(My text about the Hammerklavier turned out to be epic - at least in length! - and too long to include here in full. To read the full text, please visit beethoven32.com/#sonata29 )
If Op. 101 is a sonata that inspires love at first hearing, the next sonata in the cycle, Op. 106 - the Hammerklavier - rather tends to inspire awe and admiration at first. It towers above the rest like a musical Mount Everest, alluring and dangerous, dwarfing all others through its complexity and colossal scope. In performing it, one experiences Beethoven’s titanic compositional struggle in every note, his vision in this particular work constantly driving him to test the extremes of size and intensity, to push the limits of piano technique beyond anything he attempted before. Later, as one comes to grips with the material, some of the admiration is replaced with love - but the awe
always remains.
The sonata is conceived on a symphonic scale, with a four-movement structure that could be viewed from two different perspectives. On one hand, the narrative flows in one direction - we go from the light of the grand opening movement and the impish Scherzo into the deepest darkness of the slow third movement, gradually re-emerging from it in the connecting Largo, and fully triumphing in the final fugue, which is our goal and aim. On the other, the Hammerklavier’s form shows an exquisitely measured symmetry of proportions - both outer movements are eleven to twelve minutes long; going inward from the edges, we find the Scherzo and Largo at three minutes each; finally, at the centre, we reach the slow movement - which, at closer examination, exhibits the same five-part symmetry itself! The heart of this central movement, and thus the heart of the sonata, is the passage at (23:30), one of Beethoven’s most powerful personal musical utterances. Both views co-exist, supporting the vast musical tapestry, and helping unite the movements into one cohesive, albeit very complex, whole.
Another way in which Beethoven unites the sonata is by a nearly-obsessive use of the motif of a third, whether rising or falling. This motif is immediately introduced in the two opening fanfares of the first movement, first ascending, in the jump from the first left-hand note to the upper note of the following chord, then descending, in the last two right-hand chords of each phrase. The eloquent section that follows (0:15) also starts with a rising third, this time filled in with a passing note; and we will further find thirds in almost every bit of melodic material of the movement. The Scherzo’s melody, too, is nothing but a sequence made of pairs of rising and falling thirds, echoing the beginning of the first movement in a condensed form. The same is true of the beginning of the slow movement, which in its original form started directly with the falling third in bar two (15:45), until Beethoven, already after the sonata had been engraved, added an introduction bar: an intensely atmospheric slow rising third in octaves, again completing the pair. The theme of the fugue follows the same pattern (35:47) - a jump of a third up, followed by a series of descents whose final notes outline falling thirds. The fugue’s second theme (41:26) is the pair in reverse - a falling, then a rising third, both filled in with passing notes.
Even more impressive is Beethoven’s consistent use of thirds as a structural harmonic element throughout the sonata. The development sections of both the first and third movements are based on long sequences of falling thirds. The improvisatory Largo, preceding the fugue, is extreme in that respect - it is essentially a series of undisguised falling thirds, 19 in number (!), surrounding a string of short episodes. And zooming out further, even the home keys of the sonata’s movements form a falling and a rising third: B flat - F sharp - B flat. I wouldn’t normally dwell on this, as these are all technical devices, pertaining to the mechanics of composition and usually unnoticed by the listeners. But Beethoven’s focus on thirds in the Hammerklavier is so marked, and clearly so important to the evolution of the work, that I thought it worth mentioning.
To speak about the music itself: the opening movement (0:09) is perhaps the most conventional of the four, though distinguished by an unusual richness of textures, a great abundance of material, and an exquisite sense of registration - for a movement so physical and present, it’s remarkable how much of the material lies in the highest reaches of Beethoven’s keyboard.
(Text continues on beethoven32.com/#sonata29)
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Beethoven 32 - Over the course of 2020, I have learned and filmed all 32 Beethoven sonatas. Subscribe to this channel or visit beethoven32.com to follow the project.
Boris Giltburg, piano
Filmed by Stewart French
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‪@FazioliPianos‬