[MUSIC] Again, our focus today is the Sonata Opus Seven. In preparing this lecture I was tempted to call it one of the great early works, but really most every published work of Beethoven is great-- certainly most of the sonatas, symphonies, and large-scale chamber music works-- and nearly every early work is fully representative of him. I've had so many conversations with musicians who, having just heard one of the glorious Opus 1 piano trios, or the Opus 2 piano sonatas, simply find themselves shaking their heads and saying, my God, Opus 1. I've heard that so many times I've dubbed it the "Beethoven Opus 1 head shake." So, why the Sonata Opus 7? It's a useful example for us here, because it is, both, typical of its time and wildly impressive. Some editions have called it the Grand Sonata Opus 7, and it takes longer to play than any other sonata except for the Hammerklavier. It's very revealing that it is this, and not one of the middle-period sonatas--which are so famous for being big-boned. We don't know much about the sonatas dedicatee, the Countess Babette von Keglevicz, other than that she was a student of Beethoven's at one point and obviously an aristocrat. But, she clearly must have impressed Beethoven in some way since he rewarded her with this, such a complex and distinctive work. The three sonatas that he had previously published had really already stretched the form. But this takes it a step further-- a step farther from the world of Haydn and the Mozart sonata. Before playing the opening of the work, I'd like to give a, just a brief accounting of the ways in which Opus 7--and by extension the early period in general--is like the sonatas of Haydn and Mozart and the ways in which it is not. So first of all, the first movement conforms absolutely to the sonata form model which we discussed in the first lecture: the contrasting themes, the establishment of the dominant as the work's critical event, everything. Beethoven does find ways to stretch the proportions of the form, but not in a way that alters the overall shape or pokes at the rules of sonata form. Second, the center of emotional gravity is firmly planted in the first half of the work. The majority of the innovations and the arresting moments, these take place in the first two movements of the work. Just as they would have in classic, early classical sonatas. But, this leads us, conveniently, to the principal difference, which is that the sonata is in four movements. But interestingly nearly all of Haydn's and Mozart's symphonies are in four movements and all of their string quartets are as well. But neither of them ever wrote a four-movement piano sonata and, you know, they both wrote lots of piano sonatas. But Opus 7 is the rule, not the exception, among the early Beethoven sonatas, in its having four movements. This shows that from the very beginning, Beethoven took the sonata to be a more major statement, a more serious statement, than did Haydn or Mozart. Now, the additional movement is a menuet, in this case. In other cases it might also be a scherzo. These movements are typically the shortest and the lightest of the work, and the one in Opus 7 is definitely not an exception. But its inclusion makes a very significant difference in the overall heft of the work. The other different element that Beethoven introduces, obviously, is his own enormous personality. But it's hopeless trying to talk about that. One just has to listen to the music to hear it. So here is the opening of Opus 7. [MUSIC] Many things here. First of all, it just crackles with energy. It begins without preamble and has this "And we're off!" quality about it. Somehow, even though any of what I just played is loud, it really announces its, its bigness-- its ambition--right away. Even a listener conditioned to expect a sonata of Mozartian proportions will understand instinctively by this point that something large is underway. Now, what is interesting and characteristic about this opening movement is that it is not thematically driven. Whereas the first theme of a Mozart work is almost invariably vocal--even if it's energetic in character-- and is also usually a minimum of four measures long, Beethoven's themes are often terse and, in an old stereotype, less notable for their beauty than for their utility. Now, let me say up front that this stereotype is mostly nonsense. Because Beethoven did, in fact, give us some of the most beautiful themes ever written. But it is true that his themes are very often designed to be played with, to be wrestled with, even. This theme, for example, is really not a theme at all. It's only a two-note motive, played twice. In fact, even the repeated notes in the bass seem almost more significant. You know, they are, to a large extent, responsible for setting the character rather than just the two- note motive in the treble itself. And the theme itself rarely comes without this bass unaltered. I would struggle greatly to think of an opening theme of any work by Haydn and Mozart that is really a "kernel" in the way that this is. Now, when I talk about Beethoven's themes and utility, the Apassionata Sonata is a really spectacular example of this. I won't play much of it since I don't want to go too far off topic, but between this opening theme [MUSIC] and this four-note motive-- [MUSIC] which, by the way, will be familiar to anyone who knows the Fifth Symphony-- between these two, really not very melodic bits of material, you have the source of nearly everything that happens in the whole movement. That dotted theme, so severe in this guise is altered minimally to become the very lyrical second theme. [MUSIC] And that four-note knocking motive? It's simply everywhere. It's a miracle of economy the way he takes almost nothing and turns it into something which feels massive. But back to Opus 7. This two-bar motive may not be as spectacularly utilized as the opening of the Appassionata, but it appears in many different harmonic guises. Slightly later in the exposition, we have [MUSIC] And then in the development. [MUSIC] It's not that any of this is especially radical, but if the theme had a strong character of its own, one could alter its harmony only at serious peril. Because it is neutral, it's not harmed by being manipulated in this way. Or in any way, it turns out. The one aspect of the theme which strikes me as being ingrained, essential to it is its shape, a strong bar followed by a weak bar. But in the coda of the movement Beethoven calls even that into question, putting the right hand out of sync with the left, and turning the pattern into a weak STRONG, weak STRONG one. [MUSIC] So, this motive, which does not seem destined to be of any great significance when it first appears, ultimately is terribly useful in making the narrative of, moving the narrative of the piece along, and in setting strong characters. As needed, it can be jubilant, or irate, or anxious. It's malleable precisely because it is so neutral. That is a quintessential Beethoven quality. So, I've spoken a bit about the sense of scope and ambition in this sonata, and that extends to almost every aspect of its construction. Again, the mere presence of a fourth movement is a real novelty in a sonata at that point, and the placement of the movements--a sonata form allegro followed by a slow movement, followed by the menuet, followed by the rondo-- that is precisely the formula for the classical symphony. So, just as with Haydn and Mozart, the reality of this piece being a sonata--being played by one person, probably only in a home, rather than by many, probably in a hall-- means that Beethoven could use the work as a venue for experimentation to a greater extent than he could with the symphonies. But these early piano sonatas are decidedly more public than the solo works of Mozart or Haydn are. Somewhat ironically this sense of privacy in the piano sonata comes back later in Beethoven's career. What is also notably symphonic in Opus 7 is the use of the instrument. By that I don't mean that the piano occasionally plays something that is meant to imitate an orchestral instrument. That's not new to Beethoven, you know, bass lines in Haydn are obviously bassoon- like in many cases. There are other examples which are similar. What is more meaningful is that in scope, Beethoven really seems to be aiming beyond the piano. So, take this passage from later in the exposition [MUSIC] Beethoven seems to be in search of a resonance which is not really inherent to the instrument. You have these bell tones in the bass, and what happens in the right hand is presumably meant to sound like a reverberation around them. Now, this is already quite difficult to achieve on a modern piano. It must have been nearly impossible on a 1790s fortepiano. Now, I have very limited experience playing old pianos. So I don't consider myself to be an expert on this topic at all. But, it is important to say that in Beethoven's lifetime, this is an absolutely critical moment in the evolution of the instrument. The piano in very primitive form came into being in the 1730s. What we today call the fortepiano is the instrument of Mozart's time. So, really, it was Beethoven's era and the one immediately following his death, 1790 to 1850, give or take, in which the instrument morphed from the fortepiano, to something closely resembling what we play today. Mozart's piano had only five octaves-- [SOUND] from here to here--which was really quite a restriction. And you can tell, because Mozart often used the lowest and the highest notes of the instrument in his music. In Beethoven's lifetime, the range of the instrument increased no fewer than three times. And it was seven full octaves, rather than five, by the time of his death. Beethoven was clearly interested in these developments, as he took advantage of the increased range in his music, each time there was an increased range. And he owned Broadwood pianos, which had to be shipped to him all the way from England, which was a big deal then. It's not surprising that he was attracted to the Broadwood. At the time, they were the innovators in the piano world, and Beethoven was always stretching the limits of the instrument, always looking to get more out of it. In so many works, like, well, the end of the Sonata Opus 110 is a great example, he places the two hands at the absolute far reaches of the piano. Honestly, it's not a great way of writing. The big gap in the middle is really not ideal from a resonance or overtones point of view. But, it does help convey this fantastic sense of Beethoven wringing every ounce of possibility from the instrument. After writing his last sonata, Beethoven wrote that the piano was a "most unsatisfactory instrument," which is quite a statement from someone who wrote more great music for it than possibly anyone else in history. But that sense that the instrument is never really quite enough for him, it's always there. It's a part of the DNA of the music, a source of its incredible power. Beyond the question--I would say the simple question of range, the differences between Beethoven's piano and the modern piano are more difficult to describe. This is, first of all because the questions of sound are always deeply subjective ones. But also, in that era, there were many different piano makers, each with distinctive-sounding instruments. Today the word "piano" means Steinway. That is the sound that any music lover will associate with the piano. You know, it's a very different picture now. But, regardless of the maker, old pianos were certainly less powerful than today's version, which was probably one of the sources of Beethoven's frustration with them. And beyond that, they were less even between the registers. At the time, this was simply accepted and taken advantage of, by composers. You know, the octave to octave, the basic nature of the instrument, would change. But, that kind of variety, it's been carefully, painstakingly removed from the piano. We live in era not of variety, but of equalization. Let's take a short break for a review question.
