For the general music lover, Brahms was a composer of concertos and symphonies, whereas Liszt, Chopin and Schumann are more likely to be thought of as representing piano writing in the Romantic era. Yet Brahms, himself a virtuoso pianist, produced an extensive catalogue of piano works in all forms, but this music is different in its nature from that of the other composers mentioned.

 

Brahms was younger than the other members of the Romantic piano school, yet he favoured a purity of form and expression which set him apart from them, referring back to Classical times rather than looking forward. Apart from a very few early examples, programme music did not feature in his piano output, and he openly set himself at odds with those progressive developments in music espoused by Liszt and Wagner.

 

Scherzo in E flat minor, Op.4

The Scherzo, Op.4, composed in 1851 when Brahms was eighteen, was his first published piano piece. It is a true scherzo in form, with da capo elements and two trio sections, but there is nothing scherzando about the music, which is dramatic and grimly determined. The scherzo sections are based largely on the little rhythmic motif with which the piece begins and the descending phrase which follows it. Much is made of this descending scale in the first trio which maintains the mood of the opening, but the second trio is cantabile in style, its opening chords sounding new but in fact stemming from previous material. This is gradually metamorphosed into a return of the opening music, fleshed out but darker than ever, and ends resolutely in the minor.

 

Piano Sonata No.3 in F minor, Op.5

 

The years 1852 and 1853 saw Johannes Brahms, not yet twenty, engaged in the composition of three piano sonatas. He never thereafter returned to the form, though he did write sonatas this disc date from the early part of Brahms’ career. We might expect them to be influenced by Schumann, as the two composers had met in 1853 and Schumann lost no time in announcing the arrival of a major talent. But he died in 1856, leaving his widow, Clara, to perform Brahms’ music throughout her life and also, it would seem, as the object of Brahms’ love. Although there are similarities in the piano writing of both composers, the nature of the music is quite different, that of Brahms lacking the contradictory quality of the older composer, as well as his vein of fantasy. In its place there is strength of purpose and grim integrity more akin to Beethoven, as well as a wish to express purely musical ideas rather than to exploit the possibilities of the instrument per se. Even so he already favoured richness of sonority, as well as dark colours and thick, closely-spaced textures in the bass, but with the passage of time his piano writing became more flexible, more elusive, with the melodic line so well hidden within the weave of accompaniment figures that it is often difficult to find it simply by reading the score. The sonatas and, in a different way, the later variations, communicate a young man’s view of the world, strong, robust, with an optimistic slant. But the essence of the mature Brahms is there too: the seeds of that introspection, self-doubt, and despair even, found in the later works is already in evidence.

 

Brahms had paid homage to Beethoven in his first piano sonata which begins with an allusion to the Hammerklavier. His third sonata opens with an equally dramatic and uncompromising gesture, Allegro maestoso, propelling us into a first movement which, with the self confidence of youth, is a bold and ambitious essay in sonata form. The rhythm of the opening figure is an important component of the movement as a whole, and leads to a second theme which is beautifully lyrical and tender at the outset but soon mounts to a passionate and intense climax. It is present in the development section too, though this is also characterised by a more withdrawn, reflective mood, including a beautiful passage where the melody, in the middle of the texture, might have been destined for a solo cello. This first movement is a slowly unfolding drama, inexorable in its growth and development, and even if we feel the mature Brahms might have achieved a more subtle close than the massive chords used here we can only marvel at the strength of purpose and achievement of so young a composer.

 

The slow movement, Andante espressivo, con moto, is another reminder that the image we have of Brahms as devoted to purely classical ideals of form and expression is not a complete one. The score is prefaced by some lines from a poem by C O Sternau which tell of two hearts united in love as evening falls. The opening, a simple melody and accompaniment beginning in the upper part of the keyboard, beautifully evokes a twilit scene, but the music soon begins to grow into something else, perhaps that which prompted Claudio Arrau to observe that this movement was rivalled only by Wagner’s Tristan as an expression of erotic love. The listener may find this claim exaggerated, but there can surely be no doubt about the sentiments which inhabit this music, or about the extreme passion driving the final climax. We might also draw attention, to continue the allusion, to the air of tender contentment, exultation and even exhaustion to be found in the coda.

 

It seems clear that after Schumann’s death Brahms remained forever devoted to his friend’s widow. (She was some fourteen years older than he was. Interestingly, his mother was seventeen years older than his father.) It is arguable to what extent these feelings were reciprocated, and in any case we should be wary of explaining this or that work solely with reference to his love for Clara. So whether or not we think of this slow movement as an expression of Brahms’ love for Clara it seems clear that similar sentiments motivate the lovely trio section of the following movement. The following Scherzo, Allegro energico, is strong and virile, open and straightforward, with little to hide, making the appearance of the trio, with longer note values but the same forward moving three-in-a-bar time, all the more affecting.

 

An unusual feature of this sonata is the fact that it is cast in five movements, the fourth entitled Intermezzo. Its German subtitle is Rückblick, a backward look or glance, and this is indeed the second movement revisited but with a foreboding, almost funereal aspect. The opening theme of the second movement is now heard in the minor key, with a three-note anacrusis accompanying figure which some may associate with the opening of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony (with all that that implies) or even, looking forward in time, with the great funeral march which opens another Fifth, that of Gustav Mahler.

 

If Clara Schumann may be thought to haunt many pages of this sonata, it is surely another formative influence who is to be found in the Finale, Allegro moderato ma rubato. It was the Hungarian violinist Joseph Joachim who encouraged Brahms to introduce himself to Schumann, was a loyal supporter of the composer and received the dedication of the Violin Concerto. He had a motto, frei aber einsam, “free but lonely”, and since the first contrasting theme of the finale begins with the three notes F A E it is perhaps meant as a tribute to him, especially since the remarkable accompaniment of semiquavers evokes the Hungarian folk instrument the cimbalom. Add to this a main theme featuring three against two rhythms – a favourite of the composer – and this finale begins to take on a Hungarian flavour, if a subtle one. The second contrasting theme of this rather free rondo is a cantabile melody in D flat major which becomes the material from which Brahms builds his coda. One faster section succeeds another at breakneck pace leading to an exhilarating, abandoned close.

 

 

Three Ballades, Op.10

The Four Ballades, Op. 10, the first three of which are recorded here, date from 1854 and display a greater flexibility and control of colour in the keyboard writing. The first gives us a rare view of Brahms inspired by an extra-musical association. The Scottish ballad, Edward, which Brahms knew in a translation by Herder, tells a story in questions and answers between a mother and her son, rather like Lord Randall, revealing at the end that the son has killed his father. Some commentators believe that the music closely follows the actual text, but it seems more likely that Brahms was aiming simply at a recreation of mood and atmosphere. In any case he did set the text to music some years later. The first eight bars, closing on the dominant, might represent the mother’s questioning voice, with her son’s replies poco più mosso. If this is so then it is the son who predominates in the powerful development and climax which follows, the mother providing the extraordinarily spectral close. The second ballade opens in an atmosphere of untroubled contemplation which gives way to a second section featuring an insistent, repetitive five-note rhythmic figure rising to a fortissimo climax. Further contrast is provided by a passage of staccato notes at the top and bottom of the weave with held notes in the middle. The second idea returns, followed by the first, its harmonies varied now, and with the addition of a coda where more than a hint of shadow is added to the original mood. The third ballade is perhaps the most remarkable of the set. At first sight it seems to be in simple ABA form. The first section, which is repeated, is a tense, highly dynamic scherzo in B minor, filled with harsh discords and syncopations. The second section is in complete contrast. It explores the extremes of the keyboard with chords and single notes, pianissimo, in music which occasionally threatens to come to a complete halt. There follows the return of the first section, now also marked pianissimo, and though it retains its characteristic appearance on the page, so carefully is it modified and so subtly are vestiges of the second section allowed to remain, that we hear it as translated into some quite other thing.

 

Variations and Fugue on a Theme by Handel, Op.24

The years 1852 and 1853 saw Johannes Brahms, not yet twenty, engaged in the composition of three piano sonatas. He never thereafter returned to the form, though he did write sonatas for other instruments. The Handel Variations were completed in 1861, so that both works contained in Volume 3 date from the early part of Brahms’ career. We might expect them to be influenced by Schumann, as the two composers had met in 1853 and Schumann lost no time in announcing the arrival of a major talent. But he died in 1856, leaving his widow, Clara, to perform Brahms’ music throughout her life and also, it would seem, as the object of Brahms’ love. Although there are similarities in the piano writing of both composers, the nature of the music is quite different, that of Brahms lacking the contradictory quality of the older composer, as well as his vein of fantasy. In its place there is strength of purpose and grim integrity more akin to Beethoven, as well as a wish to express purely musical ideas rather than to exploit the possibilities of the instrument per se. Even so he already favoured richness of sonority, as well as dark colours and thick, closely-spaced textures in the bass, but with the passage of time his piano writing became more flexible, more elusive, with the melodic line so well hidden within the weave of accompaniment figures that it is often difficult to find it simply by reading the score. The sonatas and, in a different way, the later variations, communicate a young man’s view of the world, strong, robust, with an optimistic slant. But the essence of the mature Brahms is there too: the seeds of that introspection, self-doubt, and despair even, found in the later works is already in evidence.

 

 

The manuscript of the Variations and Fugue on a Theme by Handel, Op. 24 carries the dedication “für eine liebe Freundin”. The theme is taken from Handel’s Suite in B flat, HWV 434 for harpsichord, where it was also used as a theme for variations. Though it is presented with proper baroque ornamentation, Brahms thereafter treats the theme in a manner proper to his own style and period. The theme is a charming but simple one which maintains a series of simple tonic and dominant harmonies. Only in the sixth bar does it move away from this pattern and the effect is remarkably powerful in the context of such a short tune. Brahms sees to it that this harmonic device is put to good use.  The first variation is a light-hearted dance, perhaps a hornpipe, and is decorated with delightful little flourishes. Contrast is immediately created by the chromatic slides and three against two rhythms of the much more intimate Variation 2. There is an unsettling quality to the third variation which stems from the fact that we are uncertain as to where the beats fall. Off-beat accents are to be found in Variation 4 too, but otherwise there is little similarity between the charming insouciance of the one and the astonishing power and drive of the other. How wonderfully Brahms makes use of the previously mentioned harmonic feature here! Let’s listen for it again in Variation 5, in the minor key and marked espressivo, a concise study of gentle melancholy. The mood is maintained in Variation 6 where the two hands, playing in octaves, demonstrate more species of canon than one would have thought possible in such a short piece. The highly rhythmic Variation 7 returns to a livelier mood and its dactylic rhythms are brilliantly transferred into the left hand of Variation 8 in music possessed of a powerful rhythmic drive. In Variation 9 the hands move slowly in octaves in contrary motion, eight monumental statements of the same idea, whereas the following variation is a dance in rapid compound time which manages to be both heavy and fleet-footed at the same time. Variation 11 is songlike in character, the melody in quavers against a regular semiquaver accompaniment. The mood is maintained in the following variation, and here, at least in the first half, the regular semiquaver figuration gives us a taste of the baroque. The right hand moves in constant parallel sixths and, for the most part, in the lower part of the keyboard, giving a rich sonority to Variation 13. The regular accompanying chords, on the off-beat, give to the music the feeling of a slow march. Sixths are again present in the right hand of the following variation, but with a molto perpetuo accompaniment and giving way only to a rising scale in trills corresponding to the sixth bar of the theme. This leads directly to Variation 15 where quavers and semiquavers alternate in music which is even more festive than before. The little two note quaver figure is put to use again in Variation 16, first in the bass, then high in the treble, replying to each other and alternating again with scurrying semiquaver figures. The result is irresistibly witty and gay. A cadence leads directly into Variation 17 which uses the same elements but substitutes for the semiquavers a kind of horn-call derived from the accompaniment figure of Handel’s theme. The same device is used in Variation 18, now in the left hand, now in the right. Variation 19 is a kind of siciliana, though marked leggiero e vivace, whereas Variation 20, with its serpentine chromatic scales and chords seems a long way indeed from Handel’s world. The following variation takes the harmonic drive of the second half of the theme and translates it into a gently rhapsodic piece totally romantic in style. With its regular drone accompaniment and short, repeated melodic phrases, Variation 22 could easily be based on a mid-European folk song. The insistent, machine-like rhythms of Variation 23 could also be folk based, and are brilliantly supplemented in Variation 24 with wild, semiquaver runs. These two variations are linked and lead directly to Variation 25, which is jubilant and definitive, with a particularly direct reference to the harmonic structure of the original theme. But this is not the end of the work, for there follows a lengthy and impressive fugue based mainly on a nagging, repeated four note motif which, once heard, gives the listener no peace for hours. For much of the time the music does not sound particularly fugal, and indeed we may think of this as another variation, an extended contrapuntal fantasy on a tiny theme. At one point its note values are doubled, and later, in music of great delicacy, it is repeatedly passed from one hand to the other high in the treble register. Brahms develops this motif with such ingenuity and skill that the irresistible momentum generated becomes a powerful reminder of the closing pages of many of Handel’s own larger works.

 

Variations on a Theme by Paganini, Op.35

Brahms’ preference for classical forms led to the composition of several sets of variations, and variation technique was an essential part of his style. In choosing to compose variations on Paganini’s A minor Caprice, Brahms contributed to a trend continued by Rachmaninov and Lutoslawski, amongst others. Brahms composed two sets of variations on this theme, both books appearing in 1866. He called them Studies, and they certainly make enormous technical demands on the pianist.

 

The first set opens with the theme followed by two ferocious variations featuring rapid and massive semiquaver movement. In each of these the harmonic framework of the original is maintained, with a few surprises added, as is also the characteristic AABB shape of the theme, even down to phrase lengths. The presence of the theme is therefore easily detected by the ear alone. The same may be said of the following variations, though here the gossamer lightness of no. 3 and the extensive trills of no. 4 take us a little further from the theme itself. The elegance of variation 5 moves us on still further, to the extent that this variation has the feel of an independent piano piece in which we may not hear Paganini at all. He’s back, though, for the delightfully light syncopations of no. 6, the massive octaves of no. 7 and the outlandish harmonies of the leaping eighth variation. Tension begins to subside with the mysterious chromatic scales of variation 9, and even more so with the tenderness of no. 10, whose phrase endings tend to leave us in suspension and whose final cadence on A major reminds us, with a little shock, that up to now we have never moved away from the initial tonality of A minor for more than a chord or two. Beauty of texture is what we notice in the next two variations, both reflective in mood, and staying in the major key. The harmonic outline of the theme, though significantly developed, is still clearly discernible here, but it is the melody which makes a rare and thinly disguised appearance in the hilariously glissando-laden A minor scherzo which is variation 13. Brahms extends the basic framework of the theme somewhat in the finale, and there is a brief but splendidly sonorous climactic moment in A major. The alternating nature of the harmonies which make up the theme are still to be heard however, especially in the astonishing coda.

 

Brahms continues to concentrate on the harmonic outline of Paganini’s theme in the second set of variations, though there is a tendency now to freer interpretation of the original, especially in the earlier pieces. This is closer in atmosphere to a series of studies than the first set and seems rather more uncompromising in its effect. The first variation bursts in violently and a keen ear is needed to spot the links with the theme, as it also is in the second which uses Brahms’ favourite two against three rhythmic device. Held notes in the middle of the texture create intriguing pedal effects in the third variation. Two short waltzes follow, one graceful and, despite the A major tonality rather sad, the other full of scurrying accompanying semiquavers. The theme is easily heard both here and in the two study-like variations which follow. The character of variation 8 is determined by the staccato writing and the indication quasi pizzicato. Variations 9 and 10 are thunderous exercises in octave playing, the second with added flourishes just in case the octaves themselves are too easy! Variation 11 is a “tiny wisp of a scherzo”, whereas no. 12 has suspensions and sequences filled with tenderness and perhaps regret. Variation 13 is perhaps the most ingenious transmogrification of Paganini’s harmonies to be found in these pieces, and leads to the final variation where Brahms again allows himself a little more space. At one point in this exceptionally taxing music the earlier, stupendous octaves reappear, and there is a fortissimo review of the theme shortly before the final coda.

 

Klavierstücke, Op.76

Brahms completed the Eight Piano Pieces, Op. 76 in 1878. To four of the pieces he gave the title Capriccio, and to the other four, Intermezzo. It is clear that these titles, along with several others, were largely interchangeable in Romantic piano music, and it is sometimes difficult to see why a particular title was chosen. The dark, F sharp minor tonality and diminished harmonies of the first piece’s introductory page prepare us for music which seethes with suppressed passion. The main body of the piece is composed of variations on a four-note motif, and, to a lesser extent, its short, more melodic extension. The introductory arpeggios return, as does the four-note fragment and the piece subsides via a series of glowering cadences to a major key conclusion which brings only a kind of peace. A listener seeking anything here in the way of caprice would be disappointed, but the second piece more readily lives up to its name. The almost constant semiquaver movement is maintained even as the accompaniment to the cantabile contrasting theme of this irresistible piece. The off-beat accents and the melody in thirds are pointers to Brahms’ interest in Hungarian dance music. In the third piece a graceful, rather limpid theme of falling notes gives way to something tender and songlike, the first idea briefly returning before the second is subtly transformed to create a coda. Such a bald description, however, cannot begin to do justice to the small miracle of expression Brahms achieves in a little over two minutes. Something similar is achieved in the fourth piece with a lyrical theme of dotted rhythms alternating with chattering, Hungarian thirds and sixths, pianissimo, but the result is rather enigmatic. The boldness of the opening of the following Capriccio creates a complete contrast, and the semiquaver figure, rising in tension as it climbs the keyboard, creates contrast within the piece too. The range of emotion expressed within such a short timescale is remarkable, full of anger and frustration yet leading to a moment just before the final, dismissive coda, of exquisite tenderness and what seems very much like hope. No. 6 is a more conventional piece in that it explores pretty much a single emotional world, though here too the psychology is complex, even withdrawn, and others may hear quite different emotions from those perceived by the present writer. In simple ABA form, A has triplet movement in the right hand against simple quavers in the left, and the roles are reversed for B which makes a brief second appearance to close the piece. The seventh piece also maintains a single mood, even if the main section, ingeniously devised from a single, syncopated phrase, seems somewhat at odds with the stately procession which opens and closes the piece. There is a certain improvisatory quality to the final Capriccio, though rather more than caprice would be required of any pianist attempting to improvise music of such psychological and technical complexity as in this.

 

William Hedley © 2004

 

 

JOYCE HATTO PLAYS THE COMPLETE PIANO WORKS OF BRAHMS

 

 

The Complete Piano Works Vol.3	The Complete Piano Works Vol.4
Piano Sonata No.3 in F minor, Op.5	Scherzo in E minor, Op.4
Variations & Fugue on a theme by	Klavierstücke, op.76
Handel, Op.24	Paganini Variations Op.35
Ballades Op.10, 1-3
CACD 9029-2	CACD 9030-2

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