Beethoven’s Piano Sonata
Many people refer to Beethoven’s piano sonata as the bible of piano solo music. 32 sonatas in various styles, from the Baroque influence, to the Classical style of sonata form, and ending with the newly burgeoning Romantic Era of music where composers like Liszt and Chopin flourished. However, it was Beethoven who transcended the Classical music style and adventured into new forms of composing in his later compositions.
It would only be appropriate to have my first music blog on the sonatas because I am a fan of them. As a child, I often listened to Alfred Brendel’s recording of all 32 sonatas on cassette tapes. Being able to play some piano myself, I picked up a few pieces, here and there, of the sonatas that I can play. To date, I have learned to play (and forgotten how to play) four sonatas, Op 2 No 1, Pathetique sonata, Moonlight sonata, and Op 49 No 2. My most recent adventure is to learn the Tempest Sonata Op 31 No 2, which I am now on the second movement. My passion for these sonatas may be due to psychological brainwashing of listening to them too many times. Furthermore, it’s not just one recording set, I have listened to Ashkenazy’s recording on all the sonatas as well as Claudio Arrau’s. I must confess that I enjoy Arrau’s the most. Probably because Arrau’s playing style has more rubato since he played more Romantic composers and was formally a student of Liszt’s student. Brendel might give Beethoven more justice because I highly doubt most of the sonatas can be played with rubato. Yet that’s the versatility about Beethoven’s sonata style and form. (I’m getting the Brendel collection on mp3 so I can compare Arrau’s to Brendel’s better.)
Regardless of the recording, the sonatas speak for themselves. Specially the last three sonatas, Op 109, 110, and 111. These were composed when Beethoven had already gone deaf. Even still, he was still able to create music that pleases the ear. Of all the sonatas, I have listened to these three the most. At one time, I attempted to play the second movement of Op111, but that wasn’t a fruitful attempt. Op111 is a masterpiece, in my mind. It starts out slow but strong, and crescendos to the theme of the movement. The theme is a three-note motif that resembles the Fifth’s opening four-note motif. The first movement ends in a diminishing piano and segues into the second movement. In the second movement, it is an arietta. It is not a cakewalk to play if you have look through the music score, particularly the trills-containing measures. This is a slow movement but it sets the mood at the very beginning as a solemn end to the sonata. The movement then slowly develops into a livelier piece where it seems like a celebration than a solemn aria. Like a song, this movement suddenly changes its mood into a peaceful-like harmony with what sounds like dancing-notes and reverberation of distant sounds. Eventually, this sonata comes to an end in silence—a satisfying silence. To me, I felt like Beethoven used this piece to conclude his piano sonata series and to experiment with new elements in music writing.
I have included some excerpts by Alfred Brendel about Beethoven’s piano sonata. I have also included a 7-minute mp3 clip of the second half of the second movement. Simply click on the “Link Page” link to the right, under the Sites I read heading.
The New Style by Alfred Brendel
Beethoven’s late style still strikes me as unexpected and prodigious. Everything by way of preparation, all the portents and new departures apparent in works like the Op74 and 95 Quartets or the Sonatas “quasi una Fantasia” Op 27 hardly mitigate the astonishing impression made by the two cell sonatas Op 102. They come upon us as a violent shock – the beginning of a new style, so diverse as to elude almost any definition.
The complexity of his late style may be broken down into a new delicacy and density of detail and a new strictness and refinement in the polyphonic part-writing. Diversity of detail now complements the spacious vision of the Waldstein and Appassionata sonatas, the emperor concerto, or the Archduke trio. A new attitude to minaturism develops: as with the slow introduction to the finale of Op 101 or the scherzo of Op 106, extremely concise features are incorporated within the context of large forms, though they may also be left on their own, as in the late Bagatelles.
The polyphony which now pervades Beethoven’s part-writing, even in the most homophonic sections, is the first indication that in his late works he was much more open to Baroque influences than ever before. This polyphony “turns the bass into melody” (Walter Riezler) and, with the aid of fugal form, provides climaxes in the sonatas, the great B flat Quartet, the “Diabelli” variations, the missa solemnis, and the finale in the Ninth. But the lingering influence of the recitative, the aria (sometimes richly ornamented), and the chacoone is of Baroque origin. The new polyphony not only increases the refinement of the music but also makes it more radical and uncompromising.
Sonatas Op 109, 110, and 111
The last trilogy of sonatas was written in 1820-22 in conjunction with Beethoven’s work on the Missa solemnis. All three are similar in that they end in a new way. These are endings which no longer really finish off a work in a completely unequivocal manner of the last chords of Op 106. Instead these endings grow out of the music itself; Op 109 withdraws into a silent inner world, Op 110 ends in euphoric self-immolation, and Op 111 surrenders itself into silence.
Beethoven’s C minor Sonata Op 111 leaves us with a dual impression – as the final testimony of his sonatas and as a prelude to silence. Its two movements confront each other as thesis and antithesis. We recall attempts at interpretation such as Bulow’s “Samsara and Nirvana, “ Edwin Fischer’s “Wordly and otherwordly,” “Resistance and Submission” (Lenz), the real and the mystical world, or the principle of masculine and feminine which Beethoven himself was so fond of expounding. In the context of musical form this contrast is one of animation against repose. The forms with the most compelling animation are sonata and fugue; the allegro of Op 111 is in a sonata form suffused with fugal elements. The form representing tranquil constancy with change is a set of variations; the adagio of Op 111 is again a variation movement of progressive rhythmic foreshortening, such as is known from the Baroque chaconne, and even more consistently worked out than in the finale of Op 109. Here too the beginning of the first movement immediately determines its basic character, one of angry revolt. At the same time it provides a thematic seed for the whole sonata, the space within the interval E flat-B natural. Psychologically and materially Schubert’s setting of Goethe’s “Der Atlas” is closely akin to the first movement of Op 111. The maestoso introduction and the main allegro stand in a dominant-tonic relationship. The tempo marking allegro con brio ed appassionato shows that there Beethoven is not enthroned on Olympus. In the adagio it is the words semplice e cantabile which show performers the way. What is meant here is not ingenuousness or childish sweetness, but simplicity as a result of complexity – distilled experience.
There is indeed nowhere in piano literature where one feels closer to a mystical awareness. A cadenza-like interlude between the fourth and fifth variations surprisingly leaves the home key. When the music touches E flat major the focal point of enlightenment is reached. A phrase of an irregular, slightly expanded length leads to the ultimate C major chord of the work; we sense that the silence which follows is more important than the sound which preceded it.
Many people refer to Beethoven’s piano sonata as the bible of piano solo music. 32 sonatas in various styles, from the Baroque influence, to the Classical style of sonata form, and ending with the newly burgeoning Romantic Era of music where composers like Liszt and Chopin flourished. However, it was Beethoven who transcended the Classical music style and adventured into new forms of composing in his later compositions.
It would only be appropriate to have my first music blog on the sonatas because I am a fan of them. As a child, I often listened to Alfred Brendel’s recording of all 32 sonatas on cassette tapes. Being able to play some piano myself, I picked up a few pieces, here and there, of the sonatas that I can play. To date, I have learned to play (and forgotten how to play) four sonatas, Op 2 No 1, Pathetique sonata, Moonlight sonata, and Op 49 No 2. My most recent adventure is to learn the Tempest Sonata Op 31 No 2, which I am now on the second movement. My passion for these sonatas may be due to psychological brainwashing of listening to them too many times. Furthermore, it’s not just one recording set, I have listened to Ashkenazy’s recording on all the sonatas as well as Claudio Arrau’s. I must confess that I enjoy Arrau’s the most. Probably because Arrau’s playing style has more rubato since he played more Romantic composers and was formally a student of Liszt’s student. Brendel might give Beethoven more justice because I highly doubt most of the sonatas can be played with rubato. Yet that’s the versatility about Beethoven’s sonata style and form. (I’m getting the Brendel collection on mp3 so I can compare Arrau’s to Brendel’s better.)
Regardless of the recording, the sonatas speak for themselves. Specially the last three sonatas, Op 109, 110, and 111. These were composed when Beethoven had already gone deaf. Even still, he was still able to create music that pleases the ear. Of all the sonatas, I have listened to these three the most. At one time, I attempted to play the second movement of Op111, but that wasn’t a fruitful attempt. Op111 is a masterpiece, in my mind. It starts out slow but strong, and crescendos to the theme of the movement. The theme is a three-note motif that resembles the Fifth’s opening four-note motif. The first movement ends in a diminishing piano and segues into the second movement. In the second movement, it is an arietta. It is not a cakewalk to play if you have look through the music score, particularly the trills-containing measures. This is a slow movement but it sets the mood at the very beginning as a solemn end to the sonata. The movement then slowly develops into a livelier piece where it seems like a celebration than a solemn aria. Like a song, this movement suddenly changes its mood into a peaceful-like harmony with what sounds like dancing-notes and reverberation of distant sounds. Eventually, this sonata comes to an end in silence—a satisfying silence. To me, I felt like Beethoven used this piece to conclude his piano sonata series and to experiment with new elements in music writing.
I have included some excerpts by Alfred Brendel about Beethoven’s piano sonata. I have also included a 7-minute mp3 clip of the second half of the second movement. Simply click on the “Link Page” link to the right, under the Sites I read heading.
The New Style by Alfred Brendel
Beethoven’s late style still strikes me as unexpected and prodigious. Everything by way of preparation, all the portents and new departures apparent in works like the Op74 and 95 Quartets or the Sonatas “quasi una Fantasia” Op 27 hardly mitigate the astonishing impression made by the two cell sonatas Op 102. They come upon us as a violent shock – the beginning of a new style, so diverse as to elude almost any definition.
The complexity of his late style may be broken down into a new delicacy and density of detail and a new strictness and refinement in the polyphonic part-writing. Diversity of detail now complements the spacious vision of the Waldstein and Appassionata sonatas, the emperor concerto, or the Archduke trio. A new attitude to minaturism develops: as with the slow introduction to the finale of Op 101 or the scherzo of Op 106, extremely concise features are incorporated within the context of large forms, though they may also be left on their own, as in the late Bagatelles.
The polyphony which now pervades Beethoven’s part-writing, even in the most homophonic sections, is the first indication that in his late works he was much more open to Baroque influences than ever before. This polyphony “turns the bass into melody” (Walter Riezler) and, with the aid of fugal form, provides climaxes in the sonatas, the great B flat Quartet, the “Diabelli” variations, the missa solemnis, and the finale in the Ninth. But the lingering influence of the recitative, the aria (sometimes richly ornamented), and the chacoone is of Baroque origin. The new polyphony not only increases the refinement of the music but also makes it more radical and uncompromising.
Sonatas Op 109, 110, and 111
The last trilogy of sonatas was written in 1820-22 in conjunction with Beethoven’s work on the Missa solemnis. All three are similar in that they end in a new way. These are endings which no longer really finish off a work in a completely unequivocal manner of the last chords of Op 106. Instead these endings grow out of the music itself; Op 109 withdraws into a silent inner world, Op 110 ends in euphoric self-immolation, and Op 111 surrenders itself into silence.
Beethoven’s C minor Sonata Op 111 leaves us with a dual impression – as the final testimony of his sonatas and as a prelude to silence. Its two movements confront each other as thesis and antithesis. We recall attempts at interpretation such as Bulow’s “Samsara and Nirvana, “ Edwin Fischer’s “Wordly and otherwordly,” “Resistance and Submission” (Lenz), the real and the mystical world, or the principle of masculine and feminine which Beethoven himself was so fond of expounding. In the context of musical form this contrast is one of animation against repose. The forms with the most compelling animation are sonata and fugue; the allegro of Op 111 is in a sonata form suffused with fugal elements. The form representing tranquil constancy with change is a set of variations; the adagio of Op 111 is again a variation movement of progressive rhythmic foreshortening, such as is known from the Baroque chaconne, and even more consistently worked out than in the finale of Op 109. Here too the beginning of the first movement immediately determines its basic character, one of angry revolt. At the same time it provides a thematic seed for the whole sonata, the space within the interval E flat-B natural. Psychologically and materially Schubert’s setting of Goethe’s “Der Atlas” is closely akin to the first movement of Op 111. The maestoso introduction and the main allegro stand in a dominant-tonic relationship. The tempo marking allegro con brio ed appassionato shows that there Beethoven is not enthroned on Olympus. In the adagio it is the words semplice e cantabile which show performers the way. What is meant here is not ingenuousness or childish sweetness, but simplicity as a result of complexity – distilled experience.
There is indeed nowhere in piano literature where one feels closer to a mystical awareness. A cadenza-like interlude between the fourth and fifth variations surprisingly leaves the home key. When the music touches E flat major the focal point of enlightenment is reached. A phrase of an irregular, slightly expanded length leads to the ultimate C major chord of the work; we sense that the silence which follows is more important than the sound which preceded it.
