Here is a succinct thought about the various efforts to "popularize" classical music.
Any solution proposed to help classical music find new, younger listeners that panders to them rather than asking them to step up to the challenges of the music is simply contributing to the decline of civilization.
You're either on the train or off the train. Pick one.
This is the most famous, most successful symphony ever written and there is a lot of competition! Along with the Symphony No. 9, its only serious competitor for "most famous" symphony and the "Moonlight" Sonata, also by Beethoven, it is the very paradigm for a piece of classical music.
Why is this? Certain characteristics of the music were noticed by E. T. A. Hoffman very early on in 1813, only five years after the premiere. He wrote:
The internal structure of the movements, their execution, their instrumentation, the way in which they follow one another--everything contributes to a single end; above all, it is the intimate interrelationship among the themes that engenders that unity which alone has the power to hold the listener firmly in a single mood.
The whole symphony grows, like an oak, from this single seed:
Those four notes, in that distinctive rhythm, first on the tonic (C minor) and then on the dominant seventh (G7) are the essence of the whole work, on both the micro and macro levels. It was this that was Beethoven's great discovery: how to dramatically unify in an organic way, the whole of a lengthy instrumental composition. Even though every composer since has tried to duplicate this success, hardly any have succeeded. Though it is safe to say that anyone writing a large instrumental work is likely to be using some of the techniques Beethoven discovered.
This motif, even when reduced to a simple rhythm, permeates the whole symphony. It even functions as an accompaniment to the second theme when it appears. Let's look at the page of the score where the second theme is presented for some examples:
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Here we have the ending of the previous section and notice how Beethoven beams the violins to bring out the rhythmic motif. That is in the first four measures of the example. Then we have the horns with a variation on the motif and the second theme begins in the violins in mm. 63. But notice also how the same rhythmic motif appears in the cellos. Here is another example from where the theme of the Scherzo returns in the last movement where both the melody and accompaniment feature the motif;
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Notice that the oboes have a theme very similar to the horn theme in my second example above. Then the clarinets have the same rhythm as an accompaniment, joined by the horns. Other examples, perhaps less significant, have been found. There are even some critics, including Donald Francis Tovey, who disagree that the symphony is unified in this way. I hate to disagree, but the reasons he gives, for example, that the last example has no relationship to the original motif because the accents are in a different place does not convince me. What I see here are a 'family' of rhythmic motifs that share certain similarities. Shostakovich was another who made use of this kind of structuring. Many of his string quartets use a characteristic anapest or dactyl to tie together various movements.
There are hints of the rhythmic motif in the second movement, but it also permeates the last movement, though in a subtle way. Let's take a look at part of the last movement for some examples:
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Take a look at the first violins from the 4th measure of the example: the eighth-note line is segmented in sections of three upbeats to a downbeat all the way up to the high C. This may not look quite like the motif, but again, it will sound like a member of the same family. Look too at the cellos and basses who are stressing the same grouping. It is the way the notes are grouped that is creating the effect.
Another very significant element in the symphony is the tonal structure. The whole "story arc" is one of movement from darkness (C minor) to light (C major). This structure, which may owe a bit to the opening of Haydn's Creation, arrives at the moment of light as the last movement begins. The Scherzo ends with a long, long sustained dominant harmony. The fact that the dominant of C minor and the dominant of C major are exactly the same chord allows the blaze of C major (aided by the use of trombones for added power) to be both entirely logical harmonically, but at the same time unexpected. This moment is one of the greatest and most powerful moments in Western music.
After all that introduction, let's listen to the whole symphony. This is the Deutsche Kammerphilharmonie Bremen conducted by Paavo Jarvi:
If you do a complete survey of all the Beethoven symphonies as we are doing, one thing that becomes very evident is that we have a distorted notion of Beethoven based largely on the odd-numbered symphonies. The stereotypical view of Beethoven is the heaven-storming heroic figure of the 3rd, 5th and 9th Symphonies. But what if the only symphonies we knew were the 2nd, 4th and 6th, for example? We would think of Beethoven far more as a genial, boisterous, joyful character, delighting in every harmonic, rhythmic and dynamic surprise he can toss our way. None of the tortured depths that we hear in the odd-numbered symphonies.
Beethoven is a complex character, not just the tormented romantic artist, but also the comic trickster. Not just the composer of touching slow movements of transcendent beauty, but also of driving dance movements and finales.
The year 1806, when this symphony was composed, was one of the most brilliantly productive of his career. He composedthe three Razumovsky String Quartets, the Appassionata Sonata, the Fourth and Fifth Symphonies, the Violin Concerto and the Fourth Piano Concerto. The premiere of the 4th Symphony was in a concert that also saw performances of the Coriolan Overture and the 4th Piano Concerto.
We have seen a number of different kinds of Beethoven introductions: the harmonic trickery of the adagio to the First Symphony, the splendid complexity of the Second while the Third Symphony omits any introduction but simply launches into the main theme preceded only by two tonic chords. The 4th Symphony has an adagio introduction that is harmonically obscure and quite deceptive as to character. It starts like this:
After that we rather expect a dark sort of music, but à la Haydn, this prefigures a very sunny allegro:
Sorry to chop it up, but it runs from one page to another in the score.
One element in this symphony that is surprisingly strong is rhythm as we can see in the beginning to the second movement where the contrast between the accompaniment and melody is extreme:
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He even gives this figure to the tympani:
The third movement is one of those syncopated, hurtling scherzos that Beethoven does so well:
And the last movement is a simply brilliant moto perpetuo that goes and goes. The last movement of the third Razumovsky quartet, op 59 in C major is a similar exercise in spinning out a never-ending rush of notes. Here is how the first phrase looks in the first violins in the symphony:
The 4th Symphony is a much-underrated work, probably because it is sandwiched between two symphonies that make earth-shaking transformations in the nature of the genre: the 3rd and 5th. This one is simply a great piece of music that no-one else could have done so well. No, not even Haydn nor Mozart since they would have done it brilliantly differently. Beethoven continues to develop and explore his unique approach to rhythm and harmony and makes more and more use of the winds and tympani in the structure.
Let's listen to an outstanding performance by Daniel Barenboim conducting the West-Eastern Divan Orchestra at the 2012 Proms:
I append the nickname "Eroica" to the title because it is one of the few examples where the name comes from the composer himself. I have previously written about the Third Symphony here.
As that post discusses a few things about the first movement, I won't duplicate it, but mention a few other things. One important thing to note is that this is the first symphony that was written after Beethoven's increasing deafness had become too serious to ignore. Whether there was a causal relationship between that and the astonishing strides made in his composition is probably unanswerable. But we will keep asking the question. My personal sense is that, given Beethoven's thorough preparation in music, he could continue to work despite being cut off from what we usually consider to be an essential: the ability to hear what he had written. From now on, he could only hear his music in his mind's ear. There may have been two consequences of this: first, that it afforded him a freedom from the usual constraints and second, it isolated him from the distractions of the sounds of the world.
One aspect of the symphony that has been belabored to death is the connection to Napoleon. The French ambassador to Vienna had suggested that Beethoven write a symphony inspired by the career of Bonaparte as early as 1798 and in the summer of 1803 he began to follow through. The idea produced a mammoth work of unprecedented drama and, in the words of Richard Taruskin, "a sense of overriding dynamic purpose uniting the four movements." In 1804, however, in reaction to Napoleon crowning himself Emperor, Beethoven rescinded the dedication and changed it to "the memory of a great man" --this may have been ironic!
I happen to think that the actual inspiring event is not terribly important. That Beethoven sensed the immense energy released by the French Revolution, as encapsulated in the person of Napoleon, and then created a musical analogue to that energy is not so surprising. That he did it so powerfully and successfully is more the point. The fact that he changed the dedication shows that the music is inherently non-political, I think. It captures the unleashing of the energy of the mass of people that were being freed from the bounds of an hierarchical social system and transmutes it into music. This is rather different from the real 'political' music of the day, the songs and marches associated with the French Revolution.
In my previous post I talked a bit about the themes of the first movement. But there are three other movements, so let's have a brief look at them. This is a huge symphony. At nearly an hour in length, it is two or three times as long as previous symphonies. Each of the first two movements is nearly as long as a symphony by Haydn or Mozart. After that astonishing first movement, that creates new heights of tonal drama and structural integrity, there is a funeral march. This is not entirely unprecedented, as there is a symphony by Haydn dating from 1772 with the nickname "Trauer" ("mourning) that has a funereal slow movement (Haydn asked that it be played at his funeral). But nothing quite like this had been included as part of a symphony before:
Chopin followed suit by writing a funeral march as the third movement of his Piano Sonata No. 2.
The third movement, a scherzo, begins like this:
The fourth movement, usually written in rondo form, is instead a set of variations on a theme that he also used in a ballet and as the subject of a set of variations for piano. Here is the opening:
And here is the theme:
The bass line appears first and is varied before the melody itself.
Now that we have looked at the first two symphonies, which don't depart too extensively from their 18th century predecessors, we can see how really monumental the Symphony No. 3 is. If Beethoven had never written another note, with this symphony he has set the terms and scale for the symphony for the next hundred years, right up to Mahler and beyond.
Now, let's listen. Here is Philippe Herreweghe conducting theRadio Kamer Filharmonie:
The Second Symphony of Beethoven is probably the least known, which is too bad. It is a very fine symphony--if he had not written seven more, it would probably be very famous. But it is quite overshadowed by the Third Symphony and all the others that followed.
The Second Symphony is substantial by 18th century standards taking, depending on the repeats, about half an hour in performance. There are four movements:
The Adagio introduction is particularly elaborate, much longer than the one to the First Symphony. Here is the first page:
One of the things that particularly stands out about this adagio as being characteristic of Beethoven is the rhythmic complexity. He often layers different subdivisions on top of one another or in close proximity:
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Here there are the triplet sixteenths in the accompaniment contrasted with syncopated eighth notes and thirty-second notes. The allegro, when it arrives twelve pages later, is energetic with particularly strong rhythmic impetus:
Note the sfs (subito forte meaning "suddenly loud") that give a punch to the theme, already with a lot of rhythmic energy from the sixteenth-note upbeats and offbeats.
The second movement, a larghetto in the dominant, features the kind of delicate filigree that Beethoven will make use of in so many slow movements and sets of variations in the future:
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One of the things that Beethoven particularly delighted in throughout his career was rollicking dance movements. Haydn had already pepped up the dignified minuet by turning it into what he called a "scherzo" in a much faster tempo. "Scherzo" means "joke" in Italian and the term dates back into the early 17th century, but it was Haydn's use of the word in his String Quartets op. 33 (1781) that directly inspired Beethoven. Here is the first page of the scherzo from the Second Symphony:
This is a "one in the bar" tempo, meaning that each measure is a single beat so what we actually get is a hypermeter, or a meter that extends over more than one measure. Incidentally, this is the solution to the mystery of why, in some classical compositions, the last measure of the piece is a rest: it is needed to complete the group of measures making up the hypermeter. Here, for example, one could postulate a hypermeter of four measures. Notice that every other measure is an echo.
The last movement, allegro molto, begins with this outrageous outburst:
Robert Greenberg of the San Francisco Conservatory gives us an example of musicological overreach when he describes this as a hiccup, belch or flatulence followed by a groan of pain. He says,
Beethoven's gastric problems, particularly in times of great stress – like the fall of 1802 – were legendary. ... It has been understood almost since the day of its premiere that that is what this music is all about. Beethoven never refuted it; in fact, he must have encouraged it. Otherwise, how could such an interpretation become common coin? And common coin it is.
Hmm, well perhaps. On the other hand, other writers have pointed out that this symphony, of which Berlioz says "everything in this symphony smiles," was written at about the same time as Beethoven was undergoing intense personal stresses, not the least of which were the first signs of his impending deafness. One can only imagine how keenly this would affect a young composer in his early 30s! But none of this appears in the symphony, which as Berlioz notes, is full of joy.
Here is a splendid performance from the 2012 Proms conducted by Daniel Barenboim:
I am surprised, looking back at the list of posts on the blog, that I have not written much about the Beethoven symphonies. I have put up more posts about Shostakovich symphonies than Beethoven symphonies!
What I would like to do is put up a post on each of the Beethoven symphonies that I haven't discussed. Since the only ones I have talked about at any length have been numbers 3 and 6 (with multiple mentions of No. 5) I am just going to start with the First Symphony.
Beethoven started sketching out parts of this symphony while still taking counterpoint lessons with Albrechtsberger in the spring of 1787 but didn't begin composition in earnest until 1799. The symphony was completed much later on and premiered in April 1800.
Beethoven's First Symphony was something of a turning point for the genre. Before this, the symphony had tended to be rather a light, cheerful outing for the orchestra. Very few were written in minor keys and, with a few exceptions, the mood was light rather than heavy. One of the big exceptions is, of course, Mozart's 40th Symphony in G minor. But note that out of his 41 official symphonies, only two, this one and an earlier one in the same key, are minor. Haydn as well wrote few in minor keys. Haydn wrote 106 symphonies of which 104 were given numbers in the early 20th century. Mozart wrote approximately 40 symphonies. Beethoven wrote only 9, an order of magnitude fewer, and of that nine two, nos 5 and 9, are in minor keys. Schubert as well wrote only nine symphonies (and some sketches) and two of his are also in minor.
But Beethoven's First Symphony, though exhibiting a number of striking features, is still very much an 18th century work. Here is the beginning of the slow introduction to the first movement:
We are rather insensitive to tonality these days after a century of modalism and atonality, so it is not easy for us to appreciate the wit of this opening. The function, from a tonal point of view, of the beginning of a piece, is to present to the listener in an unmistakable way, the home key of the work. About 99% of the time, this is exactly what happens. But composers being who they are, they sometimes like to fool us. The most famous example of this is probably the opening of Mozart's "Dissonant" string quartet, where he completely clouds the tonality for the whole introduction. Here is that opening:
I have talked about this opening before, but just note that the opening C pedal is contradicted by the notes above and even it descends chromatically so by the time we get to the bottom of the page, we are thoroughly confused about the key.
Now look back at the Beethoven introduction. No confusion here: it opens with a perfectly normal V7 - I cadence. Followed by another V7 - I cadence. Followed by yet another V7 - I cadence. The only problem is that these cadences are in three different keys! First F major, then C major, then G major. So what key ARE we in? No way to tell, but as the introduction goes on, it becomes quite clear that C major is the key.
This is a high form of musical wit: it is like someone saying, "today I am going to talk about social justice, no, just kidding, the topic is going to be environmentalism, ha, ha, kidding again, actually we are going to talk about sex!" I think that a sensitive 18th century listener might have picked up on the humor fairly easily.
Beethoven's First Symphony comes at a particularly ripe moment as Haydn's last symphony had appeared five years earlier and Mozart's twelve years earlier. Audiences were ready for another symphonic master and Beethoven aimed to fit the bill. The First Symphony has striking features as I said, such as that harmonic joke at the beginning, but the first movement settles into a well-done, though not atypical, sonata allegro. The second movement is unusual only in the tempo, which is rather quick for a slow movement. The third movement, labeled a minuet, is so fast that it is more like a scherzo. The last movement is very much a tribute to Haydn and even resembles a bit Haydn's Symphony No. 88.
Like the first, the last movement also has a slow introduction that keeps us in the dark for a bit. But the means are entirely different from either what Beethoven did in the first movement or what Mozart did in the string quartet. Beethoven gives us a chord with octave Gs and follows it with some scale fragments:
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What we had in the introduction to the first movement was too much information: cadences in three different keys. What Mozart did was give us conflicting information: the harmonies are too confusing to make the key evident. What Beethoven does here in the last movement is give us too little information: the key might be G and we don't start to hear it as C until he reaches that fermata F towards the end.
In general what characterizes Beethoven's treatment of the symphony, apart from the details I have just been mentioning, is a heightened intensity. The music is punchier (more sfs and sforzandi), the winds are a bit more prominent, and he brings out details in unexpected ways such as how the second theme, heard in the winds, migrates to the cellos in the first movement. The harmonic treatment is also a bit more aggressive, less elegant than in Haydn and Mozart.
Now let's listen. Here is the Orchestre Révolutionnaire et Romantique conducted by Sir John Eliot Gardiner:
Today is Julian Bream's 80th birthday and he is probably tending his roses at his country place in Wiltshire. Norman Lebrecht has a tribute to him. Of course, Julian Bream was not at all shy and in fact did not suffer fools gladly. I have met him on a couple of occasions--just brief encounters after a concert. Here is a lovely performance of a lovely piece of music written for him. At the end we see the composer, William Walton, another musician who tended to the acerbic, who compliments him on getting it "better". Ah, the English!
I first saw Julian Bream in a concert in New York at Town Hall in 1975. The first half was played on the lute and the second, guitar. I was both impressed with the power of his expression and disappointed at his occasional struggles with the instrument. As I recall, the first half ended with a piece by Dowland that just fell apart. He didn't actually end the piece, he abandoned it!
A number of years later, I saw him play at Place des Arts in Montréal and it was just as expressive, but this time technically impeccable. One of his encores, the "El Mestre" of Miguel Llobet, was as fine a performance on guitar as I have ever heard. Alas, I can't find it on YouTube, but here he is playing another piece by Llobet, "El Testament de Amelia":
I also saw his final tour before retiring in 1997/98. It was an excellent program with a big suite by Bach and a Sonata by Brouwer. But as I recall, it was again plagued by some struggles with the instrument. A couple of things people have said about Bream: a friend of mine and ex-student of Bream's said that every concert was like an heroic battle. And John Duarte has said that yes, on occasion Bream makes mistakes in concert, but he would still rather hear Bream make a few mistakes than just about anyone else play all the right notes! I think I would agree with that.
Julian Bream is a serious guitarist who took a very serious approach to the music. He commissioned and performed the most demanding music and did a fantastic job playing it. I think that the audience, in later years, became a little less knowledgeable and less able to appreciate his caliber of musicianship. His last few tours had lower attendance than before. But few guitarists had the musical depth and command of the instrument that Julian Bream had. Perhaps none...
Here are Julian Bream and John Williams with a nicely spectacular performance of a piece by Isaac Albéniz:
