Alexander Shelley Conducts Mahler’s "Resurrection"

The Pacific Symphony Orchestra and Pacific Chorale in Mahler's Resurrection Symphony. 

REVIEW

Pacific Symphony Orchestra, Renée and Henry Segerstrom Concert Hall, Costa Mesa

DAVID J BROWN

Gustav Mahler in 1892, during the composition
 of his Symphony No. 2.

Are we now at the point where there is simply too much Mahler in concert programs? For anyone who values, above all, variety and the unearthing and exploration of unfamiliar music in their listening, the clear answer is—and has been for some years—a resounding “Yes!” Whenever one of his gargantuan symphonies is included in a concert, that takes care of most or all of its running time, and there’s a vast quantity of other music—under-appreciated, little known, or simply unknown—waiting to fill that space.

But—and it’s a very big “BUT”—there are always going to be audience members encountering Mahler’s work for the first time, and of those who brought innocent ears to Costa Mesa's Segerstrom Concert Hall on the first Thursday in October for what was a cogent and often thrilling performance of his Symphony No.2 in C minor “Resurrection” GMW 30 (1888-1894) under the baton of the Pacific Symphony’s new Artistic and Music Director Alexander Shelley, the ones who were thus uplifted and thrilled surely far outnumbered any who felt twinges of boredom at Mahler’s lengthy progress to the Empyrean.

Alexander Shelley.

As Mr. Shelley noted in a pre-concert interview with KUSC’s Alan Chapman, Mahler took no fewer than six years to arrive at this symphony’s final form. From that long process, it’s fortunate that the first version of the opening movement has survived as a quasi-standalone tone poem entitled Totenfeier (Funeral rites), completed in 1888. This was already an impressively powerful creation, but in 1894 the still-young composer molded it into the far more dramatic and cogent final version by increasing its instrumental forces, reworking the orchestration, inserting many more expressive markings, and tightening the development and recapitulation.

At the very outset Mahler also made a crucial change of marking from Maestoso to Allegro maestoso and, not content with this, underlined his intent with the qualifier Mit durchaus ernstem und feierlichem Ausdruck (With complete gravity and solemnity of expression throughout). A few weeks ago, we attended a performance (reviewed here) of an equally great but very different symphony, Dvořák’s Seventh, whose first movement is also headed Allegro maestoso. However, while there the challenge is to balance and honor both those instructions in a subdued pianissimo for violas and cellos, Mahler asks for the utmost in trenchant savagery, with a fff 16th-note motif, marked wild, in the cellos and basses against a fortissimo tremolando, rapidly shrinking to piano, from the rest of the strings.

Mahler's first composing hut, at 
Steinbach, where he completed
his Second Symphony in 1894.

From the Pacific Symphony’s lower strings really digging into that opening motif, through the violins’ and violas’ exquisitely silky delivery of the aspiring second subject, to the implacable downward charge of woodwind, horns and strings with which Mahler slams the coffin-lid on this titanic funeral march, Maestro Shelley’s meticulous observation of the innumerable dynamic, tempo, and expressive markings with which the score is laden, and his orchestra’s faithful fulfillment of them, made this performance already an impressive achievement.

Unrealistically, Mahler asks a for pause of more than five minutes before the second movement. Here it was no more than the usual minute or so, but still enough to trigger a ripple of applause from those unfazed by the finality of the carefully graded string pizzicati, mezzoforte and then pianissimo, which follow that downward charge. This second movement is often characterized as a lightweight interlude, contrasting with the tragic power of the first. It is marked Andante moderato, qualified by Sehr gemächlich (Very leisurely) and further by Nie eilen (Never rush), with grazioso underlining the opening Ländler theme.

While there was no lack of grace, Shelley’s interpretation of this movement had more weight and seriousness than usual, with the many measures of pizzicato triplets from all the strings—admirably unanimous—having a cumulative power, even ominousness, so that the central turn to darkness felt less unmotivated than it can do, with the whole movement more aligned than usual with its predecessor’s dark and weighty expressive arc.

Though not marked as such in the score, Shelley proceeded attacca to the third movement, its opening timpani thwack causing a noticeable start from some audience members. By now this performance’s characteristics were clear—meticulous observance of Mahler’s detailed markings and well-rehearsed and willing responses by the orchestra, all bodied forth in the Segerstrom Hall’s marvelous acoustic so that time and again instrumental details often lost in other performances made themselves heard.

The brief fourth movement, Urlicht (Primeval light), brought Dame Sarah Connolly (left) to the front of the platform, her rich mezzo-soprano’s heartfelt delivery of the inserted Knaben Wunderhorn setting testifying to her long familiarity with Mahler’s idiom. In her briefer role towards the end of the finale, soprano Miah Persson (below) was equally fine, though in the case of both soloists, now placed next to the harps, where the score indicates that they double quiet choral lines, they did not in some places do so. Different edition from my venerable UE score? Interpretative decision for this performance?

When their moment finally arrived towards the end of the finale, the 140-strong Pacific Chorale were as heart-catching in their first ppp entry on Auferstehn (the strings’ quiet underpinning here clearly audible for once) as they were seismically powerful for the final chorus—a testament to their preparation by Artistic Director Robert Istad (and, one imagines, relishing a less taxing assignment than in that other festival go-to choral symphony, Beethoven’s Ninth).

Throughout, the 100+ members of the Pacific Symphony Orchestra covered themselves in glory, with so many noteworthy moments from individuals, sections, and the whole tutti that it would be invidious to single out any one such. But as I’ve noticed before in this hall, for all the combination of richness and clarity in the auditorium itself, the offstage brass passages, though immaculately cued and played, lacked the atmospheric remoteness that you get in, say, London’s Royal Albert Hall. Maybe the backstage topography at the Segerstrom simply prevents this.

As ever, this performance convinced me no more than any other that the finale of Mahler's Resurrection Symphony doesn’t have at least one too many piled-up orchestral climax-plus-collapses before its choral apotheosis finally arrives, though as delivered by the Pacific Symphony’s massed forces, they were all as thrillingly impactful as anyone could desire. Overall, this account of the work was as fine an augury for Maestro Shelley’s tenure with the Pacific Symphony as one could hope for, and fully deserved its prolonged standing ovation. 

---ooo---

Pacific Symphony Orchestra, Segerstrom Center for the Arts, Costa Mesa, Thursday, October 1, 2026, 8 p.m.

Images: The performance: Doug Gifford; Mahler, Stinbach composing hut: Wikimedia Commons.

If you found this review enjoyable, interesting, or informative, please feel free to Buy Me A Coffee!