Mahler cycle with Rafael Kubelik in live recordings

This is now my favourite Lied von der Erde. Everything seems right: soloists just superb, orchestra wonderfully transparent, ideal recording, with the advantage of being live. Don't miss it.

Please allow me to get the caveats out of the way before I say why I think this might be the only Das Lied you'll ever need: I'm very much a lay person when comes to appreciating classical music so I can only speak from the perspective of how I experience the music rather than being able to comment on the technical merit of the performance; and, I'm a relative newcomer when it comes to Mahler. I only came across Mahler a few years ago and although I regard his 2nd and 3rd symphonies as the joint-best symphonies I've ever heard, I've barely scratched the surface when it comes to listening to symphonies by any other composer, and I've barely scratched the surface when it comes to exploring the many reading of this particular symphony of songs (I've only heard six or seven).

So why do I think this might be the only Das Lied you'll ever need? The answer is simple: intimacy. This is the only version of this piece of music I've heard that seems to have been played to and for the listener rather than at the listener. Whether that's because of how it was recorded or performed I couldn't say. Perhaps it's a combination of both. All I know is, is that when Janet Baker and Waldemar Kmentt sing, although especially when Janet is singing, I feel as though though they're singing to and for the listener, which in my case, is me. The goes for the orchestra: when they play, I feel as though they're playing to and for me.

There are probably many other recordings out there that sound better, clearer, less polluted by background noise. But I really feel that what is lost in audio quality with it being a live recording is gained in spades in musicality.

Like I say, I don't have the knowledge and experience to critique this performance from a technical point of view. I just want to confirm what others have said: that this is a genuine 5-star version of Das Lied... and probably the only one you'll ever need!

I should add, that although Herreweghe's reading (the Schoenberg-Riehn transcription) comes close in terms of that sense of intimacy, without Janet Baker on vocals, however, it just can't compete with this under-appreciated masterpiece.

It’s really a pity that this disc is just a reissue of a performance previously available in DGG’s set of complete Mahler symphonies conducted by Kubelík, as there’s so much I’d like to say about it that’s probably already been said, so I shall reduce my comments to the minimum.

Being personally very fussy in regard to symphonies including singers, I’ll automatically reject performances with defective voices even if the conducting is considered to be the best ever. For this reason, I don’t own the otherwise fantastic performances by Jascha Horenstein and Klaus Tennstedt, and never will, just as I don’t own or even listen to most recordings of the Beethoven Ninth made after, say, 1980. Solti’s famous studio recording of this Mahler symphony had, perhaps, the best eight singers amassed in one place, but they were recorded separately from the orchestra, which created a flat, two-dimensional sound I find offensive. That being said, I am partial to the recordings by Leopold Stokowski (1950), Bernard Haitink (the earlier recording with Cotrubas, Harper, and Prey), and Antoni Wit, in which the defective voices are, to my ears, less annoying than in the others, and generally just one bad voice per ensemble.

The fact that Kubelík, who never pushed his name or fame and in fact retreated from a publicity machine, was able to entice these eight outstanding singers to Munich for this performance says a lot for how much he was respected as a musician. The one name not universally feted at the time was tenor Donald Grobe, and ironically he produces the finest singing of this very difficult music I’ve ever heard (James King with Solti notwithstanding). Kubelík also managed to get truly involved and exciting singing out of Martina Arroyo, and that in itself is a miracle. (He did the same with Gundula Janowitz in his studio recording of Die Meistersinger, though overall his conducting on that set, like most of his conducting in a studio environment, lacks the full power and emotional commitment of his live work). Sometimes the singers are a little off-mike, coming only out of the left or right speakers, but that’s a condition of the original microphone setup and can’t be changed.

Undoubtedly the most controversial aspect of this performance is its full-speed-ahead tempos, particularly in “Veni, Creator Spiritus,” which Kubelík dispatches in a mere 21 minutes. (Don’t believe the designation of 21:30 on the CD box; 25 seconds of that is silence with audience coughing before part II.) But, shockingly, it doesn’t sound terribly rushed most of the time, there are few dropped notes, and the whole thing has the ecstatic quality of a satori. If you happen to be allergic to fast tempos in Mahler, then, this recording is not for you, but if that’s not a problem you’ll find this the greatest Mahler Eighth ever issued. I’ve hereby retired the Haitink recording from my collection; good as it is, it doesn’t have Kubelík’s overwhelming emotional impact. Since not every performance in the Kubelík set is of equal quality (no conductor’s integral set is consistently great), I encourage you to add this disc to your collection. Audite’s 24-bit remastering brings out every detail of this performance with stunning warmth and clarity. I’d compare the sound favorably to any all-digital Eighth on the market.

Œuvre « officielle » chantant la joie de créer, vocale d'un bout à l'autre, la Huitième Symphonie « des Mille » (1906) est gagnée par l'illusion que des sujets sublimes – l'hymne Veni Creator, la scène finale du Second Faust de Goethe – garantiront la sublimité du contenu. Mais la structure fermée de son premier mouvement – une stricte forme sonate – et sa polyphonie serrée sauvent l'hymne de son caractère platement édifiant.

Si toute interprétation doit venir en aide à l'insuffisance des œuvres, la Huitième Symphonie requiert une interprétation parfaite. Enregistré « live » le 24 juin 1970 à Munich, à la tête d'un orchestre et de chanteurs exemplaires, Rafael Kubelik offre une vision puissante, « moderniste » et très proche de sa – magnifique – version officielle réalisée pour DG à la même époque. Si l'on demeure assez loin de l'exaltation d'un Bernstein ou de l'enthousiasme d'un Ozawa, l'équilibre et la rapidité des tempos, l'absence de pathos donnent la priorité au tissu musical. Le chef souligne dans le « Veni Creator » tout l'acquis des symphonies instrumentales précédentes et évite, dans la « Scène de Faust », l'écueil d'une simple succession d'airs et de chœurs. La prise de son, malgré l'excellence du report, n'est pas parfaite, mais la qualité des solistes vocaux est unique dans la discographie.

Ce n'est pas la relative méforme de Norma Procter qui fragilisera le geste épique de Kubelik dans ce concert inédit, enregistré en même temps que la fameuse gravure de studio pour DG (et avec exactement la même équipe). Les ingénieurs de la Radio bavaroise ont réalisé une prise de son exemplaire de réalisme, supérieure à celle, plus sèche, du disque DG, saisissante dès les premiers accords du Veni creator, emporté d'un seul souffle (vingt et une minutes !). Cette exaltation, seul Bernstein l'a fait entendre. Mais là où il marque les épisodes, Kubelik tient le tempo : l'avancée, inexorable, vers la jubilation de la coda gagne en puissance mesure après mesure, laissant éclater les polyphonies circulaires du chœur – la fameuse rotation des astres que Mahler voulait illustrer.

La Seconde scène de Faust est ici un opéra : les chanteurs incarnent les personnages idéaux voulus par Goethe avec un sens dramatique que certains trouveront trop prononcé. Lorsqu'on entend la coda soulevée par Kubelik, galvanisée, on comprend que la 8e est une symphonie sans ombre, un chant du cosmos radieux avec l'être humain en son centre. Elle célèbre les noces de la vie et de l'univers avant que ne revienne le peuple de fantômes qui n'a presque jamais quitté le compositeur.

Am 25. & 26. Juni 1970 nahm Rafael Kubelik die Achte Mahler im Studio für die Deutsche Grammophon auf. Am 24 Juni entstand mit demselben hochkarätigen Solistenensemble diese Live-Aufnahme: was an Perfektion fehlt, wird, wie immer bei Kubelik, durch die Spontaneität des Dirigierens mehr als nur wettgemacht. Und so hört man auf dieser Platte eine der zügigsten, lebendigsten pulsierendsten und kontrastreichsten Interpretationen dieser Symphonie, die ich kenne.

In this outstanding live recording dating from 1970, Rafael Kubelik conducts the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra in Mahler’s Das Lied von der Erde (‘The Song of the Earth’). In this exciting performance of the symphony for tenor and alto voices, the soloists are the superb Janet Baker and Waldemar Kmentt. A full English text is included with the CD. ‘The polyphony of timbres at the work’s conclusion will be remembered as one of the greatest and most moving achievements of Rafael Kubelik and his orchestra’ - Suddeutsche Zeitung.

Unlike the Audite release of Rafael Kubelik conducting Mahler’s First Symphony in 1971 already reviewed, this "live" recording of the Sixth dates from the same week as his studio recording for DG. In fact I think we can say that this would have been the concert performance mounted to give the orchestra a chance to rehearse and perform the work prior to recording it in the very same hall. Consequently there is really no difference between this and the DG version and if you already have the latter there is no need for you to duplicate it. Unlike the 1971 recording of the First Symphony the Bavarian Radio engineers have given the orchestra pretty much the same kind of sound balance as those of their DG colleagues. Everything is close up with little air around the instruments, the winds especially, and a rather light bass end too. Of course, if you don’t own the DG version and are interested in collecting this Audite cycle then you will still need to know about Kubelik in this work.


As I wrote when reviewing the Audite release of the First Symphony, Kubelik’s reputation in Mahler is often misleading. You often see expressions like "understated", "lightweight" and "lyrical" ascribed to it. It’s all relative, of course. True, Kubelik is certainly especially effective when Mahler goes outdoors, back to nature and the "Wunderhorn" moods. But he can also surprise us in those later works where a more astringent, Modernist, fractured approach is called for. This is especially the case if you are prepared to see those crucial aspects through the tinted glass of nature awareness and in context with how he sees the works that go before and after them. No better illustration of his ability to take in the advanced, forward-looking aspect of Mahler's work is provided by his approach to this most Modernist of Mahler’s symphonies.


Kubelik’s performance of the Sixth is astringent and very pro-active. This is the music of a man of action and vigour which, when Mahler wrote it, he certainly was. The first movement is very fast and this certainly stresses the classical basis of this most classically structured movement and therefore, I believe, the nature of the Tragedy embodied. It makes us see Mahler’s "hero" prior to the tragedy that overwhelms him in the last movement in that the pressing forward stresses optimism, a head held high, a corrective to those accounts that seem to want to condemn Mahler’s hero to his doom from the word go, like Barbirolli, for example. It also has the effect of making the music jagged and nervy in the way the episodes tumble past kaleidoscopically. I must praise the Bavarian Radio Orchestra here for managing to hang on so unerringly to the notes most of the time. Of course the DG studio version means that there are no errors of playing but you could argue that if you are going to hear a one-off "live" performance a few mistakes only add to the tension. Remember, however, that Kubelik’s tempi in Mahler are always on average faster than his colleagues and that ought to mitigate a little the speeds encountered here.


The Scherzo is placed second and reinforces the energy, rigour and astringency I remarked on in the first movement. As usual Kubelik is consistent and uncompromising to his vision. Perhaps the speed adopted here does fail to convey the peculiar "gait" of the music and that must be a minus. After this the third movement is beautifully free-flowing and unselfconscious. In fact it is hard to imagine a performance of this movement that could be much better in the way it seems to unfold unassisted, moving in one great breath to a glorious climax that is more effective for being neither under nor over -stated. Notice particularly the nostalgic solo trumpet that is as true a Mahlerian sound as you could wish for. The close-in recording also allows many details to emerge that you may not have hitherto heard so well.


The opening of the last movement is superbly done with trenchancy and harsh detail unflinchingly presented. The main allegro passages emit the same white-hot intensity of the first two movements and yet there remains a controlling mind behind it to guard against the intensity turning into abandonment and so the tension is ratcheted up. There are, as ever, no histrionics from Kubelik. Indeed there is from him just a tunnel-visioned concentration. However, I did begin to feel, particularly after the first hammer blow, that all of this high intensity actually threatens to overwhelm the music’s innate poetry where there needs to be a degree more flexibility, a degree more humanity. That this impression crucially impedes the listener’s ability to notice contrasting passages where you could reflect on what has gone and what might be to come. I suppose you could say that Kubelik allows no time to catch the breath and I really think there should be some. In fact I think much the same can be said about the first two movements under Kubelik but that it takes the experience of the fourth movement pitched at this pace to really bring this home. The Coda, where the trombone section intones a funeral oration over the remains of the fallen hero is, however, under Kubelik an extraordinary sound with a degree of vibrato allowed to the players that chills to the marrow. That, at least, is deeply moving and well worth waiting for even if my overall verdict on Kubelik in this whole symphony is that it falls short of the greatest.


In the end I am left with the feeling that this is a partial picture of the Sixth, albeit an impressive one, but still a partial one which leaves us unsatisfied. I would advise you to turn to Thomas Sanderling on RS which I deal with in my Mahler recordings survey or Gunther Herbig whose recording on Berlin Classics I nominated a Record of the Month, there is also Mariss Jansons on LSO Live whose recent recording impressed me greatly and Michael Gielen on Hänssler. Look to all of those those first.


Rafael Kubelik views the Sixth as high intensity drama right the way through. A perfectly valid view and thrillingly delivered. But this protean work succeeds when its protean nature is laid out before us and Kubelik, eyes wide open, does not really do that. More space, more weight, more room is needed throughout and at particularly crucial nodal points (the two hammer-blows are too lightweight in preparation and delivery, for example) to really move and impress as this symphony can under those mentioned above.


Kubelik’s Mahler Sixth is a very vivid, though very partial, view of the work.

For many Mahlerites over a certain age Rafael Kubelik has always been there, like a dependable uncle, part of the Mahler family landscape for as long as we can all remember. He was one of the first to record a complete symphony cycle after many years of performing the music in the concert hall, and that DG cycle has hardly been out of the catalogue since the 1970s. Marc Bridle and I reviewed it in December 2000.

Yet it has never quite made the "splash" those by some of his colleagues have done. Kubelik’s view of Mahler is not one that attaches itself to the mind at a first, or even a second, listening. Kubelik was never the man for quick fixes or cheap thrills in any music he conducted. So in Mahler not for him the heart-on-sleeve of a Bernstein, the machine-like precision of a Solti, or the dark 19th century psychology of a Tennstedt. Kubelik’s Mahler goes back to folk roots, pursues more refined textures, accentuates song, winkles out a lyrical aspect and so has the reputation of playing down the angst, the passion, the grandeur. But note that I was careful to use the word "reputation". I often wonder whether those who tend to pass over Kubelik’s Mahler as honourable failure have actually listened hard over a period of time to those recordings. I think if they had they would, in the end, come to agree that whilst Kubelik is certainly excellent at those qualities for which his Mahler is always recognised he is also just as capable of delivering the full "Mahler Monty" as everyone else is. It’s just that he anchors it harder in those very aspects he is praised for, giving the rest a unique canvas on which he can let whole of the music breathe and expand. It’s all a question of perspective. Kubelik’s Mahler takes time, always remember that.

In his studio cycle the First Symphony has always been one of the most enduring. It has appeared over and over again among the top recommendations of many critics, including this one. Many others who tend not to rate Kubelik highly in certain later Mahler Symphonies if they were of a mind to rate his First Symphony might feel constrained to point out that the First is, after all, a "Wunderhorn" symphony and that it is in the "Wunderhorn" mood Kubelik was at his strongest. I don’t disagree with that as an explanation but, as I have said, I think that in Mahler Rafael Kubelik was so much more than a two or three trick pony. In fact in the First Symphony Kubelik’s ability to bring out the grotesques, the heaven stormings and the romance was just as strong as Bernstein or Solti. It’s a case of perspectives again.

The studio First Symphony did have one particular drawback noted by even its most fervent admirers. A drawback it shared with most of the other recordings in the cycle too. It lay in the recorded sound given to the Bavarian Radio Orchestra by the DG engineers in Munich. Balances were close, almost brittle. The brass, trumpets especially, were shrill and raucous. There was an overall "boxy" feeling to the sound picture. I have never been one to dismiss a recording on the basis of recorded sound alone unless literally un-listenable. However, even I regretted the sound that this superb performance had been given. This is not the only reason I am going to recommend this 1979 "live" recording on Audite of the First over the older DG, but it is an important one. At last we can now hear Kubelik’s magnificent interpretation of this symphony, and the response of his excellent orchestra, in beautifully balanced and realistic sound about which I can have no criticism and nothing but praise.

Twelve years after the studio recording Kubelik seems to have taken his interpretation of the work a stage further. Whether it’s a case of "live" performance before an audience leading him to take a few more risks, play a little more to the gallery, or whether it’s simply the fact that he has thought more and more about the work in subsequent performances, I don’t know. What I do know is that every aspect of his interpretation I admired first time around is presented with a degree more certainty, as though the 1967 version was "work in progress" and this is the final statement. (Which, in fact, it was when you consider Kubelik first recorded the work for Decca in Vienna in the 1950s.)

Straight away the opening benefits from the spacious recording with the mellow horns and distant trumpets really giving that sense of otherworldliness that Mahler was surely aiming for. Notice also the woodwinds’ better balancing in the exposition main theme which Kubelik unfolds with a telling degree more lyricism. One interesting point to emerge is that after twelve years Kubelik has decided to dispense with the exposition repeat and it doesn’t appear to be needed. In the development the string slides are done to perfection, as good as Horenstein’s in his old Vox recording. Kubelik also manages an admirable sense of mounting malevolence when the bass drum starts to tap softly. Nature is frightening, Mahler is telling us, and Kubelik agrees. The recapitulation builds inexorably and the coda arrives with great sweep and power. At the end the feeling is that Kubelik has imagined the whole movement in one breath.

The second movement has a well-nigh perfect balance of forward momentum and weight. There is trenchancy here, but there is also a dance element that is so essential to make the music work. Some conductors seem to regard the Trio as a perfunctory interlude, but not Kubelik. He lavishes the same care on this that he lavishes on everything else and the pressing forward he was careful to observe in the main scherzo means he doesn’t need to relax too much in order to give the right sense of respite. There is also an air of the ironic, a feeling we are being given the other side of one coin.

The third movement is one of the most extraordinary pieces of music Mahler ever wrote. The fact that it was amongst his earliest compositions makes it even more astounding. I have always believed that in this movement Mahler announces himself a a truly unique voice for the first time and Kubelik certainly seems to think this in the way he rises to the occasion. He has always appreciated the wonderful colours and sounds that must have so shocked the first audience but in this recording we are, once more, a stage further on in the interpretation than in his previous version. Right at the start he has a double bass soloist prepared to sound truly sinister, more so than in 1971, and one who you can really hear properly also. As the funeral march develops a real sense of middle European horror is laid out before us. All the more sinister for being understated by Mahler but delivered perfectly by a conductor who is prepared to ask his players to sound cheap, to colour the darker tones. This aspect is especially evident in the band interruptions where the bass drum and cymbals have a slightly off-colour Teutonic edge which, when they return after the limpid central section, are even more insinuating and menacing. Kubelik seems to have such confidence in the music that he is able to bring off an effect like this where others don’t. In all it’s a remarkably potent mix that Kubelik and his players deliver in this movement though he never overplays, always anchors in the music’s roots.

In the chaos unleashed at the start of the last movement you can now, once more, hear everything in proper perspective, the brass especially. The ensuing big tune is delivered with all the experience Kubelik has accumulated by this time, but even I caught my breath at how he holds back a little at the restatement. Even though the lovely passage of nostalgic recall just prior to the towering coda expresses a depth and profundity only hinted at in 1967 it is the coda itself which will stay in your mind. As with the studio recording Kubelik is anxious for you to hear what the strings are doing whilst the main power is carried by brass and percussion. Kubelik is also too experienced a Mahlerian to rush the ending. Too many conductors press down on the accelerator here, as if this will make the music more exciting, and how wrong they are to try. Listen to how Kubelik holds on to the tempo just enough to allow every note to tell. He knows this is so much more than just a virtuoso display, that it is a statement of Mahler’s own arrival, and his care and regard for this work from start to finish stays with him to the final note.

This is a top recommendation for this symphony. It supersedes Kubelik’s own studio recording on DG and, I think, surpasses in achievement those by Horenstein (Vox CDX2 5508) and Barbirolli (Dutton CDSJB 1015) to name two other favourite versions I regard as essential to any collection but which must now be thought of as alternatives to this Audite release.

Simply indispensable.

... Wie spezifisch, ja wie radikal sich Gielens Mahler ausnimmt, erhellt schlagartig, wenn man Rafael Kubeliks dreieinhalb Jahrzehnte alte und vor einer Weile wiederveröffentlichte Einspielung dagegenhält.

Eine gehörige Überraschung gab’s schon einmal – als nämlich die nie veröffentlichten Münchner Funk-„Meistersinger“ von 1967 plötzlich zu haben waren. Jetzt ist es Gustav Mahlers drei Jahre später eingespieltes „Lied von der Erde“, das erstmals über die Ladentische geht. Es gehört zu einer Mahler Gesamtaufnahme, die offenbar vor der rühmlich bekannten bei der Deutschen Grammophon entstand. Zumindest bei den hier behandelten Sinfonien Nr. 3 und Nr. 6 war das der Fall. Beim „Lied von der Erde“ offeriert das Symphonie-Orchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks, dessen Chef Kubelik damals war, ein erstaunlich präsentes, erstaunlich aufgesplittertes Klangbild, das sowohl das Idyllisch-Graziöse hervorkehrt wie das Schwerblütig-Ausdrucksgesättigte mit großem liedsinfonischem Atem erfüllt – eine erstrangige Wiedergabe.

Auch die beiden 1967/68 erarbeiteten Sinfonien erweisen sich als bestechend durchhörbar. Vielleicht geht Kubelik eine Spur naiver vor als die beim Sezieren der Partitur schärfer verfahrenden Dirigenten wie Gielen, bricht sich, wo es geht, das ererbte böhmische Musikantentum zumindest für Momente Bahn. Da staunt einer eher vor Mahler, als dass er ihn zu zerlegen sucht. Wenn es eine Verwandtschaft gibt, dann ist es die zu Bernstein. Das Triumphale der „Dritten“, das Nostalgische an ihr wird nicht als Artefakt betrachtet, sondern „wie es ist“: Emotion zur Analyse. ...

(aus einer Besprechung mit den Mahler-Interpretationen Michael Gielens)

... Wie spezifisch, ja wie radikal sich Gielens Mahler ausnimmt, erhellt schlagartig, wenn man Rafael Kubeliks dreieinhalb Jahrzehnte alte und vor einer Weile wiederveröffentlichte Einspielung dagegenhält.

Eine gehörige Überraschung gab’s schon einmal – als nämlich die nie veröffentlichten Münchner Funk-„Meistersinger“ von 1967 plötzlich zu haben waren. Jetzt ist es Gustav Mahlers drei Jahre später eingespieltes „Lied von der Erde“, das erstmals über die Ladentische geht. Es gehört zu einer Mahler Gesamtaufnahme, die offenbar vor der rühmlich bekannten bei der Deutschen Grammophon entstand. Zumindest bei den hier behandelten Sinfonien Nr. 3 und Nr. 6 war das der Fall. Beim „Lied von der Erde“ offeriert das Symphonie-Orchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks, dessen Chef Kubelik damals war, ein erstaunlich präsentes, erstaunlich aufgesplittertes Klangbild, das sowohl das Idyllisch-Graziöse hervorkehrt wie das Schwerblütig-Ausdrucksgesättigte mit großem liedsinfonischem Atem erfüllt – eine erstrangige Wiedergabe.

Auch die beiden 1967/68 erarbeiteten Sinfonien erweisen sich als bestechend durchhörbar. Vielleicht geht Kubelik eine Spur naiver vor als die beim Sezieren der Partitur schärfer verfahrenden Dirigenten wie Gielen, bricht sich, wo es geht, das ererbte böhmische Musikantentum zumindest für Momente Bahn. Da staunt einer eher vor Mahler, als dass er ihn zu zerlegen sucht. Wenn es eine Verwandtschaft gibt, dann ist es die zu Bernstein. Das Triumphale der „Dritten“, das Nostalgische an ihr wird nicht als Artefakt betrachtet, sondern „wie es ist“: Emotion zur Analyse. ...

(aus einer Besprechung mit den Mahler-Interpretationen Michael Gielens)

Some years ago I was involved in a discussion concerning Wilhelm Furtwängler's potential artistic heir. Who might he be? There was no lack of candidates. My suggestion, for the following reasons, was Rafael Kubelik. Both were composers; both preferred an old-fashioned orchestral layout (violins divided, etc) and achieved weight of sonority by allowing a chord to fall naturally rather than slamming it shut. Both favoured flexibility within the bar, an often orgiastic excitability and, most important in this particular context, an overall preference for live performance over recording.

For example, compare Kubelik's 1975 DG studio recording of Beethoven's Fourth Symphony with the Israel Philharmonic with the live Bavarian RSO Audite version of four years later. The IPO account is taut and incisive, with an explosive fortissimo just before the coda (at 5'52", i.e. bar 312) that sounds as if it has been aided from the control desk. Turn then to the BRSO version, the lead-up at around 4'25" to that same passage (here sounding wholly natural), so much more gripping, where second fiddles, violas and cellos thrust their responses to tremolando first fiddles. The energy level is still laudably high but the sense of intense engagement is almost palpable. Again, with the Boston recording of the Fifth, handsome and well played as it undoubtedly is (and with the finale's repeat intact, which isn't the case on Audite), there is little comparison with the freer, airier and more responsive live relay. I'm thinking especially the slow movement, so humble and expressive, almost hymn-like in places – for example, the Bachian string counterpoint from 4'27''. Also, the Boston recording places first and second violins on the left: the Audite option has them divided, as per Kubelik’s preferred norm.

Audite’s Tchaikovsky coupling is an out-and-out winner. Kubelik made two studio recordings of the Fourth Symphony (with the Chicago SO and Vienna PO), both set around a lyrical axis, but this live version has a unique emotive impetuosity, especially in the development section of the first movement. The Andantino relates a burning nostalgia without exaggeration, whereas the scherzo – taken at a real lick – becomes a quiet choir of balalaikas. The April 1969 performance of the Violin Concerto was also Pinchas Zukerman's German début and aside from Kubelik's facilitating responsiveness, there's the warmth and immediacy of the youthful Zukerman's tone and the precision of his bowing. Both performances confirm Kubelik as among the most sympathetic of Tchaikovsky conductors, a genuine listener who relates what he hears, not what he wants to confess through the music.

Much the same might be said of Kubelik's Mahler, whether for DG or the various live alternatives currently appearing on Audite. In the case of ‘Das Lied von der Erde’ there is no DG predecessor, but even if there was, I doubt that it would surpass the live relay of February 1970 with Waldemar Kmentt and Dame Janet Baker, so dashing, pliant and deeply felt, whether in the subtly traced clarinet counterpoint near the start of ‘Von der Jugend’ or the way Baker re-emerges after the funereal processional in ‘Der Abschied’, as if altered forever by a profound visitation.

Here is one of the great "lost" Mahler recordings now properly restored. When Rafael Kubelik made his outstanding studio Mahler cycle in Munich for DG in the 1970s (463 738-2) he made no version of "Das Lied Von Der Erde" to go with it. This was puzzling for such a great Mahlerian who even went to the trouble of recording the Adagio from the Tenth Symphony as part of his cycle. We knew Kubelik played the work because this performance had taken place in Munich in February 1970 with Kubelik’s Bavarian Radio Orchestra and first appeared, minus a minute or two in the fourth movement and in poor sound, on a pirate label in the 1980s. A number of Kubelik’s studio Mahler recordings were made after "live" performances in the same hall at this very time (as other Audite releases have shown) so why didn’t Kubelik, the orchestra and his two soloists go on to record it for DG under studio conditions? I wonder if the answer lies in the presence of Janet Baker. At that time Baker was an exclusive EMI artist. Were plans afoot for her to record it with Kubelik but these came to nothing because of that? I know she later recorded the work with Bernard Haitink for Philips but that was some years later when perhaps contract problems were resolvable. Whatever, I know that ever since I heard the pirate version of this performance I had hoped that at some point someone would gain access to the Bavarian Radio master tapes and release them. That is what has now happened and this recording of Mahler’s late masterpiece now joins a nearly-completed "live" Mahler cycle conducted by Kubelik from various times during his Munich tenure released by Audite.


For me Janet Baker has always been the greatest interpreter of the female/baritone songs in this work. Her Philips recording with Haitink on Eloquence (468 182-2) was long awaited even when it appeared and did not disappoint her admirers. In my survey of recordings of this work I believe I paid that version the attention it deserved singling out Baker for special praise. However even then I felt her interpretation on a BBC Radio Classics release taken from a later "live" performance in Manchester and conducted by Raymond Leppard was even better – deeper, more profound. The problem was that in no way could the BBC Northern Symphony Orchestra compare with the Concertgebouw, or her conductor Raymond Leppard compare with Bernard Haitink even though hearing Baker "live" seemed to add something to her interpretation. This was partly why when I heard the "pirate" of this Munich version I hoped for an official release. This too is "live" with all the benefit that brings but this time we have in Kubelik a Mahlerian of equal stature to Haitink and in the Bavarian Radio an orchestra that comes close to the Concertgebouw in depth of response to Mahler’s sound world. Matched with Waldemar Kmentt she also appears with a tenor who is, for me, superior to James King on the Haitink version and John Mitchinson on the Leppard, fine though both are.


The key to the greatness of Janet Baker in this work is her total identification with the words. Her care for every detail of them means she lives the part where some merely describe it. Her view of the music seems from the inside out. In these movements one thinks of Baker, Ludwig and Fassbaender among the women and Fischer-Dieskau among the men. In the second song you are made to feel what it is to be lonely rather than simply have loneliness described to you. Technically too she is on top form as the wild horses passage in "Von der Schönheit" proves. At no point in this crazy music does Baker ever give the impression that she will come to grief, even though the tempo adopted by her and Kubelik is suitably swift. They had one shot at this in front of an audience and it comes off triumphantly. Listen also to the delicacy of the description of the young girls swimming in the same movement. Finally in the "Abschied" her range, emotional and musical is total. Everything is covered here from the passages of sterile enunciation to the overwhelming emotional grandeur of the climaxes and all points between subtly graded. Overall this is one of those interpretations that contain depths that will take years to plumb.


Of all the great recordings of this work I know there has, for me, so far only been one where I feel that two of the greatest interpreters are matched on the same recording. These are Christa Ludwig and Fritz Wunderlich for Klemperer on EMI. But now with this release I think there is a second since Waldemar Kmentt is just as convincing in his songs as Janet Baker is in hers. In fact I believe Kmentt can be compared with Wunderlich, Peter Schreier and Julius Patzak as the finest interpreters in the tenor songs on record. In "Das Trinklied" Kmentt is towering, challenging the music to break him in the dramatic sections, but emerging unscathed from them. The "Dark is life, is death" refrain has a world-weary depth that few save Schreier and Wunderlich can match and the "ape on the grave" climax is fearless in his nightmarish delivery. Like Baker, Kmentt can also walk the delicate passages of this work with equal effect. His description of the arrival of spring in "Der Trunkene im Fruhling" is magical and his word painting in "Von Der Jugend" piquant and sharp.


Kubelik’s greatness as a Mahler conductor was his ability to cover the whole range of the music from uncomplicated nature painting to calculated high drama and seem equally at home everywhere. He attends to all details of this music with care and discretion, always taking care of the bigger picture too, balancing it with the inner detail. Notice the woodwinds during the funeral march in "Der Abscheid" where every strand is clearly delineated, or the effect of getting his mandolin to play tremolo in the same movement marking up the chinoiserie in a most evocative and unique way. He also recognises what I have always believed to be a crucial aspect of this work. That the two soloists are the equal partners with the conductor and that he is there to support them. With great soloists like these, that is easier. But countless examples of his support for his soloists are apparent in this performance along with the preparation of his orchestra to act almost as a third soloist. The purely instrumental passages in "Der Abschied" reveal Mahler conducting of the highest order. Listen to the birds passage and also to the deep bass growls before the funeral march.


The sound recording leaves little to be desired. It is hard to tell it was made over thirty years ago for radio broadcast. I like the balances between woodwind and strings and the warmth of the acoustic around the orchestra and soloists in the chamber-like sections. The balance between soloists and orchestra are exemplary also. Even the distinctive acoustic of the Herkulessaal is made to sound perfectly suited to the music. You can hear everything and with solo players in the orchestra as eloquent as the two singers are this is important and adds another plus to this disc. In sound terms this more than matches the best versions of this work and musically it is the equal of Klemperer on EMI (5 66892 2), Sanderling on Berlin Classics (0094022BC) and Horenstein on BBC Legends (BBCL 4042-2). All very different though each one of those comparable versions are in their interpretative approach. Indeed, this Kubelik recording has the effect of taking many of the virtues of all those great recordings and stitching them into a new and deeply satisfying whole.


This is one of the all-time great Mahler recordings: a classic version of this inexhaustible masterpiece in every way. Indeed I think there are none to surpass it, perhaps only to equal it. You will be moved, delighted and changed by it. I cannot recommend it too highly as it goes to the top of my list for this work.

Dieser Live-Mitschnitt stellt eine echte Erweiterung der Kubelik-Diskographie dar, denn "Das Lied von der Erde" fehlt in seinem Studio-Mahler-Zyklus. Kubeliks Lesart zählt fraglos zu den bleibenden Einspielungen dieses bewegenden Werks. Ihm standen in Janet Baker und Waldemar Kmentt zwei ausgezeichnete Solisten zur Verfügung. Zwar reicht Kmentt nicht an Fritz Wunderlich heran, doch für eine unretuschierte Live-Aufnahme bewältigt er den schwierigen Tenorpart mehr als achtbar und überzeugt auch durch sensible dynamische Schattierungen. Janet Baker kann sich dagegen durchaus mit Kathleen Ferrier und Christa Ludwig messen, einige wenige Schärfen in der Höhe nicht gerechnet.

The German firm Audite has given us not only this near complete live cycle of Mahler symphonies (sans 4 or 8), but valuable Kubelik/Curzon readings of four Mozart and two Beethoven concertos. Of particular interest here is 'Das Lied von der Erde', since Kubelik did not record it for DG. Janet Baker fans will welcome a third CD version: and she sounds truly inspired by her conductor. 'Der Einsame im Herbst' may not have the sheer beauty of the version with Haitink but the finale surpasses most on records, with a real sense of the transcendental at the close. Kmentt too makes the most of his words; and the reedy Munich winds suit this score.

Recorded between 1967 and 1971, Kubelik’s DG cycle has been at budget price for some time now and the Audite alternatives of 1, 5 and 7 have been in the shops for months. The NHK-recorded Ninth, made during a 1975 Tokyo visit by the Bavarian RSO, was reviewed in CRC, Spring 2001 (I found the sound unfocused and the brass pinched in sound, but welcomed in particular playing ‘ablaze’ after the visionary episode in the Rondo burleske and a crowning final). No. 1 in DG is widely admired but this 1979 version is more poetic still, wonderfully so in the introduction and trio at (II). There is something of a pall of resonance in place of applause, cut from all these Audite transfers. In No. 7 the balance is more airy than DG’s multi-miked productions, and (as in No. 5) Kubelik sounds less constrained than when working under studio conditions, although rhythm in the opening bars of (II) goes awry and the very opening note is succeeded by a sneeze! The disturbing and more shadowy extremes are more vividly characterized, the finale a riotous display.

Some critics feel that Kubelik gives us ‘Mahler-lite’, which may seem in comparison with, say, Chailly’s Decca cycle or the recent BPO/Abbado Third on DG – not to mention Bernstein’s. But there is plenty of energy here, and the divided strings with basses set to the rear left give openness to textures. However, the strings are not opulent and the trumpets are often piercing. It would be fair to say that Kubelik conducted Mahler as if it were Mozart!

As it happens, in the most controversial of his readings, No. 6, the DG is preferable to the Audite, where Kubelik projects little empathy with its slow movement and where the Scherzo is less cohesive. The real problem is that the very fast speed for (I) affects ail subsequent tempo relationships. Nor does the finale on No. 3, one of the glories of the DG cycle, quite have the same radiance; the singers are the same, the Tölz Boys making a sound one imagines Mahler must have heard in his head, and this performance predates the DG by one month. Nevertheless, these newer issues of Nos 2 and 3 are worth hearing, the ‘Resurrection’ not least for Brigitte Fassbaender’s account of ‘Urlicht’.

Nowadays every orchestra visiting London seems to programme Mahler’s Fifth Symphony as a showpiece, but in 1951 (when Bruno Walter’s 78rpm set was the collector’s only choice) a performance would surely have been uncommon even at the Concertgebouw – Mengelberg was prohibited from conducting in Holland from 1946 until he died that year. Although the start of (V) is marred by horns, this is an interesting, well executed account with a weightier sound, from what one can surmise through the inevitable dimness – the last note of (I) is almost inaudible. The three versions vary sufficiently to quote true timings (none is given by Tahra): (I) 11m 34s/12m 39s/11m 35s (Tahra/Audite/DG); (II) 13m/14m 52s/13m 52s; (III) 15m 56s/17m 54s/17m 23s; (IV) 9m 24s/10m 24s/9mm 44s); (V) 14m 26s/14m 57s/15m 29s. The live Munich version is tidier than on DG; the spectral imagery in (III) is heavier in effect, too; and in the Adagietto the dynamic and phrasing shadings and poetic quality of the string playing also give the live performance the edge. Towards the end of the finale, and elsewhere, the engineers reduced dynamic levels.

Tahra’s booklet comprises an untidily set-out synopsis of Kubelik’s career. Audite’s have full descriptions of the works with text for Nos 2 and 3, and different back-cover colour portraits of the conductor.

The German firm Audite has given us not only this near complete live cycle of Mahler symphonies (sans 4 or 8), but valuable Kubelik/Curzon readings of four Mozart and two Beethoven concertos. Of particular interest here is 'Das Lied von der Erde', since Kubelik did not record it for DG. Janet Baker fans will welcome a third CD version: and she sounds truly inspired by her conductor. 'Der Einsame im Herbst' may not have the sheer beauty of the version with Haitink but the finale surpasses most on records, with a real sense of the transcendental at the close. Kmentt too makes the most of his words; and the reedy Munich winds suit this score.

Recorded between 1967 and 1971, Kubelik’s DG cycle has been at budget price for some time now and the Audite alternatives of 1, 5 and 7 have been in the shops for months. The NHK-recorded Ninth, made during a 1975 Tokyo visit by the Bavarian RSO, was reviewed in CRC, Spring 2001 (I found the sound unfocused and the brass pinched in sound, but welcomed in particular playing ‘ablaze’ after the visionary episode in the Rondo burleske and a crowning final). No. 1 in DG is widely admired but this 1979 version is more poetic still, wonderfully so in the introduction and trio at (II). There is something of a pall of resonance in place of applause, cut from all these Audite transfers. In No. 7 the balance is more airy than DG’s multi-miked productions, and (as in No. 5) Kubelik sounds less constrained than when working under studio conditions, although rhythm in the opening bars of (II) goes awry and the very opening note is succeeded by a sneeze! The disturbing and more shadowy extremes are more vividly characterized, the finale a riotous display.

Some critics feel that Kubelik gives us ‘Mahler-lite’, which may seem in comparison with, say, Chailly’s Decca cycle or the recent BPO/Abbado Third on DG – not to mention Bernstein’s. But there is plenty of energy here, and the divided strings with basses set to the rear left give openness to textures. However, the strings are not opulent and the trumpets are often piercing. It would be fair to say that Kubelik conducted Mahler as if it were Mozart!

As it happens, in the most controversial of his readings, No. 6, the DG is preferable to the Audite, where Kubelik projects little empathy with its slow movement and where the Scherzo is less cohesive. The real problem is that the very fast speed for (I) affects ail subsequent tempo relationships. Nor does the finale on No. 3, one of the glories of the DG cycle, quite have the same radiance; the singers are the same, the Tölz Boys making a sound one imagines Mahler must have heard in his head, and this performance predates the DG by one month. Nevertheless, these newer issues of Nos 2 and 3 are worth hearing, the ‘Resurrection’ not least for Brigitte Fassbaender’s account of ‘Urlicht’.

Nowadays every orchestra visiting London seems to programme Mahler’s Fifth Symphony as a showpiece, but in 1951 (when Bruno Walter’s 78rpm set was the collector’s only choice) a performance would surely have been uncommon even at the Concertgebouw – Mengelberg was prohibited from conducting in Holland from 1946 until he died that year. Although the start of (V) is marred by horns, this is an interesting, well executed account with a weightier sound, from what one can surmise through the inevitable dimness – the last note of (I) is almost inaudible. The three versions vary sufficiently to quote true timings (none is given by Tahra): (I) 11m 34s/12m 39s/11m 35s (Tahra/Audite/DG); (II) 13m/14m 52s/13m 52s; (III) 15m 56s/17m 54s/17m 23s; (IV) 9m 24s/10m 24s/9mm 44s); (V) 14m 26s/14m 57s/15m 29s. The live Munich version is tidier than on DG; the spectral imagery in (III) is heavier in effect, too; and in the Adagietto the dynamic and phrasing shadings and poetic quality of the string playing also give the live performance the edge. Towards the end of the finale, and elsewhere, the engineers reduced dynamic levels.

Tahra’s booklet comprises an untidily set-out synopsis of Kubelik’s career. Audite’s have full descriptions of the works with text for Nos 2 and 3, and different back-cover colour portraits of the conductor.

The German firm Audite has given us not only this near complete live cycle of Mahler symphonies (sans 4 or 8), but valuable Kubelik/Curzon readings of four Mozart and two Beethoven concertos. Of particular interest here is ‘Das Lied von der Erde’, since Kubelik did not record it for DG. Janet Baker fans will welcome a third CD version; and she sounds truly inspired by her conductor. ‘Der Einsame im Herbst’ may not have the sheer beauty of the version with Haitink but the finale surpasses most on records, with a real sense of the transcendental at the close. Kmentt too makes the most of his words; and the reedy Munich winds suit this score.
Recorded between 1967 and 1971, Kubelik's DG cycle has been at budget price for some time now (Collector 463 738-2, ten discs) and the Audite alternatives of 1, 5 and 7 have been in the shops for months. The NHK-recorded Ninth (Audite 95471), made during a 1975 Tokyo visit by the Bavarian RSO, was reviewed in CRC, Spring 2001 (I found the sound unfocused and the brass pinched in sound, but welcomed in particular playing ‘ablaze’ after the visionary episode in the Rondo burleske and a crowning finale). No. 1 on DG is widely admired but this 1979 version is more poetic still, wonderfully so in the introduction and trio at (II). There is something of a pal of resonance in place of applause, cut from all these Audite transfers. In No.7 the balance is more airy than DG’s multi-miked productions, and (as in No.5) Kubelik sounds less constrained than when working under studio conditions, although rhythm in the opening bars of (II) goes awry and the very opening note is succeeded by a sneeze! The disturbing and more shadowy extremes are more vividly characterised, the finale a riotous display.
Some critics feet that Kubelik gives us ‘Mahler-lite’ which may seem so in comparison with, say, Chailly's Decca cycle or the recent BPO/Abbado Third on DG – not to mention Bernstein's. But there is plenty of energy here, and the divided strings with basses set to the rear left give openness to textures. However, the strings are not opulent and the trumpets are often piercing. It would be fair to say that Kubelik conducted Mahler as if it were Mozart!
As it happens, in the most controversial of his readings, No. 6, the DG is preferable to the Audite, where Kubelik projects little empathy with its slow movement and where the Scherzo is less cohesive. The real problem is that the very fast speed for (I) affects ail subsequent tempo relationships. Nor does the finale of No. 3. one of the glories of the DG cycle, quite have that same radiance; the singers are the same, the Tölz Boys making a sound one imagines Mahler must have beard in his head, and this performance predates the DG by one month. Nevertheless, these newer issues of Nos 2 and 3 are worth hearing, the ‘Resurrection’ not least for Brigitte Fassbaender's account of the ‘Urlicht’.
Nowadays, every orchestra visiting London seems to programme Mahler's Fifth Symphony as a Showpiece, but in 1951 (when Bruno Walter's 78rpm set was the collector's only choice) a performance would surely have been uncommon even at the Concertgebouw – Mengelberg was prohibited from conducting in Holland from 1946 until he died that year. Although the start of (V) is marred by the horns, this is an interesting, well executed account with a weightier sound, from what one can surmise through the inevitable dimness – the last note of (I) is almost inaudible. The three versions vary sufficiently to quote true timings (none is given by Tahra): (I) 11m 34s/12m 39s/11m 35s (Tahra/Audite/DG); (II) 13m/14m 52s/13m 52s; (III) 15m 56s/17m 54s/17m 23s; (IV) 9m 24s/10m 24s/9m 44s); (V) 14m 26s/14m 57s/15m 29s. The live Munich version is tidier than on DG; the spectral imagery in (III) is
heavier in effect, too; and in the Adagietto the dynamic and phrasing shadings and poetic quality of the string playing also give the live performance the edge. Towards the end of the finale, and elsewhere the engineers reduced dynamic levels.
Tahra's booklet comprises an untidily set-out synopsis of Kubelik's career. Audite's have full description of the works with texts for Nos 2 and 3, and different back-cover colour portraits of the conductor.

Rafael Kubelik beschreitet sicher den Grat zwischen romantisch üppigem Klang und klassischer Genauigkeit, lässt die Musik weit schwingen, das Orchester großartig ausspielen. Die Solisten sind für diese Partien ideal und mit genauem Gespür besetzt. Ergreifend, aber nie sentimental.

The German firm Audite has given us not only this near complete live cycle of Mahler symphonies (sans 4 or 8), but valuable Kubelik/Curzon readings of four Mozart and two Beethoven concertos. Of particular interest here is 'Das Lied von der Erde', since Kubelik did not record it for DG. Janet Baker fans will welcome a third CD version: and she sounds truly inspired by her conductor. 'Der Einsame im Herbst' may not have the sheer beauty of the version with Haitink but the finale surpasses most on records, with a real sense of the transcendental at the close. Kmentt too makes the most of his words; and the reedy Munich winds suit this score.

Recorded between 1967 and 1971, Kubelik’s DG cycle has been at budget price for some time now and the Audite alternatives of 1, 5 and 7 have been in the shops for months. The NHK-recorded Ninth, made during a 1975 Tokyo visit by the Bavarian RSO, was reviewed in CRC, Spring 2001 (I found the sound unfocused and the brass pinched in sound, but welcomed in particular playing ‘ablaze’ after the visionary episode in the Rondo burleske and a crowning final). No. 1 in DG is widely admired but this 1979 version is more poetic still, wonderfully so in the introduction and trio at (II). There is something of a pall of resonance in place of applause, cut from all these Audite transfers. In No. 7 the balance is more airy than DG’s multi-miked productions, and (as in No. 5) Kubelik sounds less constrained than when working under studio conditions, although rhythm in the opening bars of (II) goes awry and the very opening note is succeeded by a sneeze! The disturbing and more shadowy extremes are more vividly characterized, the finale a riotous display.

Some critics feel that Kubelik gives us ‘Mahler-lite’, which may seem in comparison with, say, Chailly’s Decca cycle or the recent BPO/Abbado Third on DG – not to mention Bernstein’s. But there is plenty of energy here, and the divided strings with basses set to the rear left give openness to textures. However, the strings are not opulent and the trumpets are often piercing. It would be fair to say that Kubelik conducted Mahler as if it were Mozart!

As it happens, in the most controversial of his readings, No. 6, the DG is preferable to the Audite, where Kubelik projects little empathy with its slow movement and where the Scherzo is less cohesive. The real problem is that the very fast speed for (I) affects ail subsequent tempo relationships. Nor does the finale on No. 3, one of the glories of the DG cycle, quite have the same radiance; the singers are the same, the Tölz Boys making a sound one imagines Mahler must have heard in his head, and this performance predates the DG by one month. Nevertheless, these newer issues of Nos 2 and 3 are worth hearing, the ‘Resurrection’ not least for Brigitte Fassbaender’s account of ‘Urlicht’.

Nowadays every orchestra visiting London seems to programme Mahler’s Fifth Symphony as a showpiece, but in 1951 (when Bruno Walter’s 78rpm set was the collector’s only choice) a performance would surely have been uncommon even at the Concertgebouw – Mengelberg was prohibited from conducting in Holland from 1946 until he died that year. Although the start of (V) is marred by horns, this is an interesting, well executed account with a weightier sound, from what one can surmise through the inevitable dimness – the last note of (I) is almost inaudible. The three versions vary sufficiently to quote true timings (none is given by Tahra): (I) 11m 34s/12m 39s/11m 35s (Tahra/Audite/DG); (II) 13m/14m 52s/13m 52s; (III) 15m 56s/17m 54s/17m 23s; (IV) 9m 24s/10m 24s/9mm 44s); (V) 14m 26s/14m 57s/15m 29s. The live Munich version is tidier than on DG; the spectral imagery in (III) is heavier in effect, too; and in the Adagietto the dynamic and phrasing shadings and poetic quality of the string playing also give the live performance the edge. Towards the end of the finale, and elsewhere, the engineers reduced dynamic levels.

Tahra’s booklet comprises an untidily set-out synopsis of Kubelik’s career. Audite’s have full descriptions of the works with text for Nos 2 and 3, and different back-cover colour portraits of the conductor.

Kubelik hat für die Deutsche Grammophon die Mahler-Symphonien aufgenommen, nicht aber 'Das Lied von der Erde'. Nachdem uns etliche der Liveproduktionen der Symphonien bei 'audite' bereits weitaus mehr begeistert hatten als die Studio-Einspielungen der DG, warteten wir gespannt auf dieses für unsere Ohren nun wirklich neue Tondokument. Und die Begeisterung könnte nicht größer sein: so prächtig hat das Mahler-Orchester in dieser Partitur selten geklungen. Kubelik taucht die Musik völlig unpathetisch in ein gleißendes Licht. Das 'Lied von der Erde' klingt daher unerhört neu: das Orchester ist von stupender Klarheit, fast kammermusikalisch fein ziseliert, von bestechender Reinheit und ohne jede dunkeln Gedanken. Gerade dadurch wirkt Kubeliks Interpretation so anders, so neu: frei von jeglicher Sentimentalität zelebriert er keinen Trauerdienst, sondern gibt Mahlers Musik einen eher optimistischen, in die Zukunft weisenden Charakter. Erstaunlicherweise bleibt sogar Janet Bakers Stimme hier hell und lichtstark, und Waldemar Kmentt - in großer Form - singt ohne Anstrengung, ohne theatralische Geste, sehr stilvoll und ohne jede störende Akzentuierung, weil er in diesem kammermusikalisch transparenten orchestralen Umfeld einen sicheren Platz hat.

Audite legt also mit dieser CD eine in der Interpretationsgeschichte vom 'Lied von der Erde' eine essentielle Interpretation vor, die unsere Sicht auf dieses von Mahler als sein persönlichstes Werk bezeichnete Komposition völlig erneuert.

The German firm Audite has given us not only this near complete live cycle of Mahler symphonies (sans 4 or 8), but valuable Kubelik/Curzon readings of four Mozart and two Beethoven concertos. Of particular interest here is ‘Das Lied von der Erde’, since Kubelik did not record it for DG. Janet Baker fans will welcome a third CD version; and she sounds truly inspired by her conductor. ‘Der Einsame im Herbst’ may not have the sheer beauty of the version with Haitink but the finale surpasses most on records, with a real sense of the transcendental at the close. Kmentt too makes the most of his words; and the reedy Munich winds suit this score.
Recorded between 1967 and 1971, Kubelik's DG cycle has been at budget price for some time now (Collector 463 738-2, ten discs) and the Audite alternatives of 1, 5 and 7 have been in the shops for months. The NHK-recorded Ninth (Audite 95471), made during a 1975 Tokyo visit by the Bavarian RSO, was reviewed in CRC, Spring 2001 (I found the sound unfocused and the brass pinched in sound, but welcomed in particular playing ‘ablaze’ after the visionary episode in the Rondo burleske and a crowning finale). No. 1 on DG is widely admired but this 1979 version is more poetic still, wonderfully so in the introduction and trio at (II). There is something of a pal of resonance in place of applause, cut from all these Audite transfers. In No.7 the balance is more airy than DG’s multi-miked productions, and (as in No.5) Kubelik sounds less constrained than when working under studio conditions, although rhythm in the opening bars of (II) goes awry and the very opening note is succeeded by a sneeze! The disturbing and more shadowy extremes are more vividly characterised, the finale a riotous display.
Some critics feet that Kubelik gives us ‘Mahler-lite’ which may seem so in comparison with, say, Chailly's Decca cycle or the recent BPO/Abbado Third on DG – not to mention Bernstein's. But there is plenty of energy here, and the divided strings with basses set to the rear left give openness to textures. However, the strings are not opulent and the trumpets are often piercing. It would be fair to say that Kubelik conducted Mahler as if it were Mozart!
As it happens, in the most controversial of his readings, No. 6, the DG is preferable to the Audite, where Kubelik projects little empathy with its slow movement and where the Scherzo is less cohesive. The real problem is that the very fast speed for (I) affects ail subsequent tempo relationships. Nor does the finale of No. 3. one of the glories of the DG cycle, quite have that same radiance; the singers are the same, the Tölz Boys making a sound one imagines Mahler must have beard in his head, and this performance predates the DG by one month. Nevertheless, these newer issues of Nos 2 and 3 are worth hearing, the ‘Resurrection’ not least for Brigitte Fassbaender's account of the ‘Urlicht’.
Nowadays, every orchestra visiting London seems to programme Mahler's Fifth Symphony as a Showpiece, but in 1951 (when Bruno Walter's 78rpm set was the collector's only choice) a performance would surely have been uncommon even at the Concertgebouw – Mengelberg was prohibited from conducting in Holland from 1946 until he died that year. Although the start of (V) is marred by the horns, this is an interesting, well executed account with a weightier sound, from what one can surmise through the inevitable dimness – the last note of (I) is almost inaudible. The three versions vary sufficiently to quote true timings (none is given by Tahra): (I) 11m 34s/12m 39s/11m 35s (Tahra/Audite/DG); (II) 13m/14m 52s/13m 52s; (III) 15m 56s/17m 54s/17m 23s; (IV) 9m 24s/10m 24s/9m 44s); (V) 14m 26s/14m 57s/15m 29s. The live Munich version is tidier than on DG; the spectral imagery in (III) is
heavier in effect, too; and in the Adagietto the dynamic and phrasing shadings and poetic quality of the string playing also give the live performance the edge. Towards the end of the finale, and elsewhere the engineers reduced dynamic levels.
Tahra's booklet comprises an untidily set-out synopsis of Kubelik's career. Audite's have full description of the works with texts for Nos 2 and 3, and different back-cover colour portraits of the conductor.

The German firm Audite has given us not only this near complete live cycle of Mahler symphonies (sans 4 or 8), but valuable Kubelik/Curzon readings of four Mozart and two Beethoven concertos. Of particular interest here is 'Das Lied von der Erde', since Kubelik did not record it for DG. Janet Baker fans will welcome a third CD version: and she sounds truly inspired by her conductor. 'Der Einsame im Herbst' may not have the sheer beauty of the version with Haitink but the finale surpasses most on records, with a real sense of the transcendental at the close. Kmentt too makes the most of his words; and the reedy Munich winds suit this score.

Recorded between 1967 and 1971, Kubelik’s DG cycle has been at budget price for some time now and the Audite alternatives of 1, 5 and 7 have been in the shops for months. The NHK-recorded Ninth, made during a 1975 Tokyo visit by the Bavarian RSO, was reviewed in CRC, Spring 2001 (I found the sound unfocused and the brass pinched in sound, but welcomed in particular playing ‘ablaze’ after the visionary episode in the Rondo burleske and a crowning final). No. 1 in DG is widely admired but this 1979 version is more poetic still, wonderfully so in the introduction and trio at (II). There is something of a pall of resonance in place of applause, cut from all these Audite transfers. In No. 7 the balance is more airy than DG’s multi-miked productions, and (as in No. 5) Kubelik sounds less constrained than when working under studio conditions, although rhythm in the opening bars of (II) goes awry and the very opening note is succeeded by a sneeze! The disturbing and more shadowy extremes are more vividly characterized, the finale a riotous display.

Some critics feel that Kubelik gives us ‘Mahler-lite’, which may seem in comparison with, say, Chailly’s Decca cycle or the recent BPO/Abbado Third on DG – not to mention Bernstein’s. But there is plenty of energy here, and the divided strings with basses set to the rear left give openness to textures. However, the strings are not opulent and the trumpets are often piercing. It would be fair to say that Kubelik conducted Mahler as if it were Mozart!

As it happens, in the most controversial of his readings, No. 6, the DG is preferable to the Audite, where Kubelik projects little empathy with its slow movement and where the Scherzo is less cohesive. The real problem is that the very fast speed for (I) affects ail subsequent tempo relationships. Nor does the finale on No. 3, one of the glories of the DG cycle, quite have the same radiance; the singers are the same, the Tölz Boys making a sound one imagines Mahler must have heard in his head, and this performance predates the DG by one month. Nevertheless, these newer issues of Nos 2 and 3 are worth hearing, the ‘Resurrection’ not least for Brigitte Fassbaender’s account of ‘Urlicht’.

Nowadays every orchestra visiting London seems to programme Mahler’s Fifth Symphony as a showpiece, but in 1951 (when Bruno Walter’s 78rpm set was the collector’s only choice) a performance would surely have been uncommon even at the Concertgebouw – Mengelberg was prohibited from conducting in Holland from 1946 until he died that year. Although the start of (V) is marred by horns, this is an interesting, well executed account with a weightier sound, from what one can surmise through the inevitable dimness – the last note of (I) is almost inaudible. The three versions vary sufficiently to quote true timings (none is given by Tahra): (I) 11m 34s/12m 39s/11m 35s (Tahra/Audite/DG); (II) 13m/14m 52s/13m 52s; (III) 15m 56s/17m 54s/17m 23s; (IV) 9m 24s/10m 24s/9mm 44s); (V) 14m 26s/14m 57s/15m 29s. The live Munich version is tidier than on DG; the spectral imagery in (III) is heavier in effect, too; and in the Adagietto the dynamic and phrasing shadings and poetic quality of the string playing also give the live performance the edge. Towards the end of the finale, and elsewhere, the engineers reduced dynamic levels.

Tahra’s booklet comprises an untidily set-out synopsis of Kubelik’s career. Audite’s have full descriptions of the works with text for Nos 2 and 3, and different back-cover colour portraits of the conductor.

The German firm Audite has given us not only this near complete live cycle of Mahler symphonies (sans 4 or 8), but valuable Kubelik/Curzon readings of four Mozart and two Beethoven concertos. Of particular interest here is 'Das Lied von der Erde', since Kubelik did not record it for DG. Janet Baker fans will welcome a third CD version: and she sounds truly inspired by her conductor. 'Der Einsame im Herbst' may not have the sheer beauty of the version with Haitink but the finale surpasses most on records, with a real sense of the transcendental at the close. Kmentt too makes the most of his words; and the reedy Munich winds suit this score.

Recorded between 1967 and 1971, Kubelik’s DG cycle has been at budget price for some time now and the Audite alternatives of 1, 5 and 7 have been in the shops for months. The NHK-recorded Ninth, made during a 1975 Tokyo visit by the Bavarian RSO, was reviewed in CRC, Spring 2001 (I found the sound unfocused and the brass pinched in sound, but welcomed in particular playing ‘ablaze’ after the visionary episode in the Rondo burleske and a crowning final). No. 1 in DG is widely admired but this 1979 version is more poetic still, wonderfully so in the introduction and trio at (II). There is something of a pall of resonance in place of applause, cut from all these Audite transfers. In No. 7 the balance is more airy than DG’s multi-miked productions, and (as in No. 5) Kubelik sounds less constrained than when working under studio conditions, although rhythm in the opening bars of (II) goes awry and the very opening note is succeeded by a sneeze! The disturbing and more shadowy extremes are more vividly characterized, the finale a riotous display.

Some critics feel that Kubelik gives us ‘Mahler-lite’, which may seem in comparison with, say, Chailly’s Decca cycle or the recent BPO/Abbado Third on DG – not to mention Bernstein’s. But there is plenty of energy here, and the divided strings with basses set to the rear left give openness to textures. However, the strings are not opulent and the trumpets are often piercing. It would be fair to say that Kubelik conducted Mahler as if it were Mozart!

As it happens, in the most controversial of his readings, No. 6, the DG is preferable to the Audite, where Kubelik projects little empathy with its slow movement and where the Scherzo is less cohesive. The real problem is that the very fast speed for (I) affects ail subsequent tempo relationships. Nor does the finale on No. 3, one of the glories of the DG cycle, quite have the same radiance; the singers are the same, the Tölz Boys making a sound one imagines Mahler must have heard in his head, and this performance predates the DG by one month. Nevertheless, these newer issues of Nos 2 and 3 are worth hearing, the ‘Resurrection’ not least for Brigitte Fassbaender’s account of ‘Urlicht’.

Nowadays every orchestra visiting London seems to programme Mahler’s Fifth Symphony as a showpiece, but in 1951 (when Bruno Walter’s 78rpm set was the collector’s only choice) a performance would surely have been uncommon even at the Concertgebouw – Mengelberg was prohibited from conducting in Holland from 1946 until he died that year. Although the start of (V) is marred by horns, this is an interesting, well executed account with a weightier sound, from what one can surmise through the inevitable dimness – the last note of (I) is almost inaudible. The three versions vary sufficiently to quote true timings (none is given by Tahra): (I) 11m 34s/12m 39s/11m 35s (Tahra/Audite/DG); (II) 13m/14m 52s/13m 52s; (III) 15m 56s/17m 54s/17m 23s; (IV) 9m 24s/10m 24s/9mm 44s); (V) 14m 26s/14m 57s/15m 29s. The live Munich version is tidier than on DG; the spectral imagery in (III) is heavier in effect, too; and in the Adagietto the dynamic and phrasing shadings and poetic quality of the string playing also give the live performance the edge. Towards the end of the finale, and elsewhere, the engineers reduced dynamic levels.

Tahra’s booklet comprises an untidily set-out synopsis of Kubelik’s career. Audite’s have full descriptions of the works with text for Nos 2 and 3, and different back-cover colour portraits of the conductor.

The German firm Audite has given us not only this near complete live cycle of Mahler symphonies (sans 4 or 8), but valuable Kubelik/Curzon readings of four Mozart and two Beethoven concertos. Of particular interest here is 'Das Lied von der Erde', since Kubelik did not record it for DG. Janet Baker fans will welcome a third CD version: and she sounds truly inspired by her conductor. 'Der Einsame im Herbst' may not have the sheer beauty of the version with Haitink but the finale surpasses most on records, with a real sense of the transcendental at the close. Kmentt too makes the most of his words; and the reedy Munich winds suit this score.

Recorded between 1967 and 1971, Kubelik’s DG cycle has been at budget price for some time now and the Audite alternatives of 1, 5 and 7 have been in the shops for months. The NHK-recorded Ninth, made during a 1975 Tokyo visit by the Bavarian RSO, was reviewed in CRC, Spring 2001 (I found the sound unfocused and the brass pinched in sound, but welcomed in particular playing ‘ablaze’ after the visionary episode in the Rondo burleske and a crowning final). No. 1 in DG is widely admired but this 1979 version is more poetic still, wonderfully so in the introduction and trio at (II). There is something of a pall of resonance in place of applause, cut from all these Audite transfers. In No. 7 the balance is more airy than DG’s multi-miked productions, and (as in No. 5) Kubelik sounds less constrained than when working under studio conditions, although rhythm in the opening bars of (II) goes awry and the very opening note is succeeded by a sneeze! The disturbing and more shadowy extremes are more vividly characterized, the finale a riotous display.

Some critics feel that Kubelik gives us ‘Mahler-lite’, which may seem in comparison with, say, Chailly’s Decca cycle or the recent BPO/Abbado Third on DG – not to mention Bernstein’s. But there is plenty of energy here, and the divided strings with basses set to the rear left give openness to textures. However, the strings are not opulent and the trumpets are often piercing. It would be fair to say that Kubelik conducted Mahler as if it were Mozart!

As it happens, in the most controversial of his readings, No. 6, the DG is preferable to the Audite, where Kubelik projects little empathy with its slow movement and where the Scherzo is less cohesive. The real problem is that the very fast speed for (I) affects ail subsequent tempo relationships. Nor does the finale on No. 3, one of the glories of the DG cycle, quite have the same radiance; the singers are the same, the Tölz Boys making a sound one imagines Mahler must have heard in his head, and this performance predates the DG by one month. Nevertheless, these newer issues of Nos 2 and 3 are worth hearing, the ‘Resurrection’ not least for Brigitte Fassbaender’s account of ‘Urlicht’.

Nowadays every orchestra visiting London seems to programme Mahler’s Fifth Symphony as a showpiece, but in 1951 (when Bruno Walter’s 78rpm set was the collector’s only choice) a performance would surely have been uncommon even at the Concertgebouw – Mengelberg was prohibited from conducting in Holland from 1946 until he died that year. Although the start of (V) is marred by horns, this is an interesting, well executed account with a weightier sound, from what one can surmise through the inevitable dimness – the last note of (I) is almost inaudible. The three versions vary sufficiently to quote true timings (none is given by Tahra): (I) 11m 34s/12m 39s/11m 35s (Tahra/Audite/DG); (II) 13m/14m 52s/13m 52s; (III) 15m 56s/17m 54s/17m 23s; (IV) 9m 24s/10m 24s/9mm 44s); (V) 14m 26s/14m 57s/15m 29s. The live Munich version is tidier than on DG; the spectral imagery in (III) is heavier in effect, too; and in the Adagietto the dynamic and phrasing shadings and poetic quality of the string playing also give the live performance the edge. Towards the end of the finale, and elsewhere, the engineers reduced dynamic levels.

Tahra’s booklet comprises an untidily set-out synopsis of Kubelik’s career. Audite’s have full descriptions of the works with text for Nos 2 and 3, and different back-cover colour portraits of the conductor.

Audite is in the process of assembling a complete Mahler cycle with Kubelík and the Bavarian RSO from radio relays. So far the recordings date across a period of 15 years‚ with this Das Lied von der Erde‚ broadcast in February 1970‚ among the earliest. Kubelík’s Mahler is heard here at its most typical‚ so much at ease with the sound­world and tempo of the music that other conductors can seem heavy­ handed by comparison. It is at the other extreme from the explosive collision of emotions that makes Bernstein’s recordings so intense and choppy: Kubelík is natural‚ easy­going‚ fresh in his delight at the score’s exquisite detail. Although the poems of Das Lied refer to several seasons‚ this performance surely belongs to the spring‚ when ‘the dear earth everywhere blooms… and grows green again’. Waldemar Kmentt is strong and sure in the tenor songs but rather pedestrian. There is not much sense of wide­eyed wonder at the arrival of spring or uninhibited hedonism as the wine is being poured. Dame Janet Baker already features on several other recordings‚ including a live broadcast on BBC Legends‚ but no two of her performances of this work were the same. Here‚ in 1970‚ she sings with much pure‚ vocal beauty and a desire for intimacy that is remarkable in a large concert­hall. In the second song the close to each rising phrase is beautifully handled. The fourth song is graceful‚ though less sensuous than on her Philips recording under Haitink. In the final ‘Abschied’ the voice truly sails ‘wie eine Silberbarke’ on hushed legato lines shimmering with intensity.

Some may prefer to stick with studio recordings of Das Lied‚ where the orchestra has had the luxury of extra takes to polish every detail‚ but there are no complaints about the Bavarian orchestra here. There are also a few studio recordings (Karajan and the Solti among them) that perform technical somersaults to end up with a recorded balance less satisfying than here.

Deutsche Gramophon ne permit pas à Kubelik d’enregistrer « Le Chant de la terre », qui aurait constitué le point d’orgue de son cycle Mahler ; la firme hambourgeoise avait confié l’œuvre en 1962 à Jochum (sa seule gravure mahlérienne) et au Concertgebouw, avec Merriman et Haefliger. Dans ce concert de février 1970, Kubelik, selon un parti pris qu’il soutint tout au long de son intégrale, refuse tout pathos, tout morbidité ; il expose la partition en pleine lumière, radiographiant les mises en abyme de l’orchestre mahlérien avec une précision expressive qui donne le vertige. A ce titre, le vaste interlude du lied ultime est exemplaire par sa parfaite limpidité ; l’émotion qu’il dégage ne provient pas d’une surcharge d’affect (comme chez Bernstein ou Walter) mais d’un regard lucide, implacable et néanmoins compatissant.

Porté par cet orchestre éclairé, l’alto de Baker ose un chant rayonnant, débarrassé de toute tentation d’assombrir le timbre (ce qu’elle réussissait admirablement avec Haitink, Philips), magnifié par une petite harmonie et des violons tenus par la direction sostenuto de Kubelik, qui semble omniprésente dans toutes les pupitres de l’orchestre, à tous les instants, distillant une immense musique du chambre. Kmentt, en grande voix, tranchant, héroïque, impressionne durablement et ne pâlit ni devant la beauté absolue de Wunderlich ni devant le « sprechgesang » enflammé de Patzak. Dans la plénitude de son geste, Kubelik entend « Le Chant de la terre » comme une partition ouverture sur l’avenir, tournant les dos aux vastes thrènes funèbres des grandes versions de l’œuvre, sentimentaux et étreignant (Walter, Bernstein, Haitink), minéraux et tragiques (Reiner, Klemperer). Il renouvelle totalement notre vision d’une partition-clé du début du siècle.

Do you remember the 1960s? A time before Mahler symphony series were two-a-penny, when conductors like Abravanel, Bernstein, Haitink and Solti vied to be the first to complete the intégrale on LP (not that any of them would have thought of including Deryck Cooke's performing version of the Tenth)? Rafael Kubelik's ground-breaking DG cycle was generally (though not universally) rated a highlight of his period as chief conductor of the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra (1961-79). More recently, the conductor's Mahlerian credentials have been boosted by the appearance of some memorable live concert relays, including a quite outstanding (albeit repeat-shy) account of the First Symphony and a Fifth full of insight (Audite, 4/00). I cannot say that the present release holds comparable interest. Its source is a well-preserved, bass-light Bavarian Radio tape dating from the same period as DG's studio sessions. Hence it offers neither an alternative interpretative slant on the work nor even a radically different sonic experience.

True, the conductor excels himself in the slow movement. Here you'll find the luminous string tone, natural pacing and inner simplicity of his best work, along with sonic unvarnished wind and brass playing. (Don't forget how unfamiliar this music must have been at the time: the Sixth had to wait until 1966 for its French première). The eccentric booklet notes tell us that this Andante moderato 'takes off the stifling corset that prevents one from breathing freely in the other movements'. This isn't - I think - meant to allude to Kubelik's brisk, inflexible pacing, but I found such an approach problematical, particularly in the first two movements where expressive contrasts are consistently underplayed. Given the overall timing shown above, you may be surprised to discover that Kubelik does in fact make the first movement repeat. Only Neeme Järvi races through the music marked Allegro energico via non troppo (but never mind the qualifier) - at quite such a lick. And although Bernstein runs them close, his famously neurotic march has a rhythmic certainty and an alertness to detail and nuance that elude Kubelik in his headlong dash across country. The generalised élan of the finale is rather undermined by the fluffs and false entries, while its coda serves as an unlikely showcase for brass timbre of a more distinctive and regional variety than is beard from this source today. All in all, a bit of a gabble but a gift for confirmed Kubelik fanciers.

chinesische Rezension siehe PDF

According to the booklet that accompanies this release, Audite has released an almost-complete cycle of the Mahler Symphonies conducted by Maestro Kubelik (only the Fourth and Eighth are missing). They are all live recordings, made between 1967 and 1982. The orchestra is the Bavarian Radio Symphony, with whom Kubelik was closely associated and with whom he made a memorable Mahler cycle for DG between 1967 and 1971.

In fact, the performance on this disc would appear to be a concert performance that directly preceded the recording made for DG. It was Kubelik's practice to perform the Symphonies in concert and then to go into the studio (in this case, the same venue as the concert: Munich's Herkulessaal) and record the work for release on disc.

It should come as no surprise, then, that the two performances are nearly identical. The DG version has gained a few seconds per movement, but the differences are negligible. Most noticeable is the slightly more expansive development of the first movement, especially in the ethereal "mountain air" music. Orchestral definition is somewhat clearer on DG too, while there is the occasional lapse in ensemble and intonation on Audite that one forgives in a live performance.

As for the performance, it features many of the attractive characteristics of Kubelik's Mahler. His was a dynamic but somewhat understated approach, mostly free of Bernstein hyperbole and less purely driven than Solti. He shared with Haitink both emotional neutrality and the ability to bring clarity to Mahler's contradictory nature. His Sixth begins in an almost frantic manner with an unnecessary accelerando, but it is certainly energetic; the aforementioned development is atmospheric and is a perfect contrast to the relentlessness of the march. The second movement is possessed of much the same energy, but is leavened with whimsy. Not surprisingly, the Andante is starkly beautiful without being schmaltzy.

The finale strikes a balance between the expressionistic episodes, the mountain reminiscences, and the almost manic attempts to forestall the inevitable. The hammer blows (there are two) are not sharp or dry sounding, but the cowbells and celesta are perfect. The final chord is shattering and well judged.

This release would appear to be superfluous were it not for the fact that Kubelik’s DG recording is available only as part of his complete set, albeit at bargain price. This performance may be no match for the precision of Boulez or the emotional commitment of Tennstedt, and it lacks the overall mastery of Zander. But it is historically important, since it documents the work of a gifted second-generation Mahlerian.

Von Rafael Kubelíks Studio-Zyklus aller Mahler-Sinfonien hieß es oft, er betone die böhmische Seite der Musik – ein allzu billiges Rezeptionsklischee. Kubelík betrachtet Mahler weder ausschließlich durch die Dvorák-Brille, noch verharmlost er ihn folkloristisch. Wie eigenständig seine Mahler-Sicht war, zeigen die bei Audite erscheinenden Mitschnitte aus den 1960er und 1970er Jahren, die als erstaunlich frisch klingende Seitenstücke zum technisch betagten Studio-Zyklus gelten können.

Offenkundig handelt es sich bei den Sinfonien Nr. 3 und Nr. 6 um Aufzeichnungen der Konzerte, die den DG-Aufnahmen vorangingen. Man erlebt alle Höhen und Tiefen von Live-Produktionen: kleinere Patzer und eine im Eifer des Gefechts mitunter nivellierte Dynamik, dafür aber mitreißende Spannungsbögen und eine Natürlichkeit der vorwärts drängenden Agogik, die ihresgleichen sucht. So gehört die „Feurig“ überschriebene Passage im Finale der Sechsten (ab 12’58’’) zu den atemberaubendsten Beispielen eines virtuos-enthemmten Orchesterspiels. Eine fast fatalistische Sogkraft scheint die Musik in ihren Strudel zu ziehen, auch im Andante gönnt Kubelík dem Hörer keine Oase der Entrückung.

Ausgeglichener und überragend in seiner großräumigen Disposition wirkt der Mitschnitt der Dritten, der in jedem Moment von der Persönlichkeit des Dirigenten durchdrungen scheint. Kaum ein Detail bleibt da unausgeleuchtet, und allenfalls das zu grobschlächtige Blech trübt bisweilen das Hochgefühl dieser beeindruckenden Aufführung.

Collectors who like to keep a chamber of horrors in their CD library must not be without Scherchen’s live Mahler Five. Did the Philadelphians know what they were in for when they finally lured the 73-year-old conductor over to America to give the work its first performance in its illustrious concert series? They got not only Scherchen’s extremes of fast and slow, but a scherzo where the second waltz strain becomes a lethargic trio, the opening is repeated and the rest disappears until the coda, and a finale with a further 200-odd bars missing (for which the hagiographic booklet note fails to prepare us). Scherchen is invariably master of the mess he makes, but the opening trumpet solo is a disaster and the strings can barely be heard in the dismal Philadelphia acoustics. What a relief, then, to turn to Kubelík conducting the Sixth in Munich four years later. This is a performance of consistent headlong intensity, an inch or two more hair-raising than Kubelík’s DG studio recording made the same month, and only relaxing at the still centre of the Andante: not perhaps for those who want to be clubbed over the head by Mahler’s marches or scared out of their wits, but decidedly the work of a flexible genius among conductors.

Volet central de la grande trilogie instrumentale mahlérienne, la Sixième Symphonie (1903-1904) diffère fort de ses jeux voisines: la plus grande symphonie tragique de tous les temps est aussi la plus strictement classique de form de tout les symphonies de Mahler. Par le fait même de sublimer la forme sonate et la dialectique thématique allant de pair, la Sixième proclame en quelque sorte leur fin, ou du moins l'impossibilité momentanée d'y revenir. Alternance
rapide d'ombres et de lumières débouchant en catastrophe sur le néant, son gigantesque finale évite la grandiloquence malgré son volume sonore, et l'anecdotique malgré sa durée. Le rythme général des formes s'y apparente à un traitement abrupt des tonalités qui permet une meilleure différenciation plastique des plans harmoniques entre eux. Dans de nombreux passages éclate brusquement un ton de suvageric panique. Mahler n'oubliera jamais dans ses oeuvres ultérieures ce qu'il a accompli dans sa Sixième Symphonie: une lumière particulière braquée sur les contours, l'usage de bizarres, de combinaisons paradoxales de forte et de piano, et surtout une tendance du contrepoint à produire d'inattendues dissonances s'alliant à la polarité majeur-mineur (les contrepoints adoptant le mode opposé à celui des harmonies qui les accompagnent).

En complet accord avec la psychologie dramatique de Mahler, Rafael Kubelik dans cet enregistrement « live » du 6 décembre 1968 à la tête d'un Orchestre de la Radio bavaroise chauffé à blanc évite la grandiloquence, malgré une rare intensité et l'irruption d'outrances dont la grandeur dépasse toute négativité. Comme dans de remarquables Cinquième, Septième et Neuvième Symphonies et de splendides Première (« Choc ») et Deuxième (idem) précédemment parues, Kubelik dans ce cycle de concerts inédits Mahler/Radio bavaroise se montre plus libre, plus interrogatif, plus fascinant que dans sa version de studio « officielle », réalisée pourtant à la même époque (DG). Assez éloigné du romantisme déchirant de Bernstein/New York 1 (Sony, 1967), Neumann/Gewandhaus (Berlin Classics, 1966) et Karajan/Berlin (DG, 1977) comme de la clarté analytique de Szell/Claveland (Sony, « live » 1967) et Boulez/Vienne (DG, 1994) ou de la beauté des couleurs de Haitink/Berlin (Philipps, 1989), Kubelik, à partir d'une économie sel serrée des contrastes, et des gradations dynamiques, renforce le sentiment d'unité architecturale tout en magnifiant la « pureté de glace » (Schoenberg) de l'orchestre de la Sixième et en tirant un profit maximal des rares paliers de détente pour mieux assumer les soixante-treize minutes de tension émotionnelle. Tout en soulignant les nuances et les aspérités avec une rare urgence dramatique, il impose une vision à la force hymnique irradiante.

Weiche Weiten zwischen zwei exzellenten Mahler-Interpretationen liegen können, zeigen diese zwei Einspielungen unter Kubelik und Gielen.

In der live im Müncher Herkules-Saal gemachten Aufnahme peitscht Kubelik sein Orchester stringent und fanatisch durch die Symphonie, mit einem dramatischen und spannungsgeladenen 'Straight forward'-Musizieren, das streckenweise einen atemlos ekstatischen Charakter annimmt. Diese Unerbittlichkeit resultiert denn auch in schnellen 74 Minuten, welche die insgesamt sehr packend gespielte Symphonie bei Kubelik dauert, während der bedächtige Gielen ganze 10 Minuten mehr braucht. Ein enormer Unterschied!

Gielen macht natürlich weitaus mehr Musik hörbar als Kubelik und erzielt eine ebenfalls starke und ergreifende, ja sogar Frösteln auslösende Spannung aus der intellektuellen Durchdringung heraus und aus einem überaus nuancierten Spiel.

Das Schicksal schlägt bei Gielen ganz anders zu als bei Kubelik, hintergründiger, schauriger und mit ausladend großer Wucht. Und es reflektiert die Mahler-Musik nachfolgend in Bergs prächtig resalisierten 'Drei Orchesterstücken', die im Anschluss erklingen, vor dem Andante aus Schuberts 10. Symphonie, das Brian Newbould nach den 1978 gefundenen Skizzen Schuberts fertig stellte. Gielen dirigiert den Klagegesang sehr emotional, gefühlsintensiver jedenfalls als Mahlers Sechste und Bergs Orchesterstücke und setzt so einen ergreifenden Schlusspunkt hinter Musik, deren dämonischen Charakter er zwingend umsetzt.

De Mahler-interpretaties van Rafael Kubelik zijn de voorbije jaren wat in de verdrukking gekomen. Alle aandacht ging naar Haitink, Chailly, Rattie en Boulez. Gelukkig duiken er in sommige archieven hier en daar pareltjes op. In '82 leidde Kubelik dit Beierse orkest doorheen die moeilijke tweede van Mahler. Een reus van een symfonie waar je als dirigent veel verkeerd kan mee doen. Maar Kubelik is niet aan zijn proefstuk toe. Geen grootspraak hier, geen opgeklopte pseudo-religiositeit. De naaktheid van de muziek primeert. En de naaktheid van de mens. Edith Mathis en Brigitte Fassbaender krijgen zelfs de straatstenen aan het huilen. Alleen door.die conironterende naaktheid kan de muziek van Mahler uitgroeien tot muziek die een spiegel is voor de ziel. Je vergeet wie zingt, wie dirigeert, wie speelt ... je hoort Mahler. En ziet jezelf. Een opname om in te kaderen.

This 1982 concert performance is not to be confused with Kubelik\'s 1969 studio recording with the same orchestra, chorus, and soprano.

The interpretations are quite similar. Both stick closely to the score, though in both versions, Kubelik ignores many of Mahler\'s detailed notations: caesuras in I, long-held horn notes in V, etc. The only significant changes in tempo are in I, III, and V. The 1982 I is about a minute longer than the 1969; the 1982 III is about 1:20 longer, and the 1982 V is about two minutes longer. The total for 1969 is 76:18, for 1982 80:00. Both are well played and rather straightforward and earnest rather than exciting.

Soprano Edith Mathis is excellent in the 1969, and a shade less so in the 1982. Both contraltos are excellent, with Norma Procter more angelic (1969) and Fassbaender more ardent. In 1969 Kubelik has the basses slow down somewhat and then accelerate in the fourth measure of I. He does not repeat that sin in 1982. The bells at the end of the symphony are reasonably audible in 1982, but next to inaudible in 1969. Sonics in both are good; the 1969 crisper and brighter, the 1982 warmer, with better low frequencies. There is a production slip in this one: Mahler wanted III, IV, and V played without pause. That is impossible here, because III is on one disc and IV and V on the other. The timings are such that III, IV, and V could have been accommodated on one disc.

If you have the 1969 recording, I do not think you need to acquire the 1982. If you like Kubelik\'s way with Mahler and do not have his Second, the 1969 seems to be deleted.

Als Rafael Kubelik 1982 Mahlers zweite Symphonie dirigierte, war er 68 Jahre alt. Seit seiner Studioeinspielung des Werkes für die ‚Deutsche Grammophon’ waren über 12 Jahre vergangen. Und das hört man auf sehr interessante Weise. An Farben hat Kubeliks Mahler nichts verloren, wohl aber an Schärfe und Feuer. Die Intensität des Ausdrucks liegt in dieser Interpretation anderswo: der Atem wechselt zwischen Ruhe und Unruhe, zwischen Angst und Schrecken und vertrauensvollem Glauben. So zeugt Kubelik eine ergreifende Zweite voller überraschender Momente, besonders was die Dynamik anbelangt. In seinem Bemühen um eine derart differenzierende Spielweise wird der Dirigent vom Symphonieorchester des BR und den beiden herausragenden Solistinnen denkbar gut unterstützt.

Im August jährt sich der Todestag von Rafael Kubelik zum fünften Mal. Die kleine, aber feine Schallplattenfirma audite pflegt sein Andenken besonders, indem sie kontinuierlich Rundfunkmitschnitte des bedeutenden Dirigenten erstmals auf Tonträger präsentiert. Gregor Willmes hat die bei audite erschienenen Mahler-Aufnahmen mit denen der legendären Gesamteinspielung für die Deutsche Grammophon verglichen.

Der Durchbruch Gustav Mahlers fand nicht im Konzertsaal statt. Zwar gab es nach seinem Tod einige Dirigenten, die wie Willem Mengelberg, Otto Klemperer und Bruno Walter Mahler noch kennen gelernt hatten und sich nachdrücklich auch im Konzertsaal für seine Sinfonien einsetzten. Doch verdankt Mahler mit Sicherheit seine Popularität zum großen Teil der Stereo-Schallplatte. Seine Sinfonien schienen wie geschaffen dazu, die Möglichkeiten der Studio-Technik darzustellen. So klingen die riesigen Sinfonien auf Tonträger oftmals sogar transparenter, als sie es im Konzertsaal je vermögen.

Leonard Bernstein war der erste, der Mitte der 60er Jahre mit dem New York Philharmonic für CBS (heute Sony) eine Gesamtaufnahme der Mahlerschen Sinfonien schuf, allerdings ohne das Adagio der unvollendeten Zehnten. Ihm folgte Rafael Kubelik, der mit dem Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks zwischen 1967 und 1971 im Herkules-Saal der Münchener Residenz alle Neune und den Adagio-Satz der Zehnten aufzeichnen ließ. Nur kurze Zeit später erschienen noch Gesamtaufnahmen von Bernard Haitink (Philips) und Georg Solti (Decca).

Ingo Harden zog im Dezember 1971 im Fono Form folgendes Fazit bezüglich der Kubelik-Aufnahmen: "Alles in allem: Der zweite vollständige Mahler-Zyklus hat in der Reihe der Mahler-Interpretationen der Gegenwart sein durchaus eigenes Profil, da sich von Bernsteins Aufnahmen durch ein Weniger an Leidenschaft und Pathos, ein Mehr an orchestraler Detailarbeit, einen helleren Grundton und eine emotional mehr den Mittelkurs haltende Darstellung unterscheidet." Harden stellte das Bild von Kubeliks "böhmischen Musikantentum" infrage, ohne es ganz abzustreiten, lobte darüber hinaus besonders die "sehr subtil und genau alle Klangfarben der Partituren aufschlüsselnden Aufführungen". In beidem ist Harden wohl Recht zu geben, wobei man nach meinem Dafürhalten allerdings Kubeliks tschechischen Wurzeln auch nicht unterschätzen soll, obwohl er sich (worauf Francis Drésel in seinem Aufsatz "Rafael Kubelik - Musiker und Poet" überzeugend hingewiesen hat) wie Mahler nach und nach "germanisiert" hat.

Rafael Kubelik wurde am 29. Juni 1914 in Bychorie bei Prag als Sohn des berühmten Geigen-Virtuosen Jan Kubelik geboren. Er studierte am Konservatorium in Prag Geige, Klavier, Dirigieren und Komposition. Er zählte also zu jener Kategorie von Mahler-Dirigenten, die wie Furtwängler und Klemperer oder wie später Bernstein und Boulez auch als Komponisten hervorgetreten sind. Das lässt vielleicht einerseits besser verstehen, warum Kubelik die musikalischen Zusammen hänge in Mahlers komplexen Sinfonien so einleuchtend darstellen konnte. Andererseits sagt das Komponisten-Dasein allein wieder auch nicht so viel über den Interpretationsstil aus, wenn man etwa an die Unterschiede zwischen Bernsteins expressivem und Boulez' analytischem Zugriff auf Mahler denkt.

Rafael Kubelik lernte Mahlers Sinfonien bereits in seiner Jugend in Prag kennen, zumeist dirigiert von Vaclav Talich,
aber auch von Gastdirigenten wie Bruno Walter, Otto Klemperer und Erich Kleiber. Für Kleibers Aufführung von Mahlers siebter Sinfonie leitete der 24-jährige Kubelik 1938 sogar die ersten Proben mit der Tschechischen Philharmonie.

Schnell machte Kubelik Karriere: 1939 wurde er Musikdirektor der Oper in Brünn, 1942 Leiter der Tschechischen Philharmonie. Später übernahm er Chefpositionen beim Chicago Symphony Orchestra und an den Opernhäusern Covent Garden London und Metropolitan New York. Seine zweite Heimat - nach Prag - wurde allerdings München, wo er von 1961 bis 1971 als Chefdirigent und noch bis 1985 als regelmäßiger Gast das Orchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks zu außergewöhnlichen Erfolgen führte.

Laut Erich Mauermann, dem damaligen Orchesterdirektor, war Kubelik der erste Dirigent der in München einen kompletten Mahler-Zyklus durchführte. Da er Mahlers Werke immer wieder auf den Spielplan setzte, sind einige Konzertmitschnitte erhalten, die jetzt nach und nach bei audite auf CD erscheinen. Friedrich Mauermann, Bruder von Erich Mauermann und mittlerweile in den Ruhestand getretener Ex-Chef von audite Schallplatten, hat die Reihe initiiert und dabei auf das Archiv des Bayerischen Rundfunks zurückgegriffen. Bei den Sinfonien eins, zwei und fünf hatte er sogar jeweils die Auswahl zwischen zwei verschiedenen Mitschnitten. "Wenn mehrere Aufnahmen derselben Sinfonie vorhanden waren", so Mauermann, "habe ich immer die jüngere genommen. Einerseits wegen des besseren Klangbildes, andererseits wegen der musikalischen Qualität. Die Gesamtzeiten der jüngeren Aufnahmen sind generell länger als die der älteren. Die Musik atmet mehr."

Die bisher veröffentlichten Mitschnitte der Sinfonien eins, zwei, fünf, sieben und neun stammen aus den Jahren 1975 und 1982 und wurden bis auf die neunte alle im Münchner Herkules Saal aufgenommen. Folgen sollen noch Mitschnitte der Sinfonien drei (1967) und sechs (1968), ebenfalls aus dem Herkules-Saal.

Somit stammen die bis jetzt vorliegenden Aufnahmen aus einer Zeit, die nach den Grammophon-Aufnahmen liegt. Und sucht man nach grundsätzlichen interpretatorischen Unterschieden, so stößt man zuerst auf die von Mauermann erwähnten langsameren Tempi der späteren Fassungen. Die "beiläufige" Schnelligkeit, die man den DG-Einspielungen bisweilen vorgeworfen hat, sind abgelegt. Vor allem in den Adagio- und Andante-Sätzen wählt Kubelik in späteren Jahren langsamere Tempi, beispielsweise im dritten Satz der ersten Sinfonie, aufgenommen am 2. November 1979. "Feierlich und gemessen, ohne zu schleppen" lautet die Satzbezeichnung, die Kubelik genau beachtet. Wunderbar baut er die Spannung auf, spielt das Crescendo aus, das allein durch das ständige Hinzutreten neuer Instrumente erreicht wird. Das Oboensolo ist überaus deutlich phrasiert, bildet im betonten Staccato einen Kontrapunkt zum Legato der Streicher. Das Parodistische des Satzes ist wesentlich besser getroffen als in der DG-Einspielung. Auch das "Ziemlich langsam" (Ziffer 5) wirkt in sich schlüssiger, man meint auf einmal einen Spielmannszug oder eine Klezmer-Kapelle zu hören.

Herrlich sind auch die ersten beiden Sätze des audite-Mitschnitts gelungen: "Wie ein Naturlaut" - kaum ein Dirigent
dürfte Mahlers Vorstellungen beim Beginn des ersten Satzes wohl so gut getroffen haben wie Kubelik in diesem Konzert. Dass die Stelle hier wesentlich überzeugender wirkt als in der DG-Einspielung, liegt auch in der Aufnahmetechnik begründet. Bei der Grammophon klingen die Stimmen isolierter, in der späteren Rundfunk-Aufnahme verschmelzen sie stärker: Das mindert etwas den analytischen Ansatz, verstärkt jedoch die Unmittelbarkeit der Naturstimmung. Hinzu kommt, dass das Orchester, besonders die Bläser, in der späteren Aufnahme noch souveräner wirken als in der ersten. Dass es sich um einen Konzertmitschnitt handelt, geht nirgendwo auf Kosten der künstlerischen Qualität. Das spricht für eine intensive Probenarbeit.

Die wesentlich bessere Aufnahmetechnik ist übrigens ein Charakteristikum, das fast alle audite-Produktionen auszeichnet. Die Konzertmitschnitte besitzen mehr räumliche Tiefe. Während die DG-Aufnahmen sehr auf Transparenz bedacht sind und immer wieder einzelne Instrumente oder Gruppen nach vorn ziehen, meint man bei den Rundfunkmitschnitten, wirklich ein Orchester im Saal der Residenz zu erleben. Und die Live-Aufnahme der neunten Sinfonie aus Tokios Bunka Kaikan Concert Hall klingt im Vergleich deutlich flacher als die Münchner Aufnahmen.

Was Kubeliks Mahler-Aufnahmen auch noch denen bei audite - gelegentlich fehlt, das ist die mitreißende Kraft, mit der sich etwa Bernstein in die schnellen Sätze warf. Das Finale der ersten Sinfonie ("Stürmisch bewegt") beispielsweise oder der zweite Satz der ansonsten interpretatorisch überzeugenden fünften ("Stürmisch bewegt, mit größer Vehemenz") weisen in dieser Hinsicht Defizite auf.

Den stärksten Eindruck der audite-Mitschnitte hinterlassen nicht zufällig jene Sinfonien, die solche Satzcharaktere
weitesgehend aussparen: die zweite und die siebte Sinfonie. So war der 8. Oktober 1982 ein wirklicher Glückstag für die Geschichte der Mahler-Interpretation. Denn Kubelik dirigierte die zweite an diesem Tag wie aus einem Guss: Alles fließt, nichts wirkt forciert im Allegro maestoso. Ein ungemein feinsinniges, schwereloses Musizieren zeichnet das Andante aus. Herrlich setzt Kubelik das Scherzo um. Das böhmisch-mährische Musikantentum - dem Ingo Harden einst so zweifelnd gegenüberstand - ist hier prächtig zu finden. Die Fischpredigt hält Kubelik leider nicht ganz so ironisch wie Bernstein. Dafür hat er mit Brigitte Fassbaender einen Alt, der das "Röschen rot" mit hinreißendem Timbre und klarer, sinnhaltiger Artikulation versieht. Im hervorragend gesteigerten Finale bilden Edith Mathis und Brigitte Fassbaender ein Traumpaar.

Genauso überragend ist die gerade auf CD erschienene siebte Sinfonie gestaltet. Sehr organisch meisterte Kubelik am 5. Februar 1976 die ständigen Tempowechsel im ersten Satz. Zauberhaft, dunkel getönt kommen die Nachtmusiken auf CD daher. Das Scherzo nimmt von Anfang an gefangen und lässt den Hörer nicht mehr los. Selbst das apotheotische Finale, mit dem viele Dirigenten Probleme haben, klingt bei Kubelik sinnvoll. Das Pathos wirkt nicht übertrieben, aber die Zuversicht bleibt.

Fazit: Mit diesen Mahler-Veröffentlichungen ist audite ein großer Wurf gelungen. Und wer bei Kubelik auf den Geschmack gekommen ist, der kann bei demselben Label auch noch hervorragende Mitschnitte von Beethoven- und vor allem Mozart-Konzerten bekommen, die Clifford Curzon mit dem Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks unter Kubelik in der Residenz gegeben hat. Aber Clifford Curzon ist schon wieder ein Thema für sich.

Im August jährt sich der Todestag von Rafael Kubelik zum fünften Mal. Die kleine, aber feine Schallplattenfirma audite pflegt sein Andenken besonders, indem sie kontinuierlich Rundfunkmitschnitte des bedeutenden Dirigenten erstmals auf Tonträger präsentiert. Gregor Willmes hat die bei audite erschienenen Mahler-Aufnahmen mit denen der legendären Gesamteinspielung für die Deutsche Grammophon verglichen.

Der Durchbruch Gustav Mahlers fand nicht im Konzertsaal statt. Zwar gab es nach seinem Tod einige Dirigenten, die wie Willem Mengelberg, Otto Klemperer und Bruno Walter Mahler noch kennen gelernt hatten und sich nachdrücklich auch im Konzertsaal für seine Sinfonien einsetzten. Doch verdankt Mahler mit Sicherheit seine Popularität zum großen Teil der Stereo-Schallplatte. Seine Sinfonien schienen wie geschaffen dazu, die Möglichkeiten der Studio-Technik darzustellen. So klingen die riesigen Sinfonien auf Tonträger oftmals sogar transparenter, als sie es im Konzertsaal je vermögen.

Leonard Bernstein war der erste, der Mitte der 60er Jahre mit dem New York Philharmonic für CBS (heute Sony) eine Gesamtaufnahme der Mahlerschen Sinfonien schuf, allerdings ohne das Adagio der unvollendeten Zehnten. Ihm folgte Rafael Kubelik, der mit dem Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks zwischen 1967 und 1971 im Herkules-Saal der Münchener Residenz alle Neune und den Adagio-Satz der Zehnten aufzeichnen ließ. Nur kurze Zeit später erschienen noch Gesamtaufnahmen von Bernard Haitink (Philips) und Georg Solti (Decca).

Ingo Harden zog im Dezember 1971 im Fono Form folgendes Fazit bezüglich der Kubelik-Aufnahmen: "Alles in allem: Der zweite vollständige Mahler-Zyklus hat in der Reihe der Mahler-Interpretationen der Gegenwart sein durchaus eigenes Profil, da sich von Bernsteins Aufnahmen durch ein Weniger an Leidenschaft und Pathos, ein Mehr an orchestraler Detailarbeit, einen helleren Grundton und eine emotional mehr den Mittelkurs haltende Darstellung unterscheidet." Harden stellte das Bild von Kubeliks "böhmischen Musikantentum" infrage, ohne es ganz abzustreiten, lobte darüber hinaus besonders die "sehr subtil und genau alle Klangfarben der Partituren aufschlüsselnden Aufführungen". In beidem ist Harden wohl Recht zu geben, wobei man nach meinem Dafürhalten allerdings Kubeliks tschechischen Wurzeln auch nicht unterschätzen soll, obwohl er sich (worauf Francis Drésel in seinem Aufsatz "Rafael Kubelik - Musiker und Poet" überzeugend hingewiesen hat) wie Mahler nach und nach "germanisiert" hat.

Rafael Kubelik wurde am 29. Juni 1914 in Bychorie bei Prag als Sohn des berühmten Geigen-Virtuosen Jan Kubelik geboren. Er studierte am Konservatorium in Prag Geige, Klavier, Dirigieren und Komposition. Er zählte also zu jener Kategorie von Mahler-Dirigenten, die wie Furtwängler und Klemperer oder wie später Bernstein und Boulez auch als Komponisten hervorgetreten sind. Das lässt vielleicht einerseits besser verstehen, warum Kubelik die musikalischen Zusammen hänge in Mahlers komplexen Sinfonien so einleuchtend darstellen konnte. Andererseits sagt das Komponisten-Dasein allein wieder auch nicht so viel über den Interpretationsstil aus, wenn man etwa an die Unterschiede zwischen Bernsteins expressivem und Boulez' analytischem Zugriff auf Mahler denkt.

Rafael Kubelik lernte Mahlers Sinfonien bereits in seiner Jugend in Prag kennen, zumeist dirigiert von Vaclav Talich,
aber auch von Gastdirigenten wie Bruno Walter, Otto Klemperer und Erich Kleiber. Für Kleibers Aufführung von Mahlers siebter Sinfonie leitete der 24-jährige Kubelik 1938 sogar die ersten Proben mit der Tschechischen Philharmonie.

Schnell machte Kubelik Karriere: 1939 wurde er Musikdirektor der Oper in Brünn, 1942 Leiter der Tschechischen Philharmonie. Später übernahm er Chefpositionen beim Chicago Symphony Orchestra und an den Opernhäusern Covent Garden London und Metropolitan New York. Seine zweite Heimat - nach Prag - wurde allerdings München, wo er von 1961 bis 1971 als Chefdirigent und noch bis 1985 als regelmäßiger Gast das Orchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks zu außergewöhnlichen Erfolgen führte.

Laut Erich Mauermann, dem damaligen Orchesterdirektor, war Kubelik der erste Dirigent der in München einen kompletten Mahler-Zyklus durchführte. Da er Mahlers Werke immer wieder auf den Spielplan setzte, sind einige Konzertmitschnitte erhalten, die jetzt nach und nach bei audite auf CD erscheinen. Friedrich Mauermann, Bruder von Erich Mauermann und mittlerweile in den Ruhestand getretener Ex-Chef von audite Schallplatten, hat die Reihe initiiert und dabei auf das Archiv des Bayerischen Rundfunks zurückgegriffen. Bei den Sinfonien eins, zwei und fünf hatte er sogar jeweils die Auswahl zwischen zwei verschiedenen Mitschnitten. "Wenn mehrere Aufnahmen derselben Sinfonie vorhanden waren", so Mauermann, "habe ich immer die jüngere genommen. Einerseits wegen des besseren Klangbildes, andererseits wegen der musikalischen Qualität. Die Gesamtzeiten der jüngeren Aufnahmen sind generell länger als die der älteren. Die Musik atmet mehr."

Die bisher veröffentlichten Mitschnitte der Sinfonien eins, zwei, fünf, sieben und neun stammen aus den Jahren 1975 und 1982 und wurden bis auf die neunte alle im Münchner Herkules Saal aufgenommen. Folgen sollen noch Mitschnitte der Sinfonien drei (1967) und sechs (1968), ebenfalls aus dem Herkules-Saal.

Somit stammen die bis jetzt vorliegenden Aufnahmen aus einer Zeit, die nach den Grammophon-Aufnahmen liegt. Und sucht man nach grundsätzlichen interpretatorischen Unterschieden, so stößt man zuerst auf die von Mauermann erwähnten langsameren Tempi der späteren Fassungen. Die "beiläufige" Schnelligkeit, die man den DG-Einspielungen bisweilen vorgeworfen hat, sind abgelegt. Vor allem in den Adagio- und Andante-Sätzen wählt Kubelik in späteren Jahren langsamere Tempi, beispielsweise im dritten Satz der ersten Sinfonie, aufgenommen am 2. November 1979. "Feierlich und gemessen, ohne zu schleppen" lautet die Satzbezeichnung, die Kubelik genau beachtet. Wunderbar baut er die Spannung auf, spielt das Crescendo aus, das allein durch das ständige Hinzutreten neuer Instrumente erreicht wird. Das Oboensolo ist überaus deutlich phrasiert, bildet im betonten Staccato einen Kontrapunkt zum Legato der Streicher. Das Parodistische des Satzes ist wesentlich besser getroffen als in der DG-Einspielung. Auch das "Ziemlich langsam" (Ziffer 5) wirkt in sich schlüssiger, man meint auf einmal einen Spielmannszug oder eine Klezmer-Kapelle zu hören.

Herrlich sind auch die ersten beiden Sätze des audite-Mitschnitts gelungen: "Wie ein Naturlaut" - kaum ein Dirigent
dürfte Mahlers Vorstellungen beim Beginn des ersten Satzes wohl so gut getroffen haben wie Kubelik in diesem Konzert. Dass die Stelle hier wesentlich überzeugender wirkt als in der DG-Einspielung, liegt auch in der Aufnahmetechnik begründet. Bei der Grammophon klingen die Stimmen isolierter, in der späteren Rundfunk-Aufnahme verschmelzen sie stärker: Das mindert etwas den analytischen Ansatz, verstärkt jedoch die Unmittelbarkeit der Naturstimmung. Hinzu kommt, dass das Orchester, besonders die Bläser, in der späteren Aufnahme noch souveräner wirken als in der ersten. Dass es sich um einen Konzertmitschnitt handelt, geht nirgendwo auf Kosten der künstlerischen Qualität. Das spricht für eine intensive Probenarbeit.

Die wesentlich bessere Aufnahmetechnik ist übrigens ein Charakteristikum, das fast alle audite-Produktionen auszeichnet. Die Konzertmitschnitte besitzen mehr räumliche Tiefe. Während die DG-Aufnahmen sehr auf Transparenz bedacht sind und immer wieder einzelne Instrumente oder Gruppen nach vorn ziehen, meint man bei den Rundfunkmitschnitten, wirklich ein Orchester im Saal der Residenz zu erleben. Und die Live-Aufnahme der neunten Sinfonie aus Tokios Bunka Kaikan Concert Hall klingt im Vergleich deutlich flacher als die Münchner Aufnahmen.

Was Kubeliks Mahler-Aufnahmen auch noch denen bei audite - gelegentlich fehlt, das ist die mitreißende Kraft, mit der sich etwa Bernstein in die schnellen Sätze warf. Das Finale der ersten Sinfonie ("Stürmisch bewegt") beispielsweise oder der zweite Satz der ansonsten interpretatorisch überzeugenden fünften ("Stürmisch bewegt, mit größer Vehemenz") weisen in dieser Hinsicht Defizite auf.

Den stärksten Eindruck der audite-Mitschnitte hinterlassen nicht zufällig jene Sinfonien, die solche Satzcharaktere
weitesgehend aussparen: die zweite und die siebte Sinfonie. So war der 8. Oktober 1982 ein wirklicher Glückstag für die Geschichte der Mahler-Interpretation. Denn Kubelik dirigierte die zweite an diesem Tag wie aus einem Guss: Alles fließt, nichts wirkt forciert im Allegro maestoso. Ein ungemein feinsinniges, schwereloses Musizieren zeichnet das Andante aus. Herrlich setzt Kubelik das Scherzo um. Das böhmisch-mährische Musikantentum - dem Ingo Harden einst so zweifelnd gegenüberstand - ist hier prächtig zu finden. Die Fischpredigt hält Kubelik leider nicht ganz so ironisch wie Bernstein. Dafür hat er mit Brigitte Fassbaender einen Alt, der das "Röschen rot" mit hinreißendem Timbre und klarer, sinnhaltiger Artikulation versieht. Im hervorragend gesteigerten Finale bilden Edith Mathis und Brigitte Fassbaender ein Traumpaar.

Genauso überragend ist die gerade auf CD erschienene siebte Sinfonie gestaltet. Sehr organisch meisterte Kubelik am 5. Februar 1976 die ständigen Tempowechsel im ersten Satz. Zauberhaft, dunkel getönt kommen die Nachtmusiken auf CD daher. Das Scherzo nimmt von Anfang an gefangen und lässt den Hörer nicht mehr los. Selbst das apotheotische Finale, mit dem viele Dirigenten Probleme haben, klingt bei Kubelik sinnvoll. Das Pathos wirkt nicht übertrieben, aber die Zuversicht bleibt.

Fazit: Mit diesen Mahler-Veröffentlichungen ist audite ein großer Wurf gelungen. Und wer bei Kubelik auf den Geschmack gekommen ist, der kann bei demselben Label auch noch hervorragende Mitschnitte von Beethoven- und vor allem Mozart-Konzerten bekommen, die Clifford Curzon mit dem Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks unter Kubelik in der Residenz gegeben hat. Aber Clifford Curzon ist schon wieder ein Thema für sich.

Réalisé en public à la Herkulessaal à Munich, cet enregistrement plonge l’auditeur dans l’atmosphère si particulière de concert : bruits (discrets) de salle, écoute collective, spatialisation des pupitres exemplaire de naturel (jusqu’aux instruments placés en coulisses de la finale). Si tout cela n’a rien de spectaculaire, l’ensemble sonne avec une rare crédibilité dans une acoustique très « haute de plafond » : le spectre est large (percussions), les cordes opulentes et chaque intervention soliste reste inscrite dans le périmètre orchestral. Un modèle de réalisme.

Première des symphonies de Mahler à utiliser les voix, la Deuxième Symphonie « Résurrection » (1888-1894) constitue aussi le premier volet d’une trilogie faisant référence aux lieder inspirés du Knaben Wunderhorn. Mahler élabora plusieurs programmes rejetés par la suite, mais l’idée centrale de cette œuvre, peut-être sa plus ambitieuse, n’en reste pas moins le problème de la vie et de la mort résolu par la résurrection, préparée et obtenue de haute lutte. La Deuxième Symphonie, avant la Huitième, fut la plus facilement acceptée du vivant du compositeur. Avec Le Chant de la Terre, c’est l’œuvre avec laquelle on apprend le plus souvent à aimer Mahler.

Après de remarquables Cinquième et Neuvième Symphonies et une splendide Première (« Choc »), toutes trois enregistrées « live », Audite Schallplatten propose un nouvel inédit de ce cycle de concerts Mahler/Kubelik/Radio bavaroise. Plus subtil, plus libre, plus interrogatif et moins uniment fébrile et tragique que dans sa version de studio « officielle » avec le même orchestre. (DG, 1969), Rafael Kubelik, dans cet enregistrement du 8 octobre 1982 réalisé à la Herkulessaal de la Résidence de Munich, offre une vision supérieurement équilibrée (tempos), étonnante de lyrisme et de mystère, malgré une conception d’ensemble plutôt pessimiste. Sa direction épique, dynamique, dégage l’aura fantastique et la profondeur poétique de l’œuvre en offrant une puissance et une unité narrative en situation. Mais Kubelik évite le pathos tout en exaltant le grand souffle, la densité, la variété des coloris. Les transitions, si difficiles à réussir dans cette partition, tiennent du miracle.

Captée lors d’un concert en 1982, cette Symphonie n° 2 par Kubelik est un intéressant témoignage sur l’évolution de la vision mahlérienne du chef. Celui-ci avait en effet gravé l’œuvre pour Deutsche Grammophon en 1969, avec le même orchestre qu’il dirigea pendant dix-huit ans et Edith Mathis. La distribution est donc quasiment identique, et pourtant, le résultat n’a rien de comparable. Le temps et l’âge semblent avoir estompé ces angles tranchants, cette urgence fébrile qui caractérisaient les interprétations de Kubelik. Non que le chef se soit assagi ou ait affadi son propos. Sa lecture est toujours empreinte d’un sens tragique remarquable mais il est désormais moins vindicatif. Le musicien interroge plus qu’il n’assène. Cela, en jouant sur une dynamique en perpétuel changement, sur l’ampleur impressionnante d’un orchestre titanesque, sur la densité des coloris déployés. Souvent on frôle le chaos. L’inquiétude, quant à elle, est omniprésente même dans les passages élégiaques. Le Mahler de Kubelik n’esquisse que de vague sourires, son visage est marqué par le désarroi. A peine croit-il à cette résurrection qu’il espère, sublime, aidé en cela par deux magnifiques chanteuses. Cette lecture vient donc ajouter une autre voix aux indispensables que sont les versions Walter (1985), Klemperer (1951) ou Mehta (1975) et nous fait redécouvrir un grand chef mahlérien.

Dans sa Première Symponie (1884-1888), Mahler ne s'oppose pas encore au poids formel de la tradition. Extérieurement, c'est, avec la Sixième Symphonie, la plus « traditionnelle » de Mahler, la seule à s'en tenir, dans sa version définitive, aux quatre types de mouvements fixés par Haydn, et l'une des rares à finir dans sa tonalité de départ. Pourtant les contrastes y jaillissent avec une grande violence, les maladresses y sont non déguisées, provocantes même jusqu'à un point où tristesse, dérision et impulsion vers l'idéal ne se distinguent plus vraiment.

Sans doute la plus grande « première symphonie » jamais écrite de l'Histoire, la Première est devenue la plus populaire - mais pas la plus facile d'accès - des symphonies de Mahler. Elle est plus que tout au????butaire d'une clarté très « antiformaIiste », malgré la nécessité sans doute plus architecturale que psychologique d'un finale s'opposant à lui seul au reste de l'oeuvre et imposant, sinon un réel déséquilibre, du moins une certaine rupture e ton. Evité pendant trois mouvements, le schéma romantique du « triomphe après la lutte » intervient au début de ce très long finale, nettement plus dramatique que le reste de l'oeuvre. La Première Symphonie expose sans les résoudre à peu près toutes les tensions de la musique mahlérienne à venir. Les contrastes appartiennent à un univers neuf, où la différence peut fonder l'identité.

Comme dans ses deux versions « officielles », avec la Philharmonie de Vienne (Decca, admirable, à rééditer) puis avec l'Orchestre symphonique de la Radio bavaroise (DG, octobre 1967), Rafael Kubelik, enregistré ici lors d'un concert donné le 2 novembre 1979 à la Herkulessaal de Munich avec l'Orchestre de la Radio bavaroise, conçoit la Première Symphonie « Titan » de façon plus « naturaliste » qu'intellectuelle. Il privilégie, avec un subtil rubato et des tempos plutôt vifs quoique lé????ent plus amples que ceux de l'enregistrement DG -, l'idée de percée, voire de déchirure, qui impose sa structure à l'oeuvre tout entière. Dans le développement du premier mouvement, à la fois puis sant et lumineux, la distanciation douloureuse devant J'éveil de la nature est aussi poétiquement traduite que chez Walter/Columbia (Sony), Ancerl (Supraphon), Horenstein (EMI), Giulini/Chicago (idem) ou Haitink/Berlin (Philips). Kubelik architecture les deux mouvements médians avec un tranchant des ligues, une saveur des timbres qui, pour être moins «cruels » que ceux d'Ancerl, de Bernstein/New York (Sony), de Kegel (Berlin Classics) ou de Haitink/Berlin, n'éludent aucun des aspects allusifs ou acerbes. Dans le finale, magnifique de cohérence, l'interprétation, souple et spontanée, devient plus extérieurement dramatique -c'est l'écriture elle-même qui le veut -, mais le chef parvient à l'unité tout en diversifiant à l'extrême les divers épisodes. Par son absence de grandiloquence, de pathos bon marché et sa, haute tenue stylistique, cette interprétation enregistrée « live » fait mentir la légende de lourdeur et de sentimentalité qui colle à l'oeuvre.

Die hervorragend remasterte Live-Aufnahme von Mahlers 1. Symphonie mit Rafael Kubelik und dem Symphonie - Orchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks von 1979 lohnt konzentriertes Hören. Etliche Dirigenten, die Mahler völlig verkopft zerstückeln, können sich von Kubeliks Einspielung - noch dynamischer als jene von 1968 eine Scheibe abschneiden. Kubeliks Stärke ist das Auskosten der Tempi- und Dynamikdifferenzen bis in die letzte Nuance. Ein starkes Exempel bewusster Klangästhetik.

Nach einer exzeptionellen Fünften Gustav Mahlers mit dem Symphonieorchester des BR unter Kubelik legt Audite nun eine nicht minder begeisternde Erste vor, die 1979 live im Münchner Herkulessaal aufgenommen wurde.

Kubelik, einer der großen Missionare der Mahler-Musik, hat Mahlers Erste in den Fünfzigerjahren mit den Wiener Philharmonikern und später in einer Studioproduktion im Rahmen des gesamten Mahler-Zyklus mit dem Symphoniorchester des BR für die DG erneut aufgenommen: beide Aufnahmen reichen an die zwingende und suggestive Interpretation, die auf der vorliegende CD festgehalten wurde, bei weitem nicht heran.

Die Naturlaute sind hier ebenso unmittelbar präsent wie die psychischen Erlebnisse des Helden, der Konflikt ist ebenso spürbar wie die Ruhe, die Ironie so ätzend wie die Gelöstheit wohltuend. Die Abgründe des letzten Satzes öffnen sich dramatisch die höllische Kraft der Musik erfasst den Zuhörer brutal. Kubelik akzentuiert das bedrohlich, um den Kontrast zum Traum vom Paradies noch aufregender und spannender zu gestalten.

Von den vielen guten Versionen dieser Symphonie, die ich kenne, ist dies zweifellos eine der besten. Das Phänomenale daran ist, dass sie auch dem, der das Werk gut kennt, neue Aspekte vermitteln kann... Eine Sternstunde!

... A more recent vintage of comparison was provided by two Audite releases of Mahler symphonies featuring the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra conducted by Rafael Kubelik. Knowing David Gutman's hard line on Mahler performances. I was delighted to read his closing remarks. 'All in all, a breath of fresh Moravian air ...,' he wrote, '... and a wonderfully civilised alternative to the hi-tech histrionics of today's market leaders.' Too true. 'That the pulse has slowed just a little is all to the good...' says DG and again I'd concur, although the timing difference between the 1967 First Symphony (DG, 5/90) and this 1979 live version is more marked than you might at first expeet. Listening (and looking) reveals 50'0'' for Deutsche Grammophon and 51'33'' for Audite, but the addition of the first-movement repeat in 1968 cuts the DG timing by a further two minutes (at least in theory). The new Fifth is marked by the sort of 'rocketing' dynamic inflexions (notably among the woodwinds) that were typical of Kubelik's Munich heyday. You notice them, especially, at the start of the finale, but the birdsong charaterisations in the first movement of the First
Symphony are hardly less striking. Both Performances are deeply poetic (I second DG's positive response to the Adagietto), less dramatic, perhaps, in orchestral attack than their studio predecessors, but kindlier, softerhued and - in the closing minutes of the Fifth's stormy second movement - markedly more grand. ...

Japanische Rezension siehe PDF!

Rafael Kubelik\'s Mahler cycle (DG, 5/90) was a highlight of his period as chief conductor of the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra (1961-79). It has usually been well received in these pages, although, to some ears, his approach is too lightweight for this repertoire, offering 19th-century drama without 20th-century intensity. Which said, even the sceptics should try these attractive live performances, recorded a decade later than their DG studio equivalents. The scores may not be illuminated with keen strokes of interpretative novelty, but you won\'t find readings of greater warmth, humanity and patient sensitivity. That the pulse has slowed just a little is all to the good, and the more spacious sonic stage preserved by Bavarian Radio bathes the music-making in an appealing glow without serious loss of detail.

Kubelik made one of the earliest studio recordings of the First Symphony, with the Vienna Philharmonic for Decca in the 1950s (1/55 - nla), and, on the first appearance of his DG remake in 1968, Deryck Cooke observed that here was an essentially poetic conductor who gets more poetry out of this symphony than any of the other conductors who have recorded it. That is even truer of this 1979 account, Cooke\'s \'natural delicacy \' being the key to an interpretation that may offend latterday purists. Kubelik\'s divided violins may be back in vogue, but not his abandonment of the first movement exposition repeat; he also ignores the single repeat sign in the Landler. Does it matter that the mood seems somehow \'old-fashioned\' as well - more autumnal than spring-like? One can hardly fail to be struck by the rural calm and simplicity he brings to the dreamy opening, the freshness and piquancy of the bucolic details, the birdcalls, the unfussy phrasing.

In the second movement, Kubelik keeps the music moving, as Bernstein almost fails to, yet still manages to impart a decent swing, while his Trio is a delight. Nor does he fall short in the slow movement, giving himself more time than Bernstein to impose a different but equally compelling ethnic slant. Most modern interpretations, however crisply focused, sound painfully flat after this. Only in the finale does the conductor\'s natural expressiveness veer towards a rhythmic slackness that saps the music of the necessary drive. The second subject, however gorgeous, is consolatory rather than rapt or yearning, the total effect something less than sensational.

By contrast, the Fifth is one of those performances that acquires charisma as it goes along. The first two movements are by no means earth-shattering, relying on the resonant recording (not quite as refined as No 1) to add gravitas to some less than committed music-making. The Scherzo is altogether more distinctive, frisky and lithe, with excellent work from the Bavarian horns. As for the Adagietto, this must now take its place among the most affecting on disc. Partisans of extreme tempos, whether fast or slow, may not like it, but Kubelik finds exactly the right pace - which is, of course, the pace that feels right for him; and his strings are possessed of an unearthly radiance. The finale of this symphony almost invariably sounds too heavy. Not so here. The conductor\'s rhythmic verve will surprise anyone familiar with the arthritic flailing of his later years and the conclusion is suitably vigorous.

All in all, a breath of fresh Moravian air and a wonderfully civilised alternative to the hi-tech histrionics of today\'s market leaders. The First Symphony sounds even better and is probably the one to go for.