HDTT is pleased to present the sovereign Jascha Horenstein’s definitive recording
of Mahler’s Symphony No. 8 (“Symphony of a Thousand”) in a new restoration
from a superior tape source, in its first audiophile release. This magnificent live
performance, which took place at London’s huge Royal Albert Hall on March 20,
1959, featured a total of 756 performers—a large gathering for even this massive
work. More than any other identifiable event, this performance was a turning point
for public opinion regarding Mahler’s works in Britain, initiating the Mahler craze
there that persists in our time, when Mahler has become as much a part of the
orchestral canon as Beethoven.
For many Mahler aficionados, this classic Horenstein recorded performance
remains the touchstone for its perfect balance of delicate, heavenly beauty with
moments of overwhelming power, always revealing the abundant depth of feeling
that permeates this work. Now, as restored in a high-resolution format from a very
high-quality tape source, it can be heard with far greater clarity and definition,
substantially enhancing the listening experience.
We recommend that every listener peruse the scan of the original 1959 concert
program booklet (provided courtesy of the conductor’s cousin and champion,
Misha Horenstein, to whom we are deeply grateful), included in the HDTT Blog
page relating to this release. In particular we recommend Mahler scholar Deryck
Cooke’s outstanding program notes in that booklet that perfectly conjure up the
context for Mahler’s composition, illuminating its meaning and providing an easy-
to-follow structural analysis, replete with musical samples and the text of all the
vocal and choral portions, both in the languages performed (Latin for Part I;
German for Part II), and in corresponding English translations.
Part I is based on the medieval Catholic hymn “Veni, Creator Spiritus,” including
complex contrapuntal writing for seven soloists and the various assembled choirs.
Part II is based on the final scenes from Goethe’s Faust, which is an extended
celebration of Faust’s ultimate redemption as he is received into heaven, thwarting
Mephistopheles’ efforts to capture his soul. Here the number of soloists is
increased to eight, adding a third soprano who intones the few lines of Mater
Gloriosa, whose theme has been heard previously. The text of Part II is actually
undramatic in nature regarding the Faust story; instead, it provides an extended
vision of heaven portrayed in the most tender and lovely music imaginable,
eventually culminating in a mighty conclusion by the massed forces. The mood
portrayed throughout is ecstatic and uplifting.
Mahler’s singular view of religion encompassed traditional religious doctrine and
liturgical material but always filtered through his own personal religious
sensibilities, which did not hew to any established religious sect or denomination.
Though Jewish by birth, he drew freely upon religious concepts and liturgy from
many sources that appealed to his own sense of the divine nature of the human
spirit, and nowhere more so than in this work.
Though formally split into two parts, as Cooke points out, the structure of this
work is actually more “symphonic” than it appears at first blush. Part I can be
viewed as comprising the first movement of the usual symphonic four movement
format, and although there are no such indications in the score, Part II can be
viewed as dividing logically into three connected movements that correspond to
the three remaining conventional movements. Thus Cooke identifies three sections
of Part II that correspond to an Adagio, a Scherzo and a Finale.
In tracking this recording, we have followed Cooke’s suggested scheme. We
divided Part I into two tracks due to its length, while the “Adagio” and “Scherzo”
sections of Part II each have their own track. For the “Finale” section, we have
again divided it into two tracks due to its length. The performance received a 20-
minute ovation, which we have abbreviated. We have also provided as a bonus
Cooke’s interesting 6-minute spoken introduction to the original 1959 mono
broadcast, from a different tape source.
The performance itself is remarkable for many reasons. It was assembled in only
five months, ironically because the BBC’s Music Department found that by the end
of their fiscal year ending in April, 1959, they would be underspending their
budget by a substantial amount. Rather than face a potential cut in the following
year, they decided to mount a costly work like Mahler’s Eighth, the cost of which
was more usually a factor in the work’s not being performed. Starting in October
1958, they had to locate a hall, soloists, orchestra and a suitable conductor for this
complex work that was generally unfamiliar to both performers and audiences. The
huge Royal Albert Hall, opened by Queen Victoria in 1870, which today seats
5,272, was fortunately available. In this 1959 event, it was said to be occupied by
an audience of almost 6,000.
On all counts, the sponsors did a superlative job in making choices for the
performers. Jascha Horenstein, already recognized as a leading Mahler conductor,
was fortunately available, getting things off to a definite good start. In light of
Horenstein’s deep understanding of this massive score, as demonstrated by this
recording, with his perfect sense of pacing, architecture and infinitely layered
dynamics, not to mention his trademark ability to give palpable immediacy to
sprawling scores, it is difficult to believe that this was his first time to conduct this
work, but that is the case.
The London Symphony Orchestra was an ideal choice for the orchestra, and it was
augmented for this occasion to 144 players. A glance at the personnel list in the
program booklet (page 28) shows a number of recognized names—the first chair
second violin was none other than Neville Marriner; we have the fabulous
trombonist Denis Wick (familiar as the great trombone soloist in the 1970
Horenstein/LSO recording of Mahler Symphony No. 3) as first chair among seven;
James Galway is one of four piccolo players; Gervase de Peyer is first clarinetist;
and Barry Tuckwell is first hornist, among nine. The augmented strings play as if
special-ordered from heaven itself. The massive choirs are first-rate, clearly having
been well-drilled in their unfamiliar music by Berthold Goldschmidt, and they
perform with a seemingly inexhaustible supply of pure tone as well as fine clarity,
given their vast numbers, under Horenstein’s inspired leadership.
The choice of vocal soloists also turned out to be fortuitous, resulting in
distinguished performances from every one of them. Approaches were made to a
number of prominent names for the first soprano part which eventually went to
Joyce Barker, originally an understudy, who acquits herself honorably. The second
soprano part, which includes some ravishing high lines, as well as the important
Penitent role who is the alter ego of Gretchen in Part II, was ideally cast with the
radiant coloratura soprano voice of German soprano Agnes Giebel, whose always
clearly audible, pealing upper tones were unsuspected by the author from
familiarity with her lieder and concert recordings. Her pure, full-throated tones can
easily soar above the fray, here being some 750 performers giving it their all. The
outstanding beauty she brings to this performance is a major positive element.
The recording itself is also remarkable. To fully understand what we are hearing,
one must first view the photo of the occasion. Royal Albert Hall is in a large
elliptical, domed building, and in the photo we can see the large orchestra seated
“down center,” with tightly packed choristers seated both behind it and stretching
upward toward the top of the hall on either side, far above the orchestra. Thus, the
“stereo image” presented is a large aural canvas with the “orchestral spread”
occupying a smaller than usual space on either side of the center line, not
extending out to the edges which would normally be presented by the left and right
speakers. As seen in the photo, the orchestra and soloists are literally engulfed by
the sea of choristers that surround them.
The raw recording suffers from a severe channel imbalance placing almost
everything to the right of the center line, but once this issue is corrected, the spread
of sound, necessarily captured from fairly far back in the hall to pick up all the
performers, does a quite respectable job of providing a realistic sonic spread of
what was occurring there. The fact that this early experimental stereo recording
relied on coincident, or nearly so, stereo mic placement turns out to be a virtue,
avoiding a nightmare of phase incoherence that might have resulted if multi-
miking had been attempted. Despite the distant mic placement, a generous amount
of musical detail was captured, including clear audibility and definition of
orchestral as well as vocal solos, all of which is enhanced by the new-found clarity
of the excellent tape source and the high-resolution dubbing of it. A disadvantage is
that the mic placement also captured with great clarity a vast amount of audience
noise, including every kind of respiratory noise known to man. We have managed
to remove or at least ameliorate a great deal of that audience noise. Other issues
involved repairing tape dropouts and correcting the meandering pitch of the
original to present the whole recording exactly on pitch, something we believe
(without conducting an extensive survey) is probably a first for this recording.
Fortunately, a large dynamic range was well captured, which of course we have not
compressed; this means that the regular volume level may seem on the low side, so
please turn it up, but with an awareness of what is coming at the huge climaxes.
We hope that listeners will enjoy this glorious live performance as has never before
been possible.
We have added three orchestral pieces by Mahler’s contemporary, friend and
colleague, Ferruccio Busoni, with Horenstein conducting the Royal Philharmonic
Orchestra in historical studio performances made for later broadcast, commercially
released here for the first time. These pieces highlight an important connection
between the two composers, who as will be heard here, shared some elements in
common in their adventurous harmonic sense and in their general sound world.
Busoni was born in Italy but as a composer he was effectively Germanic. He is
remembered today more as a great piano virtuoso and pedagogue than as a
composer. He in fact appeared several times as piano soloist in concerts that
Mahler conducted.
The first selection is a Suite that Busoni arranged from his unsuccessful quasi-
comic opera Die Brautwahl (The Bridal Choice), based on a fantastical story by
E.T.A. Hoffmann. It is notable for some very attractive music, including a stunning
9-minute-plus passage of love music that comprises its second section. The second
selection is Busoni’s gripping “Berceuse élégiaque,” which was featured by Mahler
in the last concert he ever conducted, in New York City on February 21, 1911,
three months before he died. This study in implacable grief is subtitled “Des
Mannes Wiegenlied am Sarge seiner Mutter” (“The man’s lullaby at his mother’s
coffin”), and it is dedicated to Busoni’s own mother. The third selection is an
attractive high-spirited concert overture, “Eine Lustspielouvertüre” (A Comedy
Overture). Hearing such music so sympathetically conducted by Horenstein makes
one wonder why Busoni is not better remembered today as a composer.
Notes by John H. Haley