Mahler - Symphony N°8 at the Bozar in Brussels

La Monnaie at Bozar, Brussels, Sunday March 9 2025

Conductor: Alain Altinoglu. Magna Peccatrix: Manuela Uhl. Una Poenitentium: Jacquelyn Wagner. Mater Gloriosa: Ilse Eerens. Mulier Samaritana: Nora Gubisch. Maria Aegyptiaca: Marvic Monreal. Doctor Marianus: Corby Welch. Pater Ecstaticus: Christopher Maltman. Pater Profundus: Gábor Bretz. La Monnaie Orchestra and Chorus. Belgian National Orchestra. La Monnaie Choir School and Children's Chorus. Vlaams Radiokoor (Flemish Radio Choir).

Photo: Marco Borggreve

This performance of Mahler’s Symphony N°8 at the Bozar in Brussels will probably be my last ever Mahler concert. I’ve tried over the years, hoping that one day I’d get what others see in his symphonies. More than twenty years ago, after a performance of his Symphony N°2, at the Châtelet, under Salonen, I wrote: ‘I booked this concert thinking that, perhaps, the Philharmonia under a famous conductor might work some kind of epiphany on me and that finally I'd understand. It didn't happen. I won't say exactly what went through my mind at various stages during this long piece, as I don't want to offend the many Mahler lovers around; let's just say it didn't include the word "profound" and that I have a Mahler problem.’

I thought that perhaps with the passing of time, I’d warm to him more, but it hasn’t happened. Rather the opposite. I sat through his third not so long ago on the radio, trying again, and found I now liked him even less than before. Richard Strauss couldn't understand Mahler’s obsession with suffering and redemption, supposedly telling Klemperer ‘I don’t know what I’m supposed to be redeemed from.’ Neither do I. I even find the obsession a bit repugnant, as with Parsifal. And I don’t see what’s redeeming about nursery ditties, peasant dances and cowbells blown up to grotesque proportions. 

‘Grotesque proportions’ are surely the operative words for his eighth. So much planning and organization and hard work and skill must go into it. But to me it remains a vacuous, megalomanic, rambling racket. At the end of the first part, on Sunday, my neighbour leant towards me and whispered, with some surprise, ‘C’est sans intérêt !’ (i.e. ‘It’s of no interest!’). I felt the same. ‘Apotheosis of the Salvation Army,’ I thought. But I’ll stop here as I've no more desire to upset Mahler’s many fans now than before.

Anyway, my neighbour and I are undoubtedly in a tiny minority. At the end, as after Götterdämmerung at La Monnaie last month, most of the audience was instantly on its feet, with a loud hoot followed by cheering for the chorus, the soloists, and each section of the orchestra as Alain Altinoglu - once again cheered loudest of all - invited them in turn to take their bows. He was in his element. It’s quite often said that, more than a conductor, this symphony needs a traffic policeman. But Altinoglu was his usual attentive, enthusiastic self, bouncing, even leaping up and down as he cued and coaxed in all directions (including the far rear of the house: see later), bringing to mind those old caricatures of Berlioz in frenzied action.

Among the soloists were some interesting singers new to me. Jacquelyn Wagner is an American soprano who, I see on doing a bit of research, has a remarkably wide repertoire and is already singing the Marschallin and Leonore. Her voice is silvery, healthy and secure, perhaps a bit monochrome in this ‘oratorio’ setting, but it would be interesting to hear her in an opera, doing some acting. Marvic Monreal is a young Maltese mezzo still doing the rounds of the regional houses, though she’s already sung Verdi’s Requiem alongside Calleja, Radvanovsky and Van Horn. She was one of the unusually excellent Norns in last month’s aforementioned Götterdämmerung, and here, as well as the warmth and strength of her singing, what struck me - and my neighbour - was her glowing presence, even in what I just called the oratorio setting. She looked as if she was ‘living’ the part, beaming inwardly as she sang. One to watch, perhaps.

The men were all good. Two were familiar to me: Maltman, solid as a rock, with a sound like shiny, jet-black obsidian, contrasting very satisfactorily with Gábor Bretz’s more velvety timbre, exuding the warmth and humanity of a Wotan bidding Brünnhilde farewell.

The American tenor Corby Welch, on the other hand, was a new name. From his engagements, I’d guess he’s based in Germany. He started out as an Erik (in Dutchman), but has since moved on to Tannhäuser, Lohengrin, Loge, Siegmund, the Kaiser, Grimes… and Peter Quint. I found his singing interesting, though some people will not, I think, like it at all. He has a very expressive way of using (or not) the hardness in his voice, singing with or without vibrato… He barks out some notes for dramatic impact in a way that reminds me of some Russian tenors - a kind of deliberate malcanto - then slips seamlessly into a melting mezza voce, or into head voice and out again, seemingly all quite comfortably. It will be interesting to look out for him. Kaisers don’t grow on trees. Let's hope he doesn’t take on too much too fast. 

Photo: Le Soir, Belgium, not credited

The Bozar hall's acoustics are usually very satisfactory: warm and round and woody, yet distinct. Was the space overwhelmed by the forces assembled for the Mahler? The two orchestras were, of course, packed on to the stage where usually you find only one. There were chorus members squelched up shoulder to shoulder like sardines (supposing sardines have shoulders) under the organ - the Bozar has a proper one, from Luxembourg builders Westenfelder - as well at the sides of the stage and shoehorned into the galleries above. There was a second brass section on the balcony at the rear. The soloists were lined up, as usual, like peas in a pod at the edge of the platform - apart from Ilse Eerens, who appeared near the ceiling, as befits the Virgin Mary.

For once, even with Altinoglu conducting in this usually excellent auditorium, and unlike his recent forays into Wagner, I found the mass of sound bewilderingly hard to parse. Also, I’m tempted to suggest the solo singers weren’t fully integrated into the whole. But I was on row H (and there was no A, B or C), so perhaps I was just too close to them, and too low with regard to the orchestra, for the sound to gel. The press reviews I’ve read are, at any rate, dithyrambic, so it’s probably better for those who are fond of Mahler to stick to those.

Personally, I was glad when it was over. I didn’t feel redeemed in the slightest.