Over the next two seasons Sydney audiences will have the opportunity to hear the always inspired, sometimes tragic, music of Mahler as the Sydney Symphony performs the entire symphonic cycle. Mike Smith talks to Principal Conductor and Artistic Advisor Vladimir Ashkenazy about these remarkable works.

Gustav Mahler used to love walking in the countryside. One day he was with a friend, who pointed to the beautiful vista. ‘Don’t bother looking at the view,’ Mahler replied, ‘I’ve already composed it’.

Mahler’s concept of the symphony as an art form was that it should ‘be like the whole world, it must contain everything’. His genius lies in his ability to draw together wildly disparate elements – intense, rich orchestral textures and harmonies alongside sections of almost chamber-music simplicity, rustic Austrian folk melodies, child-like innocence and a morbid fascination with death – into totally compelling musical structures. He intensified the psychological tension in ‘romantic’ music, underpinning the bridge between post-romanticism and 20th century modernism and leading the way to Schoenberg and Shostakovich and the breakdown of tonality.

With country song and dance, bugle calls and even cow-bells woven into his symphonies; with his soaring Wagnerian melodies, lilting Viennese waltzes and grinding dissonances that stretch tonality to its limits, does Mahler succeed in representing the whole world in his symphonies? ‘No, I don’t think so’, says Vladimir Ashkenazy. ‘His symphonies contain “Mahler” first of all. It is his vision of the world, how miserable life is for him. He was introverted and obsessed with his own life. It’s all about “me, me, me”; it’s about how such an incredibly gifted human being, of the genius kind, reflects his view of his own tragic life. Everyone understands what he’s saying, we can all identify with him, the rest of the world shares a little bit of Mahler.’

Mahler’s symphonies were greeted with hostility at first, and concert promoters were reluctant to engage the huge forces required by his symphonies, especially when they weren’t popular and could not guarantee good box-office returns. However, with the advocacy of conductors such as Mengelberg and Walter, and the emergence of the recording industry, they are now recognised as the very height of the Austro-German symphonic tradition.

It’s very timely to perform the whole cycle this year and next, as 2010 celebrates the 150th anniversary of his birth, and 2011 commemorates the centenary of his death.

I ask Ashkenazy about his first impressions of Mahler’s music. ‘When I was first able to buy an LP, in New York in 1958, I suddenly had access to lots of music, music that simply wasn’t available in Russia – especially not Mahler! I spent all of my money on LPs. Most people bought suits and smart clothes and I bought a suitcase full of LPs. I remember the cover on the one I bought of Das Lied von der Erde with Kathleen Ferrier and Bruno Walter – there was a beautiful sunset on the cover, dark yellow and red, it fitted so perfectly with the music, as if it really depicted the end of the world.’

Ashkenazy continues humbly: ‘But how can I be any great judge of another human being’s endeavour? I cannot evaluate the influence of Mahler’s gift and his output. For me, there’s no point trying to describe Mahler’s music, because genius is beyond description. The thing is to listen. You could say that without Bach there would have been no Mozart or Beethoven, but you cannot say that of Mahler’s influence. Without Mahler music would have gone forward of course, but in a slightly different way’.

There’s a story of the young Mahler witnessing a particularly violent argument between his parents and running out into the street to escape, only to be immediately confronted by a hurdy-gurdy man playing a popular Viennese air. This is a portent of how high tragedy and light amusement became fixed as close partners in his mind. I ask Ashkenazy how a conductor can reconcile such enormous contrasts of mood within these symphonies, where the ugly sits uneasily alongside the sublime. How does one control the balance between the heaven-storming calls in the brass, the vigorous and sometimes violent scherzos, the ugliness of everyday life and the desolation of utter loneliness? ‘It’s very clear in the music,’ he says, ‘the conductor doesn’t have to do anything. A lot of the world is ugly, you’ve only got to go outside and see what people do to each other!’

Each time he performs the Mahler symphonic cycle, does he take a different approach? ‘Yes,’ he replies, ‘as it is with everything. I just try to think again what I have done before, and try to do it better. But I’ll tell you a true story abut the difficulty of conducting his music’, he continues. ‘When Mahler composed Das Lied von der Erde he pointed to a place in the score and asked Bruno Walter: “Bruno, how do you conduct this section in the last movement?” Bruno replied: “I’ve no idea, you wrote it”.’

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MAHLER 1 – THE ODYSSEY BEGINS

Wednesday 10, Friday 12, Saturday 13 February 8pm
Tickets: $35–$128
Thursday 11 February 1.30pm
Tickets: $35–$111

MAHLER 8

Thursday 18, Saturday 20 February 8pm
Tickets: $49–$153
Bookings: 8215 4600
www.sydneysymphony.com