MSO’s Sir Andrew Davis continues Mahler program with the Fifth

The first of the purely instrumental symphonies, the Fifth was written during a time of great change in Mahler’s life.

Sir Andrew Davis continues his account of the complete Mahler symphonies.

This year marks the midpoint in both Sir Andrew Davis’s tenure as Melbourne Symphony Orchestra chief conductor and his account of the complete Mahler symphonies.

The first of the purely instrumental symphonies, the Fifth was written during a time of great change in Mahler’s life — recuperation from a near-death medical emergency followed swiftly by a whirlwind romance, marriage and fatherhood. Though eschewing the explicit programmatic approach of its predecessors, there is no mistaking its semi-autobiographical contours as it weaves a path through anguish and turbulence to exuberance and reflection, soul-bearing intimacy and surging passion and, finally, jubilance and determination.

Eliciting plenty of ensemble energy without raising much of a sweat himself, Davis directed a fluent, undemonstrative reading, with steady tempos, effective dynamics, clear textures and fine balance. Rarely one to drill into a work’s emotional core, Davis favoured forward momentum over expressive dalliance: rubato and lyrical emphasis in limited supply during the painfully tender Adagietto.

More animated was the orchestra itself, with alert individual and sectional efforts producing rich rhythmic textures and effective emphases in melody, harmony and phrasing. Continuing their purple patch, the horns comfortably met the Scherzo’s challenges while powerful brass lines were delivered without excess. Cohesive string passages crackled with dynamism, while vivid wind lines rose cleanly through dense textures.

Before embarking on Mahler’s odyssey, Davis was joined by French pianist Pierre-Laurent Aimard for an arresting account of Ravel’s Piano Concerto for the Left Hand. Last given an MSO airing in the early 1990s, this work remains neglected in comparison with its outwardly radiant companion, the Piano Concerto in G — a pity given the emotional counterpoint between these contemporaneous concertos.

In a single movement, the Left Hand concerto is a brooding, often sinister work in which the soloist valiantly leads the orchestra away from swampy antagonism, snarling cynicism and blatant aggression. It apparently references World War I, a conflict in which Ravel and the concerto’s dedicatee, Paul Wittgenstein, fought in opposing trenches and in which the latter lost his right arm.

Calmly balancing heightened left hand demands upon strength, dexterity and delicacy, Aimard sustained the illusion of ambidextrous pianistic technique. Bringing weighty directness to the opening cadenza’s initial fury of consecutive chord crashes and slashing arpeggiated motion, he seamlessly modified touch to accommodate sudden shifts into nostalgic washes and clipped bass lines.

Aimard drew forth thumb-dependent melodic lines with ease, delicately shaping the Andante’s falling line before spiking his way with flawless virtuosity and expressive nuance through the ensuing spiccato build-up and into the Allegro’s biting jazz chromaticism.

Mahler 5. Melbourne Symphony Orchestra. Hamer Hall, March 19.