Schubert

My favorite Schubert piano sonata is # 14 in A minor, D.784 (played by Mitsuko Uchida, a piano goddess). It starts by gently probing in the far reaches of our soul, asking ineffable questions that are of the sort one might ponder between dreams. Gradually we are drawn into the A minor universe, rising and falling on the swells of Schubert’s growing tempest. Through the first two movements the dialog progresses as a series of rising storms, sublime wind and currents that dance around themes noble and eternal—separated by interludes of sunlight, not just illumination but light that warms our hearts and enlightens our heads. Urgently and inexorably the melody pushes forward, increasing tension until it can increase no more and then, like a crossbow pulled back one more notch—is it possible?—and then another, and yet another! Finally the third and final movement (allegro vivace) resolves all the built-up tension, thunder and crossbow bolts filling the air with color, pulsing in strict accordance with the inexorable rhythm of the universe, and just as we bring ourselves into confident sync there’s the briefest pause—almost imperceptible—where the force behind the tides of the oceans and orbits of the planets gathers itself for the ecstatic finale. Somehow we’ve journeyed to the far reaches in just under 24 minutes, returning cleansed, fulfilled. I love Schubert's music.

I didn’t really know much about Schubert until a few years ago. And I wasn’t really attracted to classical piano music other than the odd concerto. Too boring compared to instruments that appeal to the ear such as a violin, which when expertly played could bring an audience to tears with a single note. The plaintive tone of an oboe, the rich warmth of the cello, the energy and passion of the brass all strike deeply within whereas the piano seemed to just offer notes. But, inspired by Thomas Mann (Doctor Faustus, chapter VIII) I decided to try again to appreciate the piano—the instrument, unlike all others, for beyond the senses, where what is heard is the noble, intellectual content of the music. Soon I had 10 hours of Beethoven and 9 hours of Schubert piano sonatas on my iPod.

How to deal with so much new music? With Beethoven, it was easy. Of his 32 piano sonatas, 8 or 9 of them became popular enough to have been named (Moonlight, Waldstein, Appassionata, etc.). So I focused on listening to and understanding the named Beethoven piano sonatas as a start.

Schubert was more difficult. I didn’t know where to start, and he didn’t have a list of named sonatas to work with. And so, one Saturday while Jo was in PA, as I was working at home all day, I listened to all 9 hours of Schubert piano sonatas When I heard a theme or phrase I particularly liked I wrote down the sonata that was playing. At the end of the day I had four Schubert piano sonatas to start with.

How do we learn to like pieces of music? For me, the only way is repetition. It takes at least 3 and sometimes 5 or more hearings before I have reached any level of familiarization with any but the simplest tunes. And while we’re at it, what it is about some music that we like and other that we’re not attracted to. In “This Is Your Brain On Music” the author (Daniel J. Levitin) makes the case that one of the attributes of music sophisticated listeners find pleasing is it’s complexity (within the constraints that make it music rather than noise, such as timbre, tempo, etc.). While it’s true that such an theory explains why repeated hearings are required to fully embrace a piece of music, on the whole I found that explanation unsatisfying. The opening bars of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata are anything but complex, yet we’re attracted to it nonetheless.

It seems to me there are at least two elements of satisfying music: it’s beauty; and how deeply it touches us, or moves us. And I would think that individuals with different tastes are more likely to agree as to the beauty of a piece of music based on its having a pleasing melody along with well regulated harmony, structure and tempo as per prevailing forms.

But what is it in music that moves us? Personally, for example, I find overwhelming beauty in Bach. I love the St Matthew Passion, the Mass in B minor, Goldberg Variations, Musical Offering, Cello Suites, and others—and listen to them often. But Bach rarely moves me. Same with Mozart; there's beauty, but not much in the way of passion. But Beethoven, Brahms and Schubert do indeed move me with their beautiful music. Why is that? And why is it that someone else might be moved by Back and Mozart, but not Schubert? Dr. Oliver Sacks researches this very topic from a neurological point of view, and shows various portions of the brain “lighting up” more when listening to that music which moves us (in Dr. Sacks’ case, that’s Bach). But I suspect the neurological view is more of the “what” rather than the “why”. Sacks touches on this when he suggests that music is able to reach the oldest, pre-verbal portions of our brain and thus elicit a primal response.

I started playing the four Schubert piano sonatas that somehow made an impression the first time I heard them—sonata #20 in A, sonata #7 in E-flat, and sonata #142 (which, published posthumously, is actually a collection of four impromptus) along with sonata #14 in A minor referred to above. And after listening to them a few times, I found myself drawn to them more and more strongly. I discovered that Schubert’s piano sonatas had the ability to transport me in a way that other pieces could not. I went back and selected other Schubert sonatas to listen to, and my collection of “moving” Schubert piano sonatas began to grow: I’ve now got about 7 or 8 that I listen to on a regular basis.

The following yearI got some Schubert chamber music. Now I have added to my collection of Schubert favorites his “Trout” piano quintet, several string quartets (including “Rosamunde” and “Death and the Maiden”) and the famous Cello Quintet (also published posthumously—he died young—and cited by Wikipedia as deeply sublime, with moments of unique transcendental beauty, and the “high point in the entire chamber repertoire”). In the documentary "Music From the Inside Out", Philadelphia Symphony concertmaster David Kim says the best thing about his career now that he's no longer performing by himself as a traveling violin virtuoso is that he gets to play the Schubert Cello Quintet in a chamber group, which he could never do before.

Schubert’s liturgical music is beautiful, especially his masses; my favorite mass is Schubert’s Mass in E-flat major, although Beethoven's Missa Solemnis, Kodály's Missa Brevis, and of course Bach’s Mass in B minor are favorites as well.

While Schubert in general seems to move me the most, I have found other pieces that do as well: Brahms cello sonata #1, piano quintet in F, string quintet in G, and his sacred choral music; Beethoven’s piano sonata favorites include Moonlight, Waldstein, Appassionata, Tempest and Hammerklavier; I also like his violin sonatas, especially Frühlingsonate and Kreutzer, and his string quarter in F, op. 135. And among the Russians I am especially moved by Tchaikovsky’s Rembrandt Trio and Rachmaninov’s cello sonata and piano concerto #2.

But mostly it's Schubert . He left a fairly large body of work considering the fact he died young (at age 31). He was buried next to Beethoven, whom he greatly admired and who had died the previous year. Many of his manuscripts weren’t found until after he died, and his popularity increased gradually as Robert Schumann and Franz Liszt, among others, transcribed, arranged and promoted his work. On the 100th anniversary of Schubert’s birth in 1897 Vienna celebrated with ten days of Schubert concerts. Imagine that!