String Quintet No. 2 in G, Op. 111

While summering at Bad-Ischl in 1890, Brahms was working on his String Quintet no. 2 in G. He had recently made a decision to retire from composing. And despite going on to write a dozen more works (including the clarinet pieces, several collections for solo piano, and the pious organ chorales), he regarded this G-major Quintet as his musical “last will”—a repository for all that he had hitherto hoped to express in sound. Brahms utilizes the five instruments to their fullest, creating a broad sonic canvas upon which each player explores the extremes of their register. The opening idea, tremolos above a soaring cello solo, testifies to Brahms’ close study of Beethoven and Schubert. The movement shows consummate skill in revitalizing a classical sonata form that, for other composers, had lost its allure. He is at his best in the development, writing “absolute” music full of harmonic tension and close counterpoint. Economical in the extreme, each line remains interesting on its own and fully thought through, but gains added luster when piled one upon the other. In hindsight, however, this is just a warm-up for the rigorous Finale.
In light of the Allegro’s fullness, the stark opening of the D-minor Adagio signals a decisive turn. Organized loosely as a theme and variations, the larger shape of the movement parallels the theme’s own duality: first, somber and vocal with resonant pizzicato in the cello; then brighter, chordal, and more chromatic. A contrasting middle section injects new energy, but the main theme’s final return and coda dissipate all motion into an unhurried plagal cadence. The following movement, Un poco Allegretto, continues the tonal hints of the previous cadence and opens reservedly in G minor. The central section in major, which Brahms later recycles as the coda, is more extroverted. It ends prematurely on an unresolved dominant of the wrong key, making the main theme’s ensuing return seem more dictated than desired. The Finale is, in my opinion, one of Brahms’ greatest inspirations. It also nicely summarizes the trends explored earlier in this program, dance and counterpoint. The mysterious, urgent first theme insinuates itself into much of the movement, from the fugal development section to the vigorous Hungarian czárdás (coda). The second theme, characterized by a lilting triplet rhythm, suggests more German country dance than gypsy whirlwind. Brahms has created a resounding conclusion to the entire work—and what he thought would be the resounding final word in his creative life. Fortunately for us that was not to be the case.

(c) Jason Stell