United Kingdom Haydn, Mahler: Julian Steckel (cello), Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra / Karl-Heinz Steffens (conductor). Lighthouse, Poole, 18.3.2026. (CK)
Haydn – Cello Concerto in D
Mahler – Symphony No.5
Mahler’s Fifth Symphony is a tough nut to crack. After the clear, spectacular narratives of the early symphonies it breaks new, knottier ground: it is purely instrumental (no soloists – apart from that horn in the Scherzo! – and no offstage instruments), which makes it cheaper to programme – as does the surprising fact that although Mahler marked it ‘for large orchestra’ it actually requires fewer players than any other of his symphonies apart from the Fourth. The Adagietto, of course, continues to underwrite the popularity of the whole work.
Why, then, a tough nut to crack? Largely because of its odd structure. It seems to revolve around the central Scherzo, unusually the longest movement: Mahler’s pre-Alma friend Natalie Bauer-Lechner tells us that it was the first movement he wrote, and she quotes him as saying ‘There’s nothing romantic or mystical about it; it is simply the expression of incredible energy.’ It is a kind of vortex: feed in the first part – two movements expressing tragedy, anger, frustration and despair – and what comes out the other side? A graceful love-letter and a cheerfully contrapuntal finale with a bright, busy surface but no real depth. What is a conductor to do?
Karl-Heinz Steffens’s strategy was to allow space for the lyrical elements in the first two movements to expand naturally, unhurriedly, so that alongside the implacable sternness of the first movement and the angry turbulence of the second there ran an alternative, lyrical trajectory – something more than respite from the sound and fury. This culminated in a wonderful efflorescence of sound as the chorale rang out – soon snuffed out, you will tell me, as the first part ends with a whimper: but here it made a greater impact than its eventual reappearance at the end of the finale. I liked that. It even made me wonder if the first two movements of Mahler 5 are in some ways a preparation for Mahler 6.
These two movements, paced and shaped so effectively by Steffens, were played superbly by the orchestra; and they were on even better form in the titanic Scherzo (‘the very devil’, Mahler wrote to Alma, and I remember Bernard Haitink muttering something similar at a BBC Prom performance). Every strand in the texture was strongly characterised: the Ländler was eased into deliciously, the woodwind were on their perkiest form, and the concertante horn part was magnificently delivered by Eleanor Blakeney.
And so we emerged onto the other side, where the skies were clear and the sun was shining. The Adagietto unfolded easefully, treading softly, haloed by Eluned Pierce’s harp, with some lovely pianissimo playing from the strings; and a wonderful suspension at the end, as the double basses touch ground a bar before the first violins. The finale had irresistible élan, with fugal strings buzzing cheerfully, a lovely lilt to the violins in their light-footed speeding-up of the Adagietto tune, and Steffens almost dancing on the podium. Throughout, the orchestra were on sparkling form: my companion, who knows much more about brass playing than I do, was particularly impressed by Paul Bosworth, tirelessly producing clean, centred sound in the important first trumpet part.
All in all, the best and freshest Mahler 5 I have heard in a while; it seemed to go quickly (not always the case), yet I felt that I had had a fuller experience of the music than I would in a performance less characterful and less thoughtfully prepared. I had been looking forward to Steffens’s return to Poole ever since his wonderfully colourful and humane performance of Vaughan Williams’s London Symphony just over two years ago, in which he seemed naturally simpatico with both the music and the players. I was not disappointed.
Before the interval, a much smaller BSO – reduced strings, pairs of oboes and horns – had accompanied the German cellist Julian Steckel in a winning performance of Haydn’s Cello Concerto in D. There was an attractively fey lightness to Steckel’s playing, rising to a plaintive eloquence in the central part of the first movement. Lightness persisted through the Adagio and Allegro, with a rich, singing tone in the melody of the former. In presenting Haydn’s music Steckel’s cello was not an assertive character, but a very agreeable one; and the same was true of his encore, an airy, improvisatory account of the Sarabande from Bach’s G major Cello Suite.
Chris Kettle