Program Notes

Johaness Brahms (1833-1897)

Concerto for Violin, Cello and Orchestra in A Minor, Op. 102 (1887)

Scored for pairs of flutes, oboes, clarinets and bassoons, four horns, two trumpets, timpani and strings.

On the first day of the year 1879, Joseph Joachim premiered the Violin Concerto, Op. 77 of Johaness Brahms. From the first, Brahms had Joachim, a close friend, in mind for this honor. In spite of the struggles that the composer had with the work, Joachim was sufficiently encouraging, and was able to make a number of suggestions concerning the solo part. In admiration for his role in helping to shape what became one of the greatest musical works of all time, Brahms left Joachim with a blank slate to create a cadenza for the first movement. Joachim became a great champion of Brahms’ work, and their friendship only deepened. A few years later, the two men were not on speaking terms.

It must be noted that Brahms was never one to let tact stand in the way of his personal opinions. Though many people were the beneficiaries of the composer’s help and generosity, just as many more would rather not have been in the same room with the man. Brahms did not suffer fools gladly, and if he felt he had bested a lesser man, he was ambivalent toward the consequences. But this was an altogether different situation. The rift with Joachim came when Brahms, in a not uncharacteristic show of gallantry, sided with the great violinist’s wife when the two separated. The exchange that followed is probably best left to the imagination.

In the summer of 1887, the composer wrote to Clara Schumann: “I have had the happy notion of writing a concerto for violin and cello. I might better have left the idea to someone who understands fiddles better than I do.” He was soon at work on what would become his Concerto for Violin, Cello and Orchestra, which was eventually published as his Op. 102. But in the composition of the piece, Brahms seems to have sensed another opportunity.

During the stand-off Joachim continued to play Brahms’ music, but despite the composer’s repeated attempts to restore their friendship, Joachim refused to be moved. Brahms took the high ground once again and sent the score to Joachim along with a letter: “After you have seen the piece, you may send me a card which simply says, ‘I disown it.’ That will be quite sufficient for me, and I shall know what to do.” This time Joachim succumbed and wrote back that he was pleased with the work.

Brahms had suggested that Robert Hausmann, the cellist in Joachim’s quartet, would make a good partner in the first performance of the work. Soon both Joachim and Haussmann were working with Brahms on the solo parts. Considering the skill of the two musicians, it is not surprising that their music became extremely virtuosic, though the final decisions were always up to Brahms. The first performance was given on September 23, 1887 with Brahms conducting. As he did with the Violin Concerto, Brahms dedicated this new work to Joachim, but the closeness they once had never really returned. This makes it all the more interesting to note that the cello seems to have a slightly larger role in the work.

Brahms seems to have taken a different approach here than he had in his previous three concerti. With the Violin Concerto and his two piano concerti, Brahms had in mind an enormous symphonic essay, making the orchestra every bit as important and fulfilling as the solo instrument. But here his concept was closer to that of the Sinfonia Concertante, a style that resembled Brahms’ symphony-concerto concept, but was not nearly as Teutonic in its conception. The orchestra is still an indispensable partner, but takes on a more traditional role as accompanist in many places.

A magnificent and majestic orchestral introduction ushers in the entrance of the cello. In its penetrating cadenza, it introduces the main themes of the movement. Introspection now gives way to gentle beauty as the winds’ passage reveals a quiet lyricism and sets the scene for the introduction of the violin. The cello soon joins in for a duo cadenza which establishes the two instruments as equals. It is only after the cadenzas that Brahms finally gives the orchestra its traditional role in exposition. When the soloists enter again their music is lyrical and flowing, varying with virtuosic brilliance and moving loveliness the movement’s main themes. The development section is breathtaking, and the recapitulation is full of innovation and invention in its varied restatements. Brahms’ use of the two soloists is pure genius displaying counterpoint, harmony and astonishing passages in octaves.

A horn call introduces the astoundingly beautiful second movement. Its simplicity is arresting, the soloists playing in octaves most of the time, with winds doubling the melody. Brahms’ use of orchestral color is remarkable, and his imagination seemingly boundless. There never seems to be a phrase repeated the same way twice, and one is spellbound throughout.

The finale is another example of Brahms’ love of gypsy folk music. The vibrant melody is introduced on the cello, which then steps aside to give the violin its due. Despite working together in perfect unity through most of the movement there seems to be almost a light-hearted rivalry between the soloists at times. The music in this rondo movement occasionally reaches great dramatic heights, and near the end, the music seems to change character briefly becoming subtly sentimental. But the orchestra suddenly brings us back to the point in a full-voiced restatement of the main theme, soon joined by the soloists and bringing a glorious conclusion.