Piano Concerto No. 1 in D minor, Op. 15
Johannes Brahms (1833-97)
Maestoso; Adagio; Rondo: Allegro
When we read of George Frederick Handel composing the two hours of Messiah in three weeks, we are about as far as we can get from the deliberation and weight that characterises so much of Johannes Brahms’s output and working method. His First Piano Concerto started out as sketches for a symphony, scored for two pianos, with an intention to orchestrate it fully on completion. But Brahms had second thoughts. He felt unready to continue the peerless symphonic tradition established by Ludwig van Beethoven, so re-cast the work as a piano concerto. This took four years: 1854-1858. Eighteen more years were to elapse before his first symphony emerged in 1876, and 22 years separate his first and second piano concertos. This long-term thinking is evident in the concerto itself. It is Brahms’s first ‘monumental’ work, contrasting starkly with the less portentious orchestral serenades that preceded it. Having said that, it is lightly scored, using no trombones, tuba, or percussion other than timpani.
The concerto is unusually long at around 45 minutes, matching the expansiveness of Beethoven’s violin concerto and Brahms’s own violin and second piano concertos. In all four, the main weight of musical substance and argument is concentrated on the first movement which, severally, occupies about half of the total playing time.
The first piano concerto is not a vehicle for virtuoso display, difficult though it is for the soloist. More, it is a partnership between piano and orchestra, providing a contrast to the ‘battle’ and resolution that had characterised most concertos hitherto. Brahms offered other musical innovations in this work. The prevailing parameters of so-called sonata form are stretched to new limits in the first movement, as is the key scheme which travels way outside the accepted conventions of the time. One might wonder whether Brahms was ahead of his contemporaries or behind. In 1860, only a year after this work’s première, Brahms was labelled a stuffy reactionary for signing an infamous manifesto opposing Liszt’s ‘New German School’, yet this very work was hissed (some say ‘vilified’) at its second performance on the grounds that it was incomprehensible.
As the work progresses it becomes lighter in mood. The slow middle movement is said to be a musical tribute to Brahms’s mentor and champion, Robert Schumann, who had lapsed into insanity at around this time. The finale shares with the finale of the Violin Concerto a Hungarian ‘feel’ that always appealed to Brahms. The darker sonorities of the minor key are cast aside in favour of a breezy D major rondo with a triumphant, high-spirited conclusion.
Johannes Brahms (1833-97)
Maestoso; Adagio; Rondo: Allegro
When we read of George Frederick Handel composing the two hours of Messiah in three weeks, we are about as far as we can get from the deliberation and weight that characterises so much of Johannes Brahms’s output and working method. His First Piano Concerto started out as sketches for a symphony, scored for two pianos, with an intention to orchestrate it fully on completion. But Brahms had second thoughts. He felt unready to continue the peerless symphonic tradition established by Ludwig van Beethoven, so re-cast the work as a piano concerto. This took four years: 1854-1858. Eighteen more years were to elapse before his first symphony emerged in 1876, and 22 years separate his first and second piano concertos. This long-term thinking is evident in the concerto itself. It is Brahms’s first ‘monumental’ work, contrasting starkly with the less portentious orchestral serenades that preceded it. Having said that, it is lightly scored, using no trombones, tuba, or percussion other than timpani.
The concerto is unusually long at around 45 minutes, matching the expansiveness of Beethoven’s violin concerto and Brahms’s own violin and second piano concertos. In all four, the main weight of musical substance and argument is concentrated on the first movement which, severally, occupies about half of the total playing time.
The first piano concerto is not a vehicle for virtuoso display, difficult though it is for the soloist. More, it is a partnership between piano and orchestra, providing a contrast to the ‘battle’ and resolution that had characterised most concertos hitherto. Brahms offered other musical innovations in this work. The prevailing parameters of so-called sonata form are stretched to new limits in the first movement, as is the key scheme which travels way outside the accepted conventions of the time. One might wonder whether Brahms was ahead of his contemporaries or behind. In 1860, only a year after this work’s première, Brahms was labelled a stuffy reactionary for signing an infamous manifesto opposing Liszt’s ‘New German School’, yet this very work was hissed (some say ‘vilified’) at its second performance on the grounds that it was incomprehensible.
As the work progresses it becomes lighter in mood. The slow middle movement is said to be a musical tribute to Brahms’s mentor and champion, Robert Schumann, who had lapsed into insanity at around this time. The finale shares with the finale of the Violin Concerto a Hungarian ‘feel’ that always appealed to Brahms. The darker sonorities of the minor key are cast aside in favour of a breezy D major rondo with a triumphant, high-spirited conclusion.