One who considers Mahler’s compositional thought process to have been exclusively symphonic is presumably not familiar with composer’s experiences as a pianist. The Song of the Earth is a major symphonic work, but equally so a transparent chamber music composition. Due to the extensive experience Mahler gained in his youth as a rehearsal pianist and conductor in various theaters (Kassel, Leipzig, Prague, etc…), he acquired rich knowledge of chamber music and especially of piano. Even as a young composer in Vienna he wrote a reduction of a Bruckner symphony for two pianos.

Mahler’s intent was to contemplate music from different angles. This is clearly and repeatedly reflected in his varying interests: on the one hand, songs originally written with orchestra accompaniment also have a piano-chamber music versions, and, on the other hand, Mahler’s orchestration of songs composed with piano accompaniment such as the Rückert or Kindertotenlieder. One reason for the piano version could have been a desire to represent the intimate character of the pieces so that they could be performed in more familiar setting. Whether Mahler himself in fact ever planned to perform the piano accompaniment of The Song of the Earth is difficult to determine. In my view, this version was an attempt by Mahler to recreate a work that would stand on its own, so that the richness of the moods, colors and nuance of expression would be equal to the orchestra version. Certainly it could not simply have been an exercise for the composer. Unfortunately, many questions remain unanswered, as Mahler himself never lived to hear the work. I am rather certain that had time permitted and had his heart condition not so prematurely ended his life, his creative process would have allowed him to transmit all of the markings from the more advanced orchestra version into the piano version.

As Stephen E. Hefling emphasizes in his introduction to the critical edition of the Universal Edition, an interpreter one must take into account the tempo and dynamic indications of the orchestra version and use restraint in carrying over these markings to the piano version. The first and last movements of the composition are more complexly orchestrated than the middle movements which are more song-like and exhibit less dynamic and phrasing indications. These indications exist in the orchestra score and an interpreter should be familiar with them and refer to them when performing the version for piano. It would be a pity for the composer’s intimate chamber music version to remain obscured by the excellent popular version for orchestra. With this recording of the Gustav Mahler Song Edition, it is our hope to grant a well-deserved place –in the concert hall as well - to this fascinating alternative.

“My Heart Is Weary”

On July 7, 1908, for his 48th birthday, Gustav Mahler received a small book of Chinese poems, translated into German by H. Bethge, from his friend T. Pollak. One could imagine the impact these poems had on the composer, as they triggered in him an immediate desire to set the texts to music, and, moreover, immediately following the great Eighth Symphony and the Wunderhorn Lieder! Should one question Mahler’s choice of these specific texts, an explanation lies in that the composer pictured a new dimension and saw the possibility of shaping the verses in a way that directly corresponded to his vision; he viewed the poems as a “group of symphonic songs”. The title of the first song, Das Trinklied vom Jammer der Erde, (The Drinking Song of the Sorrow of the Earth) was in fact originally intended as the title for the entire piece, but the composer instead chose “Symphony for Tenor, Alto or Baritone with Orchestra”. In contrast to the Eighth Symphony, Mahler employs an entirely new musical character in this new work. He referred to the piece in a letter as “probably the most personal I have composed until now”; it was like an intimate diary that exposed his most private, hidden self. His state of being was fragile and far more vulnerable than in 1906 when he composed the Eighth Symphony, which he termed the ‘largest I have composed thus far’. Beethoven, Schubert, Bruckner and Dvorák had all died shortly after completing their ninth symphonies, and as such Mahler was terrified of naming the new composition his “Ninth”. He instead called the work The Song of the Earth – Symphony for Alto (or Baritone) and Tenor with Orchestra, a title which according to Alma Mahler was created out of “pure insecurity”. Is this remark an exaggeration? Are Alma’s words credible?

Why is the Eighth Symphony “the greatest” and The Song of the Earth the “most personal?” Both works are tremendously important, but equally contrasting as well. A listener unfamiliar with classical music who hears the “Veni creator spiritus” from the Eighth Symphony and Der Einsame im Herbst (The Lonely One in Autumn) from The Song of the Earth would hardly assume that both works were by the same composer. The Eighth Symphony was composed in great haste. “…I have …never worked so obsessively before …it came to me like a bolt of lightening…it appeared in its entirety before my eyes and all I had to do was to write it down, as if it was being dictated to me…”

Mahler’s Song of the Earth was composed under an entirely different set of circumstances. In 1907, Mahler was dealt three violent blows of fate, above all the death of his beloved daughter Maria (Putzi), a consequence of which was his own medical examination. This examination lead to the discovery of his defective heart valve. An excerpt of the first letter to his wife one week after his daughter’s death provides insight into Mahler’s condition and state at the time. He wrote of the comforts of the Hotel Imperial in Vienna,” the delicious journey, the wonderful time,” and, “unfortunately you are not here” -he was clearly incapable of writing about the death of his daughter. The third blow was the end of his collaboration with the k.u.k.Wiener Hofoper, after his resignation as director of the institute in 1907 and the end of its great Mahler Era. These events coincided with very enticing offers from the New York MET and the New York Philharmonic which offered him significantly improved financial conditions, and, so came Mahler’s end in Vienna, another painful stroke of fate because of his great love for the city. These events in 1907 changed Mahler’s life. He had become a different man who was much more anxious than in the past. He constantly watched his heart rate, ceased swimming in lakes, and shortened his walks, which had earlier provided much inspiration for his wonderful ideas and symphonic sketches. The last movement of The Song of the Earth, Der Abschied (The Farewell) represents a longing and foreboding of Mahler’s own death. Hardly any writings exist regarding the genesis of the work, the sketches of which date from August 1908. His introverted personality and the manner in which he carried out his composing process without comment was clearly reflected in his state of being that was torn apart by these conflicts. He clung to the past with its positive and negative events, and caught a glimpse of eternity. Past and future are sown together in this work and give birth to a new dimension. When I reflect on and these texts and hear or interpret this music, Hans Sachs’ words come to mind: “It sounded so old but was so new”.

copy; Ivan Paley