This new recording of the Symphony No. 9 in D Major by Gustav Mahler (1860-1911) is a clear indication that the relay race baton has been successfully handed off, and that ongoing and future interpretations of Mahler's music are in competent hands. The 9th is not the usual entry point for most conductors dipping their toes into the Mahler ocean, but German cellist and conductor Philipp von Steinaecker leads a gripping account in keeping with its time of conception at the onset of the 20th century. He makes a highly convincing and valid point in the booklet notes with this statement: "When the Ninth Symphony was premiered in 1912, a year after Mahler's death, the music world wanted to consider it as his testament and farewell to life. Mahler, however, was neither ill nor did he expect to die soon while he was composing it in Toblach during the summer of 1909."

The ambiguous tonality and mournful string portamenti sighs that set the opening movement in motion are clear indications that Mahler was troubled by a deep sense of bereavement at the fading away of harmonic beauty, musical integrity, and cultural stability all compromised by the pervasive encroachment of the new century's ethos. All subsequent attempts to establish a singular thematic identity in order to erect a strong musical edifice, are brutally impeded by a dark, intolerant force, the final blow almost fatal. The music slowly hobbles back to life only to end on a single valedictory note.

This dichotomy is brought to the fore by the members of the Mahler Academy Orchestra which utilize period instruments (circa 1900 Vienna). Gut strings which generate a warmer yet incisive sound. Woodwinds with more personality, and sharper brass. Crucial orchestration details once obscured are now more prominent. The Ländler second movement benefits the most from this instrumental character which lends the music an authentically rustic quality (you can visualize the peasants dancing and cavorting in the Austrian countryside). The whole movement is like a spooky and grotesque Viennese waltz played by a Bavarian Oompah-pah band. Mahler is basking in old world joie de vivre.

On the other hand the Rondo-Burleske which follows is a shock to the system. Once again a revelatory insight can be found in the booklet notes: "The Ländler is dominated by Austrian dance types that charmingly, sarcastically and wistfully evoke the Vienna that Mahler had left behind, whilst the Rondo-Burleske, a rough, mechanical and unstoppable tour de force, provides a complete contrast. New York had been the biographical antithesis of Vienna for Mahler since 1908 and the immense polarity of these two worlds is reflected in these two movements." Now armed with this information and aware that Gustav Mahler conducted at the Met and gave numerous concerts with the New York Philharmonic between 1907 and 1911, this erratically bizarre movement makes perfect sense. Witnessing first hand the frenetic hustle and bustle of the new world must have reinforced Mahler's fear of what the future had in store. The frenzied race to the finish at the end is impressively knocked out of the park in this performance.

In this symphony, it is the final Adagio movement that is the focal point and emotional center. Notice if you may, a strong statement of faith that Mahler introduces within the music a few times, played very softly and lasting over only two bars. It is first heard within the very first page of the score, at bar number eleven at the 1:45 mark in this recording. It is the bass line motif from the Johann Sebastian Bach Chorale Prelude 'Nunn komm der Heiden Heiland' (Come Thou Redeemer). It turns the whole symphony on its head with a powerful hymn to life. It is a farewell, not to life, but to music as Mahler had labored with all his life. I challenge anyone to point out a more perfectly shaped, harmonically rich and passionately expressed symphonic movement. And since it's scored mostly for strings, the perfectly balanced warmth of the gut strings of this orchestra reveal a richness of texture hitherto unheard. And throughout, Philipp von Steinaecker's pacing is exemplary, especially during the final four Adagissimo minutes.

And here is where Mahler displays his genius and proves that neither he, nor the music, are defeated. On the last page of the score, in those last achingly slow moments, the violas play three sets of four descending notes that fail to find a resolution. Time stands still. The music hangs on the edge of an abyss without that resolution. But then in the last two bars, Mahler simply inverts those four notes and the harmony resolves itself, and sheds a glimmer of light through the darkness.