Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61
Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)
Allegro ma non troppo; Larghetto; Rondo: Allegro
The sharp-eyed will spot that the opus number of this concerto precedes that of the Coriolan Overture by one. Despite their proximity in time, the first performances were markedly different. Written for the violin virtuoso, Franz Clement, Beethoven failed to deliver the music in time for the soloist to study his part thoroughly, so Clement was obliged to sight-read some sections at the final rehearsal. Possibly because of its length the concerto was split into two, the first movement being played before the interval, the other two movements after. It is said that because Clement was piqued by Beethoven’s tardiness, he sought childish revenge by performing one of his own compositions between the first and second movements. It was a sonata for unaccompanied violin played with the instrument held up-side-down. One way or another, the première of Beethoven’s concerto was not a success. At Muzzio Clementi’s request, Beethoven recast the work as a piano concerto but, beyond that, it remained on the shelf until its next performance, 38 years later.
The monumental first movement contains an abundance of memorable melodies and motifs. Two features are particularly noteworthy because they are easy to spot and lie at the heart of the structure. The first is the very opening: five evenly-spaced notes on the timpani. Once registered, they seem to be ubiquitous, appearing at a multitude of points and played by every instrument at some time or other. In places they are offered sotto voce; elsewhere they are shouted aloud, almost as a signal of defiance. The second feature is more an idea than a particular tune. Three of the movement’s main melodies are based on a rising major scale. The variations in rhythm and setting are enough to ensure their individuality but the common feature helps to cement the lofty architecture in a successful and satisfying way. Such a grand composition as this first movement needs a grand cadenza. Many composers and violinists have furnished their own versions. For almost a century Joseph Joachim’s dominated but, in recent decades, Fritz Kreisler’s has been preferred. Listen out for a remarkable section where two of the themes are played concurrently – on one violin!
It is possible that Beethoven linked the second and third movements so that, together, they would provide a balance for the first movement. Taken separately, they are on a smaller scale but no less demanding for the soloist. The opening theme of the slow movement is so simple, one is inclined to wonder why nobody thought of it before. It turns out to be the foundation of a movement that is essentially a theme with variations. The endearing modulations and sedate gait provide a perfect cushion for exquisite musical ornamentation from the soloist. In common with most variation movements, the underlying sense is one of repetition rather than development so, to signal a close, another cadenza leads us directly into the rondo.
Although Beethoven often provided finales of heroic character and proportion, he chose to adhere more closely to the classical examples of W.A. Mozart and others in this concerto. The opening theme is jovial, bouncy, folksy and infuriatingly memorable. It could ring round your head long after this concert finishes, as might some of the other melodies that figure. As well as emerging as a tour de force for the soloist, the movement provides rich opportunities for the orchestral players. Engaging passages for the wind match the prominence given to the timpani in the concerto’s very first bar.
Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)
Allegro ma non troppo; Larghetto; Rondo: Allegro
The sharp-eyed will spot that the opus number of this concerto precedes that of the Coriolan Overture by one. Despite their proximity in time, the first performances were markedly different. Written for the violin virtuoso, Franz Clement, Beethoven failed to deliver the music in time for the soloist to study his part thoroughly, so Clement was obliged to sight-read some sections at the final rehearsal. Possibly because of its length the concerto was split into two, the first movement being played before the interval, the other two movements after. It is said that because Clement was piqued by Beethoven’s tardiness, he sought childish revenge by performing one of his own compositions between the first and second movements. It was a sonata for unaccompanied violin played with the instrument held up-side-down. One way or another, the première of Beethoven’s concerto was not a success. At Muzzio Clementi’s request, Beethoven recast the work as a piano concerto but, beyond that, it remained on the shelf until its next performance, 38 years later.
The monumental first movement contains an abundance of memorable melodies and motifs. Two features are particularly noteworthy because they are easy to spot and lie at the heart of the structure. The first is the very opening: five evenly-spaced notes on the timpani. Once registered, they seem to be ubiquitous, appearing at a multitude of points and played by every instrument at some time or other. In places they are offered sotto voce; elsewhere they are shouted aloud, almost as a signal of defiance. The second feature is more an idea than a particular tune. Three of the movement’s main melodies are based on a rising major scale. The variations in rhythm and setting are enough to ensure their individuality but the common feature helps to cement the lofty architecture in a successful and satisfying way. Such a grand composition as this first movement needs a grand cadenza. Many composers and violinists have furnished their own versions. For almost a century Joseph Joachim’s dominated but, in recent decades, Fritz Kreisler’s has been preferred. Listen out for a remarkable section where two of the themes are played concurrently – on one violin!
It is possible that Beethoven linked the second and third movements so that, together, they would provide a balance for the first movement. Taken separately, they are on a smaller scale but no less demanding for the soloist. The opening theme of the slow movement is so simple, one is inclined to wonder why nobody thought of it before. It turns out to be the foundation of a movement that is essentially a theme with variations. The endearing modulations and sedate gait provide a perfect cushion for exquisite musical ornamentation from the soloist. In common with most variation movements, the underlying sense is one of repetition rather than development so, to signal a close, another cadenza leads us directly into the rondo.
Although Beethoven often provided finales of heroic character and proportion, he chose to adhere more closely to the classical examples of W.A. Mozart and others in this concerto. The opening theme is jovial, bouncy, folksy and infuriatingly memorable. It could ring round your head long after this concert finishes, as might some of the other melodies that figure. As well as emerging as a tour de force for the soloist, the movement provides rich opportunities for the orchestral players. Engaging passages for the wind match the prominence given to the timpani in the concerto’s very first bar.