For the second week of his residency in Chicago, Klaus Mäkelä’s focus was on Mahler, and on Symphony No.9 in D major. Since arriving on the international scene, Mäkelä has turned to Mahler often. Indeed, it was a performance of the Fifth Symphony in 2023 that helped cement the connection between Mäkelä and the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, a partnership that is now formalizing into one of classical music’s most watched relationships as he prepares to assume artistic leadership next season.

Mäkelä favors big works, large in scale and in demand. Taking on Mahler this early is a daring move. His symphonies stand apart. They sprawl, carry philosophical weight and demand constant shifts in color and character. The Ninth is arguably the hardest to interpret. It is often cast as a farewell, although, despite his serious heart condition, Mahler did not compose it with certain knowledge that death was imminent. What makes the Ninth distinct is its peculiar structure. By opening and closing with expansive slow movements, Mahler mounts its two frantic middle movements within a frame of vulnerability, and closing with near silence.

To stand before the Chicago Symphony Orchestra with this music on the program is to take on a formidable history. Frederick Stock led the American premiere of the Seventh Symphony here. Fritz Reiner recorded a celebrated Fourth, Sir Georg Solti turned the Fifth into a legend of brass-heavy sonic firepower, and Daniel Barenboim chose the Ninth for one of his final programs as music director. The CSO is steeped in Mahler tradition. Its proprietary stake in how this music sounds on American soil raises an obvious question: What would Mäkelä do with it?

Against that history, Thursday’s performance showed what Mäkelä and the CSO are building together. I have no idea what goes through a conductor’s mind in front of an orchestra like this one. Mäkelä is a generational talent with decades ahead of him and I suspect he feels some awe at the ensemble of Reiner and Solti, with its power, precision and history. I also suspect he is curious about what it can do for him. On Thursday night, both were audible. The result was a reading marked by clarity and careful shaping rather than imposed, inauthentic drama. One where the principal players – from strings to brass – met the demands of the piece and Mäkelä’s exacting conception. 

What struck the listener immediately was the patience Mäkelä brought to Mahler’s exposed passages. When Mahler thins the texture to chamber-like exchanges between principal players or small sections, Mäkelä draws out color and keeps the balance exact. When a melody needs a particular contour, he knows how to mold it.

The opening movement unfolded at a deliberate tempo, yet stasis never took hold. Mäkelä kept the underlying rhythm alive through every tender, rocking phrase. When the music reached its explosive climaxes, they carried weight and texture even when held short of the orchestra’s maximum volume. Brass and percussion added substance rather than sheer force.

A subtle orchestral adjustment added to the performance’s success. Mäkelä switched the traditional positions of the cellos and violas, and the payoff was immediate in the second movement. The inner voices cut through the texture with unusual sharpness. Here, Mäkelä encouraged the violins to lean into a rough, rustic attack—sharply etched and rhythmically pointed, capturing the movement’s distorted dance forms. Principal viola Teng Li capped the movement with a quiet, beautifully sculpted solo that showcased the evening’s commitment to subtle color.

The orchestra responded with precision and bite in the third movement. The Rondo-Burleske bristled with frantic energy, from its opening eruptions to an almost reckless finish.

The true test of any Mahler Ninth lies in its final Adagio. Marked to be played “very slowly, and holding back still more,” the movement carries an undercurrent of grief, but it also offers moments of extraordinary warmth and release. Mahler builds dense string climaxes full of chromatic tension and high writing that strains against dissolution. Then the texture thins toward silence.

Mäkelä and the orchestra allowed the music to unfold without forcing an interpretive agenda. Lush string sonorities left room for the many solo passages to register fully, with woodwinds and brass entering with restraint and color. The adjusted seating paid off once again during an exposed, introspective solo by principal cellist John Sharp, which hung suspended over the quiet orchestra.

Mäkelä guided the movement through its massive string climaxes and down to its bare, disintegrating final bars. As the last thin line of sound dissolved, he kept his arms raised and held Orchestra Hall in a long, sustained silence that seemed to blur the boundary between music and its aftermath. His interpretation was neither strictly modern nor purely Romantic. Mäkelä’s relationship with Mahler will inevitably change as his career matures, but this Ninth showed that he can meet the orchestra’s formidable legacy on his own terms.

Originally published on Third Coast Review

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Around Chicago:

Hannah Edgar, Chicago Tribune

“Here, Mäkelä once again led with an assured and opinionated sense of flow. He urged the orchestra to surge past many by-now conventional slowdowns, especially in the first movement. By being more picky about when the music truly eases up, inner moments felt more precious, fragile.”

Lawrence A Johnson, Chicago Classical Review

“The concluding Adagio continued and extended the humane qualities of the preceding movements. Mäkelä avoided overheated passions in the finale in favor of a simple eloquence and sincerity, the long paragraphs unfolding logically, but also with a sincerity and heart-easing warmth. (His new layout for the orchestra—cellos inside, violas outside—appeared to enhance the burnished warmth of the strings.)”

Debra Davy, Splash Magazines

“Mäkelä directed a measured- but never lagging- pace throughout the 90 minutes. Holding on to an overarching forward movement, he does not lose sight of the whole as he progresses through the emotional components. He does not get “lost” but maintains a clear conceptual integrity as he adjusts volume, tempi, color. Even minute turns of phrase capture his attention and baton, as he seems to dance at the podium, encouraging the entirety of individuals in the large ensemble. Thus, the CSO produced sonics that thrilled the audience, even as the sightlines reflected an organization acting as one, dynamic and empowered.”