insightPeter Bradley-Fulgoni‘the thirty-two piano
sonatas encompass
Beethoven’s creativity’380

arq . vol 14 . no 4 . 2010  insight

Beethoven’s new order
The facts of thematic life are thatevery manifestation of a theme
tends to divide into two parts. Thisis irrespective of whatever tonality
is employed. In the West, even thesimplest diatonic melody (that is
one which we perceive to be in a
tonality derived from major andminor scales) does this. For
example there is a ‘natural’tendency to gravitate between one
note (the tonic) and another notea fifth higher or a fourth lower(the dominant); but such a
modulation is not necessary toqualify part of a theme as adifferent phrase in the musicalsentence; there may simply be a
moment where the music pauses,
reaching a recognisable point
before moving to anotherindependent fragment. Moreover,in sophisticated examples ofbipartite form, such as the sonatasof Domenico Scarlatti, the duality
is engendered not so much by asingle theme as by an ensemble ofaspects to the initial material,
which in their turn form a groupby themselves – a section – andwhere the borders between suchsections are not always clearlydefinable.
Eighteenth-century music wasdominated by the sonata firstmovement principle, anessentially dramatic and bipartite
form in which two thematic ideas
are presented in – and held in
tension by – contrasting keys andwhere a subsequent development
section is free to modulate in amore far-reaching manner. In
work by Haydn and, particularly,
Mozart, this first subject structure
is clearly defined. But when we
look at the way Beethoven treatedsonata form we see a composer’s
creative force developing anaesthetic that could not becontained by this form: he was an
iconoclast.
Beethoven’s piano sonatas were
not written one after the other orin steady sequence, but as a pianist
first and foremost, his thirty-two
piano sonatas encompass hiswhole creativity very faithfully
and consistently from opus 2,written in his mid-twenties, toopus 111 written in his early fifties,
five years before his death in 1827.
In this respect they are the best
way to monitor his output; hiswork dominated musicalcreativity for the next century andthese sonatas summarise hiscreative trajectory.
The analogy may seemappropriate in considering hisvery first outing in the sonata
genre (opus 2, number 1), datingfrom 1795 and dedicated toHaydn. The opening subject isreminiscent of the last movementof Mozart’s G minor 40thSymphony which acquired thenickname of ‘Mannheim rocket’on account of the ascending
arpeggio that begins its last
movement. Nevertheless, thesonata is otherwise Haydnesquewith nothing wholly new until
you get to the last movement:
there you recognise a quality
apparent in the 5th Symphonyand the greater works, a quality
characterised by high drama,sudden dynamic changes, sheerdrive, and a conception of melody
not only as a succession of notes
but also as harmony driven byrhythm.
These characteristics aredeveloped in the highlights of
Beethoven’s ‘middle period’. The
opus 53 sonata of 1803/4 (theWaldstein) and the opus 57 ofinsight   arq . vol 14 . no 4 . 2010

1804/5 (the Appassionata) aresignificant because the first
exposition of material is not a
melody as such but a subject
group with material contingent
on a rhythmic feature. The
Waldstein opening with its
repeated chords is a perfect
example and clearly visible in theprinted music. The opening of theAppassionata is more melodic, butestablishes the work’s harmonicbuilding blocks: the presentationof material here is not a matter ofsingle notes in any melodic format
but something like a complete
idea that Beethoven’s pupil,
Czerny, Romantically described as‘ocean waves on a stormy nightwith a distant cry for help’. In theAppassionata it is, as the great
Russian virtuoso Sviatoslav Richterremarked, ‘always night’.
With these two sonatas the scale(in terms of dimension) has
changed and, while they follow
sonata form, they no longer
adhere to the formal strictures
devised and exploited in theprevious century. The
presentation has become more
expansive and more audaciouswith regard to the interrelationships between first andsecond subjects. For example theC major Waldstein sonata’s second
subject is not in the dominantmajor of G, but in the (for thetime) outrageously dislocatedmediant major of E. Even twocenturies later this modulation
has the power to produce a frissonfor the listener. It is a point in
Beethoven’s creativity where he
begins to use the format of thesonata principle for a greater anddeeper expression, indeed in both
works the expressive nature of thematerial used is so hard-driventhat there is a sense of
momentousness being close athand but never achieved: anessentially Romantic idea.
Among the late works, thesonata opus 106 (theHammerklavier) demonstrates
the logical inference of suchfactors and, in particular, theextension of form: it is the sonata
at a very, very grand scale.
Everything is Titanic, from thefirst bars to the very end. Little
wonder that in Schulz’s Peanuts
cartoons the pianist, Schroeder,
usually makes special
preparations to play it; interesting
too that the reader of the cartoons
is expected to be able to readmusic – and the massive opening
chords as such. In those chords
you see the technique that would
become associated with Brahms(whose early C major sonata pays
obvious homage to this work): lessdiatonic scale work, moremanoeuvring of big block chords.
The first movement with its great
dimensions is followed by a brief
scherzo. It leads us to the adagio,
itself in sonata form, and probably
the longest slow movement of any
sonata in history since it lasts
almost twenty minutes. But this isa crucible for much piano writing
to come: Chopin, Schumann andBrahms. Then, as if that is notenough, another long, slow

The first bars of the Waldstein sonata, opus 53: composed of a rhythm rather than melody‘the presentation becomes more expansive and audacious’

The beginning of the Appassionata sonata, opus 57, a sequence Czerny described as ‘like ocean
waves on a stormy night with a distant cry for help’ – the latter in the form of the trill in bar 4   Beethoven’s new order   Peter Bradley-Fulgoni

381

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Beethoven Nears the End: a portrait by ‘Batt’ (Oswald Barrett). Amid the disorder of the composer’s room
is his piano, wrecked by his efforts to hear his own playing, and an ear-trumpet‘a crucible for much piano writing to come’In Charles M. Schulz’s Peanuts comic-strip, Beethoven fanatic Schroeder prepares to tackle theHammerklavier opus 106, whose opening phrase appears in the end box

introduction in the form of arecitative brings us to a colossal
fugue, which is probably the mostarduous part of the work. The sheer
size, scale and drama of the wholeensemble of the movements aredemanding of the listener and asupreme technical challenge forthe pianist.
The development in Beethoven’s
sonatas doesn’t continue in thatvein. If it had it would have become
physically impossible. InsteadPeter Bradley-Fulgoni

Beethoven’s new orderthings take a different turn andthe remaining three become moreintrospective, more spiritual.
We hear Beethoven’s innermost
thoughts through the medium ofcounterpoint. Perhaps because themelodies are in some sort oftension, one against the other,
we hear a questioning and soulsearching. This recourse tocounterpoint, the essence of fugue
form – and so almost a homage toJ. S. Bach – allowed Beethoven tofind a vehicle to express his worldweariness and intimations ofmortality. The last sonata, in C
minor, opus 111, is Beethoven’s
idea of a glimpse into a world
beyond. The second and final
movement, which is in therelatively static form of a themeand variations and in the relatively
bright tonality of C major, has aserene and spiritual aura: it is the
sublime moment of this piano
sonata odyssey.
Musical diaries, like all diaries,
begin and end. They start in thevigour of youth, with a promiseof great things to come. Here thepromise was fulfilled: even if
Beethoven had stopped writing
after the Waldstein andAppassionata sonatas, he would
have gone down in history as a very
great composer indeed. Yet withhis final sonata for his own
instrument he takes us into what
Wilhelm Kempff described as‘regions as yet unknown to us’. The
composer, by now completely deaf
but with a genius that seems
boundless, enables us ‘to hearthat which the ear cannot
perceive’. In this architecture ofmusic – that ability to arrange
musical ideas such that they are
manifested in their most potent
form – the sonata principle is but
a remote echo.

Peter Bradley-Fulgoni has made manybroadcasts, recorded a number of CDs
and performed throughout Europe andbeyond. Among these he was invited togive a special recital at the Sviatoslav
Richter Memorial Apartment in 2008
followed by a performance at the XVIISviatoslav Richter International Music
Festival at Tarusa in Summer 2009.
Recognised as an inspirational teacher,a DVD in which he talks about the music
he performs to the journalist andbroadcaster Andrew Green launchedSound Technique’s Piano Maestrosseries in 2007. His discussion of J. S.
Bach’s forty-eight preludes and fugues
was published in arq 10/3+4; hisanalysis of the work of the Second
Viennese School (Schoenberg, Berg andWebern) will appear in a future issue.