We are returning this week to our series on the
symphonies of Johannes Brahms. This week we will hear his second symphony,
performed by Kurt Masur and the Gewandhausorchester Leipzig.
Brahms composed this symphony in less than a year, which is astonishing given that the first symphony took fifteen years to complete. It seems that Brahms gained confidence after publishing his first symphony, perhaps because it finally freed him from the shadow of Beethoven.
The symphony begins very simply. The cellos carry the first three notes (D, C sharp, D), and the French horns lay a melody over this foundation. Throughout the course of the symphony, Brahms expands on these three notes in a variety of ways. Listen for the many ways he uses this miniature motif (hint: it gets recycled quite often in the winds and brass). The cellos also open the second movement, but this time the theme is darker and more complex. The third movement, much like many of his violin and cello sonatas, departs completely from the somber tones of the earlier movements and juxtaposes a solo oboe line with cheerful pizzicato in the strings. The fourth movement combines the dark atmosphere of the second movement with the energy of the third.
Our music for this week is the “Christmas” Concerto by Archangelo Corelli. I first played it when I was 10 years old as part of the NH Youth Symphony Orchestra, and since then my siblings and I have played it at numerous Christmas concerts.
The concerto is written in the sonata de chiesia form, which was used regularly by Corelli and his early-1700’s contemporaries. Corelli expanded this format from the usual four movements to five, but otherwise he stuck with the stylistic conventions. Like most of the music written during this time period, the concerto is written for two violin soloists and a single cello soloist, accompanied by a tutti orchestra.
There are six movements in the concerto, all of which are beautiful. However, the sixth movement (Pastorale) is the most well-known and, in my opinion, the most beautiful. The melody in the violins is unforgettable.
We are continuing our series on the symphonic works of Johannes Brahms this week with his first symphony.
Brahms was a perfectionist. He would regularly destroy his compositions and left hundreds of them unpublished because he was not satisfied with them. The first symphony is no exception – it appears that he drafted it no less than ten different times over the course of eight years. Since it was his first symphony, Brahms felt an incredible amount of pressure to live up to the legacies of Haydn and Beethoven, the two composers to which he was most often compared.
It would be difficult to find a more dramatic and emotional theme then the opening of the first movement of the symphony. It is perpetually building, a gradual but never-ending ascent. The timpani and brass provide a sense of overwhelming power unmatched in any of his other symphonies. Listen for the way that Brahms contrasts this awe-inspiring explosion with the delicacy of the woodwinds when they show us the initial melody for the first time at around 2:05. You may also notice the significant tonal change to B major around the 9:57 mark. This is Brahms’ way of throwing the listener a curveball, but he mercifully incorporates elements of the main theme into the transition so that we don’t get too confused 🙂
Our music for this week is the second movement of the German Requiem by Brahms. This week also marks the beginning of a new series on the music of Johannes Brahms. In particular, I want to focus on his larger works, such as the Requiem and his four symphonies.
The Requiem is based on
the following set of verses:
Blessed are they that mourn
Behold, all flesh is as the grass
Lord, let me know mine end
How lovely are thy dwellings
Ye now have sorrow
For we have here no abiding city
Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord.
The verses above, which Brahms chose himself from both the Old and New Testaments, is clearly focused on themes of death and mourning. However, there is a consistent message of hope throughout the Requiem, and there is a widespread consensus that Brahms intended this piece to be a comfort for the living rather than a memorial for the dead.
It is likely that he wrote this piece in memory of both his mother and his dear friend Robert Schumann, both of whom died shortly before the composition of this piece. In fact, Brahms wrote the following words about the Requiem after its first performance:
“If you were to consider the situation and how it relates particularly to me, you would know how much and how profoundly a piece like the Requiem is altogether Schumann’s and how, in the secret recesses of my mind, it therefore had to seem quite self-evident to me that it would indeed be sung to him.”
The second movement, written in the especially dark key of B-flat minor, is the funeral march portion of the Requiem. While the later movements of the Requiem (which you are more than welcome to listen to at your leisure) depict the acceptance stage, this movement is fully saturated in the despair of loss. The tenor and bass parts are the foundation of the funeral march, and they repeatedly sing the words “Behold, all flesh is as the grass.” There is a persistence emphasis throughout this movement on the inevitability of our fate.
However, Brahms provides the listener with a brief respite during the middle of the movement, when he transitions to a lighter and more uplifting episode focused on the words “But yet the Lord’s word standeth forever.” These words and the brightness of this section are an excellent example of Brahms’ desire to, as noted above, comfort the living rather than mourn the dead.
The ending of this movement is particularly interesting. You will notice that it does not end in the somber darkness in which it begins. In many ways, this ending is the beginning of the transition from grief to acceptance. It is interesting to note that, despite the persistent focus on fate and grieving in the previous verses, the last words of this movement are simply “Eternal Joy.”
Our music for this week is the Nocturne in F Major for solo piano by Tchaikovsky.
This composition is part of a set of two pieces that Tchaikovsky wrote while on vacation in Nice, France in 1872. The other piece is a Humoresque that has since been transcribed for violin and cello, among other instruments.
It would be difficult to find a more charming piece of music than this Nocturne. Sensual melodic lines in the right hand flow seamlessly over tumbling waters in the left hand, creating an atmosphere of delicacy and relaxation. Unlike much of Tchaikovsky’s music, there is no “moment of tension” in this piece that must be resolved; it is content to simply enjoy the ride. For an example of this, listen for the way that Tchaikovsky brings the melody back at around 2:20. Rather than create harmonic tension by entering the world of dissonance or dynamic pressure, he simply lets the development section drop off by itself. I think this creates a wonderful effect, since it enables the original melody to appear out of a moment of complete silence.
Enjoy!
T
P.S. Some of you may remember our recent series on the great Russian pianist Sviatoslav Richter. I would encourage you to check out his recording of this piece, which also includes its Humoresque companion.
Our music for this week is the “Ruler of the Spirits Overture” by little-known Romantic composer Carl Maria von Weber. This overture was originally intended for an opera that Weber never ended up publishing. You can hear the dramatic elements from the very first note.
Weber is not a composer that we hear about very often, but he was an amazing person. He exemplified the ideal of a Renaissance man, pursuing composing, conducting, writing, painting, and poetry. He is best known for his opera Der Freischutz, which is seen as one of the most important expressions of Germany’s musical heritage.
Weber was born into a musical family that traveled the European countryside as a performing troupe. He was appointed as a lead musician in the court of King Frederick I of Württemberg, but his carefree upbringing had instilled in him a restlessness and resistance to structure that quickly got him banished from that court. He resumed his gypsy lifestyle and rose to fame as a piano virtuoso before being appointed conductor of the opera in Prague in 1813. He seemed to have learned his lesson by this point, for he managed to hold this job for many successful years.
We can thank Weber for the opera genre, since before he came along, the opera was scorned in most European countries (except, of course, Italy). Weber’s brave introduction of the opera format into German musical circles is one of the primary reasons that we can enjoy great operas today.
Our music for this week is the Finale of Tchaikovsky’s 6th Symphony.
This symphony is somewhat of an odd-ball. It is the only one of Tchaikovsky’s symphonies that was composed in a major key and the only one that contains five movements rather than four. The Finale that you will hear is particularly unique because it is composed in a “polonaise” form that earned the symphony the nickname “Polish.” This nickname was controversial at the time, however, because it carried a cultural connotation of Russian dominance over Poland. It is very possible that Tchaikovsky did this on purpose, since he knew that in order for his music to be popular, his music would need to appeal to the political and cultural tastes of the aristocracy that funded his musical endeavors.
The polonaise is a type of Polish dance that resembles a march or a processional. Perhaps in an effort to challenge himself, Tchaikovsky cleverly mixes this dance form with a fugue format. In other words, the dance is layered onto itself many times through different instrumentations. You will hear the opening theme of the movement repeated several times throughout; each time it is handled by different instrument and is played in a different key. As the piece progresses, Tchaikovsky creates even more complexity by having different instruments play this melody in a staggered progression, which gives listeners the impression that they are listening to a round.
Our music for this week is the String Quintet in C for two violins, viola, and two cellos. It is often referred to as simply “The Cello Quintet,” and it is one of Schubert’s most memorable and important compositions. Those of you who are musicians will know that the music of Schubert is all about texture. Schubert was the master of creating an endless variety of textures through harmonic interaction and instrument choice. In the Cello Quintet, the added cello (most string ensembles have two violins, one viola, and only one cello) adds a layer of density and richness to the sound of the ensemble.
At the time he wrote this piece, Schubert was nearing the end of his life and was very aware of the kind of legacy that he wanted to leave behind. Many have speculated that he viewed himself as the successor to Beethoven, who died before he could finish his C major quintet. It is easy to see how, given his conception of his relationship to Beethoven and his knowledge of his nearing death, Schubert wrote the Cello Quintet in an effort to cement his legacy in a way that Beethoven never had.
The most famous and wonderful theme in the quintet can be heard at minute 2:54. As you might imagine, it is played by the cellos. It is the pinnacle of musical purity, a trait that is made clearer by its juxtaposition with dissonant harmonies both before and after it. In my mind, this melody is the height of musical expression, encapsulating both the searching and restful elements of humanity in one glorious, transcendent exploration of harmony.
We are finishing our series on Bach’s Brandenburg concerti with the sixth concerto in B flat major. This concerto is Bach’s way of throwing the audience (as they say in Boston) a “wicked” curveball. For instance, he limited the 6th concerto’s ensemble to only strings and harpsichord – no wind instruments whatsoever. An even more shocking move is the exclusion of any violins from the concerto – only violas, violas da gamba, and cellos are utilized. Given the frequency with which Bach used the violin as the lead voice in the previous five concerti, this was a significant change. As a result of this change, the violas suddenly became the lead voice and the entire tonal register is lowered, creating a denser and more weighty sound.
You may remember our past series on Bach’s Six Suites for Solo Cello, in which we talked about his trailblazing effort to feature as a solo instrument an instrument that was, at that time, considered to be purely for accompaniment. We see this same trailblazing effort in the 6th Brandenburg concerto; this time, Bach is trying to highlight the oft-maligned viola.
P.S. Leave a comment and let me know what you would like to see in a future series!
We’re taking a break from our series on Bach’s Brandenburg concerti to listen to the incredibly powerful “Poem for Piano” by Babajanyan, performed by Armen Babakhanian.
Babajanyan was born in Armenia in 1921 to a very musical family that recognized his musical guest at a very young age. After studying in Moscow for several years an establishing himself as a pianist and composer, he returned to his native Armenia to teach and compose.
One of his favorite things to do was to compose music based on poetry and literature. Many of his compositions are rooted in folk lore from Armenia and Russia, and this one is no exception. He was also fearless when incorporating other styles of music into his compositions. There are traces of jazz, rock’n roll, and blues music in many of his compositions. I would encourage you to listen for the jazz-like harmonies that are present throughout the music.
It is fitting to have this piece be performed by Armen Babakhanian, who is one of the most highly revered Armenian musicians of all time. He studied with pianists who were students of Babajanyan himself and has built his career around the music of Armenia. His performance of this brief little composition is one of the most compact and intense displays of virtuosity you will ever see, so I would highly encourage you to take the just a few minutes to watch the video. Notice the ways that his body language reflects the mood and atmosphere of music. He is not aimlessly throwing himself around the instrument like many musicians unfortunately do; he is using his movements to meaningfully accentuate the contours of the music. As far as his technical prowess is concerned, I’m not sure I can adequately describe it (at least not in a way that does it justice). You’ll see what I mean 🙂
This Week's Music 