“The first time I heard Mahler, it was like I was in heaven.”

Do you remember the first time you heard the music of Gustav Mahler?

Jansons: I can’t remember the year exactly. I am not so young anymore that I can remember so many years ago [laughs]. I think it was approximately the end of the 50s or the beginning of the 60s, something like that, so I was probably around 16-18 years old. It’s hard to say exactly because I heard so much music growing up with music in a family of musicians, and I attended so many concerts and operas with my father, that it is very difficult for me now to remember which composer, and which piece, I heard at which time.

Do you remember an experience that made you realise this was a composer you wanted to know more about?

Jansons: I only remember that the first time I heard Mahler I was so impressed, it was like I was in heaven. Even though I was very young – I think I was still studying at the music school or possibly already at the conservatory, I can’t say exactly – but it made such a big impression on me; I was absolutely in heaven. And I understood that he was this genius, this great composer, and I suppose that when you are young in some ways you always think, ‘that’s my composer’. So I would say that Mahler immediately, from the beginning, brought this feeling that he was my composer. So I had this big love for it immediately, and it never disappeared.

What was Mahler’s reception in Russia like at that time?

Jansons: Well of course people didn’t know much about him, didn’t hear much. One of the first conductors who really introduced his music was my teacher in Saint Petersburg – or at that time Leningrad – who taught at the conservatory, Professor Rabinovich. He did Mahler’s Symphonies with the student orchestras and even with the Radio Orchestra. And of course another one was Kiril Kondrashin, who was one of the leading conductors, who really liked Mahler very much and who conducted his music and made it more popular in Russia, and who you could say ‘invented’ it there, and he did it very well. In general he was a wonderful conductor, very serious, and everything I heard him do I remember as being really wonderful, including his Mahler. By the way, I’m not 100 per cent sure, but I think the first Mahler Symphony I heard was No. 3, which I’m conducting now.

We know that Shostakovich loved Mahler very much…

Jansons: Yes, you know, he said that Das Lied von der Erde was the piece which he would like to take with him to heaven: Das Lied von der Erde. These were Shostakovich’s words. ‘Slava’ [Mstislav] Rostropovich told me this. I have often been asked this question myself: If you could take one piece of music or one CD to a desert island, which would you take? And it’s a very difficult question, and I would always say, ‘I can’t say, really, I can’t.’ But Shostakovich chose Das Lied von der Erde. Slava was a great friend of Shostakovich and I knew Slava very well, so he told me this.

How did Shostakovich know Mahler’s work so well? Were there still performances of Mahler’s music, even in the Stalin era?

Jansons: Oh yes, of course. Mahler was not a forbidden composer, I think he was probably just not so well-known. Of course Shostakovich was played in the Soviet Union, but I remember very well the reaction of the public, and how his popularity and the strength of public feeling for him grew. I don’t like to use the expression ‘understanding’, because to me the idea of understanding music sounds very funny. You can understand language, but I’m not sure about music – perhaps it has a different meaning in this context. I think that talking about people’s feelings and relationship to music would be better way to describe it, but this is a theoretical question. But anyway, I remember how the relationship to Shostakovich’s music, and the love for it, and his popularity grew. It was not always like that; in the beginning it was not the case that all people really loved him. I remember people who said they weren’t sure about it, and of course they said that they didn’t ‘understand’ his music. So his popularity grew to a great extent, and I would say that the same was true of Mahler. Of course at that time I didn’t live in the West, but I think the same could be said of Western countries, and even the famous Vienna. Mahler’s popularity grew there too, I think that was normal – well, it’s not normal, but it’s a fact.

You often hear the question, why is Mahler so popular? And I ask myself this question too: Why is it that he is so popular and everybody loves him and everybody talks about him? Okay, so there are some people who say ‘Mahler is too complex for me’, but I don’t think there are many – the people who say ‘My world is Bruckner’ perhaps. But I think the reason for his popularity and why he is so beloved is that he embraced the whole world in his music, everything: it is the universe, it’s nature, it’s human beings, it’s tragedy, it is irony, it is love, it is hate, it is struggle; you know, I think everything that exists in our world is in there. Therefore, I think that every individual forms a bridge to something in his music – one this, one that, one more, one less – but it’s like with Miró, you look and you look, and oh my God, you find something which is very close and common to you. And I think – I don’t pretend I’m right but this is what I think – this is why he is so, so beloved, and it’s always an event when you hear a Mahler Symphony.

What do you think is the relationship between his life – he struggled a lot, he faced anti-Semitism – and his music? Is there a connection?

Jansons: [Laughs] Of course I know that there is this view that his life, what the composer says, or writes, or thinks, has nothing to do with the music. Music is music. And we know that Mahler wrote programmes and then changed his mind and said he didn’t want them, and so on. But for me as a conductor, it is very important to know his life, to know what Mahler said, what he wrote, what his mood was. And it’s not only Mahler; I would say it’s my way, or my method, that I generally use for preparing my pieces. Whether I conduct Beethoven, or I conduct Shostakovich, or I conduct Bartók, it doesn’t matter: I need time to immerse myself in the world of the composer. Because as a professional conductor I can prepare very quickly technically, you could even say that I have already conducted almost everything and you just repeat it, but this is nothing if you really want to have what I would call a ‘cosmic’ performance. By that I mean that you are not on the Earth anymore; you are in another dimension where crescendos, diminuendos, accents, and tempo relationships don’t exist anymore. You are in this world where you have this atmosphere of content and you are ‘behind the notes’, because the notes are signs. You can do very good things with these signs: you can do these rits and crescendos, and you can create a full interpretation with a bridge and full lines, and you can even create a wonderful sound model for yourself – but there is something which is above this. It is very difficult for me to explain what it actually is, but I would describe it as some kind of cosmic dimension. If you were to ask me what is a conductor’s real talent, I have taught in my life and I think I can explain things about conducting, but generally it is a mystery what a real conductor’s talent is. But this is a different question really. But that is what I would say, that it is important for me to immerse myself in this atmosphere. For example, when I prepared Beethoven’s 3rd Symphony and I read that while he was writing the 2nd Symphony he wrote the Heiligenstadt Testament, I cried. I was crying and at the same time I was thinking my God, a man in such a situation with such depression wrote such music as this 2nd Symphony: unbelievable. And so he comes to the 3rd Symphony; what kind of spirit is he in? And for me this brings some kind of inspiration. Some people will say it has nothing to do with the music. Okay, that may be, but it is very individual. So I will say again, I like to know what the composer said about the piece, what he was thinking, even some funny thing which might have nothing to do with music at all.

Mahler was looking for titles for the 3rd Symphony and he used this image of Pan; there is an interesting story about that. He got a letter from [Anna von] Mildenburg around the time he was writing this and on the envelope was written P.A.N. – it stands for Post Amt Nummer [Post Office Number] – and he took this to be a sign. And maybe this is nothing but I am really inspired by this. I can’t explain it, but this gives me something very special; perhaps it’s my imagination, I don’t know.

When you came to Vienna to study, did you hear Mahler a lot?

Jansons: Oh yes, not only by Mahler but everything about Vienna: being in Vienna was like a holy time to me. Of course I had a wonderful education in St. Petersburg, because I have to say that it was perhaps the best conducting school in the world. We were given a fantastic opportunity, which was not so strong in the Western countries: we had a professional orchestra to practise rehearsing with and a professional opera house where we conducted ballets and operas. And so I started to conduct operas and ballets at a very early stage. So this was very important, because as a conductor this is your instrument. And then I was in Leningrad, which is a more Western country, and I had wonderful teachers who were great examples to me. The first of these was Mravinsky – he really adored Bruckner and Brahms, so in this sense he was not only a Russian conductor – also my father of course, who grew up in Latvia; and my teacher Rabinovich, who was very strongly interested in Bruckner, Mahler, Mozart, etc.

But of course to come to Vienna, to this centre of the world, was a Godsend, it was something unbelievable; to be in the Music Academy with Swarovsky and Karl Osterreicher and all these other professors was just unbelievable. I learned so much about old music. Professor Mertel, the great music specialist, was very funny because he would always forget people’s names, so he would say ‘Ah, Herr Leningrad, kommen Sie bitte’ [Ah, Mr. Leningrad, please come] [laughs]. I was so lucky that I could listen to all these great conductors and opera performances – I have to tell you, I went to the opera house or the Musikverein or the concert hall every day. And on Sundays I almost always attended three performances: morning, afternoon, evening. I think the people who controlled the tickets all knew me, so sometimes when I didn’t get tickets – we were usually given very cheap tickets by the Music School – because I had left it too late, I went anyway and they just let me in. So this was like being in heaven for me; I learned a lot and since that time Vienna has been probably my most beloved city. It sits in my heart, and when I go to Vienna I always feel something very special, a very positive, healthy energy – it’s incredible what I feel in connection with Vienna. I think it is because I studied there, but I still feel it now. I go to Vienna quite often to conduct my orchestra, the Vienna Philharmonic, and it’s always a very heilige Moment [holy moment] for me.

Do you think the sound of the orchestras in Vienna influenced Mahler as a composer?

Jansons: I’m not sure. Of course we know very well that there is this relationship between Mengelberg and Mahler. And if you hear this – unfortunately there are not enough recordings – Mengelberg’s style involved many glissandos, creeping into the notes, and I’m not sure that Mahler really would have liked this, because you could say that when Mahler wanted glissandos he wrote them. Okay, you could have a lot of discussion about this, I could show you a lot of evidence for why he writes it here, and not here; there is logic to it. Sometimes you find something in the music, and you say yes, I can understand it because of this and this, but some questions are more difficult to answer. For example, in one place he writes col legno, and in another place he writes mit dem Bogen geschlagen, and it’s really not always clear whether he wanted col legno or mit dem Bogen geschlagen, because many people think that if you really play it col legno you won’t here it at all. For instance, I know this occurs in the 3rd Symphony at the end of the first movement, on the last two pages. You can hear it a little in the cellos and double basses but I don’t think it’s possible for the 1st violins to make it audible, or only if you make special, artificial changes to the sound. But I don’t think this is good in Mahler, because he already thought himself about the sound he wanted, and he wrote the different dynamics. Therefore, when you ask me whether this influenced the sound of his music… yes, it’s an interesting question. I’m not sure, but I think that every composer who lives in some kind of atmosphere of one city, where he hears the orchestra – because Mahler was the conductor of the Vienna Staatsoper, so of course he heard the orchestra very often – will of course have the sound of this orchestra in his ears. And it could be that the ‘sound model’ of this orchestra helped him to compose in terms of the sound that he wanted to create, because of course he had a wonderful sense of hearing – unbelievable. So it could be that this influenced him.

You are chief conductor of the Concertgebouw Orchestra and you have also conducted the Vienna Philharmonic many times: these are probably the two most traditional Mahler orchestras.

Jansons: Yes.

If you compare the specific sound of these orchestras, how would you describe it?

Jansons: I would say that these orchestras are, as you might say, ‘in the same pot’: they are very close to each other. They have a very beautiful, very balanced, transparent sound. Of course it is different, and, thank God, I think all great orchestras have their individuality. I think these days we have very many good orchestras; the orchestral level is generally very high. But when it comes to the question of individuality, I think only the great orchestras keep this individuality, and of course Vienna has fantastic individuality and Amsterdam does as well. But some orchestras go in other directions: I have my other orchestra, the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra – a fantastic orchestra, and the Berlin Philharmonic is a great orchestra too, but I think these orchestras are a little different. So I would put the Vienna Philharmonic and the Concertgebouw Orchestra in the same category.

What distinguished Berlin and Bavaria …

Jansons: I think they are real German orchestras with a very rich, profound sound – very spontaneous orchestras. But I have to say the Vienna Philharmonic is very spontaneous too, and the Concertgebouw is very noble, very profound. They do not play like crazy; it comes from very deep inside them.

Are there Mahler conductors who have influenced you?

Jansons: Yes, of course there are many conductors who do Mahler and there are many, many recordings. I think in one way they all influence you somehow when you are young; that is normal because when you are young and you start to listen to and think about music, conductors especially are very influential. My teacher also influenced me, he gave me direction, but I think that I gradually managed to find my own way. I’m not saying that I’m different, but I would say that somehow I reached this understanding that this was how it should be and I would do it like this, not because somebody else had done it and had influenced me.

Of course in the beginning I think we were all incredibly influenced by Leonard Bernstein. I think that’s normal. He was great, one of the greatest, and had such a wonderful personality, and was an incredible man. And of course he’d conducted Mahler with such passion and emotion, and we were very influenced by him. But later, now that I am older, I wouldn’t say that I don’t like it or I’d criticise him, but I can see that I would perhaps take things a in a slightly different direction, compared to how I was in the beginning.

Would you agree that in your approach you try not to exaggerate or overemotionalise the music?

Jansons: You know, I think this is a question which can be applied to all music, and of course to exaggerate anything in music is not good. Of course Mahler’s music is so complex and so emotional and it provokes you, in a good sense, to exaggerations, so of course it’s very dangerous. For another example, you could say – it’s completely different of course – but you could say that exaggeration is very dangerous with Tchaikovsky, because the composer wrote in so much feeling, with the ritenutos and so on. And if you start to exaggerate then you destroy the music; you must approach it more in the classical way. My father always used to say a very good phrase, which I’ll never forget. He said, ‘Never put sugar with honey, please. It’s too sweet.’ [laughs]

It is music that drives you to big exaggerations. But personally I think it’s better, when I’m teaching the students for example, that people have something to say than that they are boring and are not expressing anything – of course, if a young conductor exaggerates or something, I will tell him not to do it. You can always suppress this exaggeration, but to get expression out of them is more difficult, I think. But sometimes there are young people who are very shy, and you need to push them to get their feelings out of them. But generally it’s like this, I always give this example: if your trousers are too long you can always cut them, but if they are too short you can’t do anything about it [laughs]. I am explaining this like a teacher, about young people and how they react to music; I think if they have a talent they must have this drive for expressing music, and you can always cut it down later on.

How much are you influenced by Mahler’s remarks, for example in the first movement of the 3rd Symphony ‘Von hier ab Halbe zu schlagen’? Do you take it very seriously?

Jansons: Honestly, I must say I analyse this but I don’t take it word for word. I try of course to follow it, but sometimes I don’t. For example, he writes ‘noch in vier taktieren’ [continue to beat in four], and I go in two. And you know, I think if it doesn’t destroy the tempo relationship, or let’s say the accelerando or ritenuto or the celere tempo markings, actually there is sometimes not a big difference between conducting in two and conducting in four. Mostly it is to do with the orchestra, whether it suits them best to have it that way. And sometimes you need, let’s say, to conduct in six, when you have [sings rhythm], to help a little, or you might conduct it in three. It depends on the orchestra. But in general, you have your tempo so these are not big things which you need to take so much care over. Of course, the same is true when he writes, if you translate it into the Italian, poco a poco accelerando – you know, he writes allmählich hier… and so on. So of course you definitely try to follow this, and of course he, as a conductor, knew very well where there was a danger that the conductor would start to exaggerate. So he wrote these marks and said be careful here, and it could be that he himself felt he wanted to exaggerate this as a conductor, but as a composer he thinks oh no, and writes this marking down.

I don’t think it was a reaction, or maybe sometimes it was a reaction, to hearing somebody do it wrong. But I think it was more his inner feelings that caused him to write such things. We know, it is famous that he wrote different dynamics and generally I follow them. But sometimes, I must be honest, I don’t follow them because in my opinion sometimes it doesn’t work; or rather it doesn’t help, it doesn’t make sense. Generally of course we try to respect these markings. My teacher told me a wonderful thing – it was nothing to do with Mahler but I think you can apply it to any conductor. We talked about Beethoven, and you know Beethoven didn’t write a reprise, and then when the editor wrote it he made many mistakes, or sometimes his own writing was terrible and you can’t understand what Beethoven has written, it’s not like Schubert. And my teacher said, ‘We know that Beethoven made mistakes, but it is wonderful to repeat the mistakes of a genius’. So Mahler was a genius, and so we respect him and of course I try to do what he writes. And I have hundreds of questions and I talk to people and ask them, why is this so? And it is very difficult and unfortunately we can’t answer these questions, because you need to ask Mahler himself.

What are the most important questions that you would discuss with him?

Jansons: I would need to look at the scores to answer that. I would not discuss his views on interpretation and his concepts, I would perhaps rather ask him specific things. Like for example, I would say: Why have you written a glissando here and not here? Do they have the same function in the music, and do you have something very special in mind or not? Or sometimes I know that it should be like this, because you understand the logic, but… There are many things; you know how it is with interviews, I really need to bring a score to show examples. And there are many, just in the 2nd Symphony for example, because I like to study the score very, very properly. You know, for me there are always so many questions, which is actually interesting and good and makes it very exciting.

So you study everything carefully, and is the secret then to forget that when you are on stage? Is that right?

Jansons: No, I wouldn’t say so. When I go to the rehearsal then I don’t forget; then I know that I must try. When I conduct rehearsals, I prepare the orchestra and everything so that it’s how I think it should be. And then, of course, when you come to the concert then you try to go further and if you succeed it’s really wonderful, and sometimes perhaps it’s not. But I think in the concert you really have to let this kind of spiritual yearning, you might say, come through. But that doesn’t mean you forget to use your brain, which is always a terrible danger for the conductor – conductors need to do this or it can go completely wrong. The question is what the balance should be should between expression and emotions, and the analytical, controlling side. If you choose only the controlling side, it’s terrible: if you are controlling it all you don’t let the spontaneous moments happen and it could be very boring. Or it could still be a perfect, very nice performance but it doesn’t lift you up. I think the goal is that people will go home and say, ‘I spent two hours in heaven’, not that they say ‘Oh, the orchestra played wonderfully, beautifully, and he conducted very well.’ It is not bad, but it is a little different to someone saying, ‘It was like I was in paradise’. So this is what I think we should try to do, and I think if you can reach these dimensions then you have achieved something very special.

Secondly, I think we, people of the stage, are performing for the listeners – of course for ourselves, too, but generally we are artists and we know that to bring joy and to pass across this energy gives ‘fire’ to the public. And if you want the music just for yourself then you sit at home and play quietly, but on the stage you are performing art for the listeners. So I think this is one of your tasks.

I want to come back to Shostakovich and Mahler. Shostakovich’s 4th Symphony is a homage to Mahler, and he cancelled the première because he was afraid that Stalin would put him in prison. When you compare Shostakovich and Mahler, what connects them and what distinguishes them from each other?

Jansons: First, of course, they were both great symphonists of the 20th century: Beethoven, Bruckner, Mahler, Shostakovich, were all great symphonists. That is one thing.

Secondly, I always feel that in Mahler’s Symphonies and in Shostakovich’s Symphonies, here is Mahler himself, or here is Shostakovich himself. And within society, in struggle or in joy or whatever, it is the same Shostakovich. So I think in this sense I have these associations. And of course, I think there were forms that both composers used that were quite often similar, and also the way of expressing emotion was often similar. Also, they both had excellent knowledge of the orchestra: instruments, and what you can get out of them. I think in this respect Shostakovich was unbelievable, because in his music you very seldom need to change dynamics and make adjustments. He orchestrated so wonderfully that it’s almost perfect; it’s a great talent. He knows which instruments to use to get a particular line through the orchestra: unbelievable. They are both geniuses. We know that Mahler composed in the summer and seldom in the winter, but I’m sure that throughout the year – even when he was very busy – he prepared himself for the next composition and then just wrote it when the time came. Shostakovich was the same; he never took things one day at a time, but thought about the long term, and prepared inside for coming compositions.

They both survived an incredible amount in their lives; they are both – perhaps I exaggerate a little – tragic people, if you speak of their inside worlds. Of course, for Mahler there was not such danger but for Shostakovich it could be. If he had been a writer Stalin would have killed him. Since he was a composer, and this is a very abstract art, it is very difficult to judge, but he was really in great danger. He was prepared for the KGB people to come for him, and had prepared things that would help. So they are different, but I feel that they both survived very much. And they were both kept things inside them, and did not express this outside, perhaps more so with Mahler because he was actually a very expansive person. Shostakovich was too, but he actually didn’t talk much at all. If you asked him something, it was very difficult to get anything out of him.

He said, ‘everything is written in the score.’

Jansons: Yes, but even just to talk to him as a human being was hard; perhaps with very close friends it was different. He was…

Introvert?

Jansons: I don’t know if you could call him an introvert, though perhaps he was in one way.  I don’t know that you’d call Mahler an introvert, but I think in the same way he was concerned with surviving internal struggles, and not expressing what he felt to other people. But he did express this in his songs and of course in his Symphonies; in music they both expressed things. You can hear it in their music. This is why I say that they are both present in their own Symphonies, not observing but taking part: I think Mahler is inside there. It is difficult to find the words to express this feeling.

Which Mahler works would you say you are the closest to?

Jansons: Oh, that is hard, like this question about which works you would take to a desert island. When I conduct a work, at that moment I like everything, whatever the piece. I remember when I started, I did the 1st Symphony, and then the 5th, and 2 and 3, and I think I came to the 9th later. And I remember the 7th was quite long for me, so it was hard to build the tempo relationships, especially the finale. But somehow I eventually managed to create a structure that worked for me; I don’t know if it was good or bad but at least I felt relaxed, because at the beginning I thought I would not be able to do it. It’s very complex. But I adore all the Symphonies, I can’t choose. Of course all these Adagios, like the movement in the 3rd Symphony, are unbelievable – this is like speaking with the Gods. You can’t say which is better, it’s absolutely impossible.

People say that, in his music, Mahler anticipated the catastrophes that came later. Would you agree that the march in the 6th Symphony does this? Or do you think that this music is absolute, and had nothing to do with events that came later? Bernstein, for example, said that Mahler anticipated everything that happened in the 20th century.

Jansons: Not consciously of course, because that’s not possible – he was not Nostradamus, saying this is how it will be. But I think, as I said at the beginning, he embraced and expressed the whole world in his music, and I think in his nature there was somehow an anticipation of the future. He spoke about global things and these things exist forever, and they come around again in circles. So in this way, yes, his music expressed what would happen, but I think that’s only because it was so complex.

Sometimes simple questions are very difficult to answer, but if I ask you, what did Mahler want, what would your answer be?

Jansons: In what sense?

What did he want to achieve? What did he want to say, or express?

Jansons: I think he wanted to express all of this, you know, these questions that in one way or another almost every human being asks at one time. If the person is intelligent it’s all very interesting; if the person wants only to eat and drink, okay then it’s not interesting [laughs]. But he was a highly intelligent man, very ‘rich’ inside, and of course he raised enormous questions, even the question of if there is a life after all of this or not. It’s an incredible question that you can’t answer, you can simply believe this or not. I ask myself such questions sometimes, and thousands of such questions. And I think he just tried to raise these questions, but I don’t think he wanted to solve them, even the question of Auferstehung [resurrection]. Okay, but I’m not sure that he really believed 100 per cent that there would be Auferstehung, not really. But he raised these things and perhaps it was to introduce us to the possibility: it was possible, you could believe it; it was not a fact that it would be like this. But I think raising this, and thinking these thousands of things, is incredible. It’s like Leo Tolstoy, a great philosopher, wrote so many things, analysing everything including your inner world. And I think for Mahler this complex, inner world was the best world, a universe ohne Grenzen [without borders].

For you as a conductor, are there challenges that you encounter when performing Mahler, which don’t exist to the same extent with other composers?

Jansons: Oh yes. First of all, of course it’s very exciting to do Mahler; it is a big task to do it well, because of all these things that we’ve discussed. It’s incredibly interesting and somehow you yourself, as a conductor, emerge in this very wide world with everything in it: with technique, with emotions, with architecture, and all these things. You are occupied with these things which help you to develop as an artist, and which lift you up enormously. It is something very exciting and special. As I become older, I think, thank God that it becomes more and more important to me – I feel the same way about Beethoven. It gives me a lot of, not pleasure, that’s not the right word, but excitement. It’s beautiful that we have this music…

So Mahler demands everything you know as a conductor for a good performance? You have to give everything?

Jansons: Absolutely everything, yes. I think if you have limits that is good for Beethoven, but not for Mozart or Haydn – with these composers it is very difficult to keep the slow movements musically interesting. It’s different, completely different.

You said that your approach to Mahler had changed over the years. Can you describe this? In what way did it change?

Jansons: Of course it is hard to judge myself, but I think I became much more profound, and more understanding of his world, not only through conducting but because I occupied myself with learning about his life and all these things. As I said before, I like to do this, it gives me inspiration, even if it has no real link to the music in practical terms. I find that it gives me inspiration and energy, and therefore I think and I hope that I became more profound. I hope that today I can successfully sustain much slower tempos in Mahler, which of course is very difficult in any music, but especially in Mahler. Take the finale of the 3rd Symphony – the slower you can make the tempo, the richer, in terms of inner feelings, you can make the music. If you cannot reach your emotions, then you will have to go faster because you don’t have anything to say. So I think this is very important, but on the other hand, you must not exaggerate because that is dangerous. The best example is the Adagietto: if you analyse this, and look at what is behind this, you will see that it is a love letter. You are singing Mahler’s song to Alma, that’s why Alma did not need him to say ‘I love you, please come’. With music, what is behind the word is important; the music is signs, but behind these signs there is always something: it is definitely atmosphere, it is definitely content, it is definitely spiritual. And then when you start to do it too slowly then it no longer expresses love, it becomes something you can’t understand. But it’s very individual, you know; what is wonderful is that every artist in one way performs it how he feels it. Of course there are some objective frames, and if you go over these it will not be very good – it will be out of style, and not connected to the piece.

Metronome marks are a special question, whether to follow these or not. I can think of times when I myself tried to follow the metronome marks of Shostakovich, who sometimes wrote crazy things, and Mravinsky said just ignore it. And many times I have done a first performance of a piece by a modern composer – where you would think you must really follow the metronome marks because these days they are very important. And then I come to the first rehearsal and I think, this metronome mark doesn’t work, so I say to the composer, ‘Can I do it like this?’ And he says ‘Yes of course, forget about it.’… Sorry, I lost my train of thought.

No, it’s interesting.

Jansons: But I was talking about the slow tempi. I think with Mahler, I feel closer to the depths of his music.

Mahler spoke about the flexibility of the tempi in his music, that this is very important…

Jansons: Yes, I think that’s normal because there is no such thing as an absolute tempo, and I don’t like it when people say things like, ‘He did it and it took him 7 minutes, 50 seconds, and then it took him 7 minutes, 14 seconds’, and it’s nonsense to calculate this. You know, Czerny said that Beethoven was almost impossible to play, because he made such agogic and sudden improvisations that it was impossible to follow it. And you think with Beethoven, my God, everything should be great, and if you read the marks and how he performed it, there is a lot of flexibility in the tempo, and with Mahler there was even more. So I think that flexibility is very important, but I still always think that it should be kept within the frame of the style, and that there should be balance and harmony; I think everything in life that is unbalanced is bad, including performances of music.

Did Mahler open the door to contemporary music? Was he a modernist?

Jansons: I think he did open the door, yes. Of course I’m not a composer, and a composer could answer this question better, but I think yes, he definitely did, especially in his last pieces. These certainly influenced others, absolutely. And it would be very interesting to know what would have happened if Mahler had lived longer… I think it would be different now. I think Mahler had not reached his limit. Of course, every composer lives in his time and can be revolutionary for his time, and maybe in the future you need another composer to do this, but I think Mahler would have done very interesting things and I think he would have surprised us very much.

In what way?

Jansons: With his harmonies, with form, with musical language, and I also think with instrumentation, even perhaps with the length of his works. We always think of Mahler writing long Symphonies, but of course that was the time – many people wrote long things. But I don’t think that Mahler wrote long works just because he wanted to be fashionable; I think he had so much inside that he couldn’t stop. But he writes in his letter, ‘I have so much that I don’t know when I can finish. I need to say more.’ It could be that later he would be more restrained. I don’t know, I think it’s a question that nobody can answer – you’d have to be Nostradamus, and even he might make a mistake!

Is the 9th Symphony a farewell symphony?

Jansons: In one way, yes. We know that he perhaps already had this premonition about this, and yes, I think you can say that. But you could also say that you don’t die there, you just disappear, and perhaps you will auferstehen [rise] later.

So this is not definitely the end?

Jansons: Yes. You could see it that way of course, but I think this is more apparent in something like Tchaikovsky’s 6th Symphony, where you can say that the last pizzicato is the last beat of the heart. It’s very primitive to say it, but… I think here…

It’s open, yes.

Jansons: It still lets you be together with the music. That is what I think is wonderful about the ending.

These last two pages of the 9th Symphony?

Jansons: If you look at the end of the third Symphony, you could say that that ending is a triumph, but it a very special sort of triumph, it isn’t really a triumph. You are not speaking as God, you are already on this level. If you look at the end he only writes one forte in the brass, and I think this is like a hymn to God and to the heavens, but it’s not a triumph, not a victory. So this is another example where it isn’t an ending, but Ewigkeit [eternity]. But I am not really comparing these two endings, I am just giving you the example of how other endings can be. And you might think, Oh, I will do it this way [sings extract], but it’s… I must look up what it is that he writes here, because it is very important to understand that people can misunderstand this.

Yes.

Jansons: Nicht mit roher Kraft. Gesättigten, edlen Ton, [Not with brute force. With saturated, noble tone] and this is at the end of the Symphony.

Edler Ton [noble tone].

Jansons: Yes, and it could provoke you to do it the other way, with the [sings] but no! This tells me, ah, I don’t think that they’re in heaven, you must be edel. He would use different words if it was something which was not on the Earth. I think he wanted to say ‘I am happy that I’m here’, but I don’t know. This is my stupid interpretation, or feeling.

But I saw in the rehearsal today, that the finale was not floating you out of the hall.

Jansons: That was conscious, which is what I just said.

That’s interesting.

Jansons: I think this is right, otherwise he would have written something different. I think he was afraid that he would have exaggerated this, and he didn’t want this.

Many conductors do it.

Jansons: I don’t know, but I think that he knew the dangers and so he wrote this. People do it this way [sings], and it should not be like that – there is one forte, and before that there are multi fortissimos, and it does not diminuendo to piano, it stays at this level. Will you come to the concert tomorrow?

Yes, I will be there.

Jansons: Please come and see me after the concert, and then you can tell me if it was okay or not, if it was good or bad?

Yes, I will tell you. In the rehearsal today, at the beginning of the 4th movement, you asked about the colours and you mentioned incredible darkness.

Jansons: Yes, grey, grey.

Are you searching for colours in Mahler?

Jansons: Yes, I generally like to do this. For me, it’s like it is underground at the beginning of this movement. He is speaking about the human being. I like colour generally, I think that sound is very important.

Interview: Wolfgang Schaufler
Transcript: Flora Death
2.2.2010, Amsterdam
© Universal Edition