Pietro Soraci - Schumann, Brahms: Complete Piano Sonatas (2025)
BAND/ARTIST: Pietro Soraci
- Title: Schumann, Brahms: Complete Piano Sonatas
- Year Of Release: 2025
- Label: Da Vinci Classics
- Genre: Classical Piano
- Quality: flac lossless (tracks)
- Total Time: 02:56:39
- Total Size: 618 mb
- WebSite: Album Preview
Tracklist
CD1
01. Piano Sonata No.1 in F-Sharp Minor, Op. 11: I. Introduzione: Un poco Adagio - Allegro vivace
02. Piano Sonata No.1 in F-Sharp Minor, Op. 11: II. Aria
03. Piano Sonata No.1 in F-Sharp Minor, Op. 11: III. Scherzo: Allegrissimo - intermezzo: Lento
04. Piano Sonata No.1 in F-Sharp Minor, Op. 11: IV. Finale: Allegro, un poco maestoso
05. Piano Sonata No.2 in G Minor, Op. 22: I. So rasch wie möglich
06. Piano Sonata No.2 in G Minor, Op. 22: II. Andantino. Getragen
07. Piano Sonata No.2 in G Minor, Op. 22: III. Scherzo. Sehr rasch und markiert
08. Piano Sonata No.2 in G Minor, Op. 22: IV. Rondo. Presto
CD2
01. Piano Sonata No.3 in F Minor, Op. 14: I. Allegro
02. Piano Sonata No.3 in F Minor, Op. 14: II. Scherzo: Molto comodo
03. Piano Sonata No.3 in F Minor, Op. 14: III. Quasi Variazioni – Andantino de Clara Wieck
04. Piano Sonata No.3 in F Minor, Op. 14: IV. Prestissimo possibile
05. Piano Sonata No.1 in C Major, Op. 1: I. Allegro
06. Piano Sonata No.1 in C Major, Op. 1: II. Andante
07. Piano Sonata No.1 in C Major, Op. 1: III. Scherzo: Allegro molto e con fuoco - Più mosso
08. Piano Sonata No.1 in C Major, Op. 1: IV. Finale: Allegro con fuoco
CD3
01. Piano Sonata No.2 in F-Sharp Minor, Op. 2: I. Allegro non troppo ma energico
02. Piano Sonata No.2 in F-Sharp Minor, Op. 2: II. Andante con espressione
03. Piano Sonata No.2 in F-Sharp Minor, Op. 2: III. Scherzo. Allegro — Trio. Poco più moderato
04. Piano Sonata No.2 in F-Sharp Minor, Op. 2: IV. Finale. Sostenuto — Allegro non troppo e rubato
05. Piano Sonata No.3 in F Minor, Op. 5: I. Allegro maestoso
06. Piano Sonata No.3 in F Minor, Op. 5: II. Andante espressivo
07. Piano Sonata No.3 in F Minor, Op. 5: III. Scherzo. Allegro energico — Trio
08. Piano Sonata No.3 in F Minor, Op. 5: IV. Intermezzo. Andante molto
09. Piano Sonata No.3 in F Minor, Op. 5: V. Finale. Allegro moderato ma rubato
Music and philosophy have a long history of mutual friendship, reciprocal influences, and constant dialogue. This does not only concern philosophers who wrote about music, and/or who saw music as an important component of their system of thought (from Plato to Hegel, Schopenhauer and Nietzsche, to name but three). It also concerns music’s own language, the way music expresses meaning (in terms of emotions, affections, but also concepts) and how that meaning intertwines with the ideas of philosophy.
Normally, in this latter case, music comes slightly later than philosophy – although there are instances of music actually anticipating philosophy in the elaboration of a given concept. However, a case in point for the interaction between music and philosophy concerns Sonata forms and their intellectual meaning. The Classical Sonata form is a brainchild of the Enlightenment. The underlying principle is the creation of two themes whose initial features are as distant as possible from each other. If theme A is staccato, theme B will be legato; if theme A is cantabile, theme B may be fragmented and playful; if theme A is rhythmical, theme B will be more melodious; etc. Furthermore, the two themes are presented in two different keys the first time, in the Exposition. Then, during Development, the two themes encounter each other, and this encounter frequently implies metaphorical bloodshed. Beethoven – the undisputed master of Sonata form – had an exceptional and unequalled ability to create themes which lent themselves to be broken into very short and very memorable splinters, which he could combine in a highly creative and stimulating fashion.
After this musical duel, the two themes would reappear, reconciled, in the Recapitulation, where they would both be stated in the same key, as a token of appeasement.
As said, this principle is consonant with Enlightenment approaches. The underlying idea is that Reason, the driving force of the eighteenth century, may bring peace and balance between opposing principles; that there is nothing, virtually, that a good, healthy, robust discussion may not solve. This aesthetical view is the true expression of Classicist and Enlightened ideals.
The same Sonata form, however, was to be used in the following era, whose guiding principles were entirely at odds with those of the Enlightenment. Romanticism put the subject in the forefront, and his or her feelings as the protagonists of all art forms, of all expressivity. And feelings are, by their very nature, entirely individual, subjective, personal. The aspect of opposition of the Sonata form did lend itself to the musical rendering of this approach, but, certainly, the ideals of composure and balance found in the Classical attitude could not find a home within the Romantic framework.
This may be one of the reasons why Romantic composers found it so difficult to approach Sonata forms in general. Indeed, one of the two protagonists of this Da Vinci Classics album, i.e. Johannes Brahms, struggled for the first four decades of his life with the Symphony, which embodies the perfection of a Sonata form. He deeply wanted to write one, but felt himself inadequate, and therefore his approach to that Sonata form was slow, painful, difficult. And, objectively, there is none of the great Romantic composers who wrote as many Piano Sonatas as Beethoven, whose 32 masterpieces remain unrivalled and unmatched.
Still, Schumann and Brahms remain two giants of the Romantic era, and two of the musicians who best represent its mood, its features, and also its pianism. Both were exceptionally skilled pianists, although neither of them identified with the piano in such a close fashion as, for instance, Chopin or Liszt – or Moscheles or similar Romantic virtuosi.
Indeed, the early output of Schumann was entirely consecrated to the piano. His ambition was actually to become the pianistic equivalent of Paganini, whom he admired enormously as a violin virtuoso. Schumann was a piano student in the class of Frederick Wieck, a great pedagogue who also happened to have a daughter, nine years Schumann’s junior. She was an exceptionally gifted pianist herself, and she was also a charming young girl. Schumann was caught by her personality, and would soon fall in love with her, to the chagrin of Wieck sr., who had intuited Schumann’s complex personality and the trouble it could pose to his daughter Clara.
In spite of the determination he poured in his efforts to acquire the skills of a great virtuoso, Schumann’s career as a pianist never took off. Part of the problem was Schumann’s unwise attempt to empower his technique through the use of a mechanical device, which ended up ruining one of his fingers and therefore compromising his chances to become a famous pianist forever.
Nevertheless, all of the great masterpieces of Schumann’s youthful years are consecrated to the piano, and, interestingly, most of them took the form of cycles of miniature pieces, in the fashion of suites, or of collections of aphorisms. This does not imply that those “miniatures” are easy or simplistic: quite the contrary. The cycles themselves are frequently gigantic (such as Davidsbündlertänze or Carnaval), and their difficulty may be frightening.
Within this background, the three Sonatas represent three special cases, deserving our full attention and the special interest of both performers and listeners.
The complex genesis of the first Sonata reveals both Schumann’s fascination with this genre and his difficulty in handling it. The originating kernel of this work is a Lied, “An Anna”, written in 1828, when Schumann was just eighteen (the year he got to know his future wife Clara, who was a girl of nine). This Lied belonged in a collection of songs dedicated to Schumann’s three sisters-in-law. The Lied was then reused within the Sonata, whose actual compositional process began in 1833 and would last for two more years (a very long time by Schumann’s standard). The finished work is signed by “Florestan and Eusebius”. These were two imaginary characters which became Schumann’s twofold pen-name. He took the idea for them from a novel, Flegeljahre, by his favourite author, i.e. Jean-Paul Richter. The protagonists of Flegeljahre are two twin brothers, Vult (corresponding to Florestan), who is sanguine, choleric, but also generous and boisterous, and Walt (corresponding to Eusebius), who is a poet, a dreamer, and a quintessentially Romantic figure. Their two complementary attitudes mirror Schumann’s own personality, divided between roaring elan and enchanted contemplation.
Starting with Carnaval, where Florestan and Eusebius are just two among the many characters featuring in the cortege, and passing from Davidsbündlertänze (where each Dance is signed by either Florestan, or Eusebius, or both of them), these two names become the true interpretive key for Schumann’s creativity. Their contrasting personalities are evidently present also in the Sonata op. 11, which is articulated into four, very different, movements. The finished work is dedicated to Clara Wieck, the fascinating daughter of Schumann’s teacher, and is one of the many tokens of her future husband’s love.
After a touching, slow introduction, with some heroic tinges, an enchanted melody comes to the surface: it is precisely that of An Anna, whose beautiful tune is a perfect expression of “Eusebius’” personality. Initially conceived as a Fandango, the ensuing Allegro vivace is a galloping ride, punctuated by suspensions. The second movement, an Aria, rehearses once more the beauty of the initial melody, that of the youthful Lied, although now there is no tension between the heroic and the poetic side. A Scherzo combined with an Intermezzo follows suit, with two intertwining Trios. Its form is very unusual and bears witness to the young composer’s creativity.
Finally, the concluding movement is a Rondo-Sonata, with a noble, aristocratic flair, and some contrasting themes which, at times, reach keys which are tonally very far away from the harmonic “home” of this movement and of the entire Sonata. Still, the young composer handles these problems perfectly and shows his mastery of this complex form.
The Second Sonata had an equally complex genesis: here too the first seed of the work is to be found in a Lied of 1828, titled In Herbste, later transcribed for solo piano. In 1833, i.e. one year after the First Sonata, Schumann re-employed that individual piece as the slow movement to be inserted between two newly composed pieces. The final movement, written in 1835, did not receive Clara’s approval, as she found it exceedingly difficult – and this was something to say, coming, as it did, from an exceptional virtuosa. That first version of the finale would later become an independent work, which however remained unpublished until after Schumann’s death and is now known as Presto passionato. The published Finale of this Sonata was composed in 1838 and published the following year in Leipzig by Breitkopf & Härtel; the entire Sonata would be premiered by Clara in 1840 in Berlin.
The first movement, while abiding to the traditional rules of the Sonata form, reinterprets them in a highly original fashion. Schumann’s famous indication, to play “as quickly as possible”, is topped by two equally famous prescriptions towards the end of the movement, when the pianist is asked to play “faster” and “still faster”. The thrilling impression of utter speed given by this movement is tempered by the lyrical quality of the second movement, where the youthful Lied is presented both in a simple and in a varied form. The very compact and short Scherzo is Beethovenian in concept, with its angular and brusque form. The final Rondo is another perpetuum mobile, where the motoric drive of the first movement is resumed and reinterpreted. The concluding gestures, with sudden interruptions and the resumption of a gallopade, are memorable.
Three versions exist also as concerns the third Sonata, written in 1836 and revised in 1853; the second and third versions are both complete and were both published during Schumann’s lifetime. By way of contrast, the first (1836), in five movements, has an unfinished Finale. The 1836 version was published as a Concerto sans Orchestre, highlighting the extroverted, spectacular nature of this movement and its concept as a piece to be played by a virtuoso and for a large audience. The two Scherzos found in the first version are omitted here, and the Variations on a Theme by Clara Wieck are shortened. The third and last version, called Sonata no. 3, resumes the second Scherzo of the first version, and the other main changes regard the first movement. Here too a magnificent impetus drives the first movement, whose epic character is rather impressive. The most touching element is the Andantino de Clara Wieck, where the simple but poignant theme of Schumann’s beloved is enriched by four (or six: in the first version) Variations expressing the composer’s affectionate respect for his fiancée’s artistry. Once more, the concluding movement is a breathtaking adventure, which challenges the performer’s technique but especially keeps the listener glued to the unfolding wonders it displays.
When Johannes Brahms came to the Schumanns’ household, he was in turn a very young and extremely promising musician. Schumann, who had founded a journal (where he often wrote with the pseudonyms of Florestan and Eusebius) wrote a memorable article, called New Ways, in which he presented to the readership of his review the talent and genius of his new friend. The First Piano Sonata had been written by Brahms when he was still in Hamburg, and its composition date actually follows that of the Second Sonata. However, the young composer chose to give the privilege of primogeniture to this one because he wished to issue, as his Op. 1, the best work he had written so far.
Schumann was behind the publication of this first fruit of Brahms’ pen, since, with his typical generosity, he promoted his young friend recommending him to the publisher. The dedicatee of this Sonata was Joseph Joachim, a friend of both Schumann and Brahms, and an exceptional violinist.
From the viewpoint of form, the first movement of this Sonata does not stray away from the typical mould of the Classical Sonata. Yet, it is imbued with quintessentially Romantic features, and represents the personality of the young composer perfectly. His bold stance is also expressed by the veiled (or not so veiled) allusion to the opening theme of Beethoven’s Hammerklavier Sonata, justly considered as “the” most challenging Piano Sonata of the entire repertoire. The second movement, once more, is a variated Lied, which, here too, would see various versions. In particular, Brahms decided to re-employ it as a piece for female choir, issued in 1859. A fiery Scherzo occupies the place of the third movement, whilst the fourth movement bespeaks the young composer’s pianistic ambitions, with the extreme virtuosity it requires.
The Second Sonata, which, as said, predates the First, was written in 1852 and published in Leipzig the following year. It is dedicated, unsurprisingly, to Clara Schumann, whose friendship Brahms cherished for their entire lives. The first movement adds some spice to the traditional Sonata form, with a third theme stealthily intruding in between the traditional two. The short second movement, a touching Andante con espressione, alludes to the Variation form which will resurface in the finale. Thematic relationships bind the second and third movement, since the Scherzo resumes some ideas found in the second movement. The concluding movement displays the full palette of Brahms’ fantasy, and unites virtuosity with contemplation, religious composure with rhapsodic momentum.
The Third Sonata is probably the best known of the three, and is probably the most symphonic of them (such was Schumann’s impression). It was the piece which convinced Schumann of his young friend’s genius, and unsurprisingly so. The first movement opens with a very famous musical gesture, transmitting the epos of the young pianist; however, the tender and refined aspects of his musicianship find also a way to surface. The second movement is one of the most lyrical pages written by the young Brahms, and it seems to anticipate the “autumnal” mood of many of his more mature works. The third movement, the Scherzo, conquered Clara Schumann’s enthusiasm, with its Viennese suggestions and its brilliant rhythmic pace. The Intermezzo is yet another foretaste of the enchanted pages which will come from Brahms’ pen in his later years, whilst the finale is an enthralling work, whose compelling energy does not fail to impress the listener.
Together, these six masterpieces recount a tale of friendship, of genius, of exploration of form, of expression of the self, of the building of a new aesthetics of the Romantic Piano Sonata.
CD1
01. Piano Sonata No.1 in F-Sharp Minor, Op. 11: I. Introduzione: Un poco Adagio - Allegro vivace
02. Piano Sonata No.1 in F-Sharp Minor, Op. 11: II. Aria
03. Piano Sonata No.1 in F-Sharp Minor, Op. 11: III. Scherzo: Allegrissimo - intermezzo: Lento
04. Piano Sonata No.1 in F-Sharp Minor, Op. 11: IV. Finale: Allegro, un poco maestoso
05. Piano Sonata No.2 in G Minor, Op. 22: I. So rasch wie möglich
06. Piano Sonata No.2 in G Minor, Op. 22: II. Andantino. Getragen
07. Piano Sonata No.2 in G Minor, Op. 22: III. Scherzo. Sehr rasch und markiert
08. Piano Sonata No.2 in G Minor, Op. 22: IV. Rondo. Presto
CD2
01. Piano Sonata No.3 in F Minor, Op. 14: I. Allegro
02. Piano Sonata No.3 in F Minor, Op. 14: II. Scherzo: Molto comodo
03. Piano Sonata No.3 in F Minor, Op. 14: III. Quasi Variazioni – Andantino de Clara Wieck
04. Piano Sonata No.3 in F Minor, Op. 14: IV. Prestissimo possibile
05. Piano Sonata No.1 in C Major, Op. 1: I. Allegro
06. Piano Sonata No.1 in C Major, Op. 1: II. Andante
07. Piano Sonata No.1 in C Major, Op. 1: III. Scherzo: Allegro molto e con fuoco - Più mosso
08. Piano Sonata No.1 in C Major, Op. 1: IV. Finale: Allegro con fuoco
CD3
01. Piano Sonata No.2 in F-Sharp Minor, Op. 2: I. Allegro non troppo ma energico
02. Piano Sonata No.2 in F-Sharp Minor, Op. 2: II. Andante con espressione
03. Piano Sonata No.2 in F-Sharp Minor, Op. 2: III. Scherzo. Allegro — Trio. Poco più moderato
04. Piano Sonata No.2 in F-Sharp Minor, Op. 2: IV. Finale. Sostenuto — Allegro non troppo e rubato
05. Piano Sonata No.3 in F Minor, Op. 5: I. Allegro maestoso
06. Piano Sonata No.3 in F Minor, Op. 5: II. Andante espressivo
07. Piano Sonata No.3 in F Minor, Op. 5: III. Scherzo. Allegro energico — Trio
08. Piano Sonata No.3 in F Minor, Op. 5: IV. Intermezzo. Andante molto
09. Piano Sonata No.3 in F Minor, Op. 5: V. Finale. Allegro moderato ma rubato
Music and philosophy have a long history of mutual friendship, reciprocal influences, and constant dialogue. This does not only concern philosophers who wrote about music, and/or who saw music as an important component of their system of thought (from Plato to Hegel, Schopenhauer and Nietzsche, to name but three). It also concerns music’s own language, the way music expresses meaning (in terms of emotions, affections, but also concepts) and how that meaning intertwines with the ideas of philosophy.
Normally, in this latter case, music comes slightly later than philosophy – although there are instances of music actually anticipating philosophy in the elaboration of a given concept. However, a case in point for the interaction between music and philosophy concerns Sonata forms and their intellectual meaning. The Classical Sonata form is a brainchild of the Enlightenment. The underlying principle is the creation of two themes whose initial features are as distant as possible from each other. If theme A is staccato, theme B will be legato; if theme A is cantabile, theme B may be fragmented and playful; if theme A is rhythmical, theme B will be more melodious; etc. Furthermore, the two themes are presented in two different keys the first time, in the Exposition. Then, during Development, the two themes encounter each other, and this encounter frequently implies metaphorical bloodshed. Beethoven – the undisputed master of Sonata form – had an exceptional and unequalled ability to create themes which lent themselves to be broken into very short and very memorable splinters, which he could combine in a highly creative and stimulating fashion.
After this musical duel, the two themes would reappear, reconciled, in the Recapitulation, where they would both be stated in the same key, as a token of appeasement.
As said, this principle is consonant with Enlightenment approaches. The underlying idea is that Reason, the driving force of the eighteenth century, may bring peace and balance between opposing principles; that there is nothing, virtually, that a good, healthy, robust discussion may not solve. This aesthetical view is the true expression of Classicist and Enlightened ideals.
The same Sonata form, however, was to be used in the following era, whose guiding principles were entirely at odds with those of the Enlightenment. Romanticism put the subject in the forefront, and his or her feelings as the protagonists of all art forms, of all expressivity. And feelings are, by their very nature, entirely individual, subjective, personal. The aspect of opposition of the Sonata form did lend itself to the musical rendering of this approach, but, certainly, the ideals of composure and balance found in the Classical attitude could not find a home within the Romantic framework.
This may be one of the reasons why Romantic composers found it so difficult to approach Sonata forms in general. Indeed, one of the two protagonists of this Da Vinci Classics album, i.e. Johannes Brahms, struggled for the first four decades of his life with the Symphony, which embodies the perfection of a Sonata form. He deeply wanted to write one, but felt himself inadequate, and therefore his approach to that Sonata form was slow, painful, difficult. And, objectively, there is none of the great Romantic composers who wrote as many Piano Sonatas as Beethoven, whose 32 masterpieces remain unrivalled and unmatched.
Still, Schumann and Brahms remain two giants of the Romantic era, and two of the musicians who best represent its mood, its features, and also its pianism. Both were exceptionally skilled pianists, although neither of them identified with the piano in such a close fashion as, for instance, Chopin or Liszt – or Moscheles or similar Romantic virtuosi.
Indeed, the early output of Schumann was entirely consecrated to the piano. His ambition was actually to become the pianistic equivalent of Paganini, whom he admired enormously as a violin virtuoso. Schumann was a piano student in the class of Frederick Wieck, a great pedagogue who also happened to have a daughter, nine years Schumann’s junior. She was an exceptionally gifted pianist herself, and she was also a charming young girl. Schumann was caught by her personality, and would soon fall in love with her, to the chagrin of Wieck sr., who had intuited Schumann’s complex personality and the trouble it could pose to his daughter Clara.
In spite of the determination he poured in his efforts to acquire the skills of a great virtuoso, Schumann’s career as a pianist never took off. Part of the problem was Schumann’s unwise attempt to empower his technique through the use of a mechanical device, which ended up ruining one of his fingers and therefore compromising his chances to become a famous pianist forever.
Nevertheless, all of the great masterpieces of Schumann’s youthful years are consecrated to the piano, and, interestingly, most of them took the form of cycles of miniature pieces, in the fashion of suites, or of collections of aphorisms. This does not imply that those “miniatures” are easy or simplistic: quite the contrary. The cycles themselves are frequently gigantic (such as Davidsbündlertänze or Carnaval), and their difficulty may be frightening.
Within this background, the three Sonatas represent three special cases, deserving our full attention and the special interest of both performers and listeners.
The complex genesis of the first Sonata reveals both Schumann’s fascination with this genre and his difficulty in handling it. The originating kernel of this work is a Lied, “An Anna”, written in 1828, when Schumann was just eighteen (the year he got to know his future wife Clara, who was a girl of nine). This Lied belonged in a collection of songs dedicated to Schumann’s three sisters-in-law. The Lied was then reused within the Sonata, whose actual compositional process began in 1833 and would last for two more years (a very long time by Schumann’s standard). The finished work is signed by “Florestan and Eusebius”. These were two imaginary characters which became Schumann’s twofold pen-name. He took the idea for them from a novel, Flegeljahre, by his favourite author, i.e. Jean-Paul Richter. The protagonists of Flegeljahre are two twin brothers, Vult (corresponding to Florestan), who is sanguine, choleric, but also generous and boisterous, and Walt (corresponding to Eusebius), who is a poet, a dreamer, and a quintessentially Romantic figure. Their two complementary attitudes mirror Schumann’s own personality, divided between roaring elan and enchanted contemplation.
Starting with Carnaval, where Florestan and Eusebius are just two among the many characters featuring in the cortege, and passing from Davidsbündlertänze (where each Dance is signed by either Florestan, or Eusebius, or both of them), these two names become the true interpretive key for Schumann’s creativity. Their contrasting personalities are evidently present also in the Sonata op. 11, which is articulated into four, very different, movements. The finished work is dedicated to Clara Wieck, the fascinating daughter of Schumann’s teacher, and is one of the many tokens of her future husband’s love.
After a touching, slow introduction, with some heroic tinges, an enchanted melody comes to the surface: it is precisely that of An Anna, whose beautiful tune is a perfect expression of “Eusebius’” personality. Initially conceived as a Fandango, the ensuing Allegro vivace is a galloping ride, punctuated by suspensions. The second movement, an Aria, rehearses once more the beauty of the initial melody, that of the youthful Lied, although now there is no tension between the heroic and the poetic side. A Scherzo combined with an Intermezzo follows suit, with two intertwining Trios. Its form is very unusual and bears witness to the young composer’s creativity.
Finally, the concluding movement is a Rondo-Sonata, with a noble, aristocratic flair, and some contrasting themes which, at times, reach keys which are tonally very far away from the harmonic “home” of this movement and of the entire Sonata. Still, the young composer handles these problems perfectly and shows his mastery of this complex form.
The Second Sonata had an equally complex genesis: here too the first seed of the work is to be found in a Lied of 1828, titled In Herbste, later transcribed for solo piano. In 1833, i.e. one year after the First Sonata, Schumann re-employed that individual piece as the slow movement to be inserted between two newly composed pieces. The final movement, written in 1835, did not receive Clara’s approval, as she found it exceedingly difficult – and this was something to say, coming, as it did, from an exceptional virtuosa. That first version of the finale would later become an independent work, which however remained unpublished until after Schumann’s death and is now known as Presto passionato. The published Finale of this Sonata was composed in 1838 and published the following year in Leipzig by Breitkopf & Härtel; the entire Sonata would be premiered by Clara in 1840 in Berlin.
The first movement, while abiding to the traditional rules of the Sonata form, reinterprets them in a highly original fashion. Schumann’s famous indication, to play “as quickly as possible”, is topped by two equally famous prescriptions towards the end of the movement, when the pianist is asked to play “faster” and “still faster”. The thrilling impression of utter speed given by this movement is tempered by the lyrical quality of the second movement, where the youthful Lied is presented both in a simple and in a varied form. The very compact and short Scherzo is Beethovenian in concept, with its angular and brusque form. The final Rondo is another perpetuum mobile, where the motoric drive of the first movement is resumed and reinterpreted. The concluding gestures, with sudden interruptions and the resumption of a gallopade, are memorable.
Three versions exist also as concerns the third Sonata, written in 1836 and revised in 1853; the second and third versions are both complete and were both published during Schumann’s lifetime. By way of contrast, the first (1836), in five movements, has an unfinished Finale. The 1836 version was published as a Concerto sans Orchestre, highlighting the extroverted, spectacular nature of this movement and its concept as a piece to be played by a virtuoso and for a large audience. The two Scherzos found in the first version are omitted here, and the Variations on a Theme by Clara Wieck are shortened. The third and last version, called Sonata no. 3, resumes the second Scherzo of the first version, and the other main changes regard the first movement. Here too a magnificent impetus drives the first movement, whose epic character is rather impressive. The most touching element is the Andantino de Clara Wieck, where the simple but poignant theme of Schumann’s beloved is enriched by four (or six: in the first version) Variations expressing the composer’s affectionate respect for his fiancée’s artistry. Once more, the concluding movement is a breathtaking adventure, which challenges the performer’s technique but especially keeps the listener glued to the unfolding wonders it displays.
When Johannes Brahms came to the Schumanns’ household, he was in turn a very young and extremely promising musician. Schumann, who had founded a journal (where he often wrote with the pseudonyms of Florestan and Eusebius) wrote a memorable article, called New Ways, in which he presented to the readership of his review the talent and genius of his new friend. The First Piano Sonata had been written by Brahms when he was still in Hamburg, and its composition date actually follows that of the Second Sonata. However, the young composer chose to give the privilege of primogeniture to this one because he wished to issue, as his Op. 1, the best work he had written so far.
Schumann was behind the publication of this first fruit of Brahms’ pen, since, with his typical generosity, he promoted his young friend recommending him to the publisher. The dedicatee of this Sonata was Joseph Joachim, a friend of both Schumann and Brahms, and an exceptional violinist.
From the viewpoint of form, the first movement of this Sonata does not stray away from the typical mould of the Classical Sonata. Yet, it is imbued with quintessentially Romantic features, and represents the personality of the young composer perfectly. His bold stance is also expressed by the veiled (or not so veiled) allusion to the opening theme of Beethoven’s Hammerklavier Sonata, justly considered as “the” most challenging Piano Sonata of the entire repertoire. The second movement, once more, is a variated Lied, which, here too, would see various versions. In particular, Brahms decided to re-employ it as a piece for female choir, issued in 1859. A fiery Scherzo occupies the place of the third movement, whilst the fourth movement bespeaks the young composer’s pianistic ambitions, with the extreme virtuosity it requires.
The Second Sonata, which, as said, predates the First, was written in 1852 and published in Leipzig the following year. It is dedicated, unsurprisingly, to Clara Schumann, whose friendship Brahms cherished for their entire lives. The first movement adds some spice to the traditional Sonata form, with a third theme stealthily intruding in between the traditional two. The short second movement, a touching Andante con espressione, alludes to the Variation form which will resurface in the finale. Thematic relationships bind the second and third movement, since the Scherzo resumes some ideas found in the second movement. The concluding movement displays the full palette of Brahms’ fantasy, and unites virtuosity with contemplation, religious composure with rhapsodic momentum.
The Third Sonata is probably the best known of the three, and is probably the most symphonic of them (such was Schumann’s impression). It was the piece which convinced Schumann of his young friend’s genius, and unsurprisingly so. The first movement opens with a very famous musical gesture, transmitting the epos of the young pianist; however, the tender and refined aspects of his musicianship find also a way to surface. The second movement is one of the most lyrical pages written by the young Brahms, and it seems to anticipate the “autumnal” mood of many of his more mature works. The third movement, the Scherzo, conquered Clara Schumann’s enthusiasm, with its Viennese suggestions and its brilliant rhythmic pace. The Intermezzo is yet another foretaste of the enchanted pages which will come from Brahms’ pen in his later years, whilst the finale is an enthralling work, whose compelling energy does not fail to impress the listener.
Together, these six masterpieces recount a tale of friendship, of genius, of exploration of form, of expression of the self, of the building of a new aesthetics of the Romantic Piano Sonata.
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