A whole world of sounds

“To call it a symphony is actually inaccurate, for it adheres in no way to the conventional form. But to me, a symphony simply means: building a world using every means available to the technique at hand.” Hardly any statement by Gustav Mahler has been quoted as often as these two sentences, which he once formulated in reference to his 3rd Symphony. It should come as no surprise that this aesthetic commitment continues to be the subject of discussion – for it sums up precisely Mahler’s unparalleled compositional ambition.

In his symphonies, Mahler felt a strong need to move beyond music as a neatly constructed art form or as a mere ‘language of the emotions’. Instead, he sought nothing less than to create an image of the ‘world’, an image that could be conveyed in musical detail. In his 3rd Symphony, which was essentially composed in 1895–96, he deployed a large orchestra, a women’s and boys’ choir, and an alto soloist for this purpose. With this vast apparatus and a running time of 90 minutes, the Third has become a monumental symphony, comparable in the history of the genre only to his own 2nd and 8th symphonies.

Mahler sought to tell the story of the world depicted in this ‘colassal work’ by combining several levels of the composition. There are thematic and programmatic cues for the audience, there are the song texts set to music in the 4th and 5th movements, and there is, of course, the music itself. Mahler invested his entire compositional craft, his late-Romantic sound palette as well as his virtuoso talent for orchestration. Yet he also brought entirely different sounds – such as those from the tavern – into the concert hall. ‘High art’ or beauty became secondary for him when it came to rendering the narrative message as vividly as possible through music.

Mahler wrestled with the programmatic level for a long time. In a letter from 1896, for example, he described the piece very decisively as ‘a musical poem encompassing all stages of development. It begins with lifeless nature and builds up to the love of God.’ In the autograph, the six movements have headings such as ”Pan erwacht […] Der Sommer marschiert ein (Bacchuszug)” (‘Pan awakens […] Summer marches in (Bacchus procession)’) for the 1st movement, ”Was mir die Tiere im Walde erzählen” (‘What the animals in the forest tell me’) for the 3rd, or ”Was mir die Liebe erzählt” (‘What love tells me’) for the finale. This does not really form a narrative thread, and from the printed version of the score (1899) onwards, Mahler also dispensed with all programmatic indications. These keywords must nevertheless be taken seriously, yet they seem only of limited help in grasping the symphony’s compositional train of thought.

But what exactly is this train of thought? There is, of course, no clear-cut answer. Yet there is much to suggest that Mahler was primarily concerned with the joys and sorrows of humanity in the world; and that, for him, this world is revealed through various spheres of life, which are made audible. The colossal first movement is clearly defined by a march-like gesture, at times festive and at times a funeral march. The cheerful, carefree minuet movement can be heard as a ballroom scene, and the following scherzo, with its polka rhythms, transports us into the realm of brass bands and boisterous folk revelry. Everywhere, humanity seems trapped in what Mahler called the ‘grind of life’, and much of the music seems restless and exaggerated to the point of the grotesque. Where, however, as in the post-horn episodes of the Scherzo, it becomes beautiful, suspended in time, the sonic staging makes it clear that the idealised world imagined here is irretrievably lost.

The fourth movement marks the turning point of the work. The explosive orchestral conclusion of the Scherzo is followed by the setting of Nietzsche’s verse «Oh Mensch! Gib acht!» (‘Oh Man! Take heed!’), the first of two vocal movements. This quiet night scene is a gem of vocal chamber music; in terms of content, it recalls the indissoluble link between pleasure and suffering, as if through an oracle’s pronouncement. This is then responded to by the short, cantata-like movement «Es sungen drei Engel» (‘Three angels sang’), and with it, Mahler’s narrative of the world might already come to an end. For the text (from Des Knaben Wunderhorn) offers a place of redemption from sinful life, from unfulfilled longing and from human suffering: Christian heaven. Yet the true aim of the Third is another: an extended instrumental Adagio. Its musical theme is a string hymn of noble tone and great warmth, which will remain defining right up to the grand finale. ‘What Love Tells Me’ is what Mahler called this movement, and what he conveys to us through music is a message of profound humanity. Mahler redeems his people not in heaven, but on earth.

Author: Thomas Gerlich