Piano Sonata in B-flat, D960

If one were seeking hints of Schubert’s musical “last will,” the likely place to uncover it would be the final three piano sonatas written in September 1828. Apart from finishing up work on the String Quintet in C, these sonatas were the last substantive works Schubert composed. By virtue of their number and genre, they hearken back to Beethoven’s great trilogy of sonatas, Opp. 109, 110, and 111. Tonight we hear the last of the three, the most expansive and arguably most compelling Sonata in B-flat, D.960. The scale of Schubert’s mature sonata forms has not always been regarded in a positive way. In fact, generations ignored these late sonatas precisely because of their length and “illogical,” un-Beethovenian structure. Only in the last eighty years has that opinion changed; current thinking finds precious novelty and a unique genius in Schubert’s forms. One instance is the three-key exposition of D.960. Rather than polarizing a tonic “home” key with its dominant, Schubert proceeds from B-flat into a rapturous G-flat major (the flat-VI relation) that soon reveals itself as the F-sharp minor of his second theme. Only later does a third theme emerge in the traditional dominant key, F major. More importantly, these tonal digressions are not the end of the matter, for they inspire similar journeys in the other movements. They also recalling striking key changes found in the preceding sonatas and the F-minor Fantasie. We are not always certain where Schubert will lead, though the quietly ominous low trill appended to the main theme neatly crystallizes around the F/G-flat relation that plays such an important role overall.
The opening movement’s serenity fades quickly with the start of the Andantino, written in the distant key of C-sharp minor. Rather than simple melody and accompaniment, Schubert creates a constellation of activity around the melody. That melody unfolds as parallel thirds in an inner voice, while resonant C-sharps appear all around—below, beside, above. These recurring pitches seem to hem the melody in. But with the incredibly beautiful turn to the relative major key (E major), one realizes that the melody nurtures infinities of space within. Schubert mastered austerity in music, writing themes that use the absolute minimum of notes to express the maximum of emotion.
Given the scale of the preceding movements, the brief Scherzo-Trio offers welcome levity. Its main theme actually mirrors the Sonata’s opening melody, but this is less audible than the capricious way treble and bass exchange segments of the theme. Additional contrast comes from the Trio in the parallel minor key, built entirely on chords in the right hand and syncopated jabs in the left.
The finale’s octave G’s function as a summons, announcing the appearance and all subsequent returns of the rondo theme. That theme is tonally ambiguous—is it in G minor, C minor, or B-flat major? But this momentary ruse hardly compares with Schubert’s harmonic flights undertaken later in the movement. Near the close, the octave gesture sounds three times on G, G-flat, and F, signaling the end is in sight. The final coda, brief and brilliant like Schubert’s life, is a fitting conclusion to the greatest piano sonata after Beethoven. No one after Schubert managed to sustain the lyric and dramatic energies of sonata form so masterfully. Indeed, one is left wondering just how Schubert himself would have answered the challenge of D.960. In 1828 Schubert did not compose like a man with one foot in the grave, but it will always be hard for us to hear these final works without a halo of transcendence.

(c) Jason Stell