In the thick of the Los Angeles Philharmonic Mahler Project, I found myself musing aloud about the great man’s career on the West Coast. He never quite made it there himself – though if he’d lived another couple of years he was planning to take the New York Phil to Chicago, and from there, who knows? – but there is an LA significance in the Mahler legacy, in the sense that it was the place that kept the flame alive during the darkness of the Second World War.
It is often forgotten that Mahler’s widow and his inner circle wound up at that time on the Pacific, attending each other’s cafe klatsches and reminiscing over all they had lost. Not just in reflection – also, in the case of Erich Wolfgang Korngiold and Thomas Mann – in regeneration. I jotted a quick post about it for the L A Phil site.