The Santa Barbara Symphony’s Sunday matinee performance of Gustav Mahler’s turn-of-the-20th-century epic Symphony No. 6 in A Minor, “Tragic” captured and expressed the reputed power of the work.
Paradox and conflict, suffering and grace permeate the entire symphony.
Apparently, it engenders the same: Ongoing critical argument about the correct order of the movements influenced the programs. The order of the second and third movements were reversed on Saturday and Sunday.
The first movement allegro was epic by itself. None of the 102 musicians on stage stayed in the background.
A conversation seemed to be taking place between innocence and threat, a juxtaposition that emphasized their co-existence. Snare drums beat a military march; timpanic booms and deep horns produced a tectonic rumbling with visceral impact. It was hard not to “woot!” out loud, much less applaud at the end of it.
In the second movement, on Sunday the scherzo, playful metallic tings and the highest note I’ve ever heard from a flute evoked childlike playfulness, and swirling strings painted relaxing images of fields in spring.
The slow drawing of bows low across the bass, along with those deep horns, called to mind an underworld at work beneath the surface while we’re delighting in nature.
As in every tragic situation, a balm of gentle grace came in the third movement. Clarinet and horns carried tunes over a slow swoop and occasional plucking in the string section.
Light, repeated taps on cowbells evoked a jangly wind chime, reminding us that we can’t forestall the inevitable.
The final movement, another allegro, matched the first in epic scale. Music moved geographically across the stage as the higher wind and brass instruments played, followed in sequence down the scale and from left to right on stage.
The music called to mind that heroism exists mostly in the context of tragedy: a miraculously calm pilot with only one wing remaining on her airplane; an army of first responders in the face of disaster.
Twice, a drum sounding larger than a timpani was hit so hard that it was felt in the chest — a sonic boom. Later, three pairs of large cymbals clashed at once.
At one point, the winds and brass carried so much of the music that I realized I’ve never seen a string section sitting still for so long in a symphony!
Eventually, the concertmaster’s solo led into a call-and-response between her violin and a clarinet, and brought the strings back to life.
The entire work ended with a single tiny pluck of violins.
The audience leaped to its feet and cheered as each section was acknowledged separately — brass, winds, percussion, violin, viola, cello, bass, piano and harp, first with each section leader, followed by the group.
In this unique work, virtuosity is not only at the front of the stage and not the purview of individuals. Mahler spread opportunities to shine across the entire orchestra.
With his signature passionate physicality, conductor Nir Kabaretti was rooted securely to the podium, yet at times levitated with energy and engaged deeply with his 102 players. He wiped his brow, as did several instrumentalists, between movements of this strenuous work.
Though Mahler’s 6th was created when both his family life and life in his native Austria were peaceful, personal tragedy and World War I were nigh. Some say the work is prophetic. Mahler is quoted in the program notes, “I don’t choose what to compose. It chooses me.”
I’m grateful our local orchestra chose to perform this majestic work.
— Noozhawk contributor and local arts critic Judith Smith-Meyer is a round-the-clock appreciator of the creative act. She can be reached at news@noozhawk.com. The opinions expressed are her own.