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Iván Fischer’s Tapestry of Dreams New York
Isaac Stern Auditorium, Carnegie Hall
02/07/2026 - & February 10 (Boston), 12 (Toronto), 2026
Gustav Mahler: Symphony No. 3 in D Minor
Gerhild Romberger (Mezzo-soprano)
Trebles of Westminster Symphony Choir, Donald Nally (Director), Young People’s Chorus of New York CityElizabeth Perez (Director), Budapest Festival Orchestra, Iván Fischer (Music Director, Conductor and Founder) 
I. Fischer, Budapest Festival Orchestra (© Akos Stiller)
“That which draws us by its mystical force; what every created thing, even the very stones, feels with absolute certainty as the center of its being... is the force of love. Christians call this ‘eternal blessedness.’ It is a necessity of man for growth and joy.”
Gustav Mahler
“I’m a passionate European because I think the idea that this continent, where countries finally found peace with each other, should become an integrated family is far more important than small considerations that keep nations separate. For 70 years we didn’t have to turn against one another, and that’s a wonderful gift.”
Iván Fischer, interview with The Independent
The second part of Gustav Mahler’s Third Symphony is divided into “What the Flowers ... Forest Animals ...Man ... Angels ... Love Tell me.”
May I humbly (if posthumously) offer a personal addition from last night’s concert?
“What the Weathermen Taught Me”. And the reply from the meteorological experts?
“Harry, it’s below freeezing! Mahler might write about flowery angels. That’s well and good in music. But only a damned fool would go out on a wretched night like this.”
The blustery night didn’t deter me. And–no surprise–it didn’t seem to deter the audience in Carnegie Hall. Hardly an empty seat could be found.
The trio of reasons were obvious. Iván Fischer, sharing Mahler’s one‑time Austro-Hungarian birthplace and heritage. The Budapest Festival Orchestra, founded, beloved by the conductor, and today a competition to Vienna, Berlin and the New York Phil itself.
Finally that rarely performed Third Symphony, his longest, warmest and most enigmatic. The rarity is less due to its content than the economics of a employing huge orchestra (including eight French horns, four trumpets and even a posthorn), plus full choir, mezzo‑soprano, and children’s choice singing a measly 13 minutes in all.
That would make any concert-hall accountant tear out his/her hair!
Of course, such stats are meaningless, and the Third’s rarity makes it even more beguiling. Mr. Fischer’s orchestra, even with a few blurts and blaps from the horns over 90 minutes, gave those enigmas a cordial radiance.
The greatness of this so great work is usually based on choral and solo sections. I, perversely, was absolutely enchanted with the ironic, almost sarcastic opening march. Mahler was no stranger to sarcasm, yet this “Powerful. Decided” piece took a long time to work into the mordant humor.
Mr. Fischer was totally original here. I have heard recordings where the march was stern, military, albeit with detours, forested paths. Perhaps it was Mr. Fischer’s quirky Hungarian mind. More likely, he saw in these tunes–for tunes they were–to shape them into quietly nipping riddles. As for the trombones and horns and brass, they could rise to a trumpet’s height, and dive to the deepest bass trombone, without a single second thought.
Mahler was a picture-maker, and here I imagined a child dreaming of gigantic toy soldiers marching without a scintilla of military action.
The second movement continued the child’s dream (and a forerunner to the Fourth Symphony), where strings were delicate, and the conductor without any needless idiosyncrasies. Such effortless grace was repeated in the third movement with the posthorn solo, homage to a more classical 18th Century.
The relatively brief vocal section was led by that seasoned mezzo Gerhild Romberger. Were her voice operatic or even above a whisper, the spell would have been broken. Instead, it was controlled, steady, consoling.
As were the voices of the two choirs. Outside of the boys’ choir singing nonsense words, Mr. Fischer allowed them to sing the poetry not with undue reverence. Instead (I hate to use this word) a spirituality. An unadorned spirituality which summed up the entire work.
The final orchestral movement was indeed spiritual, not as a eulogy but an emotional remembrance of movements past. So lovely, so reassuring that I felt... well, a bit guilty for putting my hands together for a snappy clap or a vocal “Bravo.”
CODA: Leaving Carnegie Hall at 10 pm, we should have suffered the realities of an Arctic vortex. Iván Fischer, though, turned the dark moon to glow, the winds to balm, and below‑freezing air to a warm, even cordial summer night.
Harry Rolnick
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