These recordings date from between 1976 and 1982. They were made in a studio of the House of Artists in Prague which, as Supraphon-buyers will know, has very resonant acoustics which do not always encourage a homogeneous blend of orchestral tone. None of these performances is recorded with the startling focus on detail that we have come to expect from Berlin and Chicago; some listeners may feel, however, that what they are hearing comes nearer to what they might hear at a public performance. The unseen hand of the recording engineer is less blantly in evidence.
Because of his triumphant career in Vienna and his association with its fin de siecle cultural epoch, we tend to forget that Mahler was born in bohemia and that the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra has as prescriptive a right as its colleagues in Vienna to perform these symphonies with special sympathy. It is one of the world's great orchestras, with a distinctive and unmistakable sound. I sometimes think that its strings are mellower and more flexible than those of most of its rivals, and on the evidence of these records alone its first oboist and first trumpeter can stand comparison with the best. The horn-playing is good too, but the timbre will not appeal to all tastes. Applied to Mahler, the Czech tone-quality results in anything but hygienic smooth-grained performances; it throws into high relief the boldness, sometimes the rawness, of Mahler's scoring.
Neumann has now been the orchestra's chief conductor for 17 years, and the understanding between them had already been cemented by eight years together when this series of recordings started. In temperature his Mahler interpretations come somewhere between the superheated intensity of Bernstein and the level-headed restraint of Haitink. But Neumann does not, as Haitink did in his earlier Mahler issues, ignore the frequent glissandos, though he never risks overstepping the mark. There are many exciting and memorable examples of insight and sympathy in these performances which bespeak a Mahlerian of major stature. He sees these great works—and hearing them en masse, as it were, one realizes afresh how very great they are—as a magnificent and successful reconciliation between the emotional and the intellectual sides of Mahler's creative personality.
Three of the symphonies (Nos. 3, 8 and 9) were digitally recorded and are also available on CD. These are the best recordings, together with that of No. 7. Even so, the Supraphon engineers never capture sound so vividly as EMI's did for Barbirolli in 1969 in the Fifth Symphony (SLS785, 12/69). For example at the start of the second movement the Czech and most other orchestras come nowhere near the rasping growl of the Philharmonia trumpets and the sheer attack of the strings, particularly the lower strings. That is one reason why technically and interpretatively the Barbirolli No. 5 is for some of us still in a class of its own—mit grosster Vehemenz is Mahler's requirement at this point. Neumann's account of this symphony is forthright, though, with excellent balance in the first movement, burnished cellos in the second and an admirable tempo for the Scherzo. In the Adagietto, the Czech strings are at their plangent best and there is a particularly sensitive performance of the harp part.
On the whole, Neumann favours brisk tempos but he does not give the impression of hurrying unduly. Mahler's Nict eilen is scrupulously observed. Even allowing for his omission of the exposition repeat in the first movement of No. 1, Neumann is faster than either Solti on Decca (411 731-IDH; CD 411 731-2DH, 10/84) or Abbado on DG (2532 020, 3/82; CD 400 033-2GH, 5/83). True he is not so poetical as they are, but the muscle and fibre (and rusticity) of the work are more prominent: structurally it sounds a stronger piece under Neumann. Not so poetical? The enticing trio in the scherzo and the magic which enters the playing at fig. 10 in the slow movement contradict me. How like Dvorak, too, the scoring on pages 28-9 (Philharmonia score) of the Second emerges in this Czech performance. Neumann's tempo for the second movement, always tricky, seems to me just right—compare the lumbering Bernstein with the LSO (CBS 78249, 11/74). Randova and Benackova-Capova are excellent soloists and the choir produce a sonorous tone in the final paean. Neumann's architectural grasp of the finale is impressive and the recording of the distant trumpets (and, again, the brilliance with which they are played) is realistically balanced. Neumann's approach to No. 3, with Ludwig the ever-reliable soloist in ''O Mensch'', is remarkably similar to solti's and some may even find that in the frenzied march in the first movement the rawer Czech tone gives the music extra impact. In No. 4 the opening tempo is steady and Haitink-like, but I find this perhaps a rather charmless performance compared, say, with Maazel's for CBS (IM39072, 3/85) and this extends to Hajossyova's deadpan singing of ''Das himmlische Leben''. Nevertheless, the cellos's espressivo at bar 31 of the Adagio is to be treasured, as is the clarinet's playing throughout.
Of the performances of Nos. 6 and 7, I tend to prefer the latter, but both are first rate and it is only because of superior recording that my choice would still be Abbado on DG for No. 6 (2707 117, 11/80) and Levine on RCA for No. 7 (RL04245, 12/82—nla). The spiky woodwind in the Scherzo of No. 6 and the masterly control of the finale are outstanding features, but what a pity Neumann has not flouted the misguided advice of the 1963 International Mahler Society edition by placing the Andante second and restoring the third hammer-blow. I find it extraordinary that some Mahlerians still have doubts and problems about No. 7, that brave and startling masterpiece, the obverse of No. 6 and equally moving, a darkness-to-light work if ever there was one. Neumann is at his finest here and is rewarded by truly memorable string playing. The strange stillnesses in the first movement (with echoes, too, of Strauss's Salome), the kaleidoscopic imagination in the second movement, the spookiness of the third, the sensuous lyricism of the Andante amoroso (its coda a moment of sheer loveliness) and the guileless ease of the transitions and tempo-changes in the finale—these are rich fare.
The Eighth remains problematic. Even on CD, this Supraphon issue cannot compare with Decca/Solti as a recording, nor (except orchestrally) is the performance one that would bear much repetition, mainly because, apart from the solo sopranos, the individual singing is too variable in quality and the choir sounds laboured in Part 1. The Ninth, however, is a strong contender in a rich field, particularly the CD. Neumann is several minutes faster than Karajan (DG) but there is no sacrifice of emotional kick and his interpretation of the two middle movements is as fine as could be wished because of his powerful structural grip. As for the last page of the score, from the Adagissimo, the playing on the great Karajan recording actually sounds too loud compared with the Czech. A similar equilibrium between form and feeling distinguishes the Adagio of No. 10. Alas, the accompanying booklet describes Deryck Cooke as an American musicologist and is ill-informed or wrong-headed about the intention behind his performing version.'