It is easy to become sated with Mahler's Resurrection Symphony. In the last decade or so, it has become arguably the most popular of the composer's works; understandably so given that its assertion of a universal spirituality, beyond creed or dogma, and its elated vision of man's return to God after struggle in an imperfect world, speak volumes in our jaded, jittery times. Yet one cannot help but feel a sense of over-exposure. Done properly, of course, the symphony can be overwhelming, although, of late, performances have tended to proliferate, many of them not quite doing the work justice.
Yakov Kreizberg, however, making his debut with the London Symphony Orchestra, sheds fresh light on the piece in a performance that is sometimes wayward, though never less than riveting. Illumination is balanced by irony. The inner movements slide towards grotesquerie and satire, with the posturings of the mock-minuet and the gossipy, alienating flutter of the scherzo pointedly over-exaggerated.
In the first movement, he pulls the speeds about a bit in a quest to balance rawness with calm, encouraging the LSO strings to swerve between harshness and luminosity. The clarity of it is shocking throughout as the lines of Mahler's counterpoint clash against each other in garish, dislocating profusion.
The Day of Judgment sequence, shatteringly loud in the Barbican acoustic, is all fire and fury, occasionally veering towards melodrama rather than genuine terror, though the final choruses build to the last, tremendous climax with ritualistic dignity.
There are a couple of clunks, however. Kreizberg dutifully observes Mahler's demand for a five-minute pause after the first movement, though he ill-advisedly leaves the platform and applause fractures the mood when he returns.
The London Symphony Chorus is phenomenal, though Kreizberg's soloists, Katarina Dalayman and Linda Mabbs, do not ideally blend. We think of Dalayman primarily as a dramatic soprano, though her tone is both rich and sensual enough for her to tackle the mezzo Urlicht section with solemn, humane beauty.
"The elegant American soprano Linda Mabbs", as the programme describes her, looking disquietingly like Nancy Reagan in spangles, takes a while to get her vibrato under control and over-emotes at times.
