 1908 but that would break my tagging scheme
This is the first time in the Substack era that I’ve tried to talk about classical music (though there’s a fair amount of it on the blog). So there’s no point in trying to shoehorn all of my many thoughts about the classical canon into one post.
A lot of people think that classical music isn’t for them because it’s too intellectual, too dense, and requires too much background knowledge. I felt this way too until I started listening, and just enjoying what I heard.
I can’t talk deeply about theories of harmony or the minutiae of performance that some people can. I also have a theory that a lot of it is about the emperor’s new clothes, and lots of people are trying to look smart by talking over you and hoping you don’t notice.
But Mahler symphonies don’t really need a lot of background. They are full of wonderful ideas, spread around lengthy pieces that slowly build and crest and resolve. Mahler, writing to Sibelius, said, “A symphony must be like the world. It must contain everything.” (well, actually I guess he said, “Nein, die Symphonie muss sein wie die Welt. Sie muss alles umfassen.” but you get the idea) He used traditional folk melodies, childrens ditties, and atmospheric passages alongside his highly technical late-romantic-era techniques. The music swings from intimate expression to gigantic declarations.
You really do get a little of everything. The three middle movements are elegant and beautifully atmospheric, with the occasional wild flight of fantasy. The opening and closing are both signature Mahler: brash, lengthy, and keeping you on the edge of your seat all the way through.
The end of this symphony is one of my very favorite pieces of music: Just when you think it can’t get any louder or busier, in comes yet another layer of sound until the whole thing crashes to a halt.
A quick aside: I’m a big fan of my local symphony, The South Dakota Symphony led by Delta David Gier. Gier took the orchestra through the whole cycle of Mahler symphonies at one point, though sadly I only got to see the last few. When they performed this one, in the space after the crashing end of the first movement someone in the audience let out a very loud “whoa!”.
Rather than be annoyed, Gier turned around, acknowledged whoever had said that, smiled, and raised his eyebrows, like, “RIGHT!?” There are lots of reasons to love the guy but that moment lives rent-free in my head.
