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| post | Composer Highlight - Johannes Brahms [Part I] |
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2021-11-29 23:15:00 +0200 |
To celebrate the intergration of audio in the Flight of the Pukeko, we delve into the earlier works of my favourite composer - the venerable Johannes Brahms.
Since I just got audio working, please - be my guest and listen:
{% include embed-audio.html src="/assets/music/brahms/snippets/op.98.1.overture.mp3" %} Symphony #4 in E minor, Opus 98, movement 1 - Allegro non troppo
How did that piece make you feel?
When I first heard it, I felt a deep nostalgia I had never felt before. I felt as if something I have always known and cherished has been lost, some time past. Despite being retrained, there is an undeniable vein of deep sadness embedded in the music - a yearning.
That was the voice of the great Johannes Brahms.
Brahms was a classicist - he admired the great masters of classical music, composing in the shadow of Bach, Mozart and Beethoven - studying their music and form, fearing himself incompetent in comparison. He employed the reverence of Baroque music with the greatly expanded forms and instruments of the Classical era with great skill, pushing the boundaries of what they offered to express a bleeding Romantic sentiment.
The piece we just heard was the opening of Johannes Brahms' final symphony - a piece I hold close to my heart.
Listen to how sparingly the orchestra is used - how precisely. Brahms wishes to convey an intimate feeling, and does so with amazing accuracy. Listening to this opening, I've felt emotions I've never felt before - with such familiarity they might have always been there.
The music is crafted - the tempo is careful, the notes timed exactly, evolving towards something new. But behind that elegance lies intense emotion, burning with passion.
Listen to the same motive repeating at the end of the same movement:
{% include embed-audio.html src="/assets/music/brahms/snippets/op.98.1.finale.mp3" %} Symphony #4 in E minor, Opus 98, movement 1 - Allegro non troppo
The theme returns, exploding in ferocity. Nostalgia turns to loss as the tempo is shattered, order hanging by a thread - only to return and deliver a final, devastating statement. To my ears, this is some of the very best classical music has to offer - I always feel tears rising in my throat listening to this symphony.
Johannes Brahms was born in 1833 in a small German town, to a moderately succesful family. His father was a horn and contra-bass player, and did his best to provide musical education for young Johannes. He had begun studying aged just 7, learning basic violin and cello and the piano - which became his instrument of choice. Somewhat to his parent's dismay, he began composing at a very early age as well.
Brahms was a lifelong perfectionist, and took great care throughout his life to destroy his earlier works, now lost to us as a result. He was schooled on the ways of the old masters - Bach, Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven and Schubert, and became a virtouso at a young age. Despite his talent as a performer, Johannes was devoted to composing from the very begining, even sending his earlier compositions to the esteemed composer Robert Schumann - who returned the letter unopened.
Johannes first published his early compositions under his name aged 20. Those works - naturally, small scale piano compositions - eventually made their way to Schumann through Johannes' lifelong friend, violinist and composer Joseph Joachim. This time around, Schumann was smitten, and took Johannes under his wing - declaring the young, anonymous composer a genius. Robert, as well as his wife Clara, who was also a talented performer and composer - became close friends, and often played together. The Schumanns went to great length to help Brahms's career - offering guidance in compostions, publishing, as well as Clara performing his works in her recitals.
Emboldened by their support, Brahms took on compostions of a larger scale and ambition - the earliest example of which (and one of my favourite works!) is his first piano concerto. This was his first orchestral work, and it already shows strong charecteristics of his style - the mood is delicate, rich in texture, and the music ordered and crafted - yet inheretenly passionate and human. Just listen to this dramatic, moving highlight from the first movement:
{% include embed-audio.html src="/assets/music/brahms/snippets/op.15.1.mp3" %} Piano Concerto #1 in D minor, Opus 15, movement 1 - Maestoso
In the span of less than two minutes, this phrase moves from intesely furious to light hearted - and swings back quite suddenly to an iron punch to the gut. The orchestra and the piano, thus far moving together in harmony and balance, unite to deliver this crushing blow of emotion - one of the most powerful phrases of music I have ever heard.
Though he never admitted as such, this phrase is said to be inspired by Robert's suicide attempt, in 1855 - an event had greatly shaken Johannes. Robert was mentally ill - and his mental health deteriorated over time, which led to his eventual voluntary admittance to a mental asylum. Johannes moved nearby the Schumann household, to help and support Clara. Robert died two years after his admittance, from pnumoneia. Johannes and Clara maintained a powerful friendship for the remainder of their lives.
Brahms greatly admired Schumann, and this is evident in some of his works. For example, Schumann wrote a piano quintet - a relatively rare form, which was not as common nor as developed as other chamber forms. Schumann's quintet was greatly succesful, and many composers followed in his footsteps and composed for this orchestration - the first of which was Brahms.
Schumann's quintet is a very unique piece - it has a very specific feel to it. When taken in retrospect, some listeners even claim to hear Robert's looming mental instability - the quintet twists and turns into different moods with small, precise twists that make a great difference.
Perhaps you might hear it, in this section from the first movment: {% include embed-audio.html src="/assets/music/brahms/snippets/schumann.op.44.mp3" %} Robert Schumann - Piano Quintet in E flat, Opus 44, movement 1 - Allegro brilliante
Did you hear how sweetly it starts, then stumbles and tenses, morphing into a cynical, ominous tone - only to circle right back again?
It seems as if every note might introduce a twist that tips off the balance completely.
Brahms took note of the quintet's success and composed a quintet of his own. While relatively unknown compared to his more famous works, Brahms' piano quintet is often considered the best of his chamber works by those familiar with it. He was clearly inspired - the quintets share a similarly ominous tone - yet the way he chooses to express this sentiment differs greatly from Schumann.
Listen to the way the music unravels and transforms in this phrase, closing the first movement: {% include embed-audio.html src="/assets/music/brahms/snippets/op.34.1.finale.mp3" %} Piano Quinet in F minor, Opus 34, movement 1 - Allegro
Where Schumann's quintet is fickle, Brahms' is carefully constructed. Where Schumann's work feels impulsive, Brahms' evolves naturally. Schumann's quintet seems to meander about at times, while Brahms' is precise and succint. The sentiment may be similar, but the pieces are far apart - and that difference is the voice of Brahms.
As evident in the piece we just heard, Brahms was a master of chamber music. Starting in small, piano pieces, he moved on to add strings into his compostions. In those works, a delicate sense of balance is maintained - the cello, viola, violin and piano - all powerful, dominant instruments - work in harmony to convey a theme without overpowering each other. A great example of this can be heard in the opening of the composer's first piano quartet: {% include embed-audio.html src="/assets/music/brahms/snippets/op.25.overture.mp3" %} Piano Quartet in G minor, Opus 25, movement 1 - Allegro
Can you hear the harmony between the strings and the piano, and the astounding range of emotions only four musicians manage to convey?
Can you hear the organic unfolding of the theme?
Even in this somewhat early piece, the composer's mastery of chamber music is evident.
Years later, Arnold Schonberg - an innovative, strongly modernist composer and a great admirer of Johannes Brahms - chose to orchestrate this quartet to an orchestra. The result is amazing - resulting in a full-blown symphony!
Sadly, I could not find a public domain recording - I strongly encourage you to listen to it! try listening to how vastly different it is from this performance, yet how the theme still stands on its own.
As we've heard, Brahms was a humanist, and was deeply affected by the lives of those around him. He turned to his friends for opinions and suggestions when composing and performing, and was greatly affected by events in their life.
Robert Schumann died in 1856, and his death likely left a deep impression over Johannes for the rest of his life. In 1865, his mother died - and her death moved him to write his choral masterpiece - Ein Deutches Requiem ('A German Requiem'). Perhaps to put the soul of his mother at rest, or perhaps to mourn the loss of Schumann, Brahms poured his heart out in this Requiem - a traditional Latin mass for the dead.
Brahms had wanted to name the piece 'a human requiem', and decided otherwise to appease the clergy - yet this piece still flips the long standing tradition of the requiem on its' head. To begin with - requiems are in Latin, while 'Ein Deutches Requiem' is in German - named not as 'a requiem for German folk', but quite literally 'a requiem in German'. The requiem form usually turns to the deceased - to rid the soul of earthly shackles, to celebrate its' virtues and to forgive. Brahms, however, turns not to the dead - but to the living! The German Requiem seeks to console the living, rather than mourn the dead.
This groundbreaking change is appearant from the very first line. Listen patiently - unlike himself, Brahms meanders in this piece - his longest composition.
{% include embed-audio.html src="/assets/music/brahms/snippets/op.45.overture.mp3" %}
Selig sind, die da Leid tragen, denn sie sollen getröstet werden
Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted
From the depth of a serene, pondering melancholy, Brahms slowly gathers the courage to overcome his emotion, and this is the very first things he says - mourn, and find comfort. The text of this requiem is from the Luther bible - and I think it is beautiful how Brahms manages to find just the right sentiments in it, despite being a non-religious person.
The German Requiem does get more nihilistic at times, as can be heard in this excerpt - the emotional height of the piece - from the second movement: {% include embed-audio.html src="/assets/music/brahms/snippets/op.45.2.mp3" %}
Denn alles Fleisch es ist wie Gras und alle Herrlichkeit des Menschen wie des Grases Blumen. Das Gras ist verdorret und die Blume abgefallen.
For all flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass. The grass withereth and the flower thereof falleth away.
What an amazingly powerful phrase, and what brilliant execution! I've heard many performances of that piece, all unbeliveably passionate. Deeply depressing, or totally liberating - depends on your view.