12/10/2001

Analysis of Mahler's Symphony #1 mvt. 1 and Ging heute morgen ?bers Feld


Introduction

"That Nature includes all, being at once awesome, magnificent, and lovable, no one seems to grasp. It seems so strange to me that most people, when mentioning Nature in connection with art, imply only flowers, birds, the fragrance of the woods, etc. No one seems to think of the mighty underlying mystery, the god Dionysos, the great Pan; and just that mystery is the burden of my phrase 'Like the voice of Nature.' That, if anything, is my 'program,' the secret of my composition. My music is the voice of Nature sounding in tone." - Gustav Mahler

Mahler opens his groundbreaking First Symphony (1888, "Titan") in strikingly unusual fashion: instead of the clear Sonata-Allegro so common just a half-century earlier, he marks the 1st movement Langsam, nicht schleppend and does not introduce a recognizable theme until well into the piece. From the start, then, it is clear that Mahler wishes to express something very differently from his predecessors while retaining the traditional title of "Symphony;" he wanted his ideas, however original, seen as a logical progression from admired greats like Beethoven. Far from rejecting the past, he embraced early Romantic notions perhaps more than his contemporaries even as his musical palette diverged from classical tonality and form. In this way the First Symphony, aided by thematic material from Songs of a Wayfarer, expresses Mahler's very Romantic conception of Nature in a unique musical framework.

Opening with eerie harmonics throughout the strings shaped around the eventual dominant tone of A, the 1st movement hangs essentially in limbo for over 3 minutes. In contrast with the bulk of the movement, this introduction has no audible form; if the symphony as a whole is a depiction of the vital natural world, then the fragmentary, static opening must represent time before its creation. The seemingly indeterminate meter recalls the overture to Wagner's Parsifal, composed a few years earlier, in which Wagner tries to evoke a similar feeling of timelessness for the stories he is about to present. Unlike Wagner, however, Mahler has no intention of introducing Christian ambiguities to his mythos* -- the otherworldly quality introduced here lacks (one might say transcends) the quasi-religious emotions expressed in Parsifal. Instead, Mahler takes this frozen moment in time to introduce some of the characters that will appear in Nature:

The first sign of movement starts in the woodwinds, descending a fourth from the ubiquitous A. Later in the introduction, the same figure recalls the sound of a cuckoo when played by a high clarinet and transposed. Once the Creation itself gets moving -- with the help of the Wayfarer theme that itself begins on the same interval -- this gesture will continue to represent Nature in a general sense. Meanwhile, the clarinets have introduced some lively triplet fanfares, soon continued by the trumpets. These recall a martial atmosphere so common to Mahler's works; placed in this ephemeral, otherwise pastoral context, it is clear that he envisions human struggles like war an integral part of Nature. Although we have clearly transcended the everyday, this is not to be a Utopia. Likewise, when the horns begin to consider the imagery of a primal Teutonic forest (a common association in German music since at least Weber) they are interrupted not only by natural elements like the cuckoo, but by the cellos who foreshadow the somber theme of the 3rd movement.

The keys of these initial fragments offer some further insight. As mentioned, the continuous A becomes the dominant of the movement's main tonal center, D major. Thus, from a purely traditional point of view, the introduction represents a form of tension that must be resolved. Couched in the Nature metaphor, Mahler uses music theory to demonstrate that his conception of the world is not the static imagery of the first few minutes.

Before the suspense is broken, however, there are further clues to the meaning of the introduction and its role in the work. For instance, the mysterious descending fourth becomes the identifiable cuckoo by a transposition that alters it from beginning on an A (dominant/chaos) to beginning on a D (tonic/creation). The triplet motives are first heard in the distant key of Bb, then in the familiar D but via the physically distant antiphonal trumpets. The horn theme has neither problem of distance, but is in its own way -- namely, melodically -- longing for something, essentially incomplete, and ultimately broken by the ominous cellos (a minor). All of these factors point to a natural but fundamentally inadequate picture; inevitably, the "awesome, magnificent" world must spring forth and burst into song.

*The First Symphony predates his conversion to Catholicism by a decade.


Song of a Wayfarer

A few years earlier, Mahler had written a cycle of four songs lamenting his unrequited love for Johanna Richter, a singer who had performed on his court stage in 1883. Legend has his short affair ending on Christmas Day -- whether or not it is true (or if it would be significant to a Jewish boy), the encounter took its psychological toll on him, prompting him to return to these gloomy works again and again though he refused to publish them for some time. The second, Ging heut morgen ?bers Feld, is remarkably (and uniquely) upbeat, though it too ends with a touch of sadness. Specifically, the buoyant depiction of Nature occupying most of his poem is shown merely as a contrast: unlike nature's happiness, his "nimmer bl?hen kann" (never can bloom).

Nevertheless, the piece offers a solid glimpse at some of Mahler's ideas about Nature. The fields are dewy, the sun is shining -- and the one human is, apparently, alone. As one might expect in this idyllic fantasy world, though, the protagonist is able to converse with plants and animals, all of whom share the pervasive optimism.

And yet, as illustrated in the opening quote, Mahler is interested in Nature for more than its pretty flowers. The setting of the lone man might hark back to the Romantic idealization of the individual uncorrupted by society, but it more poignantly recalls his disaffected state after being rejected in love. Even before the protagonist begins to reflect on his personal troubles, Mahler hints that the "sch?ne Welt" is so because of relationships -- "Blum' und Vogel, gro? und klein" together make up the larger picture. This notion of an interconnected whole contributes to the "underlying mystery" central to his conception of Nature.


Bringing the "Titan" to life

With these ideas undoubtedly in mind, Mahler turns to the Wayfarer theme when he finally animates the First Symphony's Nature-world. The lifeless world seems to be set in motion at once, releasing the harmonic and melodic tensions of the introduction in a burst of creativity. No longer confined to a static fragment, the "Nature theme" (descending fourths) at last blooms into Ging heut morgen and immediately conjures the pastoral images of the text. This theme is quoted at length, interspersed with a few birdlike motives in the flutes -- including the original cuckoo theme itself -- but essentially unchanged for about 1.5 minutes, when with help from the horns and trumpets it is built into an accelerated crescendo. The climax fades, but the entire process is repeated until new material is finally added about 4 minutes into the main section.

The transformation from song to symphony is deceptively simple, however; for Mahler, it could not have been a trivial choice. Working as with all symphonic composers in the shadow of Beethoven, he must have been keenly aware of the way the master's 9th introduced vocals to the genre; although Mahler would put off true vocal parts for now, the philosophical issues raised by the presence of a text may have outweighed the musical hurdles avoided by the lack of singers. Not surprisingly, then, the Wayfarer excerpt chosen could have almost been penned by Schiller, clearly sharing An die Freude's optimistic tone** and reverence for the mystical. (The music of the ironic ending never appears.)

Similarly, the shift from program music to absolute music was not taken lightly. Early sketches of the symphony contained programmatic notes such as the title "Spring" for the section under discussion; they were later removed. Even the common title "Titan" was shunned by Mahler in the final editions. He left to the performer only the initial indication: "like the voice of Nature." Thus, as his symphony transcended the ordinary world, it seemed he wished also to transcend the original text which, though containing hints toward a fuller conception of Nature, obviously did not focus on its more mysterious side.

**I really want to call them both "fluffy." Nor would Schiller probably mind - he considered the poem a youthful work at best - but who knows whom I might offend?


The mystery returns

Having left the piece on the dominant after the main theme fades out a second time, Mahler returns us to the otherworldly imagery of the sustained harmonics on A. The newly created world is not arrested in its motion -- we still hear birdcalls in the flute, the Nature/cuckoo fragment in the clarinet, and so on -- but it is as if all the creatures are waiting, preparing for a considerably less spritely turn of events. Even the cuckoo is not unscathed, occasionally jumping a fifth (thus clearly outlining a minor) instead of the usual fourth (which at least keeps D somewhat ambiguous). The cello alone seems free to express itself; its tune is longing at first, only to be further melancholied by a shift to the minor mode. An F bass arrives, creating with the A a major-mode feel certainly more scary than the minor, since we know it can only be ironic.

Sure enough, those tones are reinterpreted as merely the top of a d-minor triad, and the weird new theme begins in the low harp. Despite the air of mystery, though, some elements remain the same: the cellos continue their cries, the upper woodwinds their calls, and the double-reeds play the familiar if haunting descending-fourths melody from the very beginning. When the horns are called on to assist the harp, they can't help but resemble their original forest motif; the harp itself recalls the triplet patterns of the trumpets in the introduction, after a fashion. While night has apparently fallen on the new world, bringing out its attendant mysteries and surprises, we're still in the same forest.

Meanwhile, Mahler has demonstrated his unique style in this middle section perhaps more clearly than anywhere else. The instrumental texture remains transparent throughout the work, but it is here that he puts this fact to use, weaving into it several independent melodies at once. Birdcalls, sighing, and human conflict (if we may indeed connect the harp's triplets with those of the trumpet's early war calls) together form the fabric of this complex section. The implication for his conception of Nature is obvious: as hinted in the poem, the mysterious aspects of Nature are found in the relationships between everyday subjects. However, with this combination in full force Mahler achieves here a mystical sound much closer to "the god Dionysos, the great Pan" than anything in the lied.


Conclusion

Once these themes have played themselves out for a few minutes, the horns emerge with a more forceful motif and lead the ensemble back to the Wayfarer theme, beginning in about the middle of the original tune. Although realized in first A, then E major, it is clear that a veil has been lifted, allowing the brilliant triangle to sound for instance. In addition to the new instrumentation the ensemble also seems more free in its modulations, though the dynamics remain reserved until the trumpets finally break through with a rushing triplet figure (elongating the dominant A once again).

Once the horns come in with their gallant D major melody, the movement is clearly on its final legs. With the brass rejuvenated, the orchestra tosses around the Wayfarer theme freely while interjecting many of the old motifs like the cuckoo. Having shown us a bit of the darker side of Nature, Mahler is content to maintain the joyful mood for the rest of the piece (saving further probes into the "underlying mystery" for future movements, no doubt) -- but not without a few more twists. The saxophones have a surprise cameo in the middle of a modulating pattern, shining through the orchestral texture in clear Mahler fashion. The ending itself is punctuated with timpani, muted trumpets, and a few gaps of silence -- hardly the standard cadence of Haydn, or even Beethoven. Unlike the introduction, therefore, one is never tempted to call the depiction of Nature static or repetitive; Mahler keeps his world vivacious not only in mere tempo but with continued innovation.

By using the themes and connotations of Ging heut morgen even as he removed the text, Mahler is able to paint an elaborate picture of Nature in his 1st Symphony. Although the music is clearly cast in a new mold, he is able to draw on prior sources for both the overall form and his desired content. If the 1st is non-traditional it is nonetheless worthy of assuming Beethoven's mantle -- while embracing the magic of the Teutonic forest that so captured the attention of Weber, Wagner, and countless Romantic poets.


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