Transcendental Etude No. 11 (Harmonies du Soir)

Franz Liszt’s works occasionally sound more difficult that they actually are. This is not true across the board, of course; many of his pieces loom like Everest in the eyes of budding virtuosos. But great pianists seem to agree that Liszt’s writing is supremely idiomatic, even “comfortable.” His works, while sounding demonic and almost superhuman, nevertheless fit nicely under the hands—though it helps to have large ones!
Liszt’s reputation was earned quite early and helped propel him to a kind of “rock star” status throughout Europe. Wide concertizing inspired the Années de Pèlerinage (Years of Pilgrimage), a three-part collection of piano solos composed intermittently over roughly forty years (1835-77). The second book, linked to his travels in Italy during the late 1830s, concludes with the popular “Dante” Sonata. The work’s full title, Après une lecture de Dante: Fantasia Quasi Sonata, refers to Liszt’s reading of the Inferno, whereas the subtitle may allude to Beethoven’s “Moonlight” Sonata quasi una fantasia. Even without the evocative title, listeners will surely perceive the demon in their midst in the opening tritones (a special interval long described as diabolus in musica). Liszt then launches into a surging chromatic theme suggestive of the circular journey through Dante’s Hell. The motion builds to a vigorous, valedictory theme that is quickly cut short by resurgent tritones. Our journey begins anew with an eerie version of earlier material, a foretaste of what is to come as Liszt—a new Virgil, it seems—guides us through various manifestations of the main themes: at times haunting, at other times full-blooded and resolute. Every pianistic device is called upon in this test of endurance, athleticism, and verve.
Similarly, the twelve Transcendental Etudes navigate a difficult balance between shocking difficulty and resplendent beauty. Completed in 1852, their origins go back at least to the mid-1830s. These Etudes celebrate the full compass of piano technique. Some are a pianist’s graveyard, while others elevate voicing, nuance, and color above mere fireworks. The eleventh etude, called Harmonies du Soir (Evening Harmonies), has its share of showy display, but at its core is a touchingly earnest and simple melody. The opening section features wandering chords and is more Impressionist than narrative, with harmonic changes functioning like juxtaposed colors on a painter’s palette. These clouds eventually clear, and Liszt opens onto a middle section of endearing lyricism. Heroic cascades of sound may carry the day, but a brief reattainment of the lyric theme helps usher this Etude to a tranquil and transcendent finish. Thus, as in the “Dante” Sonata, what ultimately makes the piece succeed is Liszt’s progressive harmonic language and true melodic sense, which draw all of the athletic bravura into the service of a higher poetic ambition, and not vice versa.

(c) Jason Stell