Beethoven The Complete String Trios -- Performed By The Zurich String Trio A Critical Review

My favorite recordings of Beethoven's string trios, out of a very crowded field, are with the Leopold Trio on Hyperion. But these are full-priced discs, while the current Brilliant Classics box with the Zurich String Trio goes for a super bargain price. There should be more involved, however, than the matter of cost in guiding you to a decision. If I tell you why I favor the Leopold, you may find that the Zurich is more suited to your personal taste.

These trios are among Beethoven's earliest published works. 

Mozart's great E. Divertimento, K 563, was likely the young Beethoven's model. Whatever else one may say about them, evidence already exists in these very early trios, albeit in latent form, for the unique Beethoven persona that would soon emerge. Two examples will suffice.

The trio section of the first Menuetto in the E : Trio: a lovely melody is floated in the violin over an arpeggiated accompaniment in the viola and pizzicato in the cello. It is repeated, as expected. Then, where the melody reappears appended to the end of the second strain of the trio section, it is not exactly restated; instead, it is suggested by a series of gestures  in the violin part. But the ear hears outlined in those gestures the same melody, now made more poignant through the power of imagination. 

This technique will become a Beethoven hallmark, and it is one of the devices that accounts for the capacity of his music to affect us in such profound ways. It is the means by which the essence of an idea is communicated without explicitly expressing it, leaving us to imprint upon it our own meaning. To grasp the fuller implications of this, skip 30 years ahead to the alla danza movement of the op. 130 Quartet, and listen to how Beethoven implants his lilting little tune in your head, only later to have the first violin weave a filigree around it. You hear the tune spun through the decorative lace, even though it's not literally there.

In other ways, the Scherzo from the C-Minor Trio is also a portent of things to come. The restless urgency and sense of underlying menace that pervade the first movement already warn of the Sturm und Drang that lie ahead. Compare this movement, for example, to the first movement of the op. 18/4 String Quartet in the same key. But most of all, it's the shock of the Scherzo (no joke, this) with its whiplash cross rhythms and syncopations that not only convey a sense of dire danger, but rip asunder the comity and conviviality of 18th-century upper-class Viennese Hausmusik . Caught up in the revolutionary spirit of the 1790s, Beethoven was already on his own path to personal liberation, and indeed, music would never again be the same.

What all of this boils down to is, how do you want to hear these works? If you prefer to hear them, as I do, as harbingers of something new and quite bold, the Leopold Trio places a premium on those very elements that make this music so daring and dramatic. If you prefer a lower-voltage approach, one that de-emphasizes the shock and awe, and presents these trios more within the well-mannered context of Haydn's and Mozart's drawing-room music, the present readings with the Zurich String Trio are, I can honestly say, among the best of that particular class.

So, strongly recommended, if you like your early Beethoven decaffeinated. 

Credits : Arkiv Music 

Beethoven's Missa Solemnis -- A Grand Way To Start Off 2020

‘Is this the greatest piece ever written?’ Such was the question fired at me by Sir Roger Norrington during our correspondence in preparation for the recent performance of Beethoven’s Missa Solemnis, given by the combined choirs and orchestras of Cambridge University in King’s College Chapel, conducted by Sir Roger himself.

Norrington is an alumnus of Clare College, and perhaps the key figure in the development of historically informed musical performances during the 1970s – with extraordinary energy, imagination and a large dose of historical proof, he set about reimagining all sorts of music from Schütz to Wagner (and in recent years, even to Mahler) with the aim of playing that music, as far as possible, as it was played when it was written. That means – more often than not – smaller orchestras, fast tempi and, most notoriously, ‘pure tone’, or no vibrato, giving the sound an exciting edge and vitality in fast music, and a wonderful depth and profundity in slower music.

There’s plenty of both in the Missa Solemnis, and I spent a wonderful week assisting Sir Roger as he brought this music to life with Cambridge students. Assisting a conductor is an interesting task in itself – after leading the orchestra through an initial playthrough before Sir Roger joined us, I spent time in King’s evaluating balance issues between choir and orchestra, checking that the choir’s text was audible (never easy in a resonant acoustic like King’s) and occasionally suggesting where perhaps something might work better if played slightly differently. I have to confess, though, that the best part was getting to spend a week listening to the Missa Solemnis every night. I had spent a lot of the Christmas vacation learning the piece in order to prepare for my rehearsal with the orchestra, so I thought I knew it quite well – but I had barely scratched the surface, and (like so many works) the impact of a recording is trifling compared to that of a live performance, especially of this monumental work.

Beethoven considered the Missa Solemnis his greatest achievement. Cast in five monumental movements, it’s a real compendium of almost every musical texture – calm, pure diatonicism in the Kyrie, thunderous tutti sections and an almost operatic intensity at times in the Gloria, a mini-violin concerto in the Benedictus, war-like trumpets and drums in the Agnus Dei and, most remarkably, a seemingly never-ending sequence of massive fugues. Striking too are the frequent references to older styles of music, what Sir Roger referred to as the ‘old modes’ – a number of passages in the work, such as the Praeludium to the Benedictus, use the sound of older composers such as Palestrina and Bach, as well as frequent references to Handel’s Messiah. It may well be Beethoven’s masterpiece – but hardly anyone knows it. It’s pretty extraordinary when you think about it like that. His other great work with choir and orchestra, the Ninth Symphony, is performed hundreds of times every year and is a cornerstone of our musical culture, but somehow the Missa Solemnis has never reached such heights of popularity.

There are obvious reasons for this – it hasn’t got a tune to rival the Ode to Joy, and it’s ferociously difficult to perform. But there is also a more subtle reason, which I believe lies in a fundamental difference in the messages of the two works. The Ninth moves from a state of disorder and darkness at its opening to a glorious celebration of human brotherhood and hope, from chaos to certainty. The Missa Solemnis takes the opposite journey, from the stability of the unison cries of ‘Kyrie’ at the beginning to an oddly abrupt, almost unresolved ending.

The words that close the Mass, ‘dona nobis pacem’ (grant us peace) seem outwardly conciliatory, full of relaxed certainty in a peaceful future. Indeed, they are most often set like that, a major resolution of usually stormy, minor-key cries of ‘miserere nobis’ (have mercy upon us). Beethoven follows that harmonic path, but undercuts that with two sudden interjections of military trumpets and drums, the army banging at the gate. Sir Roger was keen to impress on us during rehearsals that Beethoven lived in Vienna during wartime – he knew the sound of warfare, and the frailty of peace. So the Agnus Dei presents an ambiguous ending – we seem to reach some kind of resolution with the last few orchestral chords, but the sound of warfare is still ringing in our ears. We have moved from a communal call in prayer to profound uncertainty about the future – the exact opposite of the Ninth.

So the Ninth is powerfully affirmatory, and looks to the future, whereas the Missa Solemnis is in the final reckoning ambivalent, unsettling and spends a lot of time looking to the past. It’s a no-brainer – but if you give yourself one musical project this year, make it to get to know the Missa Solemnis. It’s utterly extraordinary, and a list of my favourite passages could take up another two articles. There’s one, though, that’s too good not to share.

After the energy of the opening section of the Credo, we suddenly hit a wall – the music halves in speed, and we reach D minor for the words ‘Et incarnatus est’. The tenors of the choir intone the words in which Jesus was made man and dwelt among us to the accompaniment of violas and cellos; the same music is taken up by a few string players and the four soloists, while the flute, the Holy Spirit appearing as a dove, flutters serenely over the top of the texture. It’s an amazing moment, like so many in this work. But enough of me telling you about it – go and have a listen, live with it for a few weeks like I did, and become one of the few people who actually know Beethoven’s greatest achievement.

Credits : William Cole 

Beethoven's Mass In C Major -- Heaven On Earth

The C Major Mass was commissioned by Prince Nikolaus Esterhazy (II) to commemorate the name day of his wife, Marie von Liechtenstein. Beethoven’s motivation for writing it, then, was less related to his own religious feeling. Because of this, the style of this mass was similar to that of Haydn’s masses. In fact, this commission was an annual Esterhazy custom fulfilled on six prior occasions by Haydn. The Mass in C, therefore, is not highly creative and is written in a static form. Even some melodies have been more suggestive of Mozart or Gluck than Beethoven.

Nevertheless, Beethoven put enough of his own style into his C Major Mass that he occasionally deviated from conformity to strict conventions. After the first performance of the Mass, the Prince reportedly said, "My dear Beethoven, what have you written there!", evidently in a condescending tone. Beethoven immediately became irritated by this, and he left the Prince’s court on the same day of the performance. The score was then dedicated to Prince Ferdinand Kinsky instead.

Like the Missa Solemnis, the C Major Mass was divided into five movements, and it utilized SATB soloists, a SATB chorus, and a full orchestra.

In the Kyrie, Beethoven uses a sonata form. The first Kyrie is in tonic C major, and its theme is the exposition. The Christe changes to the mediant E and functions and the development. The final Kyrie reverts to tonic FC and recapitulates the theme of the first Kyrie.

In the Gloria, two Allegro sections surround a slower section in a different key. This movement ends fugally with "Cum sancto spiritu in Gloria Dei patris, amen.", which is the customary ending of the Gloria. One can contrast this ending with the Missa Solemnis, where shouts of "Gloria!" instead of "Amen" conclude the section.

The Credo consists of three sections, the Allegro con brio, the Adagio, and the Allegro ma non troppo. This movement also ends with a fast and lively fugue, which follows the same pattern followed by Haydn.

In the Sanctus and Benedictus, each unit ends with "Osanna in excelsis!", which utilizes the same fugato. Like the Missa Solemnis, the Sanctus and Benedictus are treated somewhat independently, though they are included within the same movement.

The Agnus Dei perhaps illustrates the biggest difference between the Missa Solemnis and the C Major Mass. In the C Major Mass, Beethoven does use the three conventional calls to the Lamb of God, the first two ending with "miserere nobis" and the last ending with "dona nobis pacem". Supposedly, it was the custom in the Viennese Mass for the first sections to be in a minor key and for the last to end in the tonic major with a brighter tempo. Beethoven follows this convention in his C Major Mass, but as previously discussed, completely changed the format of the text and the music in his Missa Solemnis.

Beethoven unifies the C Major Mass by using the same music at the beginning of the Kyrie and the ending of the Agnus Dei. Even the orchestration is the same; only the words in the texts differ.

With all of the similarities between Beethoven’s and Haydn’s masses, it is obvious that Beethoven’s C Major Mass was supposed to be in the traditional style of the mass. On the other hand, the Missa Solemnis was written as much for himself as for anyone else, so he integrated his soul into the heart of the Missa Solemnis, giving it a religious signficance far deeper than that of the C Major Mass.

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