May 31, 2026
Three concert halls were built between 1870 and 1900 according to the then-emerging science of acoustics: Musikverien on Vienna, the Concertgebouw in Amsterdam, and Symphony Hall in Boston. The three shoe-box design halls are still considered the finest sound experience. While having been to concerts at Boston and the Concertgebouw, I had not attended a performance at the Musikverien (1).
An amateur Orchestra from Liepzig (Akademische Orchester Leipzig) and one from Vienna (Akademischer Orchesterverein in Wien) were here on this Sunday morning performing Tchaikovsky's 6th (Liepzig) and Subelius' 2nd (Vienna) Symphonies. An usher standing by a stack of programs seemed reluctant to sell me one. "Only in German," was his curt reply. But he accepted my €3.50 and gave me a copy (2).
There were many tourists at the performance gawking and taking pictures of themselves in the ornate hall. The halls in Amsterdam and Boston are significantly less gilded (3). From the first notes of the Tchaikovsky piece, I was amazed at the acoustics. Being in the middle at the back of the hall, the music was perfectly blended, but I could pick put the individual instruments when I wanted to as well.
The Leipzig orchestra was arranged differently than usual, with the first and second violins opposite, rather than next to, each other to accentuate the theme passing between them in the third movement (3). Tchaikovsky's 6th (4) switches the normal final Allegro movement to the (normally slower) third movement, causing many in the audience to applaud before the end of the piece, which the conductor cut off by quickly starting the final movement.
While unfamiliar, Sibelius' 2nd Symphony was relatively easy to follow, and popular with the audience. The performers from both orchestras stomped their feet for their conductors, seemingly quite happy with both conductors' leadership, and to be performing in this hallowed venue.
A railroad map of Australia showed a pinky-purple line (indicating narrow-guage) with lots of squiggles (usually signifying a mountain line) heading south from St Pölten to someplace called Mariazell (pronounced MAH•ri•a, with an accent on the first syllable). The timing worked with the end of the concert. The guage was quite narrow, using the Bosnian narrow guage of 2 feet 5 15/16 inches (760 mm). Bosnia was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire when construction started and the military wanted to be able to use the same rolling stock if needed.
The modern train sets are called Himmelstreppe (step to heaven), and feature large windows to enjoy the views. The climbing was accomplish with a series of long switchbacks, through tunnels and over viaduct.
At 62 kms from St Pölten, the train abruptly stopped, and the conductor hopped off. A tree had fallen and the driver was unsure whether the train would clear the obstruction. Unfortunately no, so we backed down to the most recent passing track to await the infrastructure (same word in German) crew to clear the tracks. After about a hour delay, we set off again towards the line's summit at the Gösing tunnel.
Emerging on the far side of the tunnel, the wind was hollowing and a storm was visible to the west over the rocky summit of Ötscher, the tallest peak in the area. Suddenly, lightning flashed out, striking the mountain at a 45° angle about 2/3 of the way up the left side. The wind, billowing thunderheads, and lightning produced a scene best described as Gothic.
It was fascinating until the train stopped at the next station. The driver announced (in German) with a what-else-could-go-wrong-today chuckle that the storm had knocked out the line's electric power. The reserve power was soon cut as the train was pelted by rain. Luckily, a very infrequent bus was scheduled to stop nearby, we all climbed out, walked to the bus, and were waived on when a member of the train crew explained the mishap. About 2 hours late, we pulled into Mariazell. Not just transportation; it's an adventure ride.
(1) I had been to a chamber music performance at a side hall at the Musicverien a numver of years ago. In the main hall that night, they were rehearsing Mahler's 3rd. I poked my head in but was soon shooed away: "Come back in two days if you want to hear us."
(2) Perhaps he disapproved of my hiking T-shirt and a week's beard growth. My translation app had no problem with the German text in the program.
(3) Although Boston is more practical: Symphony Hall has drinking water fountains, which the Musikverien does not.
(4) The double basses were opposite their usual location. I watched with interest as the bassists from Liepzig wiped off the instruments I assumed belonged to the Vienna players, and move them to their accustomed position, stage left. Basses are very large and unwieldy.
(5) Coincidentally, I had recently listened to a podcast about the piece, with which I was already somewhat familiar.
