In this performance Roger Norrington achieves his lifelong ambition of making a modern symphony orchestra, engineered according to the latest SACD technology (albeit a bit cavernously), sound like a badly recorded pre-War mono 78rpm disc. The tinny brass sonority, thin and scrappy strings, and flat dynamics all point to Norrington's timbral ideal. Say what you will about the result, it's certainly an achievement in a negative sort of way. I pity everyone involved in this misguided abortion of a performance, but then they're getting paid anyway, and a lot more than I, so I suppose they can laugh all the way to the bank.

In his booklet notes Norrington claims with pride that, "Our recordings so far have been received with a fascinating mixture of complete delight and stern incomprehension." I guess I fall into the latter category, but as usual with Norrington, he misapprehends the reality of the situation. I understand perfectly well what he thinks he's doing. I just happen to know he's operating with a warped view of history, a lack of podium talent, and a malfunctioning sense of hearing. That's certainly a form of "comprehension", just not the kind that Norrington is looking for. I am also well aware that in saying this I am giving him far more attention and validation than he deserves. Furthermore, "stern" hardly describes my reaction to an interpretation that's so difficult to take seriously that it provokes dismayed laughter.

Take the vibrato issue. In his set of notes, Norrington writes that "pure tone" was "normal with all orchestras until the 1920s. We don't believe Mahler ever heard a classical orchestra...playing with permanent vibrato." Hmmm. It seems the old boy is choosing his words more carefully than previously. It used to be no vibrato prior to World War II, or no vibrato in German orchestras prior to the 1930s, or just plain no vibrato at all. Now, it's no "permanent" vibrato, whatever that means, leaving open the possibility of "temporary" vibrato, presumably when Mahler's scores specifically ask for it, as they not infrequently do. But then, consistency never was Norrington's strong suit, either in word or in deed. In any case, here's a bit of information on this subject, well-known to all serious Mahlerites, that ought to be better known to the listening public, and particularly to the long-suffering members of the Stuttgart Radio Symphony Orchestra.

In a famous series of recorded interviews with musicians who actually played under Mahler (included in the New York Philharmonic "Mahler Broadcasts" set, and previously issued by Sony in Bernstein's first cycle), Herbert Borodkin, violist with the New York Philharmonic from 1904-09, recalls that Mahler "used a lot more vibrato than most conductors do today (1964!). He insisted on it. He asked for it. When you played a melodic tune, you would have to use a lot of vibrato and sing, as he called it." Violinist Herman Martonne (in New York from 1905-09) notes the same basic facts concerning Mahler's requirement that the strings adopt a distinctive, "singing" tone, and further comments on this style as being idiomatically Viennese. Martonne was a student at the Vienna Conservatory at the turn of the century and witnessed performances by Mahler both at the Court Opera and with the Vienna Philharmonic. Could the truth in this regard be made any clearer, short of Mahler himself rising from the grave and shouting, "Put the vibrato back, stupid!"?

With this in mind, check out Norrington's treatment of the first movement's second subject, or the theoretically sweet episode just before the ghostly coda. Singing? I think not. Then there's the ghastly (in this performance) Andante moderato, which Mahler further marks "very leisurely, not rushed", which of course is a cue for Norrington to offer a clipped (he shortchanges rhythmic values everywhere), brusque, hurried run-through. I could go on: the completely non-ferocious "dead march" in the finale, the gutless ending with its minimal organ, clanking bells, recessed tam-tams, no sense of exaltation whatsoever, and the merely adequate soloists. But really, what's the point?

I still hope, if only for the sake of the talented Stuttgart players, that someday they will summon up sufficient nerve to tell the management that either this tiresome quack has to go or they will. It may be bad PR, and it might spell the end of what little notoriety they now enjoy in the classical music world, but like kicking a bad habit it can only serve them well in the long run. Don't they realize how foolish Norrington is making them look?

--David Hurwitz