August 25, 2014.Johannes Brahms, 7 Fantasien, op. 116. This set of miniatures, sometimes called Seven Fantasies, was written by Brahms in 1892. Popular both with the listeners and performers, it is represented in our library with the recordings made by the young English pianists Sam Armstrong and Ashley Wass; Israel-born Benjamin Hochman and Rafael Skorka; the Russian pianist Yury Shadrin; and the Americans Christopher Atzinger and David Kaplan. Joseph DuBose takes an in-depth look into this piano masterpiece by the German composer. Read the complete article and listen to the Fantasieshere.
One of the several offspring of the Romantic period, and developing nearly contemporaneously with the German Lied, the piano miniature opened to composers a world as vastly rich and imaginative as the larger forms handed down from the Classical masters – indeed, perhaps even more so. With the nocturnes of John Field among its earliest examples, the piano miniature was further developed by the same hands that brought the German Lied into maturity – Franz Schubert and Robert Schumann – as well as in the many "dances" of Frédéric Chopin. Like the Lied, the miniature was given a deeply philosophical expression, and rendered with such remarkable introspection and calculated effect, by Johannes Brahms.
Though Brahms was widely considered the immediate heir of Beethoven and Schumann, in opposition to the New German School of Liszt and Wagner, it is his several collections of miniatures rather than his sonatas that are perhaps the most brilliant gems of his output as a composer of piano music. Somewhat curiously, Brahms composed his only three piano sonatas, a form which, like the symphony, was a staple of the Classical composer, very early in his career. From thence he conquered the challenges of the large-scale variation set during the middle of his career. His earliest efforts in the realm of the miniature followed quickly on the heels of the completion of the third and last piano sonata with the composition of the opus 10 Ballades during the summer of 1854. However, twenty-five years would pass before Brahms once again composed a set of miniatures. In 1879-80, two important sets appeared: the eight Klavierstücke, op. 76 (played here by Sam Armstrong) and the two Rhapsodies, op. 79 (no. 1and no. 2, played by Michael Krücker and Dmitry Paperno, respectively). Most notable is the Klavierstücke, which built upon the basic groundwork laid by the Ballades, and further set the stage for Brahms’s final essays in the genre, as well as his last works for the piano.
During the early 1890s, Brahms compiled together the twenty pieces that were published during 1892-93 as the opp. 116-19. It is acknowledged that he composed more than the twenty pieces known to us today, and it is possible that some were drafted earlier. However, it is generally accepted that most of the pieces were composed roughly close to their dates of publication. As a whole, these pieces display Brahms as intensely meditative; combined with opus 76, they are a gradual progression away and an ultimate departure from the extroverted Sturm und Drangstyle of his more youthful years; taken as a part of his entire output for the piano, they are an immensely rich and imaginative culmination, and quite easily some of the most beautiful music composed for the instrument.
Of these four later sets, opus 116 is unique among its companions. [continued] To this collection, Brahms gave the distinct title Fantasien, as opposed to the more general Klavierstücke of opp. 118-19 and the Intermezzi titled of op. 117. In the context of his piano music, op. 116 functions as a segue from the earlier op. 76 miniatures. Here, the composer is gradually receding into himself, turning more and more reflective. While op. 76 consisted equally of capriccii and intermezzi, the balance in op. 116 tips in favor of the contemplative and philosophical intermezzo. In the succeeding collections, the capriccio completely disappears. For those who may be more familiar with the details of Brahms’s life and work, the Fantasien contain the last utterances of the fiery Kreisler of the composer’s youth. Also unique to op. 116 is the progression of the piece, which both in terms of character and tonal centers, creates the illusion of a loosely-constructed sonata form. Dynamic, extroverted pieces in D minor frame the collection, while the G minor Capriccio stands in for a scherzo, and the triptych of Intermezzi which follow it—progressing from E major, to E minor, and back to E major—together fulfill the role of the “slow movement.”
Opening the Fantasien is a vigorous Capriccio in D minor (here, withChristopher Atzinger at the piano). Besides the rhythmic volatility evident within the first measure, which provides the unrelenting energy that carries the piece through to its end, Brahms makes blatant use of his favorite melodic motif—a chain of descending thirds. The first third of this chain is inverted and begins the piece with an explosive leap upward of a sixth. The thirds fall through the treble, echoed on the weak beat of the bar in the bass, after which the principal melody becomes fixated on the supertonic, swirling about it with unfettered energy, before descending to the dominant. The melody is then repeated with the chain of thirds transferred to the bass, and all inverted into volatile rising sixths. Following the completion of the theme, two new ideas follow. The first is an impetuously rising chromatic figure, presented in the bass and repeated with slight variation in the treble, which sets about with a duple meter rhythm against the piece’s 3/8 time signature. This F major idea gives way to another melody in the same key, though inflected with tones borrowed from the parallel minor. Beneath this new melody, which continues to accent the weak beats of the bar, the chain of descending thirds is transformed quite resourcefully into diminished seventh harmonies. With the emphatic cadence in F major that concludes this secondary theme, which is structurally important because it is the first cadence to stress the beginning of the measure, the Cappricio’s “exposition” comes to a close and its quasi-sonata form is firmly established.
A restatement of the principal melody ushers in the “development” section. Beginning in the key of A minor, the theme undergoes a significant and interesting transformation. In alternating chords, the theme is tossed about between the hands of the pianist, and is consequently spread out across multiple octaves. The tonality during this section becomes unstable as well, leading first into C-sharp minor, and then transitioning into B-flat minor/major for a greatly expanded statement of the secondary theme. With a deceptive cadence into G minor, Brahms affects a seamless modulation back into the tonic key of D minor and a final, nearly verbatim “recapitulation” of the principal melody. Only one statement is given though, before a climatic build into a half cadence. From the lowest possible register of the piano, the Capriccio’s coda consists of surging, upward sixths, presented in bare octaves, led by the left hand and echoed a bar later by the right, until the final cadence heavily marks the last downbeats.
Next follows the first Intermezzo—a contemplative piece of enchanting beauty (it’s played here by Yury Shadrin). The initial A minor idea is halting in its rhythm, subtly emphasizing the second beat of the bar, upon which it insists on resting. Following the initial statement, Brahms repeats the melody with slight embellishment—now, the melody is forced to wait until the third beat to pause, and in its latter half is pushed onward towards its concluding cadence. Embodying a ternary design, the A minor idea is contrasted by a central episode which transforms the initial 3/4 time signature into 3/8 by taking the beat of the quarter note in the former as the tempo of the dotted quarter of the latter. A new melody emerges from the disjointed notes of the treble, while the principal theme’s initial halting rhythm is transformed into a swaying accompanimental figure. For the reprise, Brahms presents first a modest variation of the principal melody in the key of A major, after which a mesmerizing passage of successive fundamental seventh chords create an almost magical transition back into a verbatim final statement.
The scherzo-like Capriccio in G minor (here, with Héctor J. Sánchez) opens with a passionato theme heard in the treble. From the initial tone of the melody, the descending thirds motif appears and leads into the introduction of the left hand in the latter half of the measure. It also becomes an important intermediary idea, separating the two statements of the principal theme and forming the climatic build into the elongated cadence that concludes the piece’s first section. In great contrast to this initial tempestuous section, the central episode, adopting the role of Trio, transforms the motif of the G minor melody into a noble E-flat major tune, vaguely reminiscent of the corresponding section of the first of the opus 10 Ballades. The alteration of the motif’s rhythm into triplets imbues the section with the fervent energy of a triumphant march. It would be the last grandiose music that Brahms was to compose. Moving away into the distant key of G major, Brahms effortlessly returns to the initial E-flat major tonality through a masterfully placed C minor chord, ushering in an imitative passage between the treble and bass, and ultimately a final statement of the majestic E-flat tune. To conclude the piece, Brahms gives an almost exact repetition of the opening theme, in which the modifications only render the theme more bold and full-voiced, bringing the third piece of the collection to a dramatic fortissimo close.
The first of the three Intermezzi (here, with Sam Armstrong) that form the fourth, fifth and sixth pieces develops organically out of a single motif heard in the opening measure, and which also serves as the impetus for a gentle E major melody that will likely recall to the listener’s mind the opening theme of the composer’s Fourth Symphony.At the close of this melody, a slowly descending, espressivo idea, heavily inflected with modal sonorities, emerges out of its final tone, but ultimately fades into a reappearance of the initial motif. From thence, Brahms proceeds to develop his ideas by means of a quasi-variation technique mixed with semblance of ternary form. First, the E major melody is graciously embellished with fuller chords, that curiously more times than not take the form of the descending thirds motif of the previous Capriccio. While the melody itself is embellished, the initial motif is expanded twice into a deeply introspective chordal idea, whose two statements flank a slightly more animated descending melodic line that serves as a brief point of contrast. Both melodies are repeated again, but it is ultimately the earlier espressivo idea, now stripped of its modal inflections and given with pure, bold-faced diatonic harmonies, that brings about the Intermezzo’s serene close.
In E minor, the following Intermezzo (in Rafael Skorka’s interpretation, here) adopts an austerity that seems more at home in the music of the early 20th century than during the lush Romanticism of the late 19th century. The texture varies between full-voiced chords and bare intervals, and curiously it is the consonant chords that are more often rendered completely while the dissonances are presented starkly without any further constituent tones of their implied harmonies. The motivic idea of the piece is a turn-like figure that first winds about the dominant, and then climbs its way up stepwise to the tonic. While less severe than the previous music, the Intermezzo’s central episode still maintains a degree of strictness. It adopts from the closing cadence of the opening section an ascending third idea that is imitated between treble and bass in a quasi-contrapuntal setting. All the while, the music never departs from a dominant pedal, which gives rise to a few rather poignant harmonies. In place of a ternary form, Brahms structures this piece as a rounded binary with both sections to be repeated. A brief transition over dominant harmony in E minor leads into a restatement of the opening idea, which curiously sidesteps the tonic key to begin in the subdominant. A terse, four-measure coda closes the piece in the major mode.
The final Intermezzo (Sam Armstrong plays it here) of the triptych returns to the key of E major. As Brahms was so often inclined to do, he here presents the melody of this charming Andantino teneramente in the middle of the harmonic texture, which only during brief moments soars upward into the highest voice just to fall back into its subordinated position. Alongside this melody, a secondary idea, that of thirds moving stepwise in contrary motion, emerges and results in many interesting harmonies throughout the course the opening section. Contrasting the dreaming E major tune is a central episode in G-sharp minor. A new melody, with a descending contour but with faint echoes of the previous tune, is accompanied predominantly by the descending thirds motif, manifested as broken triads on a triplet rhythm. From its quite close, the episode transitions with ease back into an abbreviated reprise of the initial E major melody. A beautiful passage in thirds on a Neapolitan harmony presages the melody’s final cadence and an equally enchanting, though fleeting, reprise of the episode’s theme now ingeniously transplanted into the tonic key, leads into the delicate, serene final tonic chord.
Closing the set is Brahms’s final Capriccio (here, by Ashley Wass). Returning to the key of the first, D minor, the descending thirds motif is once again demonstrated cleverly in the broken diminished seventh harmonies that accompany the principal motivic idea. Divided between the pianist’s two hands and moving in contrary motion, the motif and its immediate varied restatement both build to frantic conclusions on the dominant chord, with the latter instance prompting a further transition into A minor for the central episode. The melody of the episode engages in interesting rhythmic play as it insists on emphasizing a duple rhythm despite the compound meter of the accompanying arpeggios. Like the motif of the opening, the melody alternates between hands, appearing first in the treble above an initial ascending tonic arpeggio, then in the bass, beneath the diminished harmony moving in contrary motion, and so on until the half cadence at the end of its eighth measure. A brief development of the melody, emphasizing its leading descending semitone occupies the next eight measures, before a full reprise completes the episode’s rounded binary form and brings about a conclusion in A minor. Through returning to the duple meter and D minor tonality of the opening, Brahms interjects a toccata-like section that dwells upon the thirds motif and the descending semitone idea, and builds with fervent energy into an actual reprise of the opening music. In this recapitulation, the varied restatement, however, is abandoned, for another interesting section of rhythmic ambiguity. Initially, a variation is given in a well-marked 3/8 meter. This quickly gives way to a strenuous build over a tonic pedal with chords which with increasing fervor attempt to restore the previous 2/4 meter, ultimately culminating on four triumphant D major chords that bring this first collection Brahms’s late miniatures to an exultant close.
Johannes Brahms, 7 Fantasien, op. 116
August 25, 2014. Johannes Brahms, 7 Fantasien, op. 116. This set of miniatures, sometimes called Seven Fantasies, was written by Brahms in 1892. Popular both with the listeners and performers, it is represented in our library with the recordings made by the young
English pianists Sam Armstrong and Ashley Wass; Israel-born Benjamin Hochman and Rafael Skorka; the Russian pianist Yury Shadrin; and the Americans Christopher Atzinger and David Kaplan. Joseph DuBose takes an in-depth look into this piano masterpiece by the German composer. Read the complete article and listen to the Fantasies here.
One of the several offspring of the Romantic period, and developing nearly contemporaneously with the German Lied, the piano miniature opened to composers a world as vastly rich and imaginative as the larger forms handed down from the Classical masters – indeed, perhaps even more so. With the nocturnes of John Field among its earliest examples, the piano miniature was further developed by the same hands that brought the German Lied into maturity – Franz Schubert and Robert Schumann – as well as in the many "dances" of Frédéric Chopin. Like the Lied, the miniature was given a deeply philosophical expression, and rendered with such remarkable introspection and calculated effect, by Johannes Brahms.
Though Brahms was widely considered the immediate heir of Beethoven and Schumann, in opposition to the New German School of Liszt and Wagner, it is his several collections of miniatures rather than his sonatas that are perhaps the most brilliant gems of his output as a composer of piano music. Somewhat curiously, Brahms composed his only three piano sonatas, a form which, like the symphony, was a staple of the Classical composer, very early in his career. From thence he conquered the challenges of the large-scale variation set during the middle of his career. His earliest efforts in the realm of the miniature followed quickly on the heels of the completion of the third and last piano sonata with the composition of the opus 10 Ballades during the summer of 1854. However, twenty-five years would pass before Brahms once again composed a set of miniatures. In 1879-80, two important sets appeared: the eight Klavierstücke, op. 76 (played here by Sam Armstrong) and the two Rhapsodies, op. 79 (no. 1 and no. 2, played by Michael Krücker and Dmitry Paperno, respectively). Most notable is the Klavierstücke, which built upon the basic groundwork laid by the Ballades, and further set the stage for Brahms’s final essays in the genre, as well as his last works for the piano.
During the early 1890s, Brahms compiled together the twenty pieces that were published during 1892-93 as the opp. 116-19. It is acknowledged that he composed more than the twenty pieces known to us today, and it is possible that some were drafted earlier. However, it is generally accepted that most of the pieces were composed roughly close to their dates of publication. As a whole, these pieces display Brahms as intensely meditative; combined with opus 76, they are a gradual progression away and an ultimate departure from the extroverted Sturm und Drangstyle of his more youthful years; taken as a part of his entire output for the piano, they are an immensely rich and imaginative culmination, and quite easily some of the most beautiful music composed for the instrument.
Of these four later sets, opus 116 is unique among its companions. [continued] To this collection, Brahms gave the distinct title Fantasien, as opposed to the more general Klavierstücke of opp. 118-19 and the Intermezzi titled of op. 117. In the context of his piano music, op. 116 functions as a segue from the earlier op. 76 miniatures. Here, the composer is gradually receding into himself, turning more and more reflective. While op. 76 consisted equally of capriccii and intermezzi, the balance in op. 116 tips in favor of the contemplative and philosophical intermezzo. In the succeeding collections, the capriccio completely disappears. For those who may be more familiar with the details of Brahms’s life and work, the Fantasien contain the last utterances of the fiery Kreisler of the composer’s youth. Also unique to op. 116 is the progression of the piece, which both in terms of character and tonal centers, creates the illusion of a loosely-constructed sonata form. Dynamic, extroverted pieces in D minor frame the collection, while the G minor Capriccio stands in for a scherzo, and the triptych of Intermezzi which follow it—progressing from E major, to E minor, and back to E major—together fulfill the role of the “slow movement.”
Opening the Fantasien is a vigorous Capriccio in D minor (here, with Christopher Atzinger at the piano). Besides the rhythmic volatility evident within the first measure, which provides the unrelenting energy that carries the piece through to its end, Brahms makes blatant use of his favorite melodic motif—a chain of descending thirds. The first third of this chain is inverted and begins the piece with an explosive leap upward of a sixth. The thirds fall through the treble, echoed on the weak beat of the bar in the bass, after which the principal melody becomes fixated on the supertonic, swirling about it with unfettered energy, before descending to the dominant. The melody is then repeated with the chain of thirds transferred to the bass, and all inverted into volatile rising sixths. Following the completion of the theme, two new ideas follow. The first is an impetuously rising chromatic figure, presented in the bass and repeated with slight variation in the treble, which sets about with a duple meter rhythm against the piece’s 3/8 time signature. This F major idea gives way to another melody in the same key, though inflected with tones borrowed from the parallel minor. Beneath this new melody, which continues to accent the weak beats of the bar, the chain of descending thirds is transformed quite resourcefully into diminished seventh harmonies. With the emphatic cadence in F major that concludes this secondary theme, which is structurally important because it is the first cadence to stress the beginning of the measure, the Cappricio’s “exposition” comes to a close and its quasi-sonata form is firmly established.
A restatement of the principal melody ushers in the “development” section. Beginning in the key of A minor, the theme undergoes a significant and interesting transformation. In alternating chords, the theme is tossed about between the hands of the pianist, and is consequently spread out across multiple octaves. The tonality during this section becomes unstable as well, leading first into C-sharp minor, and then transitioning into B-flat minor/major for a greatly expanded statement of the secondary theme. With a deceptive cadence into G minor, Brahms affects a seamless modulation back into the tonic key of D minor and a final, nearly verbatim “recapitulation” of the principal melody. Only one statement is given though, before a climatic build into a half cadence. From the lowest possible register of the piano, the Capriccio’s coda consists of surging, upward sixths, presented in bare octaves, led by the left hand and echoed a bar later by the right, until the final cadence heavily marks the last downbeats.
Next follows the first Intermezzo—a contemplative piece of enchanting beauty (it’s played here by Yury Shadrin). The initial A minor idea is halting in its rhythm, subtly emphasizing the second beat of the bar, upon which it insists on resting. Following the initial statement, Brahms repeats the melody with slight embellishment—now, the melody is forced to wait until the third beat to pause, and in its latter half is pushed onward towards its concluding cadence. Embodying a ternary design, the A minor idea is contrasted by a central episode which transforms the initial 3/4 time signature into 3/8 by taking the beat of the quarter note in the former as the tempo of the dotted quarter of the latter. A new melody emerges from the disjointed notes of the treble, while the principal theme’s initial halting rhythm is transformed into a swaying accompanimental figure. For the reprise, Brahms presents first a modest variation of the principal melody in the key of A major, after which a mesmerizing passage of successive fundamental seventh chords create an almost magical transition back into a verbatim final statement.
The scherzo-like Capriccio in G minor (here, with Héctor J. Sánchez) opens with a passionato theme heard in the treble. From the initial tone of the melody, the descending thirds motif appears and leads into the introduction of the left hand in the latter half of the measure. It also becomes an important intermediary idea, separating the two statements of the principal theme and forming the climatic build into the elongated cadence that concludes the piece’s first section. In great contrast to this initial tempestuous section, the central episode, adopting the role of Trio, transforms the motif of the G minor melody into a noble E-flat major tune, vaguely reminiscent of the corresponding section of the first of the opus 10 Ballades. The alteration of the motif’s rhythm into triplets imbues the section with the fervent energy of a triumphant march. It would be the last grandiose music that Brahms was to compose. Moving away into the distant key of G major, Brahms effortlessly returns to the initial E-flat major tonality through a masterfully placed C minor chord, ushering in an imitative passage between the treble and bass, and ultimately a final statement of the majestic E-flat tune. To conclude the piece, Brahms gives an almost exact repetition of the opening theme, in which the modifications only render the theme more bold and full-voiced, bringing the third piece of the collection to a dramatic fortissimo close.
The first of the three Intermezzi (here, with Sam Armstrong) that form the fourth, fifth and sixth pieces develops organically out of a single motif heard in the opening measure, and which also serves as the impetus for a gentle E major melody that will likely recall to the listener’s mind the opening theme of the composer’s Fourth Symphony. At the close of this melody, a slowly descending, espressivo idea, heavily inflected with modal sonorities, emerges out of its final tone, but ultimately fades into a reappearance of the initial motif. From thence, Brahms proceeds to develop his ideas by means of a quasi-variation technique mixed with semblance of ternary form. First, the E major melody is graciously embellished with fuller chords, that curiously more times than not take the form of the descending thirds motif of the previous Capriccio. While the melody itself is embellished, the initial motif is expanded twice into a deeply introspective chordal idea, whose two statements flank a slightly more animated descending melodic line that serves as a brief point of contrast. Both melodies are repeated again, but it is ultimately the earlier espressivo idea, now stripped of its modal inflections and given with pure, bold-faced diatonic harmonies, that brings about the Intermezzo’s serene close.
In E minor, the following Intermezzo (in Rafael Skorka’s interpretation, here) adopts an austerity that seems more at home in the music of the early 20th century than during the lush Romanticism of the late 19th century. The texture varies between full-voiced chords and bare intervals, and curiously it is the consonant chords that are more often rendered completely while the dissonances are presented starkly without any further constituent tones of their implied harmonies. The motivic idea of the piece is a turn-like figure that first winds about the dominant, and then climbs its way up stepwise to the tonic. While less severe than the previous music, the Intermezzo’s central episode still maintains a degree of strictness. It adopts from the closing cadence of the opening section an ascending third idea that is imitated between treble and bass in a quasi-contrapuntal setting. All the while, the music never departs from a dominant pedal, which gives rise to a few rather poignant harmonies. In place of a ternary form, Brahms structures this piece as a rounded binary with both sections to be repeated. A brief transition over dominant harmony in E minor leads into a restatement of the opening idea, which curiously sidesteps the tonic key to begin in the subdominant. A terse, four-measure coda closes the piece in the major mode.
The final Intermezzo (Sam Armstrong plays it here) of the triptych returns to the key of E major. As Brahms was so often inclined to do, he here presents the melody of this charming Andantino teneramente in the middle of the harmonic texture, which only during brief moments soars upward into the highest voice just to fall back into its subordinated position. Alongside this melody, a secondary idea, that of thirds moving stepwise in contrary motion, emerges and results in many interesting harmonies throughout the course the opening section. Contrasting the dreaming E major tune is a central episode in G-sharp minor. A new melody, with a descending contour but with faint echoes of the previous tune, is accompanied predominantly by the descending thirds motif, manifested as broken triads on a triplet rhythm. From its quite close, the episode transitions with ease back into an abbreviated reprise of the initial E major melody. A beautiful passage in thirds on a Neapolitan harmony presages the melody’s final cadence and an equally enchanting, though fleeting, reprise of the episode’s theme now ingeniously transplanted into the tonic key, leads into the delicate, serene final tonic chord.
Closing the set is Brahms’s final Capriccio (here, by Ashley Wass). Returning to the key of the first, D minor, the descending thirds motif is once again demonstrated cleverly in the broken diminished seventh harmonies that accompany the principal motivic idea. Divided between the pianist’s two hands and moving in contrary motion, the motif and its immediate varied restatement both build to frantic conclusions on the dominant chord, with the latter instance prompting a further transition into A minor for the central episode. The melody of the episode engages in interesting rhythmic play as it insists on emphasizing a duple rhythm despite the compound meter of the accompanying arpeggios. Like the motif of the opening, the melody alternates between hands, appearing first in the treble above an initial ascending tonic arpeggio, then in the bass, beneath the diminished harmony moving in contrary motion, and so on until the half cadence at the end of its eighth measure. A brief development of the melody, emphasizing its leading descending semitone occupies the next eight measures, before a full reprise completes the episode’s rounded binary form and brings about a conclusion in A minor. Through returning to the duple meter and D minor tonality of the opening, Brahms interjects a toccata-like section that dwells upon the thirds motif and the descending semitone idea, and builds with fervent energy into an actual reprise of the opening music. In this recapitulation, the varied restatement, however, is abandoned, for another interesting section of rhythmic ambiguity. Initially, a variation is given in a well-marked 3/8 meter. This quickly gives way to a strenuous build over a tonic pedal with chords which with increasing fervor attempt to restore the previous 2/4 meter, ultimately culminating on four triumphant D major chords that bring this first collection Brahms’s late miniatures to an exultant close.