Clarinet Sonata in F minor Op.120 No.1 (1894)

On the completion of his String Quintet in G major in 1890 Brahms declared that it would be his last work. Less than a year later he heard the playing of Richard Mühlfeld, the self-taught clarinettist of the Meiningen Orchestra, and changed his mind. It was for Mühlfeld, his “Primadonna”as he called him, that Brahms composed four more chamber works, the two last being the pair of Sonatas, Op.120, written at Bad Ischl in the Salzkammergut in the summer of 1894.

Having nothing to prove any more, Brahms is almost dismissive of his mastery in the first movement of the Sonata in F minor. While concealing the fact that everything in it is derived from the short piano introduction, he sets the clarinet free to muse on the various emotional implications of the themes that arise so spontaneously from it and come to a serene F major conclusion. There is nothing in the exquisitely nocturnal Andante in A flat major to disturb the serenity and not much either, apart from the unsettled F minor middle section, in the charming Allegretto Ländler in the same key. The rondo finale, which is sustained largely by the impetus of the three repeated notes at the beginning, confirms the happy situation by setting it in an unequivocal and invulnerable F major.

Gerald Larner©

On the completion of his String Quintet in G major in 1890 Brahms declared that it would be his last work. Less than a year later he heard the playing of Richard Mühlfeld, the self-taught clarinettist of the Meiningen Orchestra, and changed his mind. It was for Mühlfeld, his “Primadonna”as he called him, that Brahms composed four more chamber works, the two last being the pair of Sonatas, Op.120, written at Bad Ischl in the Salzkammergut in the summer of 1894. However, since the Sonatas are more about intimate expression than extrovert brilliance, they lend themselves naturally to the viola. The violin version, on the other hand, cost the composer rather more trouble.

Having nothing to prove any more, Brahms is almost dismissive of his mastery in the first movement of the Sonata in F minor. While concealing the fact that everything in it is derived from the short piano introduction, he sets the viola free to muse on the various emotional implications of the themes that arise so spontaneously from it and come to a serene F major conclusion. There is nothing in the exquisitely nocturnal Andante in A flat major to disturb the serenity and not much either, apart from the unsettled F minor middle section, in the charming Allegretto Ländler in the same key. The rondo finale, which is sustained largely by the impetus of the three repeated notes at the beginning, confirms the happy situation by setting it in an unequivocal and invulnerable F major.

Gerald Larner©

On completing his String Quintet in G major in 1890 Brahms declared that it would be his last work. Less than a year later he heard the playing of Richard Mühlfeld, the self-taught clarinettist of the Meiningen Orchestra, and changed his mind. It was for Mühlfeld, his “Primadonna”as he called him, that Brahms composed four more chamber works, the two last being the pair of Sonatas, Op.120, written at Bad Ischl in the Salzkammergut in the summer of 1894.

Having nothing to prove any more, Brahms is almost dismissive of his mastery in the first movement of the Sonata in F minor. While concealing the fact that everything in it is derived from the short piano introduction, he sets the clarinet free to muse on the various emotional implications of the themes – as many as five of them – that arise so spontaneously from it. In spite of the melodic abundance, however, the short development is devoted largely to the introductory material, which makes final appearance in the serene F major conclusion to the movement.

There is nothing in the Andante in A flat major to disturb the serenity – once, that is, Brahms drops the poco forte dynamic marking attached to the main theme on its first entry and allows it to assume the exquisitely nocturnal colouring that seems ever more natural to it. The Allegretto third movement, a charming Ländler in the same key, is similarly reassuring, the rhythmic syncopations and minor harmonies in the middle section offsetting rather than intruding on the congeniality. The rondo finale, which is sustained largely by the impetus of the three repeated notes first heard in the opening bar, confirms the happy situation, not least by accommodating an intimate little episode in D minor without being diverted from its F major purpose.