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program notes revered composers. He had created masterpieces in every musical genre except opera— a field he never chose to enter— and, more surprisingly, the symphony. Back in 1853 when he was only 20, Schumann had proclaimed him“ the young eagle” and prophesied:“ If he will sink his magic staff … where the capacity of masses in chorus and orchestra can lend him its powers, still more wonderful glimpses into the mysteries of the spirit world will be before us.” Such flowery tributes imposed a burden such a sensitive and conscientious man as Brahms found hard to bear.
Beethoven’ s Fifth also provided the key progression: from darkest C minor to triumphant C Major.
In 1872, he finally exploded at conductor Hermann Levi:“ I shall never write a symphony! You can’ t have any idea what it’ s like always to hear such a giant marching behind you!” The giant, of course, was Beethoven. His nine symphonies were, for Brahms, the apotheosis of the symphonic form; beside them, Brahms found his own symphonic efforts utterly inadequate. When he finally completed the First Symphony in 1876, he had the symphony premiered in the musical backwater of Karlsruhe on November 4 th of that year because he was nervous about the response of the Viennese critics.
Beethoven was indeed Brahms’ model for this work. Of its emotional scenario Jan Swafford, in his superb biography of the composer, writes:“ As in Beethoven’ s Third, Fifth, and Ninth Symphonies, Brahms’ First is a symbolic journey from darkness to light, from fatalistic uncertainty to apotheosis, from tragedy to joyous liberation.” And Beethoven’ s Fifth also provided the key progression: from darkest C minor to triumphant C Major. When friends pointed out that the last movement’ s chorale tune reminded them of the Ninth’ s“ Ode to Joy,” Brahms gruffly retorted:“ Any ass can see that!”
But in emulating his hero, Brahms was by no means painting by numbers. The First was completely in his own voice and broke new ground for symphonic form. Brahms outdid Beethoven at his own game: creating and developing his themes from a handful of motivic nuggets, all smelted together into a shining edifice, with nothing wasted. Brahms’ two middle movements bring something new to symphonic construction: they are gentle intermezzos providing necessary relief between the power and weight of his opening and closing movements.
First movement: Brahms immediately hurls us into the drama with music of unbearable passion and pain. This battle of ascending and descending lines will be the crux of the movement. Listen for two more important ideas: first, woodwinds swooping downward in large intervals, then an oddly gapped up-and-down theme in the strings. These are the basic nuggets out of which the movement is built. With a snap, the tempo livens to Allegro, and the aggressive principal theme( built from the strings’ earlier up-and-down idea) bounds into action.
The dramatic development section is driven forward by a familiar rhythm thumping away in brass fanfares and timpani; it is the da-da-da-DUM“ Fate knocking at the idea” from Beethoven’ s Fifth! The movement closes in a truce, with the upward-straining string idea dominating the downward undertow.
The second movement is as gentle as the first was forceful. Strings open a lovely, pensive melody in E Major,
The BSO
Chris Lee tinged with Brahmsian shadows of the minor mode. An oboe solo picks up the second half of the melody; later, it introduces the middle section. As the opening melody returns in the winds, Brahms veils it in exquisite colors – diaphanous strings cascading downward, plucked cellos, the faintest murmur of drums.
Movement three is lighter still, an interlude in the country. Its outer sections are all effortless flow, led by clarinets. For the middle trio section, the meter changes to a buoyant peasant dance; the bucolic charm of this music reminds us that the mature Brahms spent his summers composing in rural retreats far from Vienna.
The finale’ s slow introduction plunges us back into C minor and the first movement’ s terrible struggle. It opens with a swelling cry of despair from the violins over the descending undertow in the woodwinds. Then a sign of hope: C Major suddenly appears in the form of a magical alphorn call. The trombones respond with a brief, majestic chorale.
The clouds lift completely for one of Brahms’ best tunes— his“ Ode to Joy”— sung in the strings’ warmest low register. After lyrical themes led by the oboe, this“ Joy” theme returns even more splendidly before veering off into a vigorous development section. Its culmination brings forth not the“ Joy” theme we’ re expecting but the alphorn call. And as Brahms accelerates to his conclusion, he only teases us with fragments of this theme. Instead, the climax goes to the trombone chorale of the slow introduction. The cry of despair is hurled out one more time— deliciously, it turns out to be the minor-mode form of the“ Joy” theme! Four vehement thunderclaps salute Brahms’ triumph over tragedy— and his symphonic hang-up.
Instrumentation: Two flutes, two oboes, two clarinets, two bassoons, contrabassoon, four horns, two trumpets, three trombones, timpani, strings.
Notes by Janet E. Bedell, Copyright © 2017
January – February 2017 | Overture 25