TMSO Special（2/16）

Date: Mon. 16. February 2026 19:00 (18:00)

Venue: Suntory Hall Venue Info Seat

[Inbal / TMSO The 3rd Mahler Series: 2]

Baby sitting Service

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Artists

Eliahu INBAL, Conductor
Sumi HWANG, Soprano Ⅰ
Eleanor LYONS, Soprano Ⅱ
Ayaka OKI, Soprano Ⅲ
Mihoko FUJIMURA, Mezzo-Soprano Ⅰ
Hiroka YAMASHITA, Mezzo-Soprano Ⅱ
Magnus VIGILIUS, Tenor
Birger RADDE, Baritone
Hidekazu TSUMAYA, Bass
New National Theatre Chorus, Chorus
The Little Singers of Tokyo, Children’s Chorus

Profile

Program

Mahler: Symphony No.8 in E-flat major, “Symphonie der Tausend”

Program Notes

｜Mahler: Symphony No. 8 in E-flat major, “Symphony of a Thousand”

PART I: Hymn, “Veni, creator spiritus”
PART II: Final Scene of “Faust,” Part II

Gustav Mahler: Born in Kalischt, Bohemia, July 7, 1860; died in Vienna, May 18, 1911

A performance of Mahlerʼs monumental Eighth Symphony is always more than just a concert; it denotes an event, an occasion, a summit of some sort. This weekʼs performances mark a double anniversary: the 60th of the Tokyo Metropolitan Symphony Orchestra and the 90th of Eliahu Inbal, Conductor Laureate of this orchestra.
An aura of special glamour has surrounded Mahlerʼs Eighth Symphony ever since its premiere in Munich on September 12, 1910. Merely the sight of the performing forces stimulates grandiose thoughts − a stage crammed from side to side with ranks of singers in three choirs (two adult choirs and a boysʼ choir), a mammoth orchestra with extra contingents of brass, an organ, and no fewer than eight vocal soloists lined up at the front of the stage. The musicʼs joyful, visionary message and sense of achievement following struggle contribute further to its appeal. The work exists virtually in a category by itself: it is surely more than a symphony, yet it cannot be called an oratorio or a cantata either. Without staging and costumes it is also not an opera. Perhaps one could call it a music-drama symphony. Mahler wrote: “Imagine that the universe bursts into song. We no longer hear human voices, but those of planets and suns that revolve.”
The premiere, with Mahler conducting, was a splendid occasion marked by tremendous enthusiasm, an ecstatic audience of 3,000 that applauded for thirty minutes, and success won over innumerable obstacles. It was, in short, the high point of Mahlerʼs tempestuous and difficult career. The subtitle “Symphony of a Thousand” is totally apt, as this number really did take part in the first performance (l,030, to be precise), though the appellation was concocted by the impresario Emil Gutmann as a publicity stunt.
The two parts of the symphony reveal enormous differences. The text of the first part is in Latin, that of the second in German. The first is in a quite strict sonata-allegro form while the second is a kind of free fantasy closely following the text. The choral and vocal work in Part I is that of a solid and exalted mass; that of Part II is often unreal, highly varied, as if coming from another world. Part I is monumental, while Part II is mostly quiet, intimate and mystical. And yet, despite the differences, a strong sense of thematic unity infuses the two sections. “Cell motifs” carry over from the first to the second part. In basic ideology too, the two parts are related by their textual message − manʼs longing for eternal life.
The Latin hymn Veni, creator spiritus, employed in Part I, undoubtedly represented to the composer not just God or the Holy Spirit, but an invocation of the divine spark of creative activity.
The symphony opens with a tremendous outburst ‒ a fervent appeal to the “creator spiritus.” This opening hymn is stated by both full choirs and tossed back and forth between them. At the words “Imple superna gratia,” the solo singers are introduced in a new key. A brief re-statement of the “Veni, creator spiritus” is followed by an orchestral passage in preparation for the softly-intoned “Infirma nostri corporis” (D minor), which is accompanied by improvisatory-sounding violin solos.
A new section, in quicker tempo, features nervous fragmentation of the “Veni” theme in muted horns. The feeling of awe and fear is heightened by the use of tolling bells. Seven vocal soloists re-affirm the text of “Infirma nostri corporis” to new thematic material. Suddenly, at the words “Accende lumen sensibus,” there is a terrific outburst from the unison double chorus in E major, accompanied by full instrumental forces. Next a short passage conveys a sense of fierce rage through repeated downward scales in the strings while the vocal forces engage in energetic proclamations. The longest section and climax of the movement consists of an extensive, complex double fugue (“Ductore sic te praevio”) in which Mahler exploits his contrapuntal abilities to the hilt. Eventually the soloists once more come to the fore (“Da gaudiorum praemia”), and the final pages of Part I are marked by a crescendo of enthusiasm and a “rush to the finish,” with all the choirs, the organ and full orchestra pouring forth massive blocks of E-flat major chords.
Part II opens in striking contrast to the jubilant outpourings of Part I. The longest passage for orchestra alone occurs here ‒ a highly atmospheric symphonic description of the lonely mountain landscape imagined by Goethe for the final scene of Faust, Part II. The short melodic idea played by the cellos in the opening bars is actually just a minor version of the “Accende lumen” of Part I. The music begins in a mood of hushed reverence, but later becomes restless, even anguished. Listeners familiar with other works by Mahler will probably find this passage the most characteristically Mahlerian in the whole symphony.
At long last, the first choral entry arrives, heard in the hesitant, tentative voices of the Anchorites (hermits). The sublime, mysterious music suddenly turns brighter upon the entry of Pater Ecstaticus, who describes his mystic ecstasy in faster tempos, greater urgency and rising melodic lines. A brief trumpet fanfare precedes the text of Pater Profundis, whose music is characterized by widely ranging lines and many leaps. Nervous, improvisatory lines in the violins and yearning horn calls accompany the singerʼs passionate cries “from the lower region.” Two lightweight choruses − Angels and Blessed Boys ‒ enter separately and soon afterwards sing simultaneously, welcoming Faust to the upper spheres. The next chorus is for the Younger Angels (“Jene Rosen”), a passage that inevitably recalls the sound world of Mahlerʼs early symphonies and songs in its smooth, graceful, lively quality.
Following an orchestral interlude come the More Perfect Angels (“Uns bleibt ein Erdenrest”), whose accompaniment again involves the rhapsodical, improvisatory solos for viola and violin. To a theme heard first in the woodwinds back in the orchestral introduction to Part II, Young Angels sing a sprightly, faster and more brightly-colored phrase (“Ich spürʼ soeben”) and Dr. Marianus “from the highest, purest cell of the mountain” sings a hymn to the Virgin in grandiose, sweeping lines, echoed by a solo horn. Then comes one of the most magical moments of the entire score − an ethereal violin theme with gentle ripples of harp accompaniment gives a vision of heavenly beauty. The chorus welcomes the appearance of Mater Gloriosa as she “soars into view.” Three saints each sing a passage of sacred scripture, finally joining in a trio.
The last soloist to enter is now heard: Gretchen as a penitent. Mater Gloriosa calls Gretchen up to the higher spheres dolcissimo (“Komm, komm”). Dr. Marianus praises Mater Gloriosa effulgently to a hymn-like melody, while the chorus softly beckons Gretchen upwards. Celestial harp arpeggios complete the picture of heavenly bliss. The music gains in force and breadth, with lines soaring higher and higher. The end is in sight, but before the final apotheosis comes a brief, surprise return to the mystic realms suggested at the beginning of Part II. This is the Chorus mysticus, music of sublime beauty (“Alles Vergängliche”). Solo sopranos carry their lines to the top of the range; power, grandeur and intensity continue unabated until the joyous “Veni, creator spiritus” is heard one final time. In a blaze of glorious sound, the massed choirs, organ and full orchestra bring Mahlerʼs colossal Eighth Symphony to its conclusion.

Robert Markow's musical career began as a horn player in the Montreal Symphony Orchestra. He now writes program notes for orchestras and concert organizations in the USA, Canada, and several countries in Asia. As a journalist he covers the music scenes across North America, Europe, and Asian countries, especially Japan. At Montreal's McGill University he lectured on music for over 25 years.
　

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