CONCERT
Alice Tully Hall
The Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center
Danish String Quartet
Beethoven - Quartet in F major for Strings, Op. 59, No. 1, "Razumovsky" (1806)
Beethoven - Quartet in E minor for Strings, Op. 59, No. 2, "Razumovsky" (1806)
Beethoven - Quartet in C major for Strings, Op. 59, No. 3, "Razumovsky" (1806)
"Ludwig van Beethoven literally changed the course of music—not only how music sounded, but how it was performed, listened to, and used in society. Beethoven’s 16 string quartets, composed in groups corresponding to his early, middle, and late periods, leap from one level of sophistication to the next. They tell the complete story of one of history’s greatest artists, a composer possessed of an inexplicable, cosmic genius whose work continues to transcend the confines of era, style, or nationality.
The Danish String Quartet performs the quartets in the order that Beethoven composed them, between 1798 and 1826. Join us for one of music’s incomparable journeys."
"From the beginning Beethoven was not afraid of anybody, but he was also very aware, genre by genre and medium by medium, of what the competition was."
"The attraction of a Beethoven cycle lies in the imperfections, the raw directness, and an omnipresent fragile humanity."
—Danish String Quartet
"Behind Beethoven’s back Haydn called him sardonically, “The Great Mogul”— in today’s terms, The Big Shot."
—Danish String Quartet
"Behind Beethoven’s back Haydn called him sardonically, “The Great Mogul”— in today’s terms, The Big Shot."
"SOMETHING TO KNOW: Beethoven waited until he was nearly 30 to write his first string quartets because he knew they would be compared to the quartetmasterpieces of Haydn and Mozart.
SOMETHING TO LISTEN FOR: Beethoven composed Op. 18, No. 1 second but placed it first in the set. He spent a lot of time on it—writing at least two versions— and it has an attention grabbing, high-energy opening movement followed by a long-breathed slow movement based on the tomb scene of Romeo and Juliet.
In 1798, Beethoven, at age 27 a rising young composer in Vienna, was commissioned by his patron Prince Lobkowitz for six string quartets. They became Op. 18, published in two sets of three in 1800. This was at once a big opportunity for him and a daunting project, but he was prepared for it, having just warmed up with the splendid String Trios of Op. 9. In the later 18th century, string quartets were the most popular medium of chamber music, played not in public but in the parlors and music rooms of the aristocracy and the well-to-do. Beethoven was familiar with house music because most of his career as a piano virtuoso was within that milieu. Though often there were moonlighting professionals involved, house music performers were mostly amateurs, some of them highly skilled, but still inevitably a mixed bag.
Over the years hundreds of string quartets had been written for that setting. Traditionally they were relatively light works, not too hard to play, geared for the sociable atmosphere of house concerts mounted for a small group of listeners, who during the music might be chatting, playing cards, sampling a buffet. Often, quartets were done with no audience, for the pleasure of the players. Since the players’ skills were unpredictable, quartets were largely written to feature the first violin, the other instruments in supporting roles.
In the later 18th century that paradigm for the style and setting of quartets was not so much changed as amplified by Haydn, who wrote some 68 string quartets in the course of his career. In the process he enlarged the ambition of the genre, among other things making the four instruments more nearly equal in the musical discourse. Largely because of Haydn, the string quartet acquired a reputation as the most sophisticated and important chamber music genre, written mainly for the appreciation of connoisseurs, often described as a conversation of four equals, and revealing not only the composer’s craft but his most refined and intimate voice. In his own time Haydn was dubbed “father of the string quartet” (and likewise with symphonies). In other words, nearly single-handedly he created the sense of a string quartet that has endured ever since. Mozart studied Haydn’s work intensively before issuing his first mature ones, which he dedicated to Haydn.
That was where the genre lay when Beethoven picked it up. When he came to write his first quartets, however, the situation placed on him a particular burden: when Prince Lobkowitz commissioned them from Beethoven he also commissioned a set from Haydn.
SOMETHING TO LISTEN FOR: Beethoven composed Op. 18, No. 1 second but placed it first in the set. He spent a lot of time on it—writing at least two versions— and it has an attention grabbing, high-energy opening movement followed by a long-breathed slow movement based on the tomb scene of Romeo and Juliet.
In 1798, Beethoven, at age 27 a rising young composer in Vienna, was commissioned by his patron Prince Lobkowitz for six string quartets. They became Op. 18, published in two sets of three in 1800. This was at once a big opportunity for him and a daunting project, but he was prepared for it, having just warmed up with the splendid String Trios of Op. 9. In the later 18th century, string quartets were the most popular medium of chamber music, played not in public but in the parlors and music rooms of the aristocracy and the well-to-do. Beethoven was familiar with house music because most of his career as a piano virtuoso was within that milieu. Though often there were moonlighting professionals involved, house music performers were mostly amateurs, some of them highly skilled, but still inevitably a mixed bag.
Over the years hundreds of string quartets had been written for that setting. Traditionally they were relatively light works, not too hard to play, geared for the sociable atmosphere of house concerts mounted for a small group of listeners, who during the music might be chatting, playing cards, sampling a buffet. Often, quartets were done with no audience, for the pleasure of the players. Since the players’ skills were unpredictable, quartets were largely written to feature the first violin, the other instruments in supporting roles.
In the later 18th century that paradigm for the style and setting of quartets was not so much changed as amplified by Haydn, who wrote some 68 string quartets in the course of his career. In the process he enlarged the ambition of the genre, among other things making the four instruments more nearly equal in the musical discourse. Largely because of Haydn, the string quartet acquired a reputation as the most sophisticated and important chamber music genre, written mainly for the appreciation of connoisseurs, often described as a conversation of four equals, and revealing not only the composer’s craft but his most refined and intimate voice. In his own time Haydn was dubbed “father of the string quartet” (and likewise with symphonies). In other words, nearly single-handedly he created the sense of a string quartet that has endured ever since. Mozart studied Haydn’s work intensively before issuing his first mature ones, which he dedicated to Haydn.
That was where the genre lay when Beethoven picked it up. When he came to write his first quartets, however, the situation placed on him a particular burden: when Prince Lobkowitz commissioned them from Beethoven he also commissioned a set from Haydn.
In other words, when Beethoven was writing his first quartets he knew he was going to be competing with the man who virtually invented the modern idea of them, and who appeared to be at the peak of his powers. (In fact, by that point Haydn was flagging creatively, busy with his last oratorios, and only finished two of the commissioned six quartets.)
Things were still more delicate because he not only knew Haydn, but a few years before had studied with him. Then and later, their relations were cordial on the surface but bristly underneath. Well acquainted with his former student’s ego, behind Beethoven’s back Haydn called him sardonically, “The Great Mogul”—in today’s terms, The Big Shot. Meanwhile as a composer Haydn was really Beethoven’s only living competitor, and the younger man was not all that happy to have competitors.
So what was Beethoven going to do with his first chance at quartets? Was he going to be bold, or was he going to bide his time? In fact, in his early career he had a consistent pattern when it came to those questions. First, he generally had models: in a given genre he fixed on what seemed to him the best in the repertoire, and used that as a foundation. For symphonies, that meant Haydn and Mozart. For violin sonatas, Mozart. For quartets, Haydn. And so on. At the same time, when Beethoven was dealing with media and genres where Haydn and Mozart had been supreme—symphonies, violin sonatas, and such—he composed cautiously, not treading too aggressively when first stepping onto their turf. When he was on ground where he felt his predecessors had been less ambitious and dominant—say, cello sonatas, piano trios, piano music in general—Beethoven was fearless and bold. When it came to string quartets, in 1798 he did not feel ready to challenge Haydn. That is why, on the whole, the string quartets of Op. 18 tend to sound less “Beethovenian” than, say, the echt-Beethoven Pathétique Piano Sonata, which is Op. 13.
All that is to say that in these works Beethoven was content to explore the medium and bide his time. Meanwhile, typically for him, he studied Haydn quartets and went to an old quartet composer in Vienna named Emanuel Förster to help get himself up to speed. In regard to that, in the middle of work he wrote about an early draft of the F major, which he had loaned a friend: “Be sure not to hand on to anybody your quartet, in which I have made some drastic alterations. For only now have I learned how to write quartets.”
There is another important element concerning the history of Beethoven’s quartets: from beginning to end they were largely premiered by a portly gentleman named Ignaz Schuppanzigh, whom Beethoven first met as a brilliant teenaged violinist. Schuppanzigh was the first musician in Europe to make his name primarily as a chamber music performer; he led several important groups and established the first public subscription series.
Op.18,No.1
An edgy first movement is driven by an obsessive repetition of a single figure... the theme is a blank slate on which changing feelings are going to be written throughout the movement.
The next quartet in the set, No. 2 in G major, is essentially jaunty and ironic from beginning to end, starting with the three distinct gestures of its opening, each like a smiling tip of the hat to the 18th century in general and Haydn in particular. Still, after a genial exposition the development section gets into some more shadowed and intricate places, and that leads to a recapitulation that amounts to a further development. In short, in material and expression the opening movement of the G major is more involved than the playful beginning would suggest, and its ending is quiet and ambiguous. The slow movement starts in an elegantly galant tone, in 3/4, but that is punctured by an eruption of mocking 2/4 serving as trio. From there the complexities continue: the nominal return of the opening material is invaded by filigree recalling the opening of the first movement. Meanwhile in much of the quartet and this slow movement in particular, rather than being relegated to the bass line the cello is a full participant in the dialogue. For third movement Beethoven again writes not the traditional minuet but a jovial scherzo. The dashing finale, led off with a pert tune by the cello alone, leaves behind the emotional vacillations that shaded the first two movements, ending the story with fun and games.
Thus the first three Op. 18 quartets were on the surface lodged in the 18th century quartet tradition, not the Beethoven the new generation would embrace for his boldness and innovation: the Romantic generation exalted revolutionaries. But the pieces are masterful, appealing, often moving works within their context, and part of that is their attention to the rich voice of the cello. Haydn had begun to emancipate the cello, making the quartet more nearly a dialogue of equals. In his habitual fashion of taking the past and expanding and intensifying it, Beethoven through the immense journey of his string quartets would take that idea to its conclusion.
So what was Beethoven going to do with his first chance at quartets? Was he going to be bold, or was he going to bide his time? In fact, in his early career he had a consistent pattern when it came to those questions. First, he generally had models: in a given genre he fixed on what seemed to him the best in the repertoire, and used that as a foundation. For symphonies, that meant Haydn and Mozart. For violin sonatas, Mozart. For quartets, Haydn. And so on. At the same time, when Beethoven was dealing with media and genres where Haydn and Mozart had been supreme—symphonies, violin sonatas, and such—he composed cautiously, not treading too aggressively when first stepping onto their turf. When he was on ground where he felt his predecessors had been less ambitious and dominant—say, cello sonatas, piano trios, piano music in general—Beethoven was fearless and bold. When it came to string quartets, in 1798 he did not feel ready to challenge Haydn. That is why, on the whole, the string quartets of Op. 18 tend to sound less “Beethovenian” than, say, the echt-Beethoven Pathétique Piano Sonata, which is Op. 13.
All that is to say that in these works Beethoven was content to explore the medium and bide his time. Meanwhile, typically for him, he studied Haydn quartets and went to an old quartet composer in Vienna named Emanuel Förster to help get himself up to speed. In regard to that, in the middle of work he wrote about an early draft of the F major, which he had loaned a friend: “Be sure not to hand on to anybody your quartet, in which I have made some drastic alterations. For only now have I learned how to write quartets.”
There is another important element concerning the history of Beethoven’s quartets: from beginning to end they were largely premiered by a portly gentleman named Ignaz Schuppanzigh, whom Beethoven first met as a brilliant teenaged violinist. Schuppanzigh was the first musician in Europe to make his name primarily as a chamber music performer; he led several important groups and established the first public subscription series.
In his maturity Beethoven was going to write revolutionary quartets, and his leading partner in that revolution was Schuppanzigh, who premiered most of them (and, incidentally, sat as concertmaster in the premiere of all the symphonies). Without the hefty and for an artist unlikely-looking Schuppanzigh, the story of Beethoven’s string quartets would have been quite different, and so would have been the history of music.
So the tone of the Op. 18 quartets is largely contemporary rather than prophetic. But these are by no means apprentice works. They show Beethoven as already a master craftsman, with a mature understanding of form and proportion (though that understanding would greatly deepen over the years), who had already found much of his voice though had not fully settled into
it. Still, for all their relative modesty and 18th-century tone, the Op. 18 quartets are ambitious in their way: expressive, widely contrasting in mood and color, as varied as any set by Haydn or Mozart, and full of ideas particular to Beethoven. If his one-time teacher Haydn was their main model, most of the time they sound not at all like Haydn.
This program begins with Op. 18, No. 3 in D major, the first to be written, which is to say that it is, as far as we know, the first complete quartet of Beethoven’s life. It is relatively conventional, easygoing from the first movement’s genial opening featuring the first violin, the central development section uncharacteristically short and undramatic for Beethoven. But the movement also has a tendency to slip into a pensive mood. That mood takes over in a poignant and introspective slow movement in the distant key of B-flat major, which branches into deep-flat keys including the rare and esoteric E-flat minor, a dusky tonality that Beethoven liked. The third movement is neither the traditional minuet nor exactly the faster and usually jollier scherzo that Haydn invented and Beethoven would favor. For one thing, despite its bright key of D major it again has the pensive atmosphere that marks the quartet. All that vanishes in the Presto finale, an effervescent romp full of jokes and Haydnesque rhythmic quirks.
After reading through the quartets with his group, violinist Schuppanzigh advised placing the F major, the second composed, as No. 1 in the published set. Beethoven agreed—it made for a more energetic start. (Quartets were usually issued in collections, but that does not mean they were planned to be performed together. Still, a variety of keys and moods were expected among the pieces.) The F major has the most arresting opening of the group, and may be the most consistent throughout. An edgy first movement is driven by an obsessive repetition of a single figure whose significance is rhythmic as much as melodic. In the first measures of the F major, the figure is presented blankly in a quiet unison, then in a yearning phrase, then in a more aggressive forte. Which is to say that the theme is a blank slate on which changing feelings are going to be written throughout the movement. The opening idea also presents the leading motif of the whole quartet, a turn figure. Between the published version of the F major and the original version, with advice from old hand Emanuel Förster, Beethoven went back and made dozens of changes in details large and small: extending thematic connections, tightening proportions and tonal relations. In the process he trimmed the appearances of the first-movement turn figure from 130 repetitions to 104.
The second movement of the F major is one of the most compelling stretches in Op. 18. Beethoven played over a draft of the movement for a friend, who said it reminded him of the parting of two lovers. Beethoven replied that it was based on the ending of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, where the lovers die. The movement is in D minor, a key in which Beethoven tended to find a kind of singing tragic quality. The movement is slow and warmly impassioned, the main theme a long-breathed, sorrowful song. In the middle a new figure intrudes, like the whirling of fate, and that figure swells relentlessly to a deathly conclusion. There follow a brilliant and delightful scherzo and a briskly dancing, a bit wispy finale that leaves listeners pleased, if perhaps puzzled as to how all this adds up.
So the tone of the Op. 18 quartets is largely contemporary rather than prophetic. But these are by no means apprentice works. They show Beethoven as already a master craftsman, with a mature understanding of form and proportion (though that understanding would greatly deepen over the years), who had already found much of his voice though had not fully settled into
it. Still, for all their relative modesty and 18th-century tone, the Op. 18 quartets are ambitious in their way: expressive, widely contrasting in mood and color, as varied as any set by Haydn or Mozart, and full of ideas particular to Beethoven. If his one-time teacher Haydn was their main model, most of the time they sound not at all like Haydn.
This program begins with Op. 18, No. 3 in D major, the first to be written, which is to say that it is, as far as we know, the first complete quartet of Beethoven’s life. It is relatively conventional, easygoing from the first movement’s genial opening featuring the first violin, the central development section uncharacteristically short and undramatic for Beethoven. But the movement also has a tendency to slip into a pensive mood. That mood takes over in a poignant and introspective slow movement in the distant key of B-flat major, which branches into deep-flat keys including the rare and esoteric E-flat minor, a dusky tonality that Beethoven liked. The third movement is neither the traditional minuet nor exactly the faster and usually jollier scherzo that Haydn invented and Beethoven would favor. For one thing, despite its bright key of D major it again has the pensive atmosphere that marks the quartet. All that vanishes in the Presto finale, an effervescent romp full of jokes and Haydnesque rhythmic quirks.
After reading through the quartets with his group, violinist Schuppanzigh advised placing the F major, the second composed, as No. 1 in the published set. Beethoven agreed—it made for a more energetic start. (Quartets were usually issued in collections, but that does not mean they were planned to be performed together. Still, a variety of keys and moods were expected among the pieces.) The F major has the most arresting opening of the group, and may be the most consistent throughout. An edgy first movement is driven by an obsessive repetition of a single figure whose significance is rhythmic as much as melodic. In the first measures of the F major, the figure is presented blankly in a quiet unison, then in a yearning phrase, then in a more aggressive forte. Which is to say that the theme is a blank slate on which changing feelings are going to be written throughout the movement. The opening idea also presents the leading motif of the whole quartet, a turn figure. Between the published version of the F major and the original version, with advice from old hand Emanuel Förster, Beethoven went back and made dozens of changes in details large and small: extending thematic connections, tightening proportions and tonal relations. In the process he trimmed the appearances of the first-movement turn figure from 130 repetitions to 104.
The second movement of the F major is one of the most compelling stretches in Op. 18. Beethoven played over a draft of the movement for a friend, who said it reminded him of the parting of two lovers. Beethoven replied that it was based on the ending of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, where the lovers die. The movement is in D minor, a key in which Beethoven tended to find a kind of singing tragic quality. The movement is slow and warmly impassioned, the main theme a long-breathed, sorrowful song. In the middle a new figure intrudes, like the whirling of fate, and that figure swells relentlessly to a deathly conclusion. There follow a brilliant and delightful scherzo and a briskly dancing, a bit wispy finale that leaves listeners pleased, if perhaps puzzled as to how all this adds up.
Op.18,No.1
An edgy first movement is driven by an obsessive repetition of a single figure... the theme is a blank slate on which changing feelings are going to be written throughout the movement.
The next quartet in the set, No. 2 in G major, is essentially jaunty and ironic from beginning to end, starting with the three distinct gestures of its opening, each like a smiling tip of the hat to the 18th century in general and Haydn in particular. Still, after a genial exposition the development section gets into some more shadowed and intricate places, and that leads to a recapitulation that amounts to a further development. In short, in material and expression the opening movement of the G major is more involved than the playful beginning would suggest, and its ending is quiet and ambiguous. The slow movement starts in an elegantly galant tone, in 3/4, but that is punctured by an eruption of mocking 2/4 serving as trio. From there the complexities continue: the nominal return of the opening material is invaded by filigree recalling the opening of the first movement. Meanwhile in much of the quartet and this slow movement in particular, rather than being relegated to the bass line the cello is a full participant in the dialogue. For third movement Beethoven again writes not the traditional minuet but a jovial scherzo. The dashing finale, led off with a pert tune by the cello alone, leaves behind the emotional vacillations that shaded the first two movements, ending the story with fun and games.
Thus the first three Op. 18 quartets were on the surface lodged in the 18th century quartet tradition, not the Beethoven the new generation would embrace for his boldness and innovation: the Romantic generation exalted revolutionaries. But the pieces are masterful, appealing, often moving works within their context, and part of that is their attention to the rich voice of the cello. Haydn had begun to emancipate the cello, making the quartet more nearly a dialogue of equals. In his habitual fashion of taking the past and expanding and intensifying it, Beethoven through the immense journey of his string quartets would take that idea to its conclusion.
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