Piano Quartet No. 1 in g, Op. 25

Brahms’s earliest works were destroyed by the composer himself. Hence, the first published pieces stem from his maturity around age 20. At that time, in the mid 1850s, Germany was flush with Wagnerism, and critics were not well disposed to Brahms’s conservative, abstract style. In 1862 Brahms left his native Hamburg for a fresh start in Vienna—home of his musical idols, Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven—and the piano quartet heard tonight was one of the last compositions he finished before his move. The piece was first played at a private gathering in November 1861; exactly one year later it received its public debut in Vienna.
The opening phrase of the quartet uses characteristic intervals to suggest G minor, although Brahms introduces enough hints toward other keys—such as D major, F major, and Bf major—to leave the issue somewhat unsettled. Less than a minute into the work, the music seems to veer radically away from G minor, touching instead on keys diametrically opposed. The derailment is brief and only coloristic, for a strong G-minor confirmation soon occurs. From that point on the intensity of this key barely relents.
This opening movement demonstrates two of Brahms’s greatest and most influential compositional techniques. One involves his use of rhythm to alleviate and “personalize” long passages of motoric, goal-directed action. The listener may notice cross rhythms (setting two beats or events in one instrument against three beats in another) and syncopation (which emphasizes the “space” between the beats). The second technique is called “developing variation” by Arnold Schoenberg. In developing variation Brahms latches onto small cells of pitch and rhythm that are presented early in a work. Later on, variants of these cells are recycled to suggest musical progress or evolution. Resemblances between forms of the motive may be hard detect, especially on first hearing, but even what slips below our radar can still contribute to the aesthetic sense of unity. Motives subjected to developing variation, such as the quartet’s opening pitch figure, will appear in very different situations, ranging from boisterous allegros to songful andantes.
The second movement moves in an eerie soundscape, evoked by the muted strings. Originally titled Scherzo, Brahms wisely renamed it Intermezzo upon the urging of Clara Schumann. The composer plays with a creative reassigning of roles. For instance, the chordal bit that marks the entrance of the piano first sounds as a pendant to the main theme, then functions as a transition, and after a long absence finally returns in place of the main theme. The third movement, Andante con moto, has an infectious march tune at its middle. The tune’s valedictory mood is likely to stay in the listener’s ear, but only until the beginning of the finale…
The outer movements of this quartet overshadow the inner ones, and this is patently true with the “Gypsy” Rondo finale. A Hungarian style occurs prominently in other Brahms works (e.g., the Hungarian Dances), and the folk idiom had infiltrated art music in earlier generations. Think, for instance, of the gypsy dance that ends Beethoven’s “Appassionata” Sonata. In this finale Brahms pours out a spirited dance/march characterized by staccato articulation, thematic grace notes (adding to the charm of informal, peasant fiddlers), and irregular phrase lengths. That this movement is based almost entirely on three-measure groups—rather than the traditional four-measure unit—matters because it translates into a breathless quality running from start to finish. Folk music, moreover, often uses irregular phrase lengths (such as three- or five-measure groups), and Brahms has done well to retain that detail.
The dance topic is offset occasionally by a contrasting mood, even a touch of fugue, but the respites are brief and the domination of the Gypsy idiom complete. Following a mini-cadenza for piano, the tempo—as in most Hungarian dances—begins to pick up. From Poco più presto (“a little more quickly”) Brahms accelerates to a feverish Molto presto (“very fast“) for the closing pages. The rush to the finish is as headlong as they come. Perhaps this energy will carry you through until we see you again next summer; rest assured you won’t be the only one humming the Gypsy theme as you leave!

(c) Jason Stell