Foremost among the demons that haunted Gustav Mahler was the notion of death, particularly his own, which would remain a preoccupation and wellspring of his art. The title Totenfeier (Funeral Rite) is therefore no mere decorative fancy. As the composer wrote, “While writing it, I had a vision of my corpse lying in a coffin, surrounded by funeral wreaths.” And later, “It is the hero of my D-major Symphony [the First Symphony, 1887] who is being borne to his grave, his life being reflected, as in a clear mirror, from an elevated vantage point. At the same time, it expresses the great question, ‘To what purpose have you lived? To what purpose have you suffered?’... We must know the answers to these questions if we are to continue living....”

If the title of this work doesn’t ring a bell, the music will, for in 1895, Mahler brings his hero, i.e., himself, back from the grave—and answers the aforementioned questions—in his mammoth Second Symphony, the “Resurrection,” of which a minimally altered Totenfeier constitutes the opening movement. It might be noted that during the course of composing the symphony, Mahler corresponded with a sympathetic friend, Richard Strauss—like Mahler, also one of the most important conductors of his time—on his progress, or lack thereof. Strauss was in fact scheduled to conduct the premiere of the first three movements of the symphony (the “Resurrection” finale had not yet been completed) with the Berlin Philharmonic in March of 1895, but as it turned out Mahler led his own music and Strauss conducted works by Mendelssohn, Chopin, Weber, Liszt, and Saint-Saëns in what must surely have been a concert of monster proportions.

In Totenfeier, Mahler takes us on a harrowingly dramatic ride that begins with menacing tremolos surely intended to invoke the opening of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony. What follows are a gigantic funeral march that grows out of those opening tremolos, some sweet-tempered pastoral music that becomes increasingly mournful, and then, to quote Mahler scholar Deryck Cooke, “moments of latent triumph, the last including a brass chorale...which eventually culminates in an affirmative climax in E-flat. But the funeral march rides ruthlessly over everything, ending in exhausted resignation, and a spasm of horror.”

—Herbert Glass