The World of The String Quartet
The World of The String Quartet
Welcome
Greetings, and welcome to the world of the string quartet. My name is Arnold Steinhardt, and I
will be joined by Mia Chung and the Aizuri Quartet, to take you on a remarkable journey covering
almost 300 years of string quartet music and the musicians who have performed it. Along the way,
you will experience the astonishing variety and emotional impact of music inspired by two violins, a
viola, and a cello. The journey will extend from the very first string quartets ever written all the way
to what is being written now. And then, it will take a dizzying leap into what the future might hold.
You will listen to the inspirational creations of some of the world’s greatest composers. For
example, the astonishing invention and humor of Joseph Haydn, the otherworldly beauty of
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, the daring of Ludwig van Beethoven, the aching poignancy of Franz
Schubert, and the shocking power of Bela Bartók. And this glorious music will be performed by
some with the legendary quartets of the past, distinguished quartets of the present, and brilliant
young artists at the beginning of their quartet careers. But enough talk for now. The music's the
thing.
So let's plunge right into the subject by having you listen to an excerpt for one of the hundreds of
quartet masterpieces, Maurice Ravel’s string quartet in F major, some of the most beautiful music
ever written.
[MUSIC]
You have just heard the opening bars of Maurice Ravel's string quartet in F major played by
Musicians from Marlboro. These opening notes of music are merely meant to whet your appetite
and to lure you into having the much greater experience of listening to Ravel’s string quartet in its
entirety. This work and all other works presented in The World of the String Quartet programs are
provided within the course as audio or video, and/or on the Curtis Institute website at
www.curtis.edu/Curtisperforms.
Enjoy.
A Musical Revolution
When I was still a teenager, a friend sat me down at a record store and said in a secretive, almost
conspiratorial voice, "Listen to this." Was I going to have a glimpse into an exotic and unknown
world, or hear plans for the coming revolution? The answer was a resounding yes. Four angry
voices jumped out at me from the record player with urgent repeated notes, then stopped. Started
again. Stopped another time, as if there was too much emotion to allow for a complete thought.
Then the voices burst out in quarrelsome conversation, permeated by eerie, slithering sounds only
to be silenced by those angry repeated notes briefly appearing once again like a still-to-be
deciphered secret code.
As it turned out, I was listening to the beginning of Bela Bartók's Fifth String Quartet for the very
first time. I did not fully grasp what I was hearing. And yet, I was overwhelmed. The power of
Bartók's musical language, full of complex rhythms, clashing harmonies, and alluring folk-like
dances was new to me, yet hypnotic. Bartók ingeniously employed uncommon sounds for effect,
such as garish glissandos and plucked strings slapping angrily against the fingerboard. All this
despite the fact that he had never played a string instrument himself.
Then came Bartók's so-called "night music," in which I was transported into a melancholy and
spooky world of bits and pieces of sound that literally gave me goosebumps. They could have been
the sounds of an idealized imaginary jungle, or the whisperings from the farthest reaches of outer
space.
As the quartet's five movements went by, I heard rousing music that you could almost dance to;
strange and exotic drone-like passages; unearthly chorales; and snare drum-like repeated notes that
made me think of a macabre funeral procession. When the work finally hurdled towards its end,
those angry repeated notes from the quartet's opening reappeared for one last time and then,
suddenly, out of the blue, a simple child's tune appeared, played with indifference, the
accompaniment played mechanically. To make this weird parody complete, the melody was
repeated in what had to sound like the wrong key. "Enough nonsense," Bartók must have said to
himself. Or was it utter despair that he was feeling? And then the work gathered confidence and
roared to a rousing end.
It was an unknown and exotic world. It was a revolution of a musical kind that I had just
experienced. And Bartók had done it all by using only four instruments. A string quartet.
Hi. My name is Mia Chung, and I'm a pianist. I teach interpretive analysis here at the Curtis
Institute of Music. And it will be my great pleasure to walk you through the Story and the Nuts and
Bolts portions of every program.
The Story portion for Program One is about the history of the string quartet. And I'll be tracing
pertinent information regarding its evolution. There's a glossary of terms that you can download
and follow for each program, and we invite you to take full advantage of this resource. At the end
of the segment we will have an in-video quiz to test your knowledge of the information. Now let's
begin with the story of the string quartet. How did the string quartet come to be? That is a very
difficult question to answer. I'll tell you why. Its evolution was a gradual one, and the historical
evidence is, at best, spotty. It's hard to identify a starting point, and even more difficult to trace this
linear progression of development for the medium. It's not at all like a family tree, where one can
trace one's lineage back to very specific ancestors. Even the term "string quartet" was not fully in
use until the 19th century.
The evolution of the quartet is also muddied by its close relationship with other kinds of writing.
Take, for example, orchestral writing in the middle of the eighteenth-century. Since the most basic
orchestra had two violin parts, one viola, and one cello part in the score, it was possible for a string
quartet to perform orchestral music in a chamber music-like setting. What we do know is that
music for four voices began as early as the end of the twelfth century, with composers like Perotin,
from Europe, presumably from France. But of course, he was writing for four human voices, and
not string instruments.
We also know of isolated examples of string quartet prototypes by Italian composers, like Gregorio
Allegri, who lived between 1582 and 1652, and another composer, Alessandro Scarlatti, also from
Italy, who lived between 1660 and 1725. Scarlatti's set of works entitled Sonatas for Four
Instruments: two violins, one viola, one cello, without harpsichord--which was from 1715 to 1725--
was breathtakingly revolutionary. See, Scarlatti's approach was unusual for the following reason: the
words "senza cembalo," which means "without harpsichord," indicated that a new chamber music
approach--that of four-voice string writing--was on the horizon.
During the first half of the 18th century, the harpsichord or cembalo was an omnipresent force in
chamber music. In the time of Johann Sebastian Bach, George Frideric Handel, Georg Philipp
Telemann, and other Baroque composers, the standard chamber music approach was that of the
Baroque trio Sonata. Which included two soloists, usually two violins, with a third party, the basso
continuo. Now, this third party is made up of two parts: a harpsichord, and a low range string
instrument like the cello. The harpsichord, which is a forerunner of the pianoforte, which in turn is
the forerunner of the modern day piano, was necessary in chamber music of that day because it
created harmonic filler and helped fortify the bass, alongside the cello. By inserting a third soloist,
the mid-range voice of the viola, Scarlatti was able to create a complete four-voice string texture
that no longer required the harmonic filler provided by the harpsichord. The cello itself could hold
down the bass line. So, Scarlatti's composition for four string instruments without harpsichord was
rather extraordinary but it and other pieces like it were not the cause of this change in chamber
music, but rather a sign of things to come. There are many other notable composers from Italy and
southern Germany who contributed to the development of the string quartet medium.
But it's really time for us to turn our attention to Franz Joseph Haydn, who lived from 1732 to
1809. He was a prolific string composer, particularly for the string quartet. He wrote some 68
quartets in total, and is commonly viewed as the father of the string quartet. There's a charming
account by Haydn's biographer, Giorg August Griesinger, in which a Baron Furnberg asks Haydn
to compose a piece that could be played by four friends of music, all string players. Haydn was only
18 at the time, and according to the account, Haydn accepted the invitation, resulting in his very
first string quartet. We do suspect, however, that there was a little bit more time that passed before
he wrote his first one. Musicologists established that his earliest works for this medium actually
appeared when he was about 25 to 30 years of age, putting the year around 1757 to 1762.
In our next program, we will begin our exploration of the string quartet writing of Haydn. You will
marvel at the extraordinary variety and power of this music. Please stay tuned.
Greetings. I'm Arnold Steinhardt, and I have been a proud member of the Guarneri string quartet
for 45 years. We retired in 2009, and so I guess you would call us the older generation of string
quartet players, but I have the privilege of being with the younger generation of string quartet
players, a wonderful string quartet, the Aizuri string quartet.
And so Aizuris, I welcome you and I would love for you to introduce yourself individually, please.
And my name is Ayane Kozasa. As Mr. Steinhardt mentioned, we are a very young quartet. We
formed in October 2012. And how this all started, was that back in the summer of 2011, myself,
Miho, and Karen, we went to a summer music festival called the Ravinia Steans Music Institute, in
Chicago. At some point in the summer, Miho and I had the chance to play together in a group.
And we realized how much fun it was to work together. And so we started talking about how it
would be great to try and start a group.
And Miho was good friends with Karen back in--where they lived at the time in New York. And so
Miho said that, "Maybe we should try and play with Karen." And so the three of us got together
that summer and read some trios together. And it was so much fun, and we talked about how
maybe this could really become something real. Possibly a string quartet, if we can find an
additional member. It's really important to find that fourth member. Or, all members, who are
willing to go for it together and who think the same way and who really get along. And so we took
a year to find someone. And we all got together in my Philly apartment that fall, and read some
string quartets with Zoe. And the moment it was over we discovered how awesome we sounded.
And how much fun it was. And we realized that we found our fourth member. And so that with
the beginning of this whole string quartet.
Right. And some of you may be wondering how we decided on our name, Aizuri. It was actually a
really long and difficult process for us to find a name. And we threw out all kinds of ideas, some of
which were really ridiculous, and some of which were almost right, but didn't quite work for us.
But eventually, Karen came across the Aizuri, which is a Japanese word. And it's a style of
woodblock printing, specifically using shades of indigo ink. So, we thought the word sounded really
beautiful, and it also hearkens to the fact that we have Japanese heritage within the quartet. And
that's how we got our name.
This is just amazing listening to you, because you could almost have been speaking about how the
Guarneri Quartet formed. You know, we played together at Curtis in twos and threes, and then we
played at the Marlboro Music Festival. and gradually, we got the idea, "This is so much fun. It is so
rewarding, the repertoire is so great. Wouldn't it be wonderful to form a string quartet? But with
whom?" And then what once we had the four members, we thought, "Well, we need a name," and
we couldn't find a name. So that was another story. In any case we are all very grateful that you
found one another. You sound wonderful. You're a marvelous young quartet.
And so, we are gathered here to speak about a great piece of music. And that would be
Beethoven's first string quartet, Opus 18 Number One. We're going to discuss it. We're going to
examine it. The Aizuris are going to play a section of the beginning of the first movement of
Beethoven's Opus 18 Number One. Then we're going to speak about it a little bit more.
I would love to hear you play the beginning of the Opus 18 Number One, string quartet of
Beethoven. And so, here are the Aizuri String Quartet performing this music for you.
[MUSIC]
In listening to you I was struck by the fact that the string quartet had moved on in the sense that it
was no longer first-violin dominated, with the others playing a much more accompaniment role. I
mean, you four are equal partners in this whole thing. And just in the rehearsal process, did you
find it hard to sort out who had the important voice, and who had the auxiliary accompanying
voice? Was that a big issue in the rehearsals?
I think it's-- the way that Beethoven wrote it, it's relatively clear. But yeah, to find the-- to strike the
balance between things. And to -- the action of constantly changing your own role from, like, say
the melody into harmony, into rhythm. Like, just shifting and putting on different masks. That--
that was very challenging for us. That's what I love about string quartets, though. Because, I mean,
you can be- you can be the great soloist. You can be the humble accompanist, and you can be just
the team player, who's playing, you know, in beautiful four-part harmony. It's just great.
Well, in listening to you play, and I kept on being in the quartet myself, having played this piece so
many times. And I kept on thinking, it's so hard, and you made it sound so easy. But, was it hard?
Yes. It was. [LAUGHTER] Yeah. It was pretty difficult. Yeah. Not only, like, the shifting of
characters, but also, like, the sudden drops in volume that you have to kind of finesse and make it
sound musical. And also with this one in particular, just maintaining the energy of it. And always
making, you know, the music sound like it's rolling. And-- You have to make it sound easy, in a
way. Yeah. And that's almost, like, harder. Yeah. And it's so playful, but all these different changes
and sudden changes, they're quite challenging to maneuver awkwardly-- I mean, physically. They're-
- you know, to execute a physical gesture like that, with four people in the same way is rather
tough.
So, I've got to ask this question because you're a young quartet. And I remember when we were
young quartet, I was, in a way, terrified when we had disagreements that were -- for example, two
and two. And, so, how do you deal with disagreements? I'm sure you're-- you look like you're still
speaking with one another. So at least you're dealing with them relatively well. But, I mean, just in a
practical way, what happens when two of you want the ritard at the end of a certain passage and
two of you don't, for example?
We try both ways a couple of times, to kind of really live with each possibility. And to try out all
the different options. And I think it's also-- we realize that we're not gonna play-- perform this
piece, or any of the pieces, just once. There'll be probably many opportunities to play it. And so
one time we might try one way, and then the next time we perform it, we might decide, "Oh, let's
try the other way today and see how that goes." Yeah. Well, we had something that-- that actually
amazed me. Because I thought what we thought in rehearsal would be exactly the same in concert.
And when we disagreed, we found that if we were touring with, let's say, Beethoven's opus 18
number 1, and there was a question of ritarding or not ritarding. We'd say, "Well, in Des Moines,
Iowa, we're going to ritard. We're going to make the ritard. And in Sioux City, we're not going to
make the ritard." And it sounded kind of silly as an idea. But on stage, suddenly we all knew, that
ritard doesn't work. You know? And I don't know how-- it's the moment of truth, onstage, when
certain things become apparent that-- they work or they don't work.
It has been a great pleasure for me to be speaking with the Aizuri String Quartet. And not only to
speak with them, but they hear them play marvelously. And this will continue in future programs,
where we will be discussing the great string quartet repertoire. We will discuss, we will examine it.
And you will have the privilege of hearing this wonderful young quartet performing as well.
In the opening of Schubert's Rosamunde String Quartet in A minor, the first violin plays a long,
winding, and emotion-laden melody. But the mood is really set even before his voice appears, by
the gently flowing notes of the second violin, and almost ominous pulsating rhythm of viola and
cello. The choice of tempo is so important. Too slow, and the music will sag. Too fast, and it can
sound flippant. The melody itself begins with an aching melancholy. How can the first violinist
capture this? Vibrato, the string player's great asset, will play a large part in expressing this. The
choice of width and speed of vibrato is extremely important. How fast or slow. How wide or
narrow. Of course, the beauty of it all is that every violinist will have a different take on this.
Soon after the melody is underway, there is a high point--a kind of gasp in the music--followed by
yet another, that must reinforce the first. Time for a decision on how to differentiate the two.
Perhaps that second gasp should be even more emphatic than the first, in order to convey the
anguish of this moment. This is one example of phrasing. That is, the performer's never-ending
necessity to shape music coherently. And at one point, the three lower voices cease playing briefly,
and a string of upward rising notes played by the first violin leads into a change from minor to
major key. And with it, a surprise change of mood from despair to hope, and even the possibility
of happiness. But in any case, a remarkable moment in music. The violinist must somehow get just
the right amount of suppleness to this transition, but also capture the surprise-- the sweetness of
this heart-stopping moment.
Schubert may have drawn inspiration for this melody from two earlier songs of his. It's not a bad
idea for a violinist to try to forget he or she is playing this sublime melody on a instrument, and
simply imagine it being sung. Arnold aptly drew the connection between Schubert's songs and this
Rosamunde string quartet. There's a famous song by Schubert called "Gretchen at the Spinning
Wheel," in which this young woman, Gretchen, sits at a spinning wheel spinning out thread. And
she uses a pedal that she presses to rotate this wheel. This wheel is meant to depict not only her
sorrow, but her obsession for Doctor Faust. It's always some set of complex emotions here at play.
And this is what the accompanimental figure sounds like.
[MUSIC]
Now, this figure is presented for two full measures before Gretchen starts to sing her song. And
we have a very similar concept at play here in the beginning of the Rosamunde String Quartet. The
second violin plays this haunting and sorrowful accompanimental figure, before the first violin
arrives with its gorgeous tune.
[MUSIC]
In this accompanimental figure, we clearly hear the sorrowful nature of this music. It's cast in the
key of A minor. But this rotating sorrow is not obsessive, but in this case more haunting.
The very beginning of this string quartet is presented in A minor. In A minor, it's a triad of three
pitches. A, [PLAYS NOTE] C, [PLAYS NOTE] and E. [PLAYS NOTE] The third degree of C
[PLAYS] is lowered in this triad, and that's why it sounds minor. And this is how the melody goes.
[MUSIC]
The first violin then repeats the melody, and then starts to change it. it rises with a sense of
yearning and urgency. And then all of a sudden, we hear something entirely different. We hear this
rising scale. Almost a sign of hope that's to come. And it sounds like this.
[PLAYS]
Next, the melody will be presented in A major. But this time, it'll take a different direction. It'll start
to rise, and give us a sense of potential hope. This is what it sounds like.
[MUSIC]
But guess what? We don't stay in the key of A major, but we're suddenly interrupted with the
return of A minor.
[PLAYS]
And so there you have it. This modal ambiguity. Mixed modes. First in minor, then to major, and
back to minor. This passage has been aptly described as Schubert smiling through tears. I think it's
very appropriate. We have this combination of deep sorrow, but yet a yearning for some future
hope.
Now, let's listen to this excerpt from the first movement of the Rosamunde String Quartet by
Schubert.
[MUSIC]
What a story, the slow movement of Tchaikovsky's string quartet number one in D major has.
Tchaikovsky is said to have based the opening melody on a folk song he heard a house painter
whistling at his sister's house. He reported that the author Leo Tolstoy wept upon hearing the
melody at a performance of a string quartet adaptation. The music has such a Russian feel to it. I
wonder what makes it so. Is it the succession of underlying chords? The particular intervals in the
melody? I can imagine this melody, or should we call it a hymn, sung by a choir in the Russian
Orthodox Church. And perhaps this gives a clue as to how a string quartet might find its character.
The music has a nobility, and peacefulness to it that seems to say, "Play me simply," rather than,
"Interpret me."
The mood changes in the next section, however, with a surprise shift of keys. The cello's cheerful
pizzicato notes, and the rhythmic pulse of the inner voices. This suggests that we've left the church
behind for something more lighthearted. Then the violin enters with a lilting figure that you might
almost want to sway to. But again, this calls for a delicious kind of restraint from a string quartet.
Perhaps, inspire your audience to sway, but not actually to get up and dance to the music.
I once met Mischa Elman, the great violin virtuoso, at a violin shop. And when he learned that I
was a member of a string quartet, to my great surprise he took out his violin and played this very
melody for me. I mention it, because Elman managed to capture both the melody's surface
simplicity, and its underlying emotionality. Something you might call the very essence of the
Russian soul. I've thought of Mischa Elman every time I've heard or played the melody. Mia Chung
will now further explore the essence of the Russian soul with you.
Arnold mentioned the distinctly Russian flavor to this slow movement of the opus 11 string
quartet by Tchaikovsky. There's a very distinct reason why this is occurring. Actually, there are
several reasons. And I'd like to explain them for you right now. In this music, we have a
combination of symmetric meter with asymmetric meter. As is the case with Russian folk music,
there was a love of this switching between a measure that had an even number of beats, and
another measure that has an odd number of beats. Think, for example, of Modest Mussorgsky's
"Pictures at an Exhibition," and his famous promenade theme.
[MUSIC]
In this passage, the first measure actually has five beats to the measure. One, two, three, four, five.
And then the second measure actually has an even number, and that is six beats. One two three
four five six. The interesting thing about this combination of asymmetry and symmetry is that it
lends a kind of stately but lilting feel to the music. It never becomes square or predictable. There's
something else at play here, too. And that's the use of particular intervals. That's a fourth and a
fifth. Now, an interval of a fourth is typically the distance of five semi-tones. Let me count them
out for you. For example, if I start on the pitch of F and I count up five half steps.
[MUSIC]
One, two, three, four, five. I end up with a perfect fourth. The other interval I mentioned was the
perfect fifth, which is actually the distance of seven semi-tones. Let me count them out for you. I'll
start on the same pitch of F.
[MUSIC]
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. So, there you have a perfect fifth. So, the perfect fourth and
the perfect fifth is omnipresent in a lot of Russian folk music. Let me indicate where this is present
here in this melody, in the slow movement of opus 11. In the first violin, we have:
[MUSIC]
[MUSIC]
[MUSIC]
Now I'm going to play the melody for you. Please listen for the combination of symmetric and
asymmetric meter, and the use of these important intervals.
[MUSIC]
Now, the reference to the Russian Orthodox Church is also very appropriate here, too. You notice
that the texture is chordal, which is what we typically associate with a church hymn. And I'll finish
by saying this. The piece ends with a plagal cadence, the Amen cadence that we always sing at the
end of a hymn. It goes like this.
[MUSIC]
And now, let's listen to the excerpt from this slow movement of Tchaikovsky's opus 11 string
quartet.
[MUSIC]
Antonin Dvorak composed his American string quartet--he himself never called it that-- during a
summer vacation in Spillville, Iowa, in 1893. He sketched it in three days, and finish it amazingly in
three weeks. "Thank God, I'm satisfied. It went quickly," he said. The third movement has the
feeling of a rustic outdoor country dance. Why a country dance, you ask? The brisk tempo Dvorak
indicated, "molto vivace," or "very lively", complemented by the unexpected accent on the second
of three-beat bars throughout the movement has an irresistible swing to it. Why rustic? Dvorak
employs in this and all the work's other movements the five note pentatonic scale. It's used by
many cultures throughout the world, including those of Native Americans, and seems to imbue a
primal feeling to western music. And finally, why outdoors? Dvorak felt he was greatly influenced
by Negro and American folk songs during his stay in America.
Incidentally, Dvorak's advice to aspiring young American composers was not to go to Europe for
inspiration, but rather to draw on rich and diverse home-grown material. You may or may not
recognize any of those influences in the sprightly and quirky third movement, but another
influence is unquestionable. Not from any human source, mind you, but from a bird: the Scarlet
tanager. Dvorak must have admired the bird's glorious plumage while in Spillville. But also, its
song, for he wrote down as music this wonderful song. The song appears soon after the
movement's opening. First, high in the first violin, and then taken up by other voices. A quartet
must find a way to dance, to give that rustic character to the music, and not least of all to warble
like the Scarlet tanager. Mia will now talk about that irresistible swing, and what makes it so.
Arnold described the rollicking fun in this opening of the scherzo movement from Dvorak's
American string quartet. There's a very clear explanation for why it feels this way. Typically, dance
meter is in 3/4; three beats per measure, that is. Think of the waltz, for example. And the stress in
a waltz happens on the first beat. ONE two three, ONE two three. Now, inject a little bit of
energy, liveliness, if you will, with this "molto vivace" term that Dvorak's uses, which means with a
lot life, or liveliness. And suddenly, you have a faster tempo. One two three, one two three. Now
add to that the stress shifting to the second beat. No longer on the first but on the second. And it
sounds like this.
[MUSIC]
It's suddenly lends this kind of off-kilter feel. Just a few measures later, we hear the wonderful
appearance of that Scarlet tanager melody that Arnold also mentioned, And the melody goes like
this:
[MUSIC]
You'll notice in that passage that the stress suddenly shifts to the first beat. ONE two three, ONE,
two, three.
[MUSIC]
So, you have this unpredictability. The stress of the second beat, and then suddenly the stress of
the first beat with the Scarlet tanager. It's its unpredictability that makes this fun so infectious. And
now, let's listen to this excerpt from the scherzo movement of the American string quartet by
Dvorak.
[MUSIC]
Beethoven indicated an almost impossibly fast metronome marking for the last movement of his
string quartet in C major, Opus 59 number three. Whether his failing hearing deceived him,
whether his metronome was faulty, or whether he really meant the movement to be played at that
exact tempo, we'll never know for sure. But for sure, the movement has to be played very fast and
it has to sound brilliant. Not only that, the quartet ensemble and intonation must be flawless.
That's quite a lot to ask a quartet. But it gets worse. The movement must sound easy, a piece of
cake that the quartet could toss off in its sleep. Some music asks to be played with a sense of
struggle, but not here. This is party music accompanied by fireworks. You can hear the good cheer
in the opening entrance of each instrument, music that played at a slower speed might sound naive,
and fitting at a children's playground. And this movement is a playground of sorts where the music
can frolic. Groups of notes are tossed back and forth like hot potatoes. A king of the hill moment
challenges each player, one after another, to rush to the top of a passage and then back down again.
Which one will do it with the most flair?
The frighteningly fast tempo that a quartet sets at the beginning must be must be kept to, but not
quite always. True rhythm sometimes defies the metronome. There are times when an increase in
dynamics can be heightened by a subtle increase in tempo. And at another time--it happens just
once in a movement-- when the surprise stillness of a sudden pause in the music can be lengthened
just a split-second for dramatic impact. And in the home stretch of this razzle-dazzle movement
comes something completely unexpected. While three instruments continue the dash to the finish
line, the second violin provides a most deliciously soaring melody. One that no longer requires
circus-like virtuosity, but the touch of an artist. Then just when the muscles seem to give out
completely, but don't because of the marathon-like training that the quartet has kept at for months,
there's one last rush to the top of the phrase, and three triumphant chords before the audience
goes wild with applause. Mia will get into the whole excitement at this piece, and bring out some its
marvelous details.
The finale movement of Beethoven's Opus 59 number three string quartet is indeed a party. A
celebration, with fireworks and all. But like any other party, there's a lot of planning required. A
lead-up time to that great celebration. Beethoven was very well known for doing this. He had a
wonderful way of connecting movements. Of casting drama from the very beginning, and building
up to it, creating a sense of anticipation and expectation for that moment. The fugue theme in this
finale movement is an interesting one. It's 10 measures in length, which is quite long. And it's
presented in the viola first. Now, in a fugue, the voices will imitate each other in a very strict
fashion. It's right out of the handbook of baroque composition. Beethoven is, in many ways,
respecting his predecessors. He was a wonderful fugal writer. The viola comes in with this thematic
idea.
[MUSIC]
So, there you have it. I presented the theme first as it sounds in the viola, and then the entrance of
the second violin, and then finally I just ended with what would have been the entrance of the cello
voice in this fugal texture. Now, I want you to listen carefully for some of the ideas that are
embedded in this fugue theme. Because guess what? Those ideas actually were planted in the seed
materials that come from the first movement. Listen, for example, for these little rotating group of
pitches.
[MUSIC]
Those ideas actually come from the first movement. Now, when you think about the cheerfulness,
the sunniness and effervescence of this theme, it's hard to imagine that this whole work started in a
completely different place. That's a place of complete abstraction, pulselessness, dissonance,
mystery, and tremendous uncertainty. Let's go now to the very opening measures of the first
movement. And this is how they sound.
[MUSIC]
You might be wondering how on earth do we get from that point, point A, all the way to this
rollicking fun fugato in the finale of this piece. Well, there's a whole process of evolution of ideas
that's going on that spans the course of the three movements leading up to the finale. Let me take
you through what these ideas are. After the abstraction and dissonance and uncertainty and gravity
of this moment, eventually we reach an allegro section, which is a faster section. And this is where
the substance, or the bulk of the first movement is presented. But we don't arrive in the key of C
major for a number of measures. When we finally do, we hear this theme, which is rather playful
and fun. Imagine turning off the lights, or turning on the lights if you will, going from darkness to
complete sunniness. This is what it sounds like: [PLAYS] Now recall those little returning tone
groups, those cells that I mentioned in the fugue theme of the finale. Do you hear those little
rotating ideas in this opening violin first theme in C Major? [PLAYS] So, there it is. The DNA of
the fugue theme. Now, this sort of rotating idea of pitches is actually outlining something quite
wonderful and simple, and that is like a C major scale. [PLAYS] That scalar idea makes its
appearance in the second movement as well. which happens in the key of A minor, is a very
different scalar nature. It sounds like this.
[MUSIC]
What you'll notice in that descending scale Is the presence of an internal called the augmented
second. Now, the augmented second actually has its roots in Slavonic scales. Let me play it for you
again. [PLAYS] You'll notice that there's this gap in the scale. Almost, it suddenly drops down a
larger interval. An augmented second is built off of a major second. And this is what a major
second sounds like. [PLAYS] And I take the upper pitch of that relationship, and I raise it a half-
step. [PLAYS] And that's an interval that requires resolution. It's dissonant, it's tense. It wants
resolution.
Now, this was Beethoven actually tipping his hat to Russian culture. Because in fact, Count
Razumovsky, who was the ambassador to Vienna at the time from Russia, was the one who
commissioned these string quartets from Beethoven. in all the other string quartets of this set of
six, Beethoven actually quotes Russian themes. Here, we just have a little reference to the Slavonic
roots of inspiration.
I'd like to move on now to the third movement. It's almost like we go from the Russian reference
now back to Vienna. We hear the balanced, elegant symmetry of this movement, which is gracious
and in the meter of 3/4. And it sounds like this.
[MUSIC]
Charming, elegant, sweet, if you will. And then in the middle of this movement, we hear this
glorious descending C major scale. It just washes over us, reminding us of our harmonic roots
[MUSIC]
And one last little point of intrigue. Before this movement ends, we suddenly have a very bizarre
harmonic occurrence. Suddenly, what rears its head is the dissonance and mystery of the very
opening measures of this piece. I'll have you know that Beethoven was in fact inspired by Mozart's
dissonance string quartet. The opening introduction that was dissonant and dark and mysterious
was straight out of Mozart's earlier example. So, now we have a reference to it before we launch
into the exciting finale.
[MUSIC]
We end on a G7 chord, which really is the dominant of the key of C major. It's a chord that
demands resolution to C major. [PLAYS] But instead of giving us that resolution at the end of the
third movement, he waits and with slight pause then begins the finale movement, in which the
viola plays in C major that glorious fugato theme.
Enough words. Let's now listen to this documentary performance of the Guarneri String Quartet,
performing the Finale of Beethoven's Opus 59 number three string quartet in C major.
Every one of the excerpts we've just listened to and discussed is drawn from a string quartet
masterpiece. And in terms of creating an interesting and varied string quartet program, any
combination of three out of these four quartets would be a full and an enticing musical adventure
for any listener.
The four featured movements that we just listened to were from four different composers who
lived in different countries during different time periods, in wrote in different styles. They comprise
a veritable treasure chest that's overflowing with great masterpieces. Just think of it. 68 string
quartets by Haydn, 15 string quartets by Shostakovich, and the span of two centuries presents
literally hundreds of memorable examples that wait to be listened to, examined, studied and
cherished.
In the next programs, we will listen with you to music that touches the heart, prods the mind, and
opens the ears. And if that weren't enough, as this series begins to come to an end, we will present
not only some of the trailblazing string quartets of the present, but also leap with you into the
unknown but dizzyingly exciting future of four voices in exquisite harmony. May the power of the
string quartet be with you.