No one had developed the symphony to a level as harmoniously rich as Johannes Brahms. Ludwig van Beethoven’s greatness did not lean on harmonic innovation; Gustav Mahler was yet to be recognized during Brahms’ peak years while Richard Wagner, Brahms’ great archrival, did not write symphonies.
Despite Brahms’ cautious adherence to what had become the traditional symphonic format, his works always seem freshly inspired and emotionally fulfilling. Reticence led him to delay until age 42 to compose his first symphony. The story goes that he was intimidated by Beethoven’s Ninth. Brahms’ symphonies never had Beethoven’s probing dissonances or startling changes of tempo. The emotional rewards of the Brahms cycle lay in the confident assurance of a great composer secure in his own inspired genius and certain of his musical destiny. Perhaps this explains the sense of unity among his symphonies despite their distinctive differences—a continuum of melodically satisfying musical expression with each work retaining its own singular profile.
The first symphony required a 22-year gestation period. Begun in 1854, it was not completed until 1876, reflecting Brahms’ apprehension: He did not wish the work to be regarded as “Beethoven’s 10th.” Brahms carefully husbanded his musical resources until he felt prepared to complete it. The work gusts forth in a glorious burst of spring. The almost strident search for optimism finally brings a ray of sunshine, further lauded in the lovely searching motif of the andante, portending only a hint of struggle until the brief ear-catching allegretto advances the drama towards the magnificent final movement. Departing from the traditional symphonic scheme of the finale as a culmination of the preceding movements, Brahms strikes out with a finale that proclaims a well-fought victory of optimism.
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Initially criticized as being a patchwork of sections, the magnificent finale moves from a conflicted opening to a beautiful, soulful horn call, which introduces the great melodic motif that will dominate the finale.
The second symphony was written only a year later, in 1877, and proclaims a more genial relaxed countenance. Gone are the soul-searching dramatics of the first. The second has the fulsome summerlike warmth more typically identified with this composer. Even the lovely andante barely moves within the heat of summer laziness, portending the cheery conclusion. Many find this to be their favorite of Brahms’ symphonies. Its harmonic pleasures offer none but the most pleasing of challenges, like the bouquet of a fine summer Chablis.
The third symphony, written almost six years later in 1883, bursts with a golden, unrelenting autumnal glow. In the interim Brahms had composed some of his greatest works; his growing sense of confidence is apparent in the rich harmonic freewheeling pace of the third symphony—a bright melodic harvest of lovely melodies for their own sake without any particular undercurrent. Each movement revels in its own glory as if inviting the listener to share. The opening allegro gets off to a flamboyant start with a beautiful haunting motif joyously developed yet laid to rest until the final movement reiterates the drama and is almost overwhelmed by the happy nature of its own glorious sound, finally resolving into a quiet finale. But it is the haunting third movement so often referenced in film and television that has captured the listener’s imagination. Used in Goodbye Again to highlight the May-December romance between Ingrid Bergman and Anthony Perkins, it became more ominous as Robert Taylor contemplates killing Katharine Hepburn in Undercurrent.
The fourth symphony, written in 1884-85, is often described as one of the darkest pieces to come out of the Romantic era. It does indeed sound like a wintery farewell to the earlier seasonal pleasures and stands as a final valedictory summation of the Brahms symphonic series. He would write no more symphonies. The work does not lack Brahms signature melodiousness, but the final movement, a passacaglia based on a Bach chorale, defines the work and leaves us nonplussed with an awesome sense of despair—but not without a winsome poignancy for what has gone before, an unsparing, unsentimental farewell to one of the greatest of all symphonic cycles.
The Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra performs Brahms Symphonies No. 1 and 2 on April 30 at 8 p.m. and May 1 at 2:30 p.m., and Symphonies No. 3 and 4 on May 6 at 11:15 a.m. and May 7 at 8 p.m. at the Marcus Center for the Performing Arts, 929 N. Water St. For tickets, visit mso.org.
