Tonight’s performance of Gustav Mahler’s sixth symphony, “Tragic”, was anything but. The Mariinsky Orchestra, led by music director and conductor Valery Gergiev, played a glorious performance of an orchestral masterpiece.
The symphony, one of the composer’s less popular works, is comprised of four individual movements. The orchestra played for roughly 80 minutes.
The auditorium was far from full. Attendees with seats in the balcony were offered places on the ground floor, and pockets of empty seats could be seen in most sections.
The weak applause on the orchestra’s entrance was surprising, but it evidently did not discourage the orchestra, who delivered a memorable evening of music.
Gergiev emerged from the stage wing clad in all black. The conductor marched center stage with an air of purpose, bowed, turned to the orchestra, and signaled for the beginning of the first movement — allegro energico, ma non troppo. Heftig, aber markig (Vehement, but vigorous) — all in the span of about 10 seconds.
Any attempts at applause for the conductor were cut off just seconds before the entrance of a harrowing and sinister theme. This was the audience’s first taste of the Mariinsky’s masterful — and very very loud — horn section. The twenty minutes that followed brought audience members through passages of the most savage intensity and gentlest mystery.
Marked by sudden key changes, rapid motif exposition and a dramatically extensive dynamic range, it is easy to see how a conductor might get carried away with the first movement of “Tragic”. Gergiev, however, displayed restraint.
The first movement ended with a booming, hopeful cadence, sharply contrasting the initial sinister theme. While the audience remained silent in accordance with standard concert etiquette, there was no question as to the applause the orchestra already deserved after a single movement.
The second movement, andante moderato , gave the audience some much-needed room to breath after the delightful and jarring first movement. The tonality of the second movement edged on ambiguity, with a happy musical motif slowly but surely carrying listeners forward.
It should be noted that the second movement brought with it the warm introduction of the orchestra’s first horn player, Stanislav Tses. Over sighing strings, Tses serenaded the audience with a relaxed theme that made it nearly impossible not to exhale contently. The first oboe player, Alexander Trushkov, also played a prominent role in the movement.
The second movement was, as a whole, incredibly romantic. The exposition of the first theme by individual instruments developed to a swaying, predominantly major section complete with strings plucking through a light pizzicato passage and the blessedly tasteful inclusion of a single harp. With the deep roll of a timpani, the movement came to somber end.
The third movement began with the eager reemergence of the entire percussion ensemble, which was nearly starved after the relatively quiet second movement. A thrumming bass drum came in alone, with a frantic chatter of trumpets, low brass, and strings fought for supremacy in an exceedingly frantic display of orchestral prowess. Gergiev shuffled from side to side before the podium, bounced at the knees and stood rigidly through passages of both alarming panic and sudden serenity.
The third movement ended with a transition from a playful dance to what could best be described as the soundtrack to an ambush. The title of the movement, Scherzo: Wuchtig (Powerful) , could not have seemed more fitting, and with this final transition the movement was complete.
Movement four, Sostenuto—Allegro moderato—Allegro energico , began in a royal fashion, with the full symphony entering but quickly fading to a single horn— Tses. In its final movement, the orchestra emulated feelings of gut-gripping panic, then hopefulness, then back to panic with a sinister cello riff, and then back to hope.
The movement seemed to peak with a percussionist hammering a wooden block with a sledge, synchronized with a deceptively cheery chord being played by the rest of the orchestra. The symphony could not escape its name however, and as the end drew near, horns belted out a dark motif, clashing with the ever-hopeful strings section.
Gergiev positioned himself in a wide stance. The different sections of the orchestra grew louder, and louder still, until at the point when the audience was certain the end had come, all of the parts dropped entirely with the lowering of Gergiev’s arms. Out of the silence, the horns played a short phrase and dropped out, and then the bass section repeated the phrase. Finally, the orchestra reared its head in unison and roared a single last, tragic and lamenting chord.
The end of the final movement brought with it a standing ovation of over five minutes. Gergiev returned to the audience again and again, bowing, smiling and giving credit to his orchestra. His final exit from the stage was to the sound of whistles, cheers, and deafening applause — a well-deserved ending to a remarkable performance on the podium.
To get the day's news and headlines in your inbox each morning, sign up for our email newsletters.
