

Ludwig van Beethoven ( 1770-1827)
The Sonatas for Violin and Piano, Volume II
Sonata No. 1 in D Major. Op. 12, No. 1
[1] Allegro con brio
[2] Tema con variazioni: Andante con moto
[3] Rondo: Allegro
Sonata No. 3 in E-flat Major. Op. 12, No. 3
[4] Allegro con spirito
[5] Adagio con molt' espressione
[6] Rondo: Allegro molto
Robert Mann, Violin, Stephen Hough, PianoOne of the many reasons for Beethoven's popularity lies in his heroism, and in our sympathy for his acts of defiance through faith. Faced with overwhelming odds Beethoven shook his fist at adversity and, with magnificent arrogance, declared. "power is the morality of all men who are above the common. and it is mine. " Such an assault on convention is somehow part and parcel of a confidence which nearly but never quite collapsed under the stress of both material pressures and deep spiritual torment. Mozart was quick to advise his contemporaries about this wild untutored phoenix saying, "keep an eye on him. he will make a noise in the world. " Yet even Mozart could not imagine the sort of noise Beethoven would make or the manner in which his creative genius would roar and reverberate around the universe for eternity.
Mozart was an Apollonian genius who created his memorable beauty within an inherited and accepted framework. Beethoven. on the other hand, questioned all tradition and. dismissed as being "raw, gnarled, and unfinished" and a destroyer of form, suffered the loneliness imposed on all true pioneers. In this sense there is a world of difference between Mozart and
Beethoven; between a composer of formal grace and perfection and a composer whose hammer and chisel blows are still visible on the marble of his greatest masterpieces.
The 18th century saw major developments in the violin, both in performance and craftsmanship; an opening for rich, previously untapped technical and expressive possibilities. Such potential was memorably explored by Mozart in his 34 violin sonatas, a touchstone or yardstick for later composers, notably Beethoven. Yet characteristically, Beethoven's early violin and piano sonatas provoked bewilderment and hostility, their pungency and novelty already far beyond conventional or complacent taste. Thus:
It is undeniable that Herr Beethoven goes his own gait but what a bizarre and singular gait it is! Learned, learned and always learned-nothing natural, no song. Yes, to be accurate, there is only a mass of learning here, without good method; obstinacy but for which we feel but little interest; a striving for strange modulations. an objection to customary associations, a heaping up of difficuities till one loses all patience and enjoyment.
punishing and dispiriting rhetoric suggests once more that Beethoven paid a heavy price for an entirely new sense of just what a violin and piano sonata could be. And although it is customary to relegate Beethoven's 10 sonatas in this form (written within 15 years, between 1797 and 1812), when compared to the towering achievement of the 32 piano sonatas, 17 string quartets, and nine symphonies. all of them are characteristic. in one way or another. of his expansive, glowing, and unique genius; a musical heritage no violinist or pianist can easily surrender.
The three op. 12 Sonatas (1797-98) were dedicated to Salieri, an ambiguous tribute. Beethoven had studied with Salieri and was also aware of his prestigious and influential position as imperial Kapellmeister. Privately, Beethoven's sarcasm for such officially sanctioned appointments was savage and vituperative: "what appointment at the imperial court could be given to such a mediocre talent like myself?". For Beethoven, limitless brio. the fresh breeze of a truly pioneering spirit. was the opposite of safety or mediocrity. Pedants and conservatives. when not openly disparaging, found the op.
12 Sonatas hard to place. For such
unliberated spirits they represented betwixt and between music with one foot firmly in the 18th century and the other even more securely in the 19th (a form of postclassicism that, like so much musical quicksilver, was difficult to accept or categorize).
No. 1. for example, with its immediate statement of the tonic chord and its subsequent affirmation in D major rising and falling arpeggios, commences wholly in the 18th century, whereas the constant exchange of roles. the piano's and violin's often ingenious fights for supremacy, is wholly Beethovenian. So, too, is the start of a development which switches so surprisingly into F major, a sotto voce allusion to a previous A major cadence. For Beethoven's contemporaries such daring represented little beyond a "hostile entanglement." a lack of logic or decorum. a battle or rebellion already remote from Mozart's more easily digested grace and poise. Sparkling 16th-note arpeggios and a development with a hint of distant thunder were again ominous signs of a dangerous freedom and contrast with a no less formidable directness of expression, as unswerving as the flight of an arrow.
The second movement is a set of variations unusual in early Beethoven. The piano presents both parts of the theme and is again prominent in the elegant embellishment of variation 1. In the second variation the step-wise figure in the latter half of the theme is elaborated into a dancing lightness by the violin, at last allowed to share the limelight; variations 3 and 4 represent a strong contrast between turbulent explosions of minor key energy and gentle syncopation, a foretaste of later developments in the Andante con variazione of the A-flat Piano Sonata, op. 26. Here, the violin and piano pursue independent yet compatible paths before joining in hushed reminiscence. The Finale is a notably vivacious rondo, its Mozartean impetus offset by tart accentuation and with an idiosyncratic diversion into E-flat which again caused raised eyebrows and accusations of "capricious vaguery." The whirl of events is too rapid for more than cursory hints of development but just when Beethoven seems about to embark on yet another audacious flight from the home key he closes his argument with a sudden flash of wit very typical of his early compositional cunning and high spirits.
E-flat is invariably a "brilliant" and heroic key for Beethoven (witness his Piano Sonatas. opp. 7 and 31. and his "Emperor" Concerto, op. 73). Yet the sheer virtuosity of op. 12, no. 3 is breathtaking and at times even suggests that Beethoven's success at the time as a pianist occasionally slighted his sense of true balance, of an argument between equals. An array of ideas is presented with an exuberance that does not merely strain the limits of convention but quite unapologetically pushes it aside. The exposition is long, the development notably storming, glittering, and (for the pianist) arduous. calling for the highest powers of classical dexterity and agility. Even the violin's display of double and triple stopping fails to stem the piano's incessant activity. However. such pyrotechnical display is finally calmed in a series of gently assuaging tremolandi before an abbreviated recapitulation and coda deriving not from the remarkable development but from the first and second subjects.
After such ebullience the gently halting rhythm of the Adagio provides a true oasis of calm and the entire movement is of a wholly novel depth of expression. The central
episode. in particular. has the violin floating an exquisite line against figuration which has been called one of Beethoven's first intimations of 'that murmur of the outer
Infinite. " Dotted rhythms, staccato, and descending scales may break the magic spell but they return us, via a sustained cadence, to the opening theme and a suitably hushed epilogue. The Finale unites the spirits of Mozart and Haydn and includes a fughetta on two subjects, much busy and mellifluous polyphony that looks back as far as the Presto of the F major Piano Sonata, op. 10 and forward to later more complex contrapuntal masterpieces. But the opening three-note motif finally has the last word, its pattern tossed to and fro between violin and piano before a final and emphatic close. Bryce Morrison, 1988
A founder and one of the original members of the Julliard String Quartet, Robert Mann was born on July 19, 1920 in Portland. Oregon. He began study of the violin with local teachers at the age of nine. In 1941 Mr. Mann won the Walter W. Naumburg Foundation competition and made his New York debut two days after the attack on Pearl Harbor. In 1946. at the invitation of , William Schuman, then president of Juilliard
he formed the Juilliard String Quartet.
Mr. Mann appears frequently as a soloist and has recorded a number of solo works. He serves also as the president of the Walter W. Naumburg Foundation and is a member of the New York Philharmonic Board. He has devoted a great part of his life to teaching; among his ensemble pupils are the La Salle, Tokyo, American, Concord, Emerson, New York, Mendelssohn, and Alexander Quartets, A founder and one of the original members of the Julliard String Quartet, Robert Mann was born on July 19, 1920 in Portland.
Oregon. He began study of the violin with
local teachers at the age of nine. In 1941 Mr. Mann won the Walter W. Naumburg
Foundation competition and made his New
York debut two days after the attack on Pearl Harbor. In 1946. at the invitation of William Schuman, then president of Juilliard, he formed the Juilliard String Quartet.
Mr. Mann appears frequently as a soloist and has recorded a number of solo works. He serves also as the president of the Walter W.
Naumburg Foundation and is a member of the New York Philharmonic Board. He has
devoted a great part of his life to teaching; among his ensemble pupils are the La Salle,
Tokyo, American, Concord, Emerson, New
York, Mendelssohn, and Alexander Quartets, as well as many other active musicians of our times who play an important role in the solo- and chambermusic world.
Stephen Hough. winner of the 1983
Naumburg International Piano Competition, is well known in Europe for his recitals in Great Britain and Germany as well as for his
performances with such orchestras as the
Royal Philharmonic, London Symphony, Philharmonia, and Halle. His Naumburg
Award resulted in numerous United States
engagements, among them his highly acclaimed New York recital debut in February 1984 at Alice Tully Hall. Stephen
Hough studied with Gordon Green and Derrick Wyndham at the Royal Northern College and with Adele Marcus at The
Juilliard School.
