Brahms, Four Ballades op. 10

Brahms, Four Ballades op. 10

April 11, 2016.  Four Ballades op. 10 by Brahms.  Today we’re publishing Joseph DuBose’s article on one of Johannes Brahms’s youthful compositions, Four Ballades op. 10.  We’ll illustrate them with performances by Sevgi Giles.   

Johannes BrahmsThe four Ballades of Brahms’s opus 10 were the first foreshadowing of the eventual direction his output for piano would take. Composed in 1854, they followed the completion of his third and last piano sonata by roughly a year, and were his first foray into the newfound realm of miniatures. Perhaps it was mere curiosity that led the young composer—Brahms was only in his early twenties at the time—from his Classically inspired sonatas to the miniatures born of the Romantic period, yet it would be the latter pieces that would largely come to define his output as composer for the piano. Although nearly a quarter of a century would pass, in which time Brahms championed the large-scale variation form with such works as the Paganini and Haydn Variations, and the Variations and Fugue on a Theme of G.F. Handel, he returned to the miniature in his 8 Klavierstücke, op. 76. This work would, in turn, prove to be only the foundation for the ethereal and introspective pieces to come during the 1890s.

As a musical form, the ballade takes its name from the literary tradition of ballad poetry, which often employed grand themes of heroism or mythology. The ballade became established primarily at the hands of Chopin, who composed four examples between 1831 and 1842. Though it is suggested Chopin’s compositions were inspired by the poetry of Adam Mickiewicz, there is no direct evidence of this from the composer himself. Instead, the term ballade for Chopin seemed to have a similar connotation as the fantasia, a rather free development of ideas with little or no expectation as to formal arrangement, yet also unified with a greater sense of coherence—the development of a musical “narrative,” so to speak. It is natural, then, that Chopin’s ballades borrowed from the established conventions of sonata form, and thereby furthered the weighty discourses found within them.

Perhaps the most significant set of the ballades to follow Chopin’s was that of Brahms, though other notable composers, such as Franz Liszt, would compose their own ballades. Brahms approached the ballade in the same manner as he would many of the piano pieces of his last years—i.e., the three-fold division of the ternary form. Brahms’s ballades in this regard are less expansive as Chopin’s. All four embody some variation of a tripartite form. The first, perhaps, has the closest connection to Chopin. While in ternary form, its middle section, instead of presenting new material, develops upon that of the principal theme. Yet, its monothematicism and abbreviated reprise hardly qualify it as a bona-fide sonata form. The second employs a modified ternary, or, perhaps more appropriately, arch form, while the fourth nearly presents a complete rondo. Only the third is composed in a blatant ternary design. (Continue reading here).

Besides the consistent use of ternary form, Brahms also constructed his ballades to stand as a unified set. On first glance, it is noticed that they are arranged into complementary minor/major pairs: the first two in D minor and D major, respectively, and the second, likewise, in B minor and B major. Even within the set as a whole, the principal keys used throughout center consistently around the tonics of D, B, and F-sharp. Besides the tonal arrangement, the character of each of the four ballades reflects that of a corresponding movement in a sonata, beginning with the semblance of sonata form in the first. The second, at least in its Andante outer sections, conveys the essence of a slow movement. However, even its more turbulent Allegro non troppo middle section still manages to maintain the visage. The rhythmic third ballade, with its clear-cut ternary form, approximates a scherzo and trio, despite its being titled as an Intermezzo, while the fourth certainly provides the thematic diversity expected of a finale. Whether Brahms intended the ballades to be viewed as such is, of course, a matter of speculation. Regardless, they provide a convincing transition from the sonatas to his later miniatures.

The first of the ballades (here) takes quite literally its origin in poetry. As stated at its beginning, Brahms based the piece on “Edward,” a Scottish ballad that he had read in Johann Gottfried Herder’s German translation, and which would, many years later, be the first of his Balladen und Romanzen, op. 75 for vocal duet. The version of the ballad used by Brahms, published in 1765, tells of Edward who returns home with blood on his sword. Questioned by his mother, he at first says the blood is from his hawk, next his horse, but then confesses that he has murdered his father. He resolves to flee from his home, but before departing implicates his mother in the crime for the counsels she gave him. The melody Brahms presents in the opening section of the piece is a perfect fit for the poem, whether it be in the original Scots or in Herder’s German; the austere texture, with thirds in the treble and open fifths in the bass could not be a more fitting portrayal of the grim and ghastly narrative. Besides this distinctly Brahmsian texture, the D minor tonality (itself a reference to death) and the overwhelming diatonic harmonies, tinged ever so often with modal colorings, immediately invoke the sense of a mythological past, and thereby capture every aspect of the Scottish ballad. With the close of the melody and a modulation into the key of the tonic major, Brahms provides a startling contrast to the grim music of the opening while also developing its material. Fragments of the melody’s second strain are heard in the lower and middle voices against fanfare-like triplets, appearing above and below, and which likewise feature thirds in the treble and open fifths in the bass. From a distant piano, the music grows into a fortissimo climax and a more definitive statement of the melody. From thence, the music inevitably recedes, though with the ominous triplets still heard in the bass. A final restatement of the theme’s first strain returns to close the piece. While the melody remains largely unaltered, save for a necessary change of its final measure, the open fifths of the bass are replaced by fragmented, staccato triplets that manage to turn the music even more grisly.

The second ballade (here) opens in an Andante tempo with two measures of a gently rocking figure outlining the tonic chord of D major before presenting a berceuse-like melody. This reflective scene, however, is somewhat angrily cast aside with the following Allegro, marked to be played twice as fast as the Andante. A stern theme in B minor emerges among the repeated eighth and accentuated half notes. As it proceeds, Brahms makes use of one of his favorite rhythmic devices by juxtaposing descending triplets against the repetitive eighths. However, these triplets provide more than just rhythmic novelty, but prove to be the germ of the following 6/4 section in B major. The triplets, now embellished with grace notes, overtake the texture, and against long-held, solitary tones wind their way about in the treble and bass, sometimes in similar, at others, contrary motion. This seeming “distraction,” however, ultimately passes, and the furious B minor theme returns. Although, it is not a literal return, as Brahms quickly reestablishes the prior B major tonality, and in so doing prepares for the return of the berceuse. In the closing measures of the Allegro, Brahms wavers between D major and B major by means of an ingeniously enharmonic reinterpretation of a dominant seventh chord on F-sharp. It is the latter key in which the Andante theme is first reprised, effecting a simple, yet elegant, change. In another deft stroke, Brahms utilizes the B minor harmony that leads the melody’s second strain to reestablish the D major tonic. In the final measures, the ballade fades away with harp-like chords and echoes of the theme, before concluding on pianissimo tonic chords.

Opening the second set of ballades is a bilious Allegro in B minor (here). Embodying a simple ternary form, it adopts a scherzo-like character that is but another testament to the early maturity Brahms achieved in this style of writing.  Three off-beat, accented fifths begin the piece, and are likely the reason for Schumann’s description of it as “demoniacal.” In the third measure, an irritable motif appears in octaves, which inevitably erupts in fitful passages of sixteenth notes. Curiously, however, the following syncopated passage, in which treble and bass move in contrary motion, seems to serve as the theme’s high point, and after fading away on the dominant, it returns piano. Brahms indicates the section to be repeated, and upon the second passing, the closing measures of the Scherzo seem rather anticlimactic. Instead of a return of the controlled fury, the listener is instead presented with resignation to quiet seething. From the final chords of the Scherzo comes forth an F-sharp major tune in the glistening upper register of the piano. Virtually homophonic throughout its entirety, interest is maintained by means of its momentarily tangents into the key of the relative minor and syncopations which faintly echo the rhythmic drive of the Scherzo. Indeed, by the final statement of the Trio melody, the syncopated figure morphs into an ominous tolling that foreshadows the Scherzo’s return. Yet, the Scherzo returns as only a shadow of its former self—gone are the savage fifths and the austere octave doublings. Brahms even indicates for the entire reprise to be performed “sempre pp molto leggiero.” In the final measures, the music continues to soften as the key of B major is attained. Brahms achieves a wondrous effect in the closing bars with the mediant chord supplanting the expected dominant before the final tonic chord.

The lyrical B major theme which opens the fourth and last ballade (here) strikes the listener as more Schumann than Brahms, and is an indication of the admiration Brahms had for the elder composer. It unfolds with impeccable grace atop an accompaniment rippling arpeggios, which faintly suggest a continual succession of seventh chords and carefully avoiding any definitive statement of the tonic. After pausing only briefly on an open fifth upon the tonic, the warmth of the theme gives way to a mysterious 6/4 section, marked Più lento, in the key of the dominant. Broken chords on a triplet rhythm against straight quavers in the bass immediately create an ethereal scene and envelope a more expectant theme heard in the tenor. Next follows a sprightly, but truncated, reprise of the Schumann-esque first theme. With virtually no warning, a third theme appears. Chordal and sounding something like a chorale, this unexpected interlude was once derided by critics as “dull.” However, its unassuming character and apparent self-amusement make it perhaps the most distinctly Brahmsian section of the work. At the close of this marvelous section, the expected reprise of the Schumann-esque theme in this quasi-rondo form is eschewed for a reprise of the early Più lento section in B minor. Shortened and possessing more urgency, the section regains the major tonality as the melody’s final phrase appears in the bass. Over an embellished plagal cadence, the final ballade comes to a quiet and almost solemn close.