LPO-0068 Brahms Symphonies CD booklet

BRAHMS

symphony no. 1 in C MINOR symphony no. 3 in F MAJOR

KLAUS TENNSTEDT conductor london philharmonic ORCHESTRA

A BBC recording

BRAHMS Symphony No. 1 in C minor, Op. 68

Few great concert works have taken longer to mature than Brahms’s First Symphony. Ideas probably began to take shape in Brahms’s mind around 1855, when he was 22. But five years later, Brahms’s confidante and ‘ideal’ love Clara Schumann – virtuoso pianist and widow of the composer Robert Schumann – was still urging him not to give up the struggle: ‘Such a sky of storm may yet lead to a symphony.’

Two years after that, in the summer of 1862, Clara received a surprise parcel containing the Symphony’s first movement – or at least an early version of it. ‘It begins somewhat severely’, she wrote to a friend, ‘but I have got used to it. The movement is full of beauties; the themes are treated with a mastery that grows more and more individual.’

Beethoven. ‘I shall never write a symphony’, Brahms told the conductor Hermann Levi in 1870. ‘You’ve no idea what it feels like with such a giant marching behind you.’ But his friends carried on a campaign of sustained encouragement, and the success of Brahms’s first orchestral masterpiece, Variations on a Theme of Haydn, in 1874 seems to have rekindled his ambition. By 1876 the First Symphony as we know it was finally ready.

It was performed all over Europe, with increasing success. Soon, critics were calling it ‘Beethoven’s Tenth’ – but even that ringing compliment made Brahms doubt himself all over again. Had he emerged from the giant’s shadow or not? When someone unwisely pointed out the ‘extraordinary’ similarity between the main theme of Brahms’s finale and the ‘Ode to Joy’ theme in Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, Brahms snapped back: ‘Yes, and still more extraordinary that any fool can hear it!’

Fourteen more years were to pass before Brahms was able to show Clara a completed score – and even then there were more revisions to follow. The problem was at least partly that Brahms had set himself such dauntingly high standards: his goal was to produce something worthy to set beside the greatest of all symphonists, Ludwig van

It isn’t hard to hear echoes of Beethoven in the first movement’s surging momentum and grim, almost obsessive rhythmic determination. When Brahms first conceived this movement he was still struggling to come to terms with the final mental breakdown and suicide of his great friend and mentor Robert Schumann, Clara’s husband – another

1 2 3 4

Un poco sostenuto – Allegro Andante sostenuto Un poco allegretto e grazioso Adagio – Allegro non troppo, ma con brio

composer who worshipped Beethoven and strove to match up to his great example.But it’s also possible that the slow introduction – almost certainly added after the main Allegro was complete – contains a tribute to another of Brahms’s gods, Johann Sebastian Bach. The opening’s low throbbing bass notes could be an echo of the opening chorus of Bach’s St Matthew Passion. As Clara Schumann observed on receiving the 1862 version of this movement, the flow of ideas is remarkably sustained, and the climactic buildup to the return of the first Allegro theme is superbly, thrillingly engineered.

Beethovenian perhaps, but what Brahms does at the end is completely original. The tempo drops and the pulsating bass notes of the introduction return, quietly this time. The end is neither thunderous triumph nor black tragedy; C minor turbulence gradually yields to ambiguous C major calm.

Heroic struggle is forgotten in the two central movements. In the Andante sostenuto it is melody that carries the argument, reaching its apotheosis in a ravishing violin solo in the final moments. The opening theme of the Un poco allegretto e grazioso is all relaxed charm – a far cry from the cosmic dance energy of the typical Beethovenian scherzo.

More energetic music follows, but as a whole

the effect is to heighten our expectations of the finale, which now has to be an effective counterweight to the first movement, confronting and finally resolving its tragic tensions. The opening brings an immediate darkening, after which the music seems to be groping in the shadows for something definitive – the outline of a fully-fledged theme, perhaps. A sudden timpani fortissimo dispels the gloom: to warm harmonies on trombones (their first appearance in the Symphony) a noble horn theme sounds through shimmering strings. This was the theme Brahms noted in a letter to Clara Schumann in 1868, adding the words, ‘High on the mountain, deep in the valley, I send you a thousand greetings.’ The vision fades, then a confident, forward striding tune begins the Allegro non troppo ma con brio – Brahms’s reply to Beethoven’s ‘Ode to Joy’ theme.

There are reminders of the first movement’s heroic struggle, but this time the ending is unambiguous, with a forcefully affirmative brass hymn tune heralding a victorious final dash to the finishing post.

BRAHMS Symphony No. 3 in f major, Op. 90 1 Allegro con brio 2 Andante 3 Poco allegretto 4 Allegro Brahms’s Third Symphony (1883) is in many ways the subtlest, certainly the least ‘epic’ of his symphonic works. Notice the way that all four movements conclude quietly – it’s hard to think of a symphony composed before this one that totally avoids demonstrative endings. Sometimes – especially in the middle two movements – the style and expression are closer to chamber music: there are intimate dialogues between solo woodwind instruments, while the beautiful long horn solo in the third movement, with its delicate string accompaniment, is closer in style to the gloriously romantic Horn Trio of 1865 than to anything in the other three symphonies.

Beyond that, the older Brahms’s habitual mask of ‘classical objectivity’ slips more often here than in any of his other big orchestral works.

The Third Symphony begins with the wind instruments outlining a rising three-note motif which dominates the first movement and returns to wind up the argument at the end of the finale: all very intellectually rigorous, one might say – typical Brahms.

Un-typically, however, Brahms indicated that

this motif had a specific meaning: the three notes, F – A – F, ‘spelt’ a motto in German, Frei aber froh – ‘Free but happy’ – an expression of proud defiance, perhaps, by a famously lifelong bachelor. But listen to the way Brahms flattens the second note of the opening motif, A, and adds a questioning dissonance underneath. The word aber (‘but’) is therefore emphasised – a note of doubt.

Immediately after this ‘motto’ comes a magnificent downward plunging violin theme.

Its opening phrase is a direct quotation from another Third Symphony: that of the young Brahms’s mentor, encourager and in many ways surrogate father, Robert Schumann.

Schumann’s final descent into madness and attempted suicide in 1854 was a profound shock for Brahms. Most of Brahms’s first movement is carried along by a strong, buoyant forward current; but just before the return of the first theme the tempo slows markedly and Brahms quotes one of his own choral works, Begräbnisgesang, ‘Funeral Song’, composed not long after Schumann’s death – listen out for heavy descending scales in the bass, lugubriously scored. Suddenly the opening F – A – F motif returns with full force.

It’s as though Brahms pays momentary tribute to his beloved, and still profoundly missed friend, but then rallies himself. Schumann may

be no more, but his spirit lives on in Brahms himself – as Schumann himself prophesied.

The middle two movements are much gentler, and scored for reduced forces (no trumpets, drums or contrabassoon). The opening woodwind melody of the Andante, with its answering phrases on low strings, is like a pastoral hymn, but the more searching second theme (clarinet, bassoon with rich supporting string chords) leads into more troubled regions. Pastoral imagery is also suggested in the following Poco allegretto. The rustling string figures accompanying the gorgeous cello melody may evoke rustling foliage. The idea of a prevailing forest setting is confirmed when the opening melody is taken up at length by the horn – for German-speaking composers the horn is the romantic woodland instrument.

The finale brings the stormiest, most driven music in the whole symphony, though the darkly purposeful opening is momentarily interrupted by a kind of brief reverie (woodwind against more rustling strings), followed by a sombre hymn-like figure, pianissimo – more ‘funeral’ music? From this an impassioned, striving Allegro springs to life.

One may be led to expect a noisily triumphant, or perhaps tragic conclusion.

But at the end it is the element of reverie (again woodwind and rustling strings) that prevails, leading – with superb emotional logic – to a quiet return of the symphony’s original ‘motto’ and ‘Schumann’ themes. No triumph, no tragedy, the music seems to say – just peaceful acceptance.

Programme notes © Stephen Johnson

KLAUS TENNSTEDT conductor

London Philharmonic orchestra

Born in East Germany, Klaus Tennstedt studied at the Leipzig Conservatory and conducted throughout his native land but it was not until he moved to the West in 1971 that he started to achieve world recognition. His London debut was with the London Symphony Orchestra in 1976, his debut with the London Philharmonic Orchestra following in 1977. He had an instant rapport with the London Philharmonic Orchestra that resulted in return invitations and his appointment as the Orchestra’s Principal Conductor and Music Director in 1983. This developed into a unique and remarkable relationship until illness finally brought it to a premature end some ten years later. His energy, musicianship and emotional involvement combined with a rare humility endeared him to audiences and musicians alike. Renowned for his interpretations of the German Romantic repertoire, Tennstedt once said he loved the LPO so much because ‘it is a romantic orchestra’.

Klaus Tennstedt died in 1998.

Recognised today as one of the finest orchestras on the international stage, the London Philharmonic Orchestra was founded in 1932 by Sir Thomas Beecham. Since then, its Principal Conductors have included Sir Adrian Boult, Bernard Haitink, Sir Georg Solti, Klaus Tennstedt and Kurt Masur. In 2007 Vladimir Jurowski became the Orchestra’s Principal Conductor.

The Orchestra has been performing at Southbank Centre’s Royal Festival Hall since it opened in 1951, becoming Resident Orchestra in 1992. It also has flourishing residencies in Brighton and Eastbourne, and performs regularly around the UK. Each summer it plays for Glyndebourne Festival Opera, where it has been the Resident Symphony Orchestra since 1964. The Orchestra has made numerous tours to America, Europe and Japan, and visited India, Hong Kong, China, South Korea, Australia, Oman, South Africa and Abu Dhabi.

The Orchestra broadcasts regularly on television and radio, and has recorded soundtracks for numerous blockbuster films.

It has made many distinguished recordings over the years and in 2005 began releasing live, studio and archive recordings on its own CD label.

Klaus Tennstedt on the LPO Label

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For more information or to purchase CDs telephone +44 (0)20 7840 4242 or visit lpo.org.uk/shop

JOHANNES BRAHMS (1833–97)

CD1 48:56

Symphony No. 1 in C minor, Op. 68

01 02 03 04

Un poco sostenuto – Allegro Andante sostenuto Un poco allegretto e grazioso Adagio – Allegro non troppo, ma con brio

14:47 10:12 5:15 18:42

CD2 35:34 01 02 03 04

Symphony No. 3 in F major, Op. 90

10:11 Allegro con brio 9:30 Andante 6:43 Poco allegretto 9:10 Allegro

KLAUS TENNSTEDT conductor london philharmonic ORCHESTRA

Joakim Svenheden leader (Symphony No. 1)

David Nolan leader (Symphony No. 3)

Recorded live at Southbank Centre’s ROYAL FESTIVAL HALL, London

LPO – 0068