Program Notes
Classical and Romantic Treasures
September 26, 2017
String Quartet Op. 18, #1 in F Major, Ludwig van Beethoven
I. Allegro con brio
II. Adagio affettuoso ed appasionato
III. Scherzo. Allegro molto
IV. Allegro
Beethoven’s Opus 18 string quartets are his earliest compositions for this medium, written in the closing years of the 18th century, when he was in his late twenties. The 1790s were a period of profuse chamber music productivity for the composer. Sketches for countless compositions show the struggles he underwent to arrive at a new work’s final form. Yet this dogged intensity produced masterpieces, based on Beethoven’s hard work and on his total knowledge of the achievements of his counterpoint teacher Haydn, and also of Mozart, his mentor and friend. The Opus 18 quartets have Haydn’s stamp deeply imprinted on them, especially in their geniality, innovation and wit.
The quartet in F major was among three new ones originally performed in 1799 but was then considerably revised. The first movement remains as one of the most succinct and muscular statements in early Beethoven. The first fleet, six-note figure is a musical cell, or “motif,” that tiles the music like the minute, repetitive textural patterns in wallpaper. It is omnipresent throughout the music. The motif weaves a fabric that is draped over the sonata form, a harmonic and sectional drama. In this, Beethoven’s first sonata for string quartet, there is an intense development section, bristling with contrapuntal combinations of the motif through a jarring series of chord and key changes. Following the recapitulation of the sonata’s themes there is an “afterthought,” a coda in which Beethoven further explores and finally exhausts the momentum of his giant musical thoughts. This quartet was the second of the set to be composed (after the D major, Op.18 No 3) and was placed first in the published set by the composer, possibly because it was the most impressive in its size and expressive range – and also because it is the only one to have a slow movement in a minor key.
In the Adagio movement, according to one of the letters of Amenda, Beethoven sought to depict in musical terms the tomb scene from Shakespeare’s “Romeo and Juliet”. His choice of key, D minor, hearkens back to Mozart’s stormy and tragic associations with that key. Here we are asked to confront tragedy head-on, almost as an adversary. The opening is hushed, yet there is a feeling of heaviness in the steady rhythm that oppresses the whispered theme. Sweeter passages intervene, suggesting remembrance of happier times, but there is never any doubt as to the movement’s ultimate message. The writing is contrapuntal, yet operatic in every voice, sometimes combining in moments of tenderness. But especially in the return of the opening section and in the final Coda, sudden silences that are the culmination of rising musical drama create feelings of speechless horror. In these passages the quartet is whipped up in a frenzy of angry sound, denoting a truly Beethovenian raging against fate. The Classical era’s controlled balances are left behind.
Most of the string quartets of the Viennese tradition featured a dance movement originally derived from the French minuet. Haydn was the master of this “minuet and trio,” that typically featured deft triple meter. The three-part form always had a middle section that changed key, mood, or texture before the inevitable reprise of the opening. Beethoven’s scherzi intensified the drift from idealized dance to rhythmic tour-de-force with the gentle minuet meter revved up to one-to-a- bar. Here the Scherzo displays a driving pulse, syncopations, brusque accents, and a musical line that seems to ratchet ever upward. In the Trio the first violin scurries through a dazzling collection of scales, as the others imitate it or revel in rustic octave leaps.
Beethoven concludes his first quartet with another motif-driven movement, opening with a dazzling little flourish that recalls Mozart. While this brilliant little figure plays a central role, the ensuing music is rich with a variety of musical ideas, an abundant cornucopia that is almost too rich, and contrasts with the stubborn mono-thematic approach of the first movement. Here the influence of Mozart is definitely felt: the contrapuntal techniques and processes are perfectly matched with independent part-writing possibilities. It is Beethoven at his most effervescent. The second theme, first heard against legato undulations on the cello, is shared in imitation between the violins, and in the development becomes a contrapuntal passage in fugal style; this alternates with a gentler episode which later combines with the first theme to begin the final build-up.
By Robert Molison
Piano Quintet Op. 84 (1918) in a minor, Edward Elgar
I. Moderato - Allegro
II. Adagio
III. Andante - Allegro
This was the last of three chamber works that Elgar composed at Brinkwells, the country cottage in Sussex that the Elgars had rented during the latter half of 1918. It was the largest of these works: Elgar casually observed in a letter to his friend Ivor Atkins that the piece “runs gigantically and in a large mood.” This was to be the outstanding product of his last creative period, when he turned almost exclusively to chamber music.
Passages from Lady Elgar’s diary may reveal a programmatic inspiration for the quintet: a group of bare trees in this area, now become sad and sinister, had been associated by local legend with evil Spanish monks whose punishment was to be cast into these static forms of longing regret. Elgar had long nurtured an interest in Gothic fiction. Whether or not this legend was suggestive for the composer’s inspiration must remain a matter of speculation.
The first movement is the most unusual of the three. It is dark, arresting and enigmatic. Fitful and dream-like, it is haunted in its recurring episodes by several components: a cryptic pair of motives, including a wistful sigh, a driving march, and a ghostly dance. In a short introduction the piano has the opening motive: a linear, quarter-note chant in octaves, followed by the second, “answering” motive in the strings: agitated unison rhythms, mysterious and based on the same notes. Both ideas run throughout the movement, forming short sub-sections that recur in ever-changing, dream-like succession. Closing this introductory section is a more pensive trio in the upper strings, contrasted with a wistful, pleading sigh in the cello. This idea serves as a buffer between the appearances of the two main thematic sections that form the exposition of the sonata form.
The first theme occurs as a vigorous march in 6/8, in which the piano’s chords are skillfully played off against the strings’ busy counterpoint. The second subject introduces a swaying, languorous Spanish dance created by a violin duet accompanied by the piano’s guitar-like broken chords. These two contrasting ideas are powerfully varied and developed, with dramatic dynamic and textural contrasts and Romantic freedom. The Spanish dance is expanded into a flowing passage of chromatic chords that rise to stunning dramatic climaxes. A powerful fugue, based on the opening octave passage, soon leads to further sonic climaxes. The movement closes by recalling the mysterious opening passages.
The middle movement has been highly praised as the emotional highlight of the quintet, thanks to the long, spacious, and ravishing melody in the viola. Divided between two distinct motives, it is tender and elegiac, and soon is passed on to the other instruments. But there is more: as the movement progresses, its overall effect moves from compassion to successive waves of hyper-Romantic angst – as if borrowing some of the eerie suspense of the first movement. The music becomes a reverie that also swells to the sharp pain of tragedy. Periodically, the cello interjects a recitative-like sigh that quiets the tumult, introducing a return of the reflective, calm viola tune. A new wave of increased activity then leads to another even more intense climax, with a recapitulation of early ideas fading at the end to the gentle opening passages.
The third movement begins with a direct quote of the cello’s wistful sigh from the second movement, a ghost of the past returned. But this is quickly shaken off. The music launches into a brisk new 3/4 theme, recalling and developing the dance-like motion of the first movement but giving it sparkling new brightness with an infectious tune whose opening dotted rhythm is sounded frequently and with increasing intensity. The movement then breaks up with a syncopated wisp of a piano melody, with its own dotted motive, developed into a joyous, bumpy ride through a variety of keys, with fragments exchanged between the piano and strings. Suddenly from the chaos emerges that original unison tune from the first movement’s introduction, now a long and searching fugue, and also the violin duet sounding like a sad waltz. The 3/4 tune comes back followed by the joyful (and triumphant) second one, and a resounding coda marked “grandioso” that drives the piece to a thunderous close.
By Robert Molison
Program notes may draw on open-access web resources.
I. Allegro con brio
II. Adagio affettuoso ed appasionato
III. Scherzo. Allegro molto
IV. Allegro
Beethoven’s Opus 18 string quartets are his earliest compositions for this medium, written in the closing years of the 18th century, when he was in his late twenties. The 1790s were a period of profuse chamber music productivity for the composer. Sketches for countless compositions show the struggles he underwent to arrive at a new work’s final form. Yet this dogged intensity produced masterpieces, based on Beethoven’s hard work and on his total knowledge of the achievements of his counterpoint teacher Haydn, and also of Mozart, his mentor and friend. The Opus 18 quartets have Haydn’s stamp deeply imprinted on them, especially in their geniality, innovation and wit.
The quartet in F major was among three new ones originally performed in 1799 but was then considerably revised. The first movement remains as one of the most succinct and muscular statements in early Beethoven. The first fleet, six-note figure is a musical cell, or “motif,” that tiles the music like the minute, repetitive textural patterns in wallpaper. It is omnipresent throughout the music. The motif weaves a fabric that is draped over the sonata form, a harmonic and sectional drama. In this, Beethoven’s first sonata for string quartet, there is an intense development section, bristling with contrapuntal combinations of the motif through a jarring series of chord and key changes. Following the recapitulation of the sonata’s themes there is an “afterthought,” a coda in which Beethoven further explores and finally exhausts the momentum of his giant musical thoughts. This quartet was the second of the set to be composed (after the D major, Op.18 No 3) and was placed first in the published set by the composer, possibly because it was the most impressive in its size and expressive range – and also because it is the only one to have a slow movement in a minor key.
In the Adagio movement, according to one of the letters of Amenda, Beethoven sought to depict in musical terms the tomb scene from Shakespeare’s “Romeo and Juliet”. His choice of key, D minor, hearkens back to Mozart’s stormy and tragic associations with that key. Here we are asked to confront tragedy head-on, almost as an adversary. The opening is hushed, yet there is a feeling of heaviness in the steady rhythm that oppresses the whispered theme. Sweeter passages intervene, suggesting remembrance of happier times, but there is never any doubt as to the movement’s ultimate message. The writing is contrapuntal, yet operatic in every voice, sometimes combining in moments of tenderness. But especially in the return of the opening section and in the final Coda, sudden silences that are the culmination of rising musical drama create feelings of speechless horror. In these passages the quartet is whipped up in a frenzy of angry sound, denoting a truly Beethovenian raging against fate. The Classical era’s controlled balances are left behind.
Most of the string quartets of the Viennese tradition featured a dance movement originally derived from the French minuet. Haydn was the master of this “minuet and trio,” that typically featured deft triple meter. The three-part form always had a middle section that changed key, mood, or texture before the inevitable reprise of the opening. Beethoven’s scherzi intensified the drift from idealized dance to rhythmic tour-de-force with the gentle minuet meter revved up to one-to-a- bar. Here the Scherzo displays a driving pulse, syncopations, brusque accents, and a musical line that seems to ratchet ever upward. In the Trio the first violin scurries through a dazzling collection of scales, as the others imitate it or revel in rustic octave leaps.
Beethoven concludes his first quartet with another motif-driven movement, opening with a dazzling little flourish that recalls Mozart. While this brilliant little figure plays a central role, the ensuing music is rich with a variety of musical ideas, an abundant cornucopia that is almost too rich, and contrasts with the stubborn mono-thematic approach of the first movement. Here the influence of Mozart is definitely felt: the contrapuntal techniques and processes are perfectly matched with independent part-writing possibilities. It is Beethoven at his most effervescent. The second theme, first heard against legato undulations on the cello, is shared in imitation between the violins, and in the development becomes a contrapuntal passage in fugal style; this alternates with a gentler episode which later combines with the first theme to begin the final build-up.
By Robert Molison
Piano Quintet Op. 84 (1918) in a minor, Edward Elgar
I. Moderato - Allegro
II. Adagio
III. Andante - Allegro
This was the last of three chamber works that Elgar composed at Brinkwells, the country cottage in Sussex that the Elgars had rented during the latter half of 1918. It was the largest of these works: Elgar casually observed in a letter to his friend Ivor Atkins that the piece “runs gigantically and in a large mood.” This was to be the outstanding product of his last creative period, when he turned almost exclusively to chamber music.
Passages from Lady Elgar’s diary may reveal a programmatic inspiration for the quintet: a group of bare trees in this area, now become sad and sinister, had been associated by local legend with evil Spanish monks whose punishment was to be cast into these static forms of longing regret. Elgar had long nurtured an interest in Gothic fiction. Whether or not this legend was suggestive for the composer’s inspiration must remain a matter of speculation.
The first movement is the most unusual of the three. It is dark, arresting and enigmatic. Fitful and dream-like, it is haunted in its recurring episodes by several components: a cryptic pair of motives, including a wistful sigh, a driving march, and a ghostly dance. In a short introduction the piano has the opening motive: a linear, quarter-note chant in octaves, followed by the second, “answering” motive in the strings: agitated unison rhythms, mysterious and based on the same notes. Both ideas run throughout the movement, forming short sub-sections that recur in ever-changing, dream-like succession. Closing this introductory section is a more pensive trio in the upper strings, contrasted with a wistful, pleading sigh in the cello. This idea serves as a buffer between the appearances of the two main thematic sections that form the exposition of the sonata form.
The first theme occurs as a vigorous march in 6/8, in which the piano’s chords are skillfully played off against the strings’ busy counterpoint. The second subject introduces a swaying, languorous Spanish dance created by a violin duet accompanied by the piano’s guitar-like broken chords. These two contrasting ideas are powerfully varied and developed, with dramatic dynamic and textural contrasts and Romantic freedom. The Spanish dance is expanded into a flowing passage of chromatic chords that rise to stunning dramatic climaxes. A powerful fugue, based on the opening octave passage, soon leads to further sonic climaxes. The movement closes by recalling the mysterious opening passages.
The middle movement has been highly praised as the emotional highlight of the quintet, thanks to the long, spacious, and ravishing melody in the viola. Divided between two distinct motives, it is tender and elegiac, and soon is passed on to the other instruments. But there is more: as the movement progresses, its overall effect moves from compassion to successive waves of hyper-Romantic angst – as if borrowing some of the eerie suspense of the first movement. The music becomes a reverie that also swells to the sharp pain of tragedy. Periodically, the cello interjects a recitative-like sigh that quiets the tumult, introducing a return of the reflective, calm viola tune. A new wave of increased activity then leads to another even more intense climax, with a recapitulation of early ideas fading at the end to the gentle opening passages.
The third movement begins with a direct quote of the cello’s wistful sigh from the second movement, a ghost of the past returned. But this is quickly shaken off. The music launches into a brisk new 3/4 theme, recalling and developing the dance-like motion of the first movement but giving it sparkling new brightness with an infectious tune whose opening dotted rhythm is sounded frequently and with increasing intensity. The movement then breaks up with a syncopated wisp of a piano melody, with its own dotted motive, developed into a joyous, bumpy ride through a variety of keys, with fragments exchanged between the piano and strings. Suddenly from the chaos emerges that original unison tune from the first movement’s introduction, now a long and searching fugue, and also the violin duet sounding like a sad waltz. The 3/4 tune comes back followed by the joyful (and triumphant) second one, and a resounding coda marked “grandioso” that drives the piece to a thunderous close.
By Robert Molison
Program notes may draw on open-access web resources.
