Last week, at Tanglewood, the Boston Symphony under James Levine dove into Mahler 3. (NY Times review here) A little background- for as long as I can remember, about twenty years now, the BSO playing Mahler has been a big deal. I grew up in the Seiji Ozawa era, at the point where (allegedly) the musicians started getting bored of the maestro, and vice-versa, particularly during the long summers at Tanglewood. Every season was notoriously hit or miss, and with parents' season tickets and two summers working and playing at Tanglewood, I got to see some of both. BUT, whenever the BSO did Mahler, no matter how bad a run they were on by their standards, it was must-see music. The orchestra's intensity ramped up ten notches, Ozawa reminded everyone why they hired him in the first place, and the crowds rose to their feet. Not surprisingly, Mahler was on the program at least twice a year, and they would tour with Mahler 3 or 5 as part of the program.
I never thought too much about it. I always enjoyed the Mahler I got to see, but figured it was one of those things; some orchestras do certain periods or composers well. And Mahler, with his vast scope, grand themes and huge casts, is a good one to do well. Now I'm less sure.
My good friend, violist, occasional contributor to Strings magazine and all around amazing person Leah Swann is currently a fellow at Tanglewood; it's her second summer there, and she's an NEC grad, so she's seen her share of the BSO too. She recently send me a long missive about the recent Mahler 3 performance, with a very different take on playing and hearing his music. I'll let her talk now:
Mahler 3 seems to be this incredible depiction of the extremes of life -- ridiculous trombone solos and intensely loud full orchestra passages, muted trumpet and crazy double bass section solos...everything intense and dramatic and over the top but somehow not in an exaggerated, grotesque way, but in a way very much about human existence...not about a personal sort of humanity like Beethoven -- but about the humanity of a society, a culture, a people. (which seems so appropriate for a Symphony, no?) Beethoven is so amazing because his music seems to speak to everyone on a personal level, expressing all that it is to be human, and Mahler seems to express in a way vaguely similar all it is to be a part of something tremendous and living and breathing and writhing and aching and longing and celebrating. I thought a lot during the couple of hours about this idea that it was music so great that it also Demanded greatness -- here they (the BSO) were, all shining, all giving everything -- and it seems like that had to be partly true because you just couldn't do the piece any other way, you know? so then I started thinking about other pieces that are like that...that Demand something of the performer, that grow you and teach you something because you just can't be involved with the music in a way that is anything less.
It got me thinking- her question about musical Demands is a huge one, and one I wanted to throw out to the hivemind. Especially in our music (jazz/improv/art-pop/what-have you), is there an equivalent to Mahler? Do we, can we, are we well served when we operate on that scale? I'm inclined to argue no- our music, unlike European art music, was built from a small scale, from three minute 45s, from brothels and the Cotton Club and Birdland and lofts and the 200-seat Knitting Factory, so by it's nature it's not as broad as Mahler, or Strauss, or Nixon in China. And when it tries to be- Kenton, Ellington's Sacred Concerts, the Rock-operas of the 70's- it falls flat on its face. I was just listening to Maria Schneider's new record, Sky Blue, and it comes closer than anything she's done, or anything I've heard in awhile- it's big and bold and beautiful, certainly, but also in turn very soft and delicate, and far more personal than grand. More Beethoven if you use Leah's argument. (Maria's liner notes, almost diary-like, are a giveaway) In jazz (for lack of better language) our brilliance is in many ways in the intimacy of it- watching Trane communicate his processes, technical, emotional and spiritual, seeing Miles break a room apart with three notes, hearing Billy Holiday seemingly wilt into the microphone or Johnny Hodges climb ten stories in a second during a ballad. And currently, watching Dave Douglas and The Bad Plus and Darcy and Ron Miles and so many others try to thread the needles of tradition and innovation, irony and passion that our time demands. Even at their most political, it's a most beautiful form of retail politics, hardly an international soapbox.
I know personally, I've been very blessed to play some big, beautiful, Important rooms- including at Tanglewood- and I've never been able, never wanted to muster up that kind of grandeur, even writing 15 minute jazz odysseys for large ensemble. I want the person in the back of the hall to feel drawn in, like we're in a small club or a living room, having a conversation. And even playing Ellington with a big band, I never felt like I could fall back on the music the way I think some classical musicians believe they can with Mozart or Brahms. I think when you really pull an audience into Mahler, or a big opera, they're buying into the granduer, but when you pull a crowd in with our music, they buy into the personality of it.
But I could be wrong- is there a Mahler in our ranks? Other thoughts greatly appreciated.
P.S. Many, many thanks to Leah for the use of her beautiful missive, and congratulations to her, Evan and the rest of the TMC orchestra for kicking ass on Verdi's "Don Carlo this weekend. (Reviews here and here) Even listening on the radio a hundred miles away, it was amazing to behear.
P.P.S To drive it home, here's a very different take on Tanglewood, Miles ca. 1971. (thanks to Jason Palmer for this, my first non-text link. Slowly, we get hep to the future here at Visionsong HQ.)