It is now more that a year since I exhausted most of my superlatives on a review of Bernstein's Concertgebouw recording (also DG, but now at mid-price). I stand by every syllable. But should you want a reading less idiosyncratic, less dangerous than it was Bernstein's wont to deliver, then you should hear this—another live performance, far more imaginative, atmospheric and tangible than Abbado's studio account with the Chicago Symphony (DG). If I have any real reservatons, they concern the degree of calculation that occasionally mars the intricate detailing of Abbado's work.
A quite extraordinary pianopianissimo sets the scene here. Every sound, every dynamic, adds to a heightened sense of expectation. Our wayfarer is relaxed and contented (who wouldn't be in the hands of the Berlin Philharmonic cellos?), a little subtle rubato coaxing the theme along like gestures of affection. Abbado's natureworld is fragrant indeed: listen to the muted horns before fig. 15 (9'52'' onwards). Very beautiful, but just a shade self-conscious—as are the assorted tugs and ritardandos (all scrupulously chronicled by Mahler) in the long, slow crescendo to the climax of the movement. I appreciate Abbado's subito piano in tremolando violins just before the final ascent, but does it really carry us spontaneously forward? The coda is undoubtedly splendid, but I don't feel that irresistible Bernstein exultancy, not least in the singing violin lines.
Spontaneity is again questionable in the characterful (but unmarked) accelerando from stomping cellos and basses (enormously weighty) into the dance proper of the scherzo. Lots of biting accents and strident carousing woodwinds here—and great rhythmic vitality. I personally find the trio too ''courtly gracious'', the subtlety of nuance out of keeping with its rude country stock. But then, again, you may find Bernstein too vulgar, too close to parody for comfort, in these pages. Parody is of course the order of the day in the bitter-sweet third movement, and here I think Abbado and his Berliners get the balance just right—gently grotesque in the funereal round, quirky in the cafe music, and prettily wistful (a real stories-around-the-fireside feel) as muted divisi violins steal in with the second subject. Marvellous refinement of texture throughout.
In the finale, Bernstein reigns supreme: his sense of the theatrical, his feeling for dramatic narrative and edge-of-seat tension, was always second to none. Abbado begins arrestingly—shrieks of alarm from the high woodwinds, a real buzz of bow on string in the violins' feverish two octave ascent to tremolando high C. Both he and Bernstein adopt a deliberate, even emphatic approach to this tumultuous allegro though Bernstein, characteristically, finds more flexibility within his basic tempo, using the a tempo at five bars after fig. 9 (2'10''), for instance, to whip up both the pace and the excitement. Abbado, as does Bernstein, allows the great second subject to breathe in all the right places and both are unforgettable as Mahler, the hero, alive to greet another dawn, takes that long backward glance just prior to the coda. From here, through whiplash violas to the final triumph, Abbado is undeniably thrilling with Berlin horns and trumpets resplendently leading the clamour. Incidentally, both conductors add bass drum to the final quaver of the symphony, but whereas we were denied Bernstein's cheers, Abbado's are duly recorded—and, I must say, endorsed. Try both recordings if you can (there is little to separate them in sound-quality—both are first class), but I'd be surprised if confirmed Mahlerians—even recent converts—didn't in the end opt for Bernstein.'