Symphony No.1

Langsam, schleppend - gemächlich

Kräftig bewegt - Trio: recht gemächlich - tempo primo

Feierlich und gemessen

Stürmisch bewegt

When Mahler conducted the first performance of what we now know as his First Symphony - in Budapest in November 1889 - it was identified in the programme as a “symphonic poem” in five movements. It was as many as seven years and four performances later before he felt justified in calling the work a symphony. At the same time he reduced the number of movements to four and discarded the descriptive titles and commentaries (inspired by Jean-Paul’s novel The Titan) he had attached to each movement, explaining to a Berlin critic that they “only misled the public.”

So it would be as well to ignore the external clues to the interpretation of the symphony and concentrate instead on those in the work itself, in its structure and its material. Obviously, no symphony which opens like this one is concerned solely with the abstractions of tonal conflict and thematic development. There is, after all, a highly charged if initially vague atmosphere in the quietly sustained harmonies on the strings, in the mysterious descending fourths in the woodwind, in the faraway fanfares on clarinets and the distant trumpet calls. By altering the rhythm of the descending fourth motif, converting it into a cuckoo call, and repeating it high on the clarinet, Mahler precisely identifies the place as the countryside and the time as spring.

As activity increases - the lovely song on the horns, the chromatic theme sliding quietly up the lower strings, the continued descending fourth - the tempo rises. Changing the key from D minor to D major, the cellos enter (on a descending fourth) with a tune which you do not have to recognise as Ging heut’ morgen übers Feld to understand its cheerful at-one-with nature message. That is the first subject and, in a sense, the only main theme of the move­ment. Other ideas arise but to assume importance only later on in the symphony. After the exposition repeat, a sigh on the cellos (an extension of the descending fourth) is developed into a quite significant theme. There is a potentially splendid four-horn call is derived from the same source and there is a potentially threatening ascending figure in F minor - which will always be antagonistic to the D major well-being of the work. But the point of the whole first movement is the innocent blaze of glory in which, encouraged by its fanfares and horns calls, it ends.

Between the present first and second movement, there was originally an Andante called Blumine, a trumpet serenade which Mahler was wise to drop in his 1896 revision since it dangerously prolongs the interval between the closely related first and last movements with little musical reward. Besides, the present second movement conveys the same message, if in very different terms. Again one does not have to recognise that some of the thematic material comes from Mahler’s early song, Hans und Grethe, to understand the message of peasant festivity. It is a rustic scherzo, the outer sections of which are a Ländler of transcendental vigour. The middle section begins as a satirically sentimental love song, with affectionate portamenti written into the string parts, and then proceeds to involve the composer’s heart as well as his sense of humour with the entry of a lovely new melody on the cellos.

The celebration comes to an end as the third movement begins. That much is clear from the music, though it is far from clear how serious the setback is. There is so much obvious parody here and so much that could easily be taken for parody that it is difficult to decide how to take it. According to his own suppressed programme notes and deliberate leaks to the press, Mahler took it very seriously. And yet the inspiration of the movement - a children’s engraving called The Huntsman’s Funeral, with small and big game as the mourners in the procession - is obviously parodistic. So too, you might think is the choice of a D minor version of Frère Jacques, first played high on muted solo double bass, as the main theme. The first trio section, with its unmistakable sounds of the village band, is certainly parodistic. But then the first violins introduce a gentle melody which (yet again) you do not have to recognise as the epilogue of the last of the Lieder eines fahrendend Gesellen to understand its soothing, consolatory message.

It is probably only when Frère Jacques returns in harmonies even more pathetic than ever, that the listener is warned of the despair that will suddenly break in on him (in F minor) as the fourth movement breaks in on the third. The first subject of the finale is a magnificently sustained and heavily nostalgic expression of anguish, based thematically on the F minor figure which did not carry out its threat in the first movement and on a sinister triplet figure from the same source. The second subject is a no less well sustained and heavily nostalgic memory for strings of the sighing cello theme in the first movement.

The last movement represents, in fact, the ideal world of the first movement set against bitter reality. But there is still hope, as a woodwind version of the horn call and a confident brass chorale version of the once threatening F minor material indicates. Despair breaks in again but is defeated by the brass chorale, now triumphant in D major. After more nostalgic and direct reminiscences of the first movement, the anguish reasserts itself in F minor, but only to prove how vulnerable it is to trumpet fanfares, brass chorales and descending fourths in D major.

Langsam, schleppend - gemächlich

Kräftig bewegt - Trio: recht gemächlich - tempo primo

Feierlich und gemessen

Stürmisch bewegt

When Mahler conducted the first performance of what we now know as his First Symphony - in Budapest in November 1889 - it was identified in the programme as a “symphonic poem” in five movements. It was as many as seven years and four performances later before he felt justified in calling the work a symphony. At the same time he reduced the number of movements to four and discarded the descriptive titles and commentaries (inspired by Jean-Paul’s novel The Titan) he had attached to each movement, explaining to a Berlin critic that they “only misled the public.”

So it would be as well to ignore the external clues to the interpretation of the symphony and concentrate instead on those in the work itself, in its structure and its material. Obviously, no symphony which opens like this one is concerned solely with the abstractions of tonal conflict and thematic development. There is, after all, a highly charged if initially vague atmosphere in the quietly sustained harmonies on the strings, in the mysterious descending fourths in the woodwind, in the faraway fanfares on clarinets and the distant trumpet calls. By altering the rhythm of the descending fourth motif, converting it into a cuckoo call, and repeating it high on the clarinet, Mahler precisely identifies the place as the countryside and the time as spring.

As activity increases - the lovely song on the horns, the chromatic theme sliding quietly up the lower strings, the continued descending fourth - the tempo rises. Changing the key from D minor to D major, the cellos enter (on a descending fourth) with a tune which you do not have to recognise as Ging heut’ morgen übers Feld to understand its cheerful at-one-with nature message. That is the first subject and, in a sense, the only main theme of the move­ment. Other themes arise and they are important as far as later events in the symphony are concerned, but there is no sonata-form duality or conflict here: it is a statement of the ideal. After the exposition repeat, a sigh on the cellos (an extension of the descending fourth) is developed into a quite significant theme. There is a potentially splendid four-horn call derived from the same source, and there is a potentially threatening ascending figure in F minor. But the point of the whole movement is the innocent blaze of glory in which, encouraged by its fanfares and horns calls, it ends.

Between the present first and second movement, there was originally an Andante called Blumine, a trumpet serenade which Mahler took from his incidental music to Der Trompeter von Säckingen. He was wise to drop it in his 1896 revision since it dangerously prolongs the interval between the closely related first and last movements with little musical reward. Besides, the present second movement conveys the same message, if in very different terms. Again one does not have to recognise that some of the thematic material comes from Mahler’s early song, Hans und Grethe, to understand the message of peasant festivity. It is a rustic scherzo in A major, the outer sections of which are a Ländler of transcendental vigour. The middle section begins as a satirically sentimental love song, with affectionate portamenti written into the string parts, and then proceeds to involve the composer’s heart as well as his sense of humour when the cellos enter with a new melody in G major.

The celebration comes to an end as the third movement begins. That much is clear from the music, though it is far from clear how serious the setback is. There is so much obvious parody here and so much that could easily be taken for parody that it is difficult to decide how to take it. According to his own suppressed programme notes and deliberate leaks to the press, Mahler took it very seriously. And yet the inspiration of the movement - the children’s engraving, The Huntsman’s Funeral, with small and big game as the mourners in the procession - is obviously parodistic. So too, you might think is the choice of a D minor version of Frère Jacques, first played high on muted solo double bass, as the main theme.

The first trio in F major, with its unmistakable sounds of the village band, is certainly parodistic. But then it modulates into G major for the first violins to introduce a gentle melody which (yet again) you do not have to recognise as the epilogue of the last of the Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen to understand its soothing, consolatory message.

It is probably only when Frère Jacques returns in E flat minor, more pathetic than ever, that the listener is warned of the despair that will suddenly break in on him (in F minor) as the fourth movement breaks in on the third. The first subject of the finale is a magnificently sustained and heavily nostalgic expression of anguish, based thematically on the F minor figure which did not carry out its threat in the first movement and on a sinister triplet figure from the same source. The second subject is a no less well sustained and heavily nostalgic memory for strings of the sighing cello theme in the first movement; and before the anguish breaks in again the first movement is directly quoted - the chromatic theme in the lower strings, with its sinister triplet figure, the descending fourth on clarinets.

The last movement represents, in fact, the ideal world of the first movement set against bitter reality. But there is still hope, as a woodwind version of the horn call and a brass chorale version in C major of the F minor threat (and its inversion) indicate. Despair breaks in again but is defeated by the brass chorale, now triumphant in D major. After more nostalgic and direct reminiscences of the first movement, the anguish reasserts itself in F minor, but only to prove how vulnerable it is to trumpet fanfares, brass chorales and descending fourth in D major.

Gerald Larner