When Bernstein died in 1990, this was the only symphony he hadn't recorded as part of his second historic Mahler cycle. I learned my Mahler from almost every one of those recordings and many remain my personal favourites. I remember feeling a real sense of loss that the fascinating journey I had started with him would never be completed. We can only imagine the kind of performance he would have given us, had he lived long enough to step in front of the NYPO one last time.
It certainly would have been preferable to this dreadful Austrian Radio recording taken live from 1975's Salzburg Festival, pressed into service by DG in a somewhat cynical attempt to plug the gap in their box-set. Perhaps, live in the hall, this was as thrilling an occasion as any other Bernstein Mahler concert and there are tantalising flashes of the magic he possessed in this repertoire, but this should never have been released commercially, especially at full price and dressed in the artwork of the rest of his DG Mahler.
The problems are apparent right from the off. That great organ chord should blast the symphony into orbit but the instrument here sounds almost comically small (you may remember a kids' toy from the 70s called 'Major Morgan, The Electronic Organ'...?) and remains so throughout, symptomatic of the bizarre balances that afflict every bar. The vocalists, both massed and solo, bear the brunt of it. The choirs sound like they're in your living room one minute and gathered outside the concert hall the next. Soloists suddenly drop out of the ensemble only to reappear with a startling prominence, although I'm not entirely sure that this is always the fault of the recording! The orchestra fares slightly better, but not much.
A far more serious issue is the performance itself. To my ears, the whole event sounds woefully under-rehearsed, especially in the choir; either that, or Bernstein got so wrapped up in the occasion that he decided to push his performers beyond their limit. Indeed, a significant number of the thrills in this recording come from marvelling at what Bernstein just about gets away with. The huge onslaught and fugue of 'Accende, lumen sensibus' in Part I, for example, comes desperately close to a catastrophic pile-up. Part II starts relatively strongly, with solid contributions from Hermann Prey and Jose van Dam but the choirs are soon all over the place, literally and musically, and things rapidly unravel once again. The series of female solos and the ensemble passage mid-way through are a complete mess but the wooden spoon must go to Margaret Price and her excruciatingly flat high C just before the final chorus. You can almost hear the entire audience's collective wince, while Judith Blegen seems so shocked that she then bottles out of hers.
Mahler's Eighth should leave you feeling overwhelmed and exalted. This set just leaves you feeling even more saddened that Bernstein died when he did.
With a heavy heart, but a clear head, I have to say this is a write-off.