★★★★½ A taut and textured Mahler shows the Davis is in the details.

Hamer Hall, Melbourne
July 1, 2016

When Mahler’s behemoth sixth symphony is on the menu, you don’t need much else to sate your musical appetite. For the latest instalment of the Sir Andrew Davis’ Mahler symphony cycle with the MSO, a somewhat token but nonetheless charming amuse-bouche of Mozart began the proceedings, specifically the Piano Concerto No. 21 in C.

American pianist Jonathan Biss’ performance was sharply articulate but often rather light in personality. Most likely written as a showcase for Mozart as both composer and performer extraordinaire, there is a wonderful chutzpah to the soloist’s part in this concerto, particularly in the fleet passagework of the outer two movements. While it’s, of course, important not to foist any inauthentic Romantic stodge onto Classical repertoire as buoyant and delicate as this, there was a bit of an absence of showmanship in Biss’ account, although a great deal more charisma was brought out in the flashy cadenzas. That said, this pianist is a faultless technician, and the razor-edged precision of his playing brought with it a crisp, dauntless level of communicative clarity.

It’s been a decade since the MSO last performed Mahler’s Symphony No. 6, but this long absence from the Hamer Hall has nothing to do with this music’s popularity, as was evident from the all but packed auditorium for its welcome return last week. It requires a substantially bolstered orchestra, and at 70 minutes long, with music that rarely falters in intensity, this is a work that makes apollonian physical demands. But more than this, it’s a symphony of visceral and psychological extremes that requires extraordinary mental commitment from both the performers and the conductor. This is music of mind-boggling stratification. It deals with profound existential topics – love, heroism, destiny and the philosophical unknowns of death and what lies beyond it, but it’s also deeply personal, exploring experiences and feelings specific to Mahler, such as his unfaltering devotion to his wife, Alma.

Structurally, it is one of the composer’s most complex architectures, and therefore requires surgical precision in order to bring it off convincingly. The music is capricious and irascible, unable to decide whether to enter the major or minor, the hopeful or the fatalistically bleak. The strident motifs, that function almost as characters in a play, are equally polarised. There’s the regimental might of the opening march, the ecclesiastical serenity of the enigmatic chorals, the sumptuous, soaring melodies like some concentrated elixir distilled from every yearning ache of the Romantic era, and the distant, otherworldly jangling of cowbells mingled with the crystalline tones of the celeste. Each requires a very specific control to keep them emotionally distinct, and yet they must be carefully brought together to ensure structural and narrative cohesion. This make-or-break balance between the macro and micro was superbly achieved here.

Davis is master of detail, able to coax extraordinary lucidity from this score thanks to the responsive rapport he enjoys with this orchestra. He is also able to offer great power too, and while he is not a maestro in the same vein as Karajan or Bernstein, taming the orchestral beast with brute-force severity, Davis is still able to inspire a gutsy, testosterone-infused oomph that hits all the musical erogenous zones. Astonishingly incisive, both dramatically and emotionally, this was an incredibly rewarding performance, constantly bristling with nuanced complexities while never losing sight of the grander scheme.

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