SUPPORT YOUR SYMPHONY

The first Chamber series program of the 2022/2023 season, Brahms & Mendelssohn, happens on November 1. Among the performers are Seattle Symphony Associate Principal Cello Meeka Quan DiLorenzo and pianist Jessica Choe, pictured above in 2021; photo by Carlin Ma.

“Begin like you’re pulling the sound from somewhere else” is a familiar musical direction. It’s part of the aura — the mystique — that can make the opening of any piece more powerful; the note didn’t start with you but is alive somewhere else, being pulled by the focused and deft hands of the soloist, the quartet, the choir; from that ineffable space into ours, for us to hear, interpret and enjoy.

That’s how Johannes Brahms begins his String Quartet No. 2 in A minor. The Allegro non troppo’s main theme, introduced by the first violinist, seems to emerge mid-sentence before blossoming into an expansive and lyrical melody with the ensemble, even as it drives the direction forward. Brahms completed his second string quartet in 1873, nearly 20 years into his substantial contributions to chamber music repertoire. And like his symphonies, Brahms approached his chamber music writing with focused self-critique. While it didn’t take him 20 years like his first symphony, he started his A minor string quartet in 1866.

The String Quartet No. 2 debuted first with violinist Joseph Joachim’s quartet. Joachim and Brahms were close friends and collaborators; scholars have identified the motivic roots of the first movement — the pitches F/A/E — as a musical reference to Joachim’s motto (“Frei, aber einsam” — “Free, but lonely”), and some have interpreted the prominence of F/A/F in the first movement as Brahms’ musical rebuttal: “Frei, aber froh” — “Free, but glad.”

Brahms is often considered an “academic” composer; very focused on structure, continuity, connection and relation to his predecessors. This description sometimes suggests that such an approach requires emotional reservation, incorrectly, because Brahms’ works are emotionally open and honest. This is clear in the Andante moderato, which is driven less by a catchy melody than the lyrical interweaving and support of the ensemble, like in the canon section between violin and cello. The Quasi Minuetto, moderato toes the line between dark and solemn, and witty and mischievous; and the Finale. Allegro non assai is boisterous and lilting, lifting heavily through angular accents and rhythms from traditional Hungarian folk dances like Czárdás. Of all the movements, this Finale has some of the most memorable motives and interactions, such as the call-and-response passages between upper and lower strings, or how Brahms begins a melodic line in one instrument and completes it in another. Though the first violin leads, it cannot maintain the drama and narrative without the support and leadership of the second violin, viola and cello. It’s a small yet powerful indication of the changing standards of chamber music playing in Brahms’ time, a recognition that this genre was one of collaboration and conversation.

Not everyone does it, but this program annotator sometimes positions Felix Mendelssohn a little further down the 19th century timeline than he lived. For example, stylistically, his Piano Trio No. 1 in D minor, Op. 49, sounds like it could have emerged in the 1850s. But this piece wasn’t written in the 1850s: it was completed in 1839 and debuted in 1840. Robert Schumann sang its praises, calling it “the master-trio of our time,” and through consistent programming by professionals and superstars, it has gone on to become a repertoire staple.  

The roots of his piano trio reach a little further back, to 1832. In a letter to his sister, composer-pianist Fanny Hensel, Mendelssohn shared the pull between seeing Paris and fulfilling his obligations to his publishers:

“I have, at the most, only the prospect of three months to see Paris, so I must throw myself in the stream … everything here is too bright, and too attractive to be neglected; it rounds off my pleasant travelling reminiscences, and forms a fine colossal key-stone … The publishers too are standing on each side of me like veritable Satans, demanding music for the piano, and offering to pay for it. By Heavens! I don’t know whether I shall be able to withstand this, or write some kind of trio; for I hope you believe me to be superior to the temptation of a pot-pourri; but I should like compose a couple of good trios.”

And compose a good trio he did. Mendelssohn’s Op. 49 is replete with engaging melodies and exuberant interaction between violin, piano and cello. Unlike his previous works, the piano is a more active participant after Mendelssohn revised the piece; not to overshadow the violin and cello, but to be both a source of harmonic support and the melodic driver. Like the works that would follow Mendelssohn’s contribution, this piano trio highlighted the importance of collaboration in ensemble playing; not only in the interpretation, but in the very structure of the piece itself.

The cello introduces the Molto allegro ed agitato theme, morose and elegiac. Mendelssohn deftly balances textural clarity and rich lyricism, two key components of Classical and Romantic-era aesthetics. The Andante con moto tranquillo continues this balance, as the three instruments move between leading and supporting each other; the Scherzo is light and chipper; the theme is passed from piano to violin, with the cello leaping into the fray, which leads to unified passages and moments of motific exchange and call-and-response. Like the third movement, the Finale: Allegro assai appassionato opens with the piano and violin on the main theme; it’s a return to the pessimism of the first movement, but more assured, confident and intense. Melodic conversation and argument abound, a personal choice that would have large-scale impact on Mendelssohn’s contemporaries and future composers.

A. Kori Hill © 2022