Program Notes

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)

Symphony No. 4 in Bb Major, Op 60

Scored for flute, pairs of oboes, clarinets, bassoons, horns and trumpets, timpani and strings

When examining the symphonies of Beethoven, it frequently seems as though the greatest emphasis is placed on the odd numbered ones, especially the third, fifth and seventh, concluding with the monumental ninth. The ones in between are often seen as lighter works not to be taken as seriously as the others. But what seems most odd about that is the fact that few have stopped to ask why. It may well be true that the second symphony doesn’t carry the weight of the first, and that the fourth seems like a light-hearted stopover on the way to the echoes of fate that make up the fifth. But in reality, this is far from the truth.

The second and fourth symphonies, especially, despite their great optimism, reveal on closer examination that there is more than just a thread of intensity and even tragedy woven into their fiber. And the sixth symphony is more than a gentle walk through the countryside. It is an epic statement of Beethoven’s love, on an almost spiritual level, with the beauty and the forces of nature. It must be pointed out to those who would lightly dismiss these works that they were not merely tossed off, but came about through the same processes of conflict and resolution that define any of Beethoven’s so-called heavier works.

Taking up the cause of the Symphony No. 4 in B-flat Major, it is important to keep in mind that it was being worked on at the same time that Beethoven was sketching both the fifth and sixth symphonies. In fact, the fifth was actually begun first. So with this in mind, it is easy to hear the relentless hand of fate occasionally resounding in the second movement, or feel the tragedy and sadness that permeate the introduction to the first movement. Even in the effervescence of the scherzo and the boisterous joy of the finale deeper rumblings make their way to the surface, though never allowed to dominate. Though the symphony stays closer to a traditional classical style than its predecessor, it is obvious that the powerful hand of the master was in complete control.

Having said that, there is no doubt that this symphony is overflowing with good will, playful humor and astonishing beauty. It was completed in 1806, and was first performed in March, 1807 in Vienna to generally favorable reviews.

The first movement begins with an unexpectedly somber introduction, the cellos and basses intoning a melody of dark and mysterious foreboding. As the music progresses, it seems that the mood will lighten, but it only succeeds in becoming heavier under the crushing weight of its sorrowful burden. Then suddenly, out of nowhere comes a series of brilliant chords, tentative at first, but they soon succeed in utterly demolishing the gloom. The music that follows is so completely sunny, so optimistically vibrant, that Beethoven may have some of us scratching our heads at the unexpected about face. The composer gives us an exposition that is bold and vivacious, but also playful and carefree, leaving us almost breathless in rapturous abandon. The development section, a gleeful dialogue between the strings and winds is interrupted by a terse declamation, which succeeds in re-establishing something of the somber mood with which the movement began. But this mood doesn’t last long and soon the drama gives way to gentle beauty. But just as we’re getting used to the relaxation, the music heats up, and before we have time to scratch our heads again, the bold, sunny optimism has returned in force. The brilliant coda that ends the movement is exuberantly triumphant.

The Adagio is a movement which contrasts great drama with great beauty. Overall, it is clearly music of great tenderness and warmth, despite the mighty outbursts that punctuate the proceedings, and reveal a powerful hand at work. Hector Berlioz once said of this movement, “It sounds as if Archangel Michael had sighed out this movement in a fit of melancholy one day as he stood erect on the flaming threshold of Heaven contemplating the world.”

In its merry and rhythmically ebullient opening bars, and the beautifully rustic winds of the central trio, the third movement scherzo foreshadows the pastoral splendor of the sixth symphony. It is a bit of a departure from the standard form that the trio is repeated a second time after a restatement of the scherzo, and a brief horn call in the coda sets the stage for a booming finish.

A brilliant perpetuum mobile leads the way into the exuberant finale. The joyfully dancing strings are contrasted with a darker-hued outburst from the full orchestra. A solo oboe introduces a more lyrical second subject, but the momentum plunges inexorably forward, intensifying as it goes. There is hardly a second to catch a breath throughout this rollicking essay, until the coda offers a welcome respite, only to be swept away in a final wave of enthusiasm.