Ludwig van Beethoven
The Piano Sonatas: Volume VI
András Schiff piano
Recorded April 2006, Zürich Tonhalle
In this sixth installment, continuing with the “middle” sonatas of Beethoven, we discover a range of emotions spanning exuberance and anxiety. Schiff consciously places the formidable “Appassionata” second in this program, bowing to chronology over any a posteriori prestige collected along the way like so much canonic dust.
Sonata No. 22 F major op. 54 (1804)
This sonata, which Beethoven placed far higher than his ever popular “Moonlight,” ebbs and flows with a series of thoughtful ruminations and graceful attacks. This is, above all, an accommodating piece, as brilliantly bipolar as it is unassuming—an enjoyable experiment in pastiche that seems to spit out its final thoughts like a conference presenter rushing to stay within time.
Sonata No. 23 f minor op. 57 (1804-06) “Appassionata”
This is a clear winner. Schiff’s playing is downright cosmic, coursing like blood and with as much drama as one could ask for in a work for solo piano. That being said, one should not mistake Beethoven’s antics for the theatrical indulgences of showy musicianship. Accordingly, Schiff lets loose only so far before allowing the piece to dictate the narrative flow of its trajectory. Just prior to composing this sonata Beethoven was confronted with the irreversibility of his hearing loss, and one might wish to see the “Appassionata” as a cry to hear rather than to be heard. Schiff finds in the octaval opening “an atmosphere of absolute danger.” Beethoven switches moods with the deftness of a seasoned quick-change artist, infused as the Allegro is with dark undertones and rhythms drawn from Scottish folk songs. The middle movement takes a very rudimentary theme and unpacks it for all it is worth. The finale is like a dirge in fast-forward, a tragic life condensed into nine minutes of fleeting youth and unrequited aspiration, and ends with a crunchy spate of frightening detonations.
Sonata No. 24 F-sharp major op. 78 (1809) “à Thérèse”
Beethoven was apparently partial to this sonata above all others. Either way, it stands as a vibrant testament to his dedicatory streak. Throughout its two-movement structure, Beethoven (and Schiff by extension) weaves a picturesque tapestry with essentially limited materials. The opening is filled with plenty of titillating flourishes to satisfy any type of listening while second movement nearly buckles under the weight of its profusion of ornaments, letting up just enough to maintain its integrity.
Sonata No. 25 G major op. 79 (1809)
Short and sweet is the order of the day in the op. 79. These condensations, along with an undying sense of melody interspersed with unsettling mortality, make for (if you will excuse the alliteration) a pointillist portrait of playful proportions.
Sonata No. 26 E-flat major op. 81a (1809-10) “Les Adieux”
Regardless of what one wishes to make of the exact inspirations behind the programmatic titles of each movement (“The Farewell,” “The Absence,” and “The Return”), this music does for all intents and purposes seem to be telling a story, albeit an elliptical one. The beauty of “Les Adieux” is its openness to interpretation: neither Beethoven nor Schiff want to impose an overarching theory onto the listener. To be sure, it is a delectable and varied journey throughout which we encounter a wide variety of characters. In this sense, the sonata “speaks” to us both in whispers and in shouts, relating a tale that, however fabricated, never ceases to enthrall.