Symphony No. 1 in C minor, Op. 68
Johannes Brahms (1833-97)
Un poco sostenuto, allegro; Andante sostenuto; Un poco allegretto e grazioso; Adagio, più andante, allegro non troppo ma con brio
‘Composing a symphony is no laughing matter’, said Johannes Brahms, and the 21 years of labour leading to the completion of his First Symphony demonstrate this. Even so, he had put in plenty of practice: two early serenades for orchestra, the D major being quite ‘symphonic’; a Piano Concerto in D minor, that started life as sketches for a symphony; and the Variations on a Theme by Haydn. All these, and the public acclaim for the Variations in particular, persuaded the composer at last that he was ready to build on Ludwig van Beethoven’s daunting symphonic legacy. So what was his problem? The symphony is a particularly Austro/German concept. French symphonies of quality number about four; Italian symphonies do not exist; the great symphonies by English and Russian composers came later, by which time, the symphonic concept had lost some of its purity, the core of which is ‘musical argument’. The subtleties and interplay of form, tonality, melody and harmony create a feeling of satisfaction and completion for the listener, and successfully sustain works of considerable length. We do not need to know the technical details because our acceptance and delight are generally based on subconscious awareness rather than analysis.
It is possible that composers who created at speed, such as Josef Haydn and W.A. Mozart, composed ‘subconsciously’ in that they did not treat the creative process like a jigsaw puzzle awaiting painstaking assembly. All they had to do was transfer to paper the music that was already in their heads. They moved straight into what they knew to be ‘right’, as perhaps did Pablo Picasso and Henri Matisse, as artists. Brahms was more calculating but, despite the laborious processes that sometimes led to their creation, his compositions appear as though they also were the happy outcomes of inspiration and spontaneity.
The web that binds this symphony is complex and remarkable in its originality. For example, it seems that the first movement Allegro grows organically from the slow introduction with which it opens. The rising chromatic scale and other melodic similarities reinforce such an impression. But that is not how it was conceived. According to Clara Schumann’s diaries, Brahms composed the introduction after he had completed the first movement. It was as though the seed from which this symphony grew had been hidden, and was revealed after the event. A recurring feature throughout the symphony is the ‘triple anacrusis’: three anticipatory notes leading to the first main stress of a melody. This is particularly noticeable in the second theme of the slow movement, entrusted to the oboe and reminiscent of (perhaps unfortunately) ‘Oh when the saints go marching in’. Many listeners will recall that the triple anacrusis is central to Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony (think of its opening), and few scholars doubt that Brahms was aware of this. Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony is also in the key of C minor, also ends in a triumphant C major, and is of monumental proportions similar to those of Brahms’s First Symphony.
The third movement adheres to the formal pattern of a Minuet and Trio, or a Scherzo, so often used by earlier symphonists. But here, Brahms reverts to his love of the Serenade and what we might now call ‘easy listening’. Some commentators have suggested that depth and profundity lie hidden in its brevity. Others find such characteristics difficult to locate. More, it is probably intended as a relaxed interlude before the gigantic finale, with its mysterious introduction, noble horn solo (apparently borrowed from an Alpenhorn call heard in Switzerland) trombone chorale, and the extended Allegro, rich in melody and incident. Note in particular, the thrilling return of the trombone chorale (now scored for full orchestra) shortly before the exultant peroration.
Johannes Brahms (1833-97)
Un poco sostenuto, allegro; Andante sostenuto; Un poco allegretto e grazioso; Adagio, più andante, allegro non troppo ma con brio
‘Composing a symphony is no laughing matter’, said Johannes Brahms, and the 21 years of labour leading to the completion of his First Symphony demonstrate this. Even so, he had put in plenty of practice: two early serenades for orchestra, the D major being quite ‘symphonic’; a Piano Concerto in D minor, that started life as sketches for a symphony; and the Variations on a Theme by Haydn. All these, and the public acclaim for the Variations in particular, persuaded the composer at last that he was ready to build on Ludwig van Beethoven’s daunting symphonic legacy. So what was his problem? The symphony is a particularly Austro/German concept. French symphonies of quality number about four; Italian symphonies do not exist; the great symphonies by English and Russian composers came later, by which time, the symphonic concept had lost some of its purity, the core of which is ‘musical argument’. The subtleties and interplay of form, tonality, melody and harmony create a feeling of satisfaction and completion for the listener, and successfully sustain works of considerable length. We do not need to know the technical details because our acceptance and delight are generally based on subconscious awareness rather than analysis.
It is possible that composers who created at speed, such as Josef Haydn and W.A. Mozart, composed ‘subconsciously’ in that they did not treat the creative process like a jigsaw puzzle awaiting painstaking assembly. All they had to do was transfer to paper the music that was already in their heads. They moved straight into what they knew to be ‘right’, as perhaps did Pablo Picasso and Henri Matisse, as artists. Brahms was more calculating but, despite the laborious processes that sometimes led to their creation, his compositions appear as though they also were the happy outcomes of inspiration and spontaneity.
The web that binds this symphony is complex and remarkable in its originality. For example, it seems that the first movement Allegro grows organically from the slow introduction with which it opens. The rising chromatic scale and other melodic similarities reinforce such an impression. But that is not how it was conceived. According to Clara Schumann’s diaries, Brahms composed the introduction after he had completed the first movement. It was as though the seed from which this symphony grew had been hidden, and was revealed after the event. A recurring feature throughout the symphony is the ‘triple anacrusis’: three anticipatory notes leading to the first main stress of a melody. This is particularly noticeable in the second theme of the slow movement, entrusted to the oboe and reminiscent of (perhaps unfortunately) ‘Oh when the saints go marching in’. Many listeners will recall that the triple anacrusis is central to Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony (think of its opening), and few scholars doubt that Brahms was aware of this. Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony is also in the key of C minor, also ends in a triumphant C major, and is of monumental proportions similar to those of Brahms’s First Symphony.
The third movement adheres to the formal pattern of a Minuet and Trio, or a Scherzo, so often used by earlier symphonists. But here, Brahms reverts to his love of the Serenade and what we might now call ‘easy listening’. Some commentators have suggested that depth and profundity lie hidden in its brevity. Others find such characteristics difficult to locate. More, it is probably intended as a relaxed interlude before the gigantic finale, with its mysterious introduction, noble horn solo (apparently borrowed from an Alpenhorn call heard in Switzerland) trombone chorale, and the extended Allegro, rich in melody and incident. Note in particular, the thrilling return of the trombone chorale (now scored for full orchestra) shortly before the exultant peroration.