Ging heut Morgen übers Feld from Mahler’s Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen.
Performed by Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau with Paul Kletzki conducting the NHK Symphony.
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Mahler: Symphony No. 1 in D major “Titan” - II. Kraeftig bewegt, doch nicht zu schnell
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Mahler: Symphony No. 2 in C minor “Resurrection” - III. In ruhig fliessender Bewegung (11:40)
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Der Abschied 33:37
Bernard Haitink/LSO, Christianne Stotijin mezzo-soprano
Mahler:Das Lied von der Erde, Barbican Hall 13 Oct 2009
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Mahler, Symphony No.1 in D major ‘Titan’
I. Langsam. Schleppend - Im Anfang sehr gemachlich
Michael Gielen (conductor), SWR Sinfonieorchester Baden-Baden und Freiburg
American Premier of Mahler’s 8th Symphony
It’s kinda strange, when the number of performers required is probably the same as the number in attendance in the audience for the performance…
“Symphony of A Thousand” indeed
![ataxiwardance:
!@#&^%$!!!!!! (Cellphone halts Mahler’s Ninth mid-movement)
For those who say that the concert hall needs to loosen up, who want tweet-seats and more technology, be careful what you wish for.
Until today I’ve never been to a concert where a cellphone stopped the orchestra in the middle of a piece, but now I can check that awful milestone off the list. I’ll try to record it as accurately as I can, with my still-jangling nerves.
It was in the fourth movement. (Funny how these disturbances never happen in fortissimo passages.) After the last climax, as the movement begins to wind down, toward that sublime last page of the score where music and silence are almost indistinguishable. In other words, just about the worst possible moment. (After a quick check of my Dover score, I think it was about 13 bars before the last Adagissimo.) [UPDATE: commenters have pointed out that the phone was ringing in louder passages earlier in the movement.]
When we reached that passage, as Alan Gilbert turned to the first violins and the sound grew ever more hushed and veiled, the unmistakable chimes of the iPhone Marimba ringtone resounded loud and clear throughout Avery Fisher Hall. (Checked on my iPhone afterward to confirm which one it was.) And it kept on ringing, and ringing. Gilbert kept on conducting for a few bars, but unbelievably, the sound kept on going. (Doesn’t this guy have voicemail?)
Of all places, the offender was sitting in the very front row, center section, on the aisle (stage right). In other words, right in front of the concertmaster.
Finally, Gilbert dropped his hands and stopped the orchestra, turned to the offender, and looked at him. To everyone’s disbelief, the sound just kept on going, and going. Someone shouted, “Thousand dollar fine.”
Gilbert said something like, “Are you finished?” The guy didn’t move a muscle. Gilbert: “Fine. We’ll wait.” And he turned to the podium and lay down his baton.
As the marimba kept on clanging, someone shouted, “Kick him out!” Another echoed. Some started to clap. But then others shushed the hall down, preventing pandemonium from erupting.
Finally, it stopped. Gilbert: “Did you turn it off?” The guy nodded. Gilbert: “It won’t go off again?” Another nod. Gilbert turned to the audience, and said, “Ordinarily in disturbances like these, it’s better not to stop, since stopping is worse than the disturbance. But this was so egregious, that …” (I lost his words here), and the audience burst into boisterous applause.
Gilbert turned to the orchestra, said “Number 118,” and started up again, at the point where the trombones enter fortissimo for the last big climax. I wish I could say you could have heard a pin drop from then on, but there were a few coughers; this is New York, after all. Still, there was a palpable sense of tension from orchestra and audience, as Mahler’s Ninth finally found its way home.
–Michael
[UPDATE: I want to clarify that aside from the three shouts I quoted above, the audience was relatively restrained in its reaction; you could sense that people were upset, but they kept themselves under control, and actually shushed the few shouters so that Gilbert could deal effectively with the situation. This wasn’t the concert-hall equivalent of road rage. Another account at Superconductor corroborates what I saw and heard; go to Norman Lebrecht’s indispensable Slipped Disc (see our blogroll) for some interesting comments on this episode.]](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lxngtf1hnv1qzrgbqo1_500.jpg)
!@#&^%$!!!!!! (Cellphone halts Mahler’s Ninth mid-movement)
Until today I’ve never been to a concert where a cellphone stopped the orchestra in the middle of a piece, but now I can check that awful milestone off the list. I’ll try to record it as accurately as I can, with my still-jangling nerves.
It was in the fourth movement. (Funny how these disturbances never happen in fortissimo passages.) After the last climax, as the movement begins to wind down, toward that sublime last page of the score where music and silence are almost indistinguishable. In other words, just about the worst possible moment. (After a quick check of my Dover score, I think it was about 13 bars before the last Adagissimo.) [UPDATE: commenters have pointed out that the phone was ringing in louder passages earlier in the movement.]
When we reached that passage, as Alan Gilbert turned to the first violins and the sound grew ever more hushed and veiled, the unmistakable chimes of the iPhone Marimba ringtone resounded loud and clear throughout Avery Fisher Hall. (Checked on my iPhone afterward to confirm which one it was.) And it kept on ringing, and ringing. Gilbert kept on conducting for a few bars, but unbelievably, the sound kept on going. (Doesn’t this guy have voicemail?)
Of all places, the offender was sitting in the very front row, center section, on the aisle (stage right). In other words, right in front of the concertmaster.
Finally, Gilbert dropped his hands and stopped the orchestra, turned to the offender, and looked at him. To everyone’s disbelief, the sound just kept on going, and going. Someone shouted, “Thousand dollar fine.”
Gilbert said something like, “Are you finished?” The guy didn’t move a muscle. Gilbert: “Fine. We’ll wait.” And he turned to the podium and lay down his baton.
As the marimba kept on clanging, someone shouted, “Kick him out!” Another echoed. Some started to clap. But then others shushed the hall down, preventing pandemonium from erupting.
Finally, it stopped. Gilbert: “Did you turn it off?” The guy nodded. Gilbert: “It won’t go off again?” Another nod. Gilbert turned to the audience, and said, “Ordinarily in disturbances like these, it’s better not to stop, since stopping is worse than the disturbance. But this was so egregious, that …” (I lost his words here), and the audience burst into boisterous applause.
Gilbert turned to the orchestra, said “Number 118,” and started up again, at the point where the trombones enter fortissimo for the last big climax. I wish I could say you could have heard a pin drop from then on, but there were a few coughers; this is New York, after all. Still, there was a palpable sense of tension from orchestra and audience, as Mahler’s Ninth finally found its way home.
–Michael
[UPDATE: I want to clarify that aside from the three shouts I quoted above, the audience was relatively restrained in its reaction; you could sense that people were upset, but they kept themselves under control, and actually shushed the few shouters so that Gilbert could deal effectively with the situation. This wasn’t the concert-hall equivalent of road rage. Another account at Superconductor corroborates what I saw and heard; go to Norman Lebrecht’s indispensable Slipped Disc (see our blogroll) for some interesting comments on this episode.]
Stunningly rare and impressive collection of 12 ink AMQS on a single off-white 7.75 x 9.25 sheet bearing a pencil drawing of Gustav Mahler (signed illegibly by the artist), circa early 1930s. Each composer pens from three to six measures; most also add the title, and, in some cases, additional information or sentiments. The composers represented are: Ernst Toch (from Piano Sonata, Op. 47); Paul Hindemith (String Quartet, Op. 32); Heinz Thiessen (unidentified); Max Butting (unidentified); Alexander Jemnitz (Serenade, Op. 24); Kurt Weill (“Alabama Song” from the Threepenny Opera); Alban Berg (Wozzeck; Berg also adds in German: “So that the desire, after some bars of an aria from Wozzeck is taken even more into consideration, since I am not alone in this”); Arnold Schönberg (Jacob’s Ladder, including the sung text); Edmund Meisel (the film score Symphonie einer Großstadt); Ernst Krenek (Jonny spielt auf); Philipp Jarnach (unidentified); and Fidelio Finke (unidentified). A touch of very minor wear at edges, otherwise fine condition. The confluence of factors that contribute to the importance and rarity of this item is truly remarkable. In addition to the sheer number of composers who have signed together, fully half of the signers (Schönberg, Berg, Hindemith, Weill, Krenek, and Toch) can indisputably be regarded as figures of primary importance in the history of twentieth-century music. More incredibly still, these select six have quoted from some of their best-known and most recognizable works. icollector.com
Gustav Mahler (7 July 1860 - 18 May 1911)
“Ich weiß für mich, dass ich, solang ich mein Erlebnis in Worten zusammenfassen kann, gewiss keine Musik hierüber machen würde.”
(“If a composer could say what he had to say in words he would not bother trying to say it in music.”)
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Symphony No. 3 (1893-96)
Gustav Mahler
- V. Lustig im Tempo und keck im Ausdruck (Cheerful in tempo and bold in expression) [F major] “Es sungen drei Engel” (“What the Angels Tell Me”)
Text: Clemens Brentano and Bettina von Arnim from Des Knaben Wunderhorn
Martha Lipton, mezzo-soprano;
Leonard Bernstein; New York Philharmonic;
Women’s Chorus of the Schola Cantorum (Hugh Ross, chorus master);
Boy’s Choir of the Church of the Transfiguration (Stuart Gardner, chorus master)
Recorded April 3, 1961, at Manhattan Center, New York City---(Original German)--- Bimm, bamm, bimm, bamm. Es sungen drei Engel einen süßen Gesang, mit Freuden es selig in dem Himmel klang. Sie jauchzten fröhlich auch dabei: daß Petrus sei von Sünden frei! Und als der Herr Jesus zu Tische saß, mit seinen zwölf Jüngern das Abendmahl aß, da sprach der Herr Jesus: "Was stehst du denn hier? Wenn ich dich anseh', so weinest du mir!" "Und sollt' ich nicht weinen, du gütiger Gott? Ich hab' übertreten die zehn Gebot! Ich gehe und weine ja bitterlich! Ach komm und erbarme dich über mich!" "Hast du denn übertreten die zehen Gebot, so fall auf die Knie und bete zu Gott! Liebe nur Gott in all Zeit! So wirst du erlangen die himmlische Freud'." Die himmlische Freud' ist eine selige Stadt, die himmlische Freud', die kein Ende mehr hat! Die himmlische Freude war Petro bereit't, durch Jesum und allen zur Seligkeit. Bimm, bamm, bimm, bamm. ---(In English)--- Ding, dong, ding, dong. Three angels sang a sweet song, with blessed joy it rang in heaven. They shouted too for joy that Peter was free from sin! And as Lord Jesus sat at the table with his twelve disciples and ate the evening meal, Lord Jesus said: "Why do you stand here? When I look at you, you are weeping!" "And should I not weep, kind God? I have violated the ten commandments! I wander and weep bitterly! O come and take pity on me!" "If you have violated the ten commandments, then fall on your knees and pray to God! Love only God for all time! So will you gain heavenly joy." The heavenly joy is a blessed city, the heavenly joy that has no end! The heavenly joy was granted to Peter through Jesus, and to all mankind for eternal bliss. Ding, dong, ding, dong.
(via listofimages)
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Symphony No. 2 in C minor “Resurrection”: IV. “Urlicht” (Sehr feierlich, aber schlicht)—Gustav Mahler
Hilde Rössl-Majdan, mezzo-soprano
Philharmonia Orchestra, OTTO KLEMPERERPrimeval Light (Urlicht)
O red rose!
Mankind lies in greatest need!
Mankind lies in greatest pain!
Much rather would I be in Heaven!Then I came upon a broad path;
then an angel came and wanted to dismiss me,
Ah no! I would not be dismissed!
I am from God and would go back to God!
Dear God will give me a light,
will light me to blissful everlasting life!
