Posts Tagged ‘fantasia’

Mahler, Symphony No. 7, movement 2

Monday, July 26th, 2010

Once again, I find myself with less time than I would like to write.  Hopefully, brevity will make me make each word count.

This movement has some fascinating aspects.  I begin with Mahler’s use of texture, which is more intricate and highly developed here than in much of his previous music.  Immediately following the horn solo that opens the movement, the woodwinds begin to build a complex sonic scrim more akin to Ravel or Stravinsky than to Mahler (mm. 10-27).  While motives from the horn solo appear throughout this passage, it is really an orchestral crescendo that leads to a climax in m. 28.  In mm. 28-9, the major-minor motive from the Sixth Symphony reappears, here in the home key of C (I should note that this motive doesn’t really “belong” to the Sixth Symphony, as it appears frequently throughout Mahler’s work).

There follows a harmonized repetition of the theme introduced by the horns, with an immediate variation, beginning in m. 37.   In m. 44, there is an example of Mahler’s interesting use of color in the solo oboe and horn.  The oboe colors the repeated horn notes, lending body and renewed interest to the opening theme.

Measure 62 presents the main theme yet again–this is a highly thematic movement.  It is now coupled with a figural countermelody in the woodwinds, a running triplet idea that will reappear frequently in this movment.  In m. 69, Mahler uses a cadential pattern that is somewhat quirky.  Having arrived on a half-cadence, a subdominant chord is inserted before the return of the tonic in m. 70.  The iv chord is highlighted with a dynamic accent, and is somewhat reminiscent of Robert Schumann’s tendency to begin phrases with a subdominant harmony, as though we were joining the music already in progress.

At m. 83, the first significant change in mood appears, with a change in both tempo and key (to Ab major).  The melody here is linked to the main theme by its opening motive, a rising interval from the triad in question, beginning on the anacrusis.  An extension of this initial phrase leads to a half-cadence in m. 81.  Mahler’s frequent use of the half-cadence in this movement suggests a more open, fantasia-like conception.  This dance-like music continues until an authentic cadence in Ab minor in m. 121, followed immediately by a reprise of the opening horn solo, leading into a modulatory passage that brings back the main theme in C major in m. 141.

In m. 144ff, the horn and oboe are again paired, a favorite color choice for Mahler in this movement.  This section is very much a restatement of the first section (up to the key change to Ab).  In m. 161, the fascinating texture from the opening is revisited, culminating with the same CM-Cm chord (more lushly scored this time) in mm. 187-188.

Measure 190 marks the beginning of new material in C minor, roughly based on the inversion of the main theme.  Mahler’s color choice is again interesting–oboe and English horn each doubled by a solo cello and then, when the range becomes excessive, byh solo violas (m. 198ff).  In m. 211ff, there is an interesting diversion to the key of B minor, strikingly remote from each harmonic destination thus far, with a swing back to C major for the return of the main theme in m. 223, now stated by the full orchestra.

The A-flat major theme reappears in m. 262, now with a countermelody in the woodwinds (two flutes, two oboes and two clarinets in unison).  The amount of thematic repetition in this movement is impressive–and highly suggestive of seven-part rondo form, although Mahler chooses not to state this explicity.  This places the A-sections in C major-minor, the B-sections in A-flat major and the C-section in C-minor.

At m. 317, the typical Mahlerian approach to coda begins–the opening theme begins to unravel, with reminders of earlier textures and ideas intertwining.  By the end, all that is left is the triplet accompanimental idea, which dissolves into not the tonic pitch, but rather the dominant of hte movement, G, leaving a sense of incompleteness that the beginning of the next movement fails to resolve.

Opus 109

Thursday, April 30th, 2009

Back to the schedule at last–it’s the last day of the month, and I’ve actually been around this sonata enough for a change.  May and June should be better, since the semester is ending.

After the massivness of “Hammerklavier’s” approach, this little gem in E major just blows me away.  It strikes me that what Beethoven is really doing in the first two movements is preludizing, and that the meat of this sonata is in the set of variations of the last movement.

I will have to dig deeper some day and do some research on the first movement, because there are aspects of it that suggest to me that it is also a variation on the theme from the last movement.  Beethoven isn’t the only composer to have put variations before theme, but I’m not aware of an earlier instance.  This movment is related formally to the second variation (Leggieramente) in the last movement, although the first movment features an additional reprise of the opening material.  The textures of the opening sections also seem to parallel each other.  As a non-pianist, I find myself thinking linearly in much of my instrumental writing, while Beethoven (and other great composers for the piano) are able to draw melody from texture in ways that I often don’t initially perceive by a glance at the score.  This is really the point of this survey of Beethoven’s piano sonatas–to help me understand the approach to composition of a man with whom I believe I share some stylistic traits, but whose life as a musician was completely different than mine.  Another way I heard the first movement is an an extended cadenza or fantasia, much like the beginning of the Choral Fantasy.  This only extends as far as the character of the piece, of course, because a true fantasia would probably not bear so much repetition.

The second movement, Prestissimo, brings to mind some of Beethoven’s bagatelles in both character and design.  I’m thinking particularly of the Opus 119 set in this instance.  It also has the feel of a prelude, and I’m beginning to wonder if this sonata isn’t purely a set of preludes.  More on that in the third movement.

I’m always a little taken aback when I see the title “variations,” because it inevitably brings to mind lightweight, virtuosic pieces by Rossini or Weber for clarinet.  The variation form is, of course, much richer than this, and I wouldn’t trade Bach’s Goldberg Variations for anything.  Beethoven’s Diabelli set is a close second, and he certainly knew what he was doing in this form.  I have also used variation form on occasion, and my first published piece, due out this summer, is a set of Variations on a French Carol for concert band.

I’ve decided that this set of variations–masterful, of course–continues the series of preludes in this sonata.  I’m thinking of the preludes of Bach or Chopin, which explore a texture to its fullest degree.  Some of these variations have very clear parallels in the Well-Tempered Clavier.

Theme–a homophonic chorale, in binary form, with an augmented-sixth chord placed ahead of the half-cadence.

Variation 1–a slow waltz or landler?  If the tempo marking were removed, it could look like Chopin.

Variation 2–I’ve mentioned the similarities to the first movement.

Variation 3–Ingenious use of invertible counterpoint… he only had to write half the variation.  In this sense, some similarities to WTC I, C# major prelude.  The texture is related to that of WTC 1, D major prelude.

Variation 4–This sort of counterpoint is almost a cliche of Bach’s style, but WTC 1, Eb major and A minor preludes come the closest, with G# minor not far behind.  One of my teachers, Gregory Proctor, mentioned Beethoven’s habit of opening a window, harmonically, letting the listener peek through it, and then abruptly drawing the curtains.  This happens at the end of the first section of this variation, where the German augmented-sixth chord is spelled enharmonically to resolve to F-major instead of to the expected dominant-seventh on B, but is immediately snapped back to the home key.  Beethoven is playing with equal temperament here in a way that Mozart or Haydn would never have dreamed of.

Variation V–I’ve studied the book by Beethoven’s counterpoint teacher, Albrechtsberger, and it’s clear that quite a bit rubbed off on his pupil.  This variation begins with a fantastic little canon in four parts, with entrances at the second.  The parts don’t all continue, but the effect is quite fun.    Again, Beethoven opens the window to F-major, but only lets us look out for a moment.  Bach’s Goldberg Variations make use of canon, so why should Beethoven not do the same?  There are similarities here to WTC 1, B-minor prelude in texture and form.

Variation VI–I am completely in awe of the compositional prowess on display here.  There is no parallel to this in Bach that I am aware of, but the idea of creating a sort of accelerando and building the tension through faster and faster note values is so simple as to be genius.  Absolutely fantastic.  Bringing the theme back at the end is a clear homage to the Goldberg Variations, in my opinion.