Abschied, from Das Lied von der Erde

Of all composers, none so deeply and personally expresses the oppositions of life and death, of loving and losing, as Gustav Mahler. Though he did not die young like Mozart or Schubert, Mahler lived under the constant shadow of man’s mortality. From the deaths of his parents and sister (1889), a brother’s suicide (1895), and the loss of his eldest daughter (1907), Mahler’s hypochondriacal strain fed a growing anxiety. 1907 was the pivotal year, for just months after burying his daughter, Mahler was diagnosed with a terminal heart condition. Yet, he continued to compose and conduct. Between his work with the Met Opera and New York Philharmonic, Mahler retreated to Europe to complete his Ninth Symphony and Das Lied von der Erde (The Song of the Earth, 1909). Ever superstitious, he refused to label Das Lied officially as Symphony #10, citing predecessors who died while working on their Tenth (Beethoven, Schubert, Bruckner).
Das Lied sets seven ancient Chinese poems, two of which are combined to form the final movement, Abschied (which we will hear tonight). The entire work is a magisterial accomplishment, full of eloquence and agitation, but the Abschied is clearly the expressive focus. It alone lasts as long as the other five movements combined. In the Abschied Mahler inverts the Beethovenian “heroic” paradigm of struggle-to-triumph, creating instead a trajectory deeper and deeper into peaceful resignation. Whether or not Mahler, the man, came to terms with his medical death sentence, his music somehow transcends anxiety and fear to offer tenderness within the abyss. The texture throughout is incredibly bare—especially in comparison to Mahler’s preceding symphonies—and he singles out the plaintive oboe for special narrative function, both before and after the voice has entered. The oboe was used prominently in the second movement of Das Lied to evoke “Autumn Loneliness.” Here, too, the tone is poignant, sad but endearing. Most significantly, Mahler’s Abschied expresses as much through sound as it does through silence. It would be futile to describe the many striking harmonic changes, for my words cannot add to their power. It should be mentioned, however, that Mahler added his own words: the final line, with its mantric “ewig…ewig” (eternally) was not in the original poem.

(c) Jason Stell