Era: Romantic
Year: 1855 & 1857 (all years are subject to the insanity of year written vs year published vs year premiered... consistency is too black and white... hehe)
Score: 95 for #1 and 90 for #2
This might be my favorite set of works from Liszt! I know I've heard #1 before and #2 is fantastic as well. I think one aspect that I find as a common string amongst favorable works for me is breathing space. I don't like shitting on saxophones... I like properly set time and space - stuff that resonates within that space and time properly - giving the frequencies their proper place, and giving the rhythms the proper breathing room. I know that's formulaic and why most people tune out some music because it isn't demanding enough, but sometimes I feel like "demanding" is a simple term for dude just shit all over the time/space frameworks that are known to be beautiful. Beautiful then is mixed up as just shit in time and space. Sorry that was a rabbit whole... long story short, I like the space and time used here. It's proper as the brits would say.
Funny enough I actually accidentally posted this in place of Grieg's Piano Concerto in A Minor, which I gave an 85.5.
Also Totentanz reminded me of some of the metal I've listened to and the difference is that I feel like Liszt was able to give it some depth and true spookiness, while also being badass.
Piano Concerto No. 1 in E flat major, S. 124 (LW H4)
Description by Robert Cummings
The genesis of Liszt's Piano Concerto No. 1 in E flat major dates to 1830, when the composer sketched out the main theme in a notebook. It wasn't until the 1840s, however, that Liszt actually commenced work on the concerto. As a neophyte in the art of orchestration -- his output to that point consisted almost entirely of keyboard music -- Liszt enlisted the assistance of his pupil Joachim Raff in providing the work an instrumental skin. Liszt completed the concerto in 1849 but made a number of revisions over the next several years. The final version of the work dates from 1856.
The concerto's three main sections -- Allegro maestoso, Quasi adagio-Allegretto vivace-Allegro animato, and Allegro marziale animato -- are joined seamlessly into a single large-scale structure. The opening statement, characterized by a bold, almost martial chromatic descent, contains the essential elements from which all subsequent thematic material is derived. The piano enters with a dramatic passage in characteristic Lisztian octaves, after which the main theme reappears in a more tranquil guise. The second subject in introduced in the piano, after which a dialogue between piano and clarinet ensues. The sweetness of the mood suddenly gives way to intensity as the main theme makes a dramatic, almost angry reappearance.
The second section begins with a quiet cantabile melody in the muted strings. After the piano takes up the theme, the mood grows restive with mercurial, dramatic statements from the orchestra that alternate with quasi-improvisatory passages in the piano. The tempo picks up as the flute, and then oboe and clarinet, take up the theme. Lyricism gives way to a more lighthearted spirit, signaled by a pair of delicate strokes on the triangle. (The prominence of this instrument in the latter portion of the work, in fact, elicited derisive commentary from a number of critics. Eduard Hanslick, for example, leapt on this feature in describing the work as Liszt's "Triangle Concerto.") The piano introduces a lively, playful theme in its upper register; other instruments gradually join the texture as the triangle continues to chime in with jovial comment. The mood darkens with the reappearance of the concerto's opening theme, as though to suggest a return to that musical sequence of events. Instead, the piano introduces the final section, which commences with a sped-up version of the cantabile theme from the second section. Other earlier themes reappear in various guises as the triangle continues to add its color throughout. Alternating between intricate passagework and thunderous octaves, the concerto draws to a close in the bravura manner with which Liszt is so closely associated.
Liszt began work on his Piano Concerto No. 2 in 1839 and initially completed it in 1857. Further revisions were made over the course of the next few years and a final version was fashioned in 1861, with its publication in 1863. Like the first piano concerto, it is cast in a single movement although, unlike its sibling, the sections comprising it are numerous and less distinct, prompting some musicologists to view it as a symphonic poem with piano. W.F. Apthorp subtitled the concerto, "The life and adventures of a melody." His description is quite appropriate because, also like the First, the whole of this concerto derives from its opening melody, which, over the course of the work's 20 or so minutes, yields many transformations and variations. This is also a more intimate composition than the first, and, ironically, more bombastic, as well.
The main theme is a long-breathed melancholy melody, first presented by the woodwinds. The piano enters in a modest, almost tentative way, playing filigree as the strings sweetly deliver the theme. The piano's deferential role ends with a dramatic, rippling plunge that keeps the instrument in the bass regions to introduce a menacing, rhythmic theme. The orchestra joins the grim proceedings, but the piano then incites further sonic mayhem with octave passages and other virtuosic fireworks. The orchestra takes over to punctuate the episode with a dramatic climax, after which the melody is played by a solo cello, accompanied by the piano. The piano then plays a variation on the melody, joined soon by the strings as the emotional pitch heightens. This section ends with sweetly descending scales and expectant swirls in the piano's upper register. This precedes bombastic chords from the piano, as the brass section blares out a variant of the theme. After a dreamy passage in the strings, the music intensifies and the piano breaks into furious octaves. A further buildup leads to another episode where the brass, now abetted by the piano, deliver a march-like variation of the opening melody. The music gradually winds down and the piano plays a straightforward rendering of the ubiquitous main theme, after which the woodwinds play in kind. This passage ends with the same kind of sweet, delicate cascading of notes that closed out the first extended slow section. Liszt invests the concerto's final episode with all manner of pianistic and orchestral fireworks.
For all the brilliant variations and transformations of the Second Concerto, its music does not seem to arrive at a resolution resulting from some logical musical sequence. It is well crafted, but hardly profound. The work was premiered in Weimar on January 7, 1857, with the work's dedicatee, Hans von Bronsart, as soloist and Liszt conducting.
RoundTheBendI miss the comfort in being sadProfile Ground Control
This is solid - probably favorite part is his powerful low end chords - they are often ignored due to their ability to travel less/have tonal differentiation, but he totally masterfully is able to allow those low end chords to shine still - again it's about timing and proper use of musical space to convey and he rocks it. I didn't love this piece as a whole though, I felt it was a bit too all over the place. Some really cool areas, but overall it was a bit too much like certain family members who emotionally vomit everywhere and you have to deal with their shit... I don't need that repeated back to me musical form 🤣 .
Ok that's totally not fair to say, but that's how I felt sometimes. Overall it really is a fantastically dynamic work in many ways.
Piano Sonata No. 3 in F minor, Op. 5
Description by Sol Louis Siegel
At the age of 20, on his third and final try, Brahms established himself as a master of a genre that, decades earlier, Beethoven infused with a new level of personal expression and, indeed, epochally transformed: the solo piano sonata. In terms of both form and expression, Brahms' Piano Sonata No. 3 in F minor is conceived on a grand scale. The first movement, marked Allegro maestoso (though many pianists seem to play it Adagio maestoso), indeed opens majestically, with a theme marked by great solid chords that range across the entire keyboard. The second subject begins lyrically, but it, too, swells in grandeur, and the whole movement builds to a triumphant climax in the bright major mode. The slow movement, Andante, is one of the great love poems in music, its two lyrical themes combining at last in a magnificent expression of rapturous passion. The Scherzo is a dark and dramatic waltz for which the grandly solemn, chordal Trio provides welcome relief. A haunting Intermezzo, a disturbing movement with ghostly echoes of the Sonata's opening, is followed by the Finale, in which a dark, gnarly dance of death is contrasted with a broad, confident chordal second subject. In contrast to conventional sonata practice, the second theme ultimately prevails, bringing this youthful masterwork to a triumphant conclusion.
FischmanRockMonster, JazzMeister, Bluesboy,ClassicalMasterProfile Land of Enchantment
This is one of those entries in your diary I've really come to appreciate. Even though I love Brahms, and more specifically Brahms piano works, I haven't spent much time with his solo piano sonatas, focusing instead on his piano concertos and other chamber works (piano quartets and quintets). Thank you for helping me round out my Brahms appreciation.
Upon a single listen, I had some trouble grasping this as a whole and believe I'll need to hear it a few more times before I can really assess it. But no worry, I didn't really get his first or fourth symphonies upon initial hearing, and I quickly came to see them as a couple of the greatest symphonies ever written, and still think that today.
RoundTheBendI miss the comfort in being sadProfile Ground Control
This is one of those entries in your diary I've really come to appreciate. Even though I love Brahms, and more specifically Brahms piano works, I haven't spent much time with his solo piano sonatas, focusing instead on his piano concertos and other chamber works (piano quartets and quintets). Thank you for helping me round out my Brahms appreciation.
Upon a single listen, I had some trouble grasping this as a whole and believe I'll need to hear it a few more times before I can really assess it. But no worry, I didn't really get his first or fourth symphonies upon initial hearing, and I quickly came to see them as a couple of the greatest symphonies ever written, and still think that today.
Thanks mate. I'm glad you can make some discoveries with me along this journey. I feel like I'm starting to understand Brahms more as I listen to his music in the fashion I am doing now, as opposed to the random occurrence. Sometimes context helps. But really it's just that I'm listening to more in a condensed period of time.
RoundTheBendI miss the comfort in being sadProfile Ground Control
This is my first listen and while I am amazing at some of the musical figures and I actually love the story of Tristan und Isolde, especially the culmination that love into death is actually more powerful. The age old unrequited love story that then turns into something Romantic like the two are buried near each other and the vines from their graves intertwine. Finally in death can we love. The story is incredibly powerful. The music is also groundbreaking here - stuff that you'll start hearing in the late romantic is first "discovered" here. My aesthetic though has always been if I don't enjoy it, well then all these things don't matter - good lyrics/story and complex music doesn't make up for pleasurable/enjoyable or "properly" demanding/stretching music, and sadly this was not the case for me. I liked the music much more from Die fliegende Holländer or Lohengrin to be honest, even if at times I really did enjoy Tristan und Isolde, I just never connected with it. So while the story and powerful opera deserves something like a 95/100 from me, I sadly can't give that today. I'd like to listen to it again, and perhaps watch it (link below), but don't have the juice for that for a bit. Gotta save that for the upcoming Ring Cycle.
Quote:
Tristan und Isolde, opera, WWV 90
Description by Jennifer Hambrick
Wagner's stated intention to write an opera based on the legend of Tristan and Isold, of whom he had read in the thirteenth century narrative poem by Gottfried von Strassburg, first appears in a letter to Franz Liszt of December 16, 1854. The earliest musical sketches date from December 1856, by which date Wagner had already completed the text for Der Ring des Nibelungen, as well as the music for Das Rheingold and Die Walküre, and through Act Two of Siegfried. Wagner had also completed three of his most important writings on the aesthetics of drama.
The composition of Tristan und Isolde is entwined in a nexus of Wagner's personal and theoretical concerns. In August 1857, Wagner stopped work on the music for Siegfried, in order to set to work full time on Tristan because, as stated in his 1860 essay The Music of the Future, he wanted to compose an opera of more modest scale with a chance of being produced. The music-drama was completed in Lucerne in March 1859. Wagner's had also composed five songs to poems by Mathilde Wesendonck, his patron's wife, with whom he had become deeply infatuated, two of which he designated as studies for Tristan und Isolde.
Wagner himself acknowledged that with the composition of Tristan, he transcended the musical and dramaturgical theories he set out in his earlier treatises. Indeed, the musical language of Tristan has long been acknowledged as the beginning of musical modernism. The harmonic language of Tristan, heaving as it does with prolonged courses of unresolved dissonances, not only enacts musically the sexual tension between the opera's two central characters, but also points to the liberation of dissonance from the constraints of tonality that Arnold Schoenberg and others in the twentieth century would champion. The Prelude to Tristan fully exemplifies Wagner's forward-looking approach to both harmony and the issue of musical form -- or, some would say, formlessness -- that operates centrally in his music-dramas. Alfred Lorenz argued in his 1924 study, The Musical Form of Richard Wagner's "Tristan und Isolde", that the opera's prelude and three acts consist of large-scale Bogen ("arch," e.g., ABA; Prelude-Act I, and Act Two) and Bar (e.g., AAB; Act Three) forms, and that the entire opera-prelude and all acts combined falls into a giant Bogen form. In 2000, Robert Bailey argued that the form of the Prelude to Tristan can be understood to unfold in cycles of repeating phrase units. The Prelude also unfolds Wagner's Leitmotif technique, in which instrumental music introduces central motives which correspond with characters and ideas. Wagner seems to have explored the implications of one of Tristan's central Leitmotif -- that consisting of four ascending chromatic pitches and introduced by the oboe in the opening measures of the Prelude -- in his song "Im Treibhaus," which was one of the five Wesendonck songs. Additionally, a strong connection exists between the music of the Act Two love scene of Tristan and that of another study for Tristan, Wagner's earlier Wesendonck song, "Träume."
Don't google the name of this album at home kids... just kidding. Anyway, really only listened to what I came for: String Quartet #1 in G minor, op. 27. Can I get a double stop! Anyone else get a good ear cleaning when they listen to lively violins? It's at times absolutely beautiful and other times so invigorating my ears tingle. Bach's piano playing does the same. Anyway, this was a fun little ditty. It has a little of the Hungarian dance to it we've already played with often, but clearly not gypsy/bohemian. Dancy nonetheless - kind of fun to experience another part of the world's jigs. Not only great, but fun, which isn't always common. Some joy can be had sometimes. Anyway, I found joy in this work, even if sometimes it was a solemn/thoughtful joy.
Quote:
String Quartet No. 1 in G minor, Op. 27
Description by Joseph Stevenson
Grieg was, at root, a miniaturist. He did not often work in the large scale of the sonata form; his entire completed literature in this form consists of a symphony that he suppressed, one concerto, one cello sonata, three violin sonatas, and this quartet. (Later, he wrote two movements toward another one.) It was composed in 1877-1878. It is an exceedingly attractive and untroubled work, with a melodic spirit that recalls his best songs or piano works. One song-like figure in particular is used throughout. Grieg does treat his material in sonata fashion, but not rigorously. There is a feeling of Norwegian peasant dances in the scherzo, while the finale trots merrily with a saltarello rhythm. It is, in short, a lovable work, heartwarming in the way that Grieg's music so often is.
There were moments I liked from this, but the holistic experience was lacking for me. The "in the moments features" were indeed Brahms genius and don't get me wrong, this was solid. Maybe I wasn't in the right mind frame to appreciate it as much as I would have hoped given most quintets I like. I do love Brahms' passion and the palette he uses and probably would be ecstatic to listen to it live.
Piano Quintet in F minor, Op. 34
Description by James Reel
This youthful work had a difficult birth. Brahms introduced it as a string quintet in 1862, but violinist Joseph Joachim found the music too weighty to be supported by strings and suggested recasting it for piano. So Brahms fashioned it into a sonata for two pianos, but this version didn't satisfy pianist Clara Schumann, who persuaded Brahms to bring strings back into the picture. The final transformation, for piano and string quartet, was finished in the fall of 1864; Brahms published it with a dedication to Princess Anna of Hesse -- not unusual for a young composer seeking patronage, but also perhaps something of a slight to Joachim and Clara Schumann, who had had such a hand in its multi-stage genesis. The piano quintet displays young Brahms at his least risk-averse; the overall effect is often brash despite episodes of generous lyricism, and the use of themes and whipcrack changes in harmony seem impulsive, although Brahms is careful to thread certain motivic elements, particularly descending semitones, through all the movements in an effort to achieve structural unity. (This was an idea Brahms picked up from Beethoven's Appassionata sonata.) Cunningly, Brahms begins by lulling listeners into complacency with a restrained statement of the first movement's initial theme. Soon, though, the theme erupts with energy, whereupon the music slips into the unexpected key of C sharp minor for the second subject. Brahms subjects this material to a wayward development, and in the recapitulation he shifts the second theme into F sharp minor. The second movement, Adagio, is an episode of serenity, although it is always open to harmonic instability; it's based on a faintly Slavic melody with a wistful harmonization. The Scherzo begins with low pizzicato cello notes, a launching pad for the syncopated main theme that creeps up through the strings and soon explodes into a robust, minor-key march. The contrasting trio section is in the comforting key of C major and manages to create a flowing, lyrical interlude out of what is essentially a fanfare figure. After an ominous introduction, the finale builds into a fast rondo with the arrival of an impetuous but quiet theme over a nervous, almost galloping accompaniment. The first violin ushers in a second subject, slower and somewhat pleading. Brahms knocks these themes back and forth rather than supplying a formal development section, and then overlaps many of the movement's -- and the entire quintet's -- principal motifs in a Presto coda.
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I typically am not a sucker for waltzes, etc., but there's something about An der schönen blauen Donau or Wiener Blut I find life giving. More than just dances - but the stuff life is made out of. It could also be a nice break from other things I've been listening to. Too much of one thing kind of thing. Anyway, much of this was pretty good and the two waltzes I mentioned before have always given some kind of spring in the step so to speak.
An der schönen, blauen Donau (On the Beautiful, Blue Danube), waltz for orchestra (with chorus ad lib), Op. 314 (RV 314)
Description by John Palmer
Johann Strauss Jr.'s status as an internationally recognized Austrian icon began with the success of his waltz, An der schönen, blauen Donau (The Blue Danube Waltz), at the Paris Exhibition of 1867. The Austrians, still smarting from their military defeat at the hands of the Prussians at Königgrätz in July of 1866, whole-heartedly supported Strauss's music; when the Blue Danube achieved a resounding success at the Paris exhibition, the Viennese felt they had shown the French that Austria, despite its recent military setback, was still an important cultural force. Writers even described Strauss's triumph with military imagery, calling Strauss a "Napoleon among composers."
Strauss's international triumph in Paris makes it easy to forget that this was neither the first performance of the Blue Danube, nor representative of the piece's original conception. Composed for the Wiener Männergesang-Verein (Vienna Men's Singing Society), the waltz was originally scored for four-part choir and orchestra or piano. Josef Weyl (1821-1895) supplied the text; it was in this version that the world first heard the Blue Danube waltz on February 15, 1867, sung by the Wiener Männergesang-Verein, and accompanied by the orchestra of the Forty-Second Infantry Regiment, directed by Rudolf Weinwurm. The waltz was first performed without voices probably on March 4, 1867, and was certainly played in its familiar format on March 10, 1867, at a benefit concert for Strauss's brothers.
The title An der schönen, blauen Donau may have been derived from a poem by Karl Beck (1817-1879) entitled, An der Donau; the poem, Die feindlichen Brüder also contains the line, "An der schönen, blauen Donau liegt mein Dörfchen still und fein." Strauss sold the Blue Danube for only 250fl. to Carl Anton Spina (1827-1906), who published the work in 1867. Spina realized an exceptional return on his investment.
Like most of Strauss's waltzes, the Blue Danube features five distinct "mini-waltzes," each with two sections. To modern listeners, the slow introduction to the Blue Danube is the ultimate tease, delaying what seemingly all of us know in our sleep. At the Paris exhibition, however, the opening probably produced a different effect: a heightened sense of anticipation, and curiosity about when the actual dance will begin. Even after the orchestra reaches a waltz tempo there still is no real tune, and the music seems to amble without aim.
Strauss's wealth of melodic material provides great contrast; waltz sections featuring melodies with large leaps give way to those with linear tunes within a narrow range. Quarter-note motion is juxtaposed with eighth-note motion and, of course, there are contrasting keys. The D major first waltz follows an introduction on the dominant, A major, while the second half of the second is in B flat and the entire fourth waltz is in F. The coda partially summarizes the entire piece, revisiting the first part of Waltzes two and four (again in F), and then Waltz one in D. Variations of the first waltz precede the work's rousing close.
Kaiser-Walzer (Emperor Waltz), for orchestra, Op. 437 (RV 437)
Description by John Palmer
Vienna, the waltz, and the Strauss family are inseparable entities. The waltzes of Johann Strauss, Sr. (1804-1849) evoked the air of the Viennese countryside, beer gardens and Heurigen. Those of his eldest son, Johann, Jr., at first had the same rhythmic vitality and brief melodies. After 1860, however, this would change. The younger Strauss infused the traditional waltz format and sound with a new vitality and sophistication that reflected the glittery, hedonistic spirit of nineteenth century imperial Vienna. He melded the rhythmic drive of his father's works with Joseph Lanner's (1801-1843) lyricism, and changed the rhythmic emphasis from the beat to the measure. Strauss' seemingly unlimited melodic invention prompted him to compose melodies that did not fall into the traditional four, eight, or sixteen-measure patterns of earlier waltz tunes. He maintained the basic outline employed by Lanner and his father: a slow introduction, (typically) five pairs of waltzes and a coda, but increased the length of each section and the organic unity of the whole. Strauss's orchestration is often picturesque, especially in his introductions, while that of the waltzes themselves approaches a Mozartian clarity.
In the Kaiser-Walzer, Op. 437, Strauss is thinking as much in terms of the concert hall as the dance hall. It is not possible to waltz to the music of the coda, and the arrangement and patterns of repetition of the waltzes seem to be conceived to satisfy the listener as well as the dancer. The work was published in Berlin in 1889.
The duple-meter introduction to the Kaiser-Walzer is a mood painting conveying both the light, showy atmosphere of imperial Vienna and the martial air surrounding Kaiser Franz Joseph. A solo cello introduces the first pair of waltzes, the two of which contrast in both tempo and mood. Instead calling for a repeat of each of the two waltzes separately, Strauss directs that the entire pair be played twice. More typically, the second waltz pair features internal repeats, the second of the pair, whose melody consist of a single, repeated pitch, is again at a faster tempo than the first. A trumpet fanfare introduces Waltz No. 3 and one of Strauss's lilting, sustained melodies, while the brass appear again with an angular melody for the second part of No. 3. The fourth waltz opens with a rising, syncopated line shared between the strings and winds. The first waltz of the pair moves imperceptibly into the second and its arching string melody. Although No. 4 features internal repeats, Strauss closes the pair by returning momentarily to the rising line of the first half before moving into a modulating return to Waltz No. 1. Strauss's desire to unify the entire piece becomes evident as he next moves to not a fifth waltz but a return to the entirety of the first in the original key. A fifth waltz does follow, but only the first of the pair is new, the second is a return of the second part of Waltz No. 3. Reminiscence is the theme of the coda, which revisits the introduction as the solo cello reappears, playing the melody of the first half of Waltz No. 1 while a brief reference to the second part of the same waltz sounds in the flute.
FischmanRockMonster, JazzMeister, Bluesboy,ClassicalMasterProfile Land of Enchantment
The Brahms quintet not so much, but I love it dearly. Like most of Brahms' less endearing works, the weightiness of it somehow seems to resonate with me. And like his grand 1st and 4th symphonies, as it finally reaches its conclusion, I have a sense of grasping the whole thing at once, in a single moment of time rather than spread out across a half hour or more. This is the genius of Brahms to me... that it has a coherence, like looking at a great painting full of both commanding technique as well as artistic nuance, and being able to take a step back and take it all in at once.
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