Arne Nordheim’s Lament

On 16 June last year, with Oslo Cathedral filled to capacity, we bade our final farewells at Arne Nordheim’s dignified funeral. The service encompassed a memorial portrait of the artist, depicted not only in the words and poetry of others, but also in the works of the composer himself. From the very outset – Aftonland (Eveningland), the first of his works performed at a Bergen International Festival, and the subsequent Epitaffio, which treats the topics of death and loneliness – Arne Nordheim’s thoughts revolved around human destiny, human suffering and the end of life. Clamavi for Solo Cello was a natural choice for the final farewell. Aage Kvalbein, who had given the first performance in 1981, once more performed the deeply felt lament at Arne’s passing. The inspiration for Clamavi comes from Psalm 141: ‘Lord, I cry unto Thee: make haste unto me! Give ear unto my voice when I cry unto Thee!’

Tunes to Celebrate Life

It is a great leap from Nordheim’s sorrowful Lamento back in the history of music to Felix Mendelssohn’s bright, harmonic universe, in which all evil and suffering seems perverse. Mendelssohn composed his Cello Sonata No 1 during a particularly demanding period: in addition to fulfilling his duties as the Music Director of the Gewandhaus Orchestra in Leipzig, he spent his time travelling to music festivals throughout Germany and carrying out other tasks which made demands on his organizational talent. In spite of all this work he remained highly creative. In the same year he composed three string quartets, a violin sonata and this evening’s cello sonata. Clara Schumann wrote in her journal that she was particularly fond of this sonata, and her husband Robert wrote in his periodical that Mendelssohn had created the most perfect of absolute music, some of the most characteristic work ever to emanate from the hands of a great artist. The sonata is in three movements.

Fantasies in Suite Form

Schumann composed Drei Fantasiestücke (Three Fantasy Pieces), op. 73, in Dresden in a period full of conflict: as the conductor of the city orchestra he was increasingly receiving criticism. This did not subdue his creative genius however, at least not to start with. He responded by writing a series of smaller works or miniatures for a variety of solo instruments and piano. The first of these was for the clarinet. It is characteristic of Schumann’s way of working that he tried out the composition with a musician from the court orchestra of the city for six days before he was satisfied with the finished work. He later reworked the piece for violin or cello, and the latter of these is the version played in this concert. All versions are standard chamber music repertoire. The ends of both the first and second movement are marked attacca, indicating that the three lied-like movements are conceived as an uninterrupted suite.

A Shooting Star

As is the case with many of Johannes Brahms’s major works, his Piano Quintet op. 34 is the result of a long and complicated process with the composer at his most self-critical. His first version was for string quintet (with a second cello part), but his advisors considered it too tightly-woven and complex. He then reworked it as a sonata for two pianos. Clara Schumann considered it not in fact to be a sonata at all, but rather ‘thoughts that you can – and must – strew from a cornucopia over the entire orchestra’. Brahms set to work once more. This time he fused the two versions into a noble new work, not for orchestra but for a broadly conceived piece of chamber music: a Piano Quintet. He continued to seek the advice of musician friends, particularly on the piano part, which can often dominate over a small group of strings. In this case it is a compactly written movement with a number of themes being developed and varied. The conductor Hermann Levi stated immediately that this was a masterpiece surpassing everything since 1828; there are many references to Schubert’s great C minor String Quintet in Brahms’s opus 34. F minor is a gloomy key, and its introduction, with open semiquaver octaves, is reminiscent of Beethoven’s Appassionata Sonata. Energetic themes alternate with passages of longing. The Adagio brings us beautiful memorable tunes. The scherzo introduces bold dance rhythms, interrupted by the calm, soothing atmosphere of the trio. The sombre mood of the final movement is artfully expounded and developed. Contemporaries reacted to the compressed nature of Brahms’s writing: one critic found the composer fickle and whimsical, and at times bizarre. However, it is indeed this compact form and its very complexity that we appreciate most in Brahms, and it is for this very reason that this quintet has acquired a special status among the piano quintets of the romantic era.