Clarinet Trio in A minor Op.114 (1891)

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 wrote his last four chamber works - the Trio in A minor Op.114 and the Quintet in B minor Op.115 at Bad Ischl in the summer of 1891 and the two Sonatas Op.120 at the same resort in the Salzkammergut three years later.

While the opus numbers cannot be taken as a reliable guide as to which was written first, the Trio or the Quintet, the internal evidence suggests that it was Trio. Never having written for the clarinet as a solo instrument before, the composer would naturally have approached it cautiously. In the opening Allegro of the Trio he entrusts the cello, an instrument he knew particularly well, with the responsibility of introducing both main themes. It is not until the end of the development, where the clarinet has the inspired idea of recalling the first subject in an expressively expanded variant, that Brahms sets the wind instrument free.

After that, in sustaining the supple melodic lines of the slow movement and in shaping the charming waltz and ländler tunes in the Andante grazioso, the clarinet takes the initiative. If the rather more urgent material of the final Allegro is more suited to the cello, which again introduces the two main themes, that does not deter the clarinet from taking an equally committed part in driving the work to its dramatic A minor conclusion.

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 wrote his last four chamber works – the Trio in A minor Op.114 and the Quintet in B minor Op.115 at Bad Ischl in the summer of 1891 and the two Sonatas Op.120 at the same resort in the Salzkammergut three years later.

The Trio and the Quintet put the clarinet in quite different textural situations. In the Quintet, as one wind instrument alongside four strings, the clarinet inevitably stands out in high profile. In the Trio, as one of three fundamentally different instruments, its profile is not necessarily higher than that of the others. They identify themselves at the beginning of the first movement, the unaccompanied cello proposing a short but serious theme in A minor, the clarinet immediately welcoming the idea and lyrically expanding on it. The piano, however, avoids it and reverts to type with sturdy triplet rhythms and muscular triads. The second subject, again introduced by the cello and expanded by the clarinet, meets no such opposition. Although piano aggression arises again in the development, the recapitulation gives the piano no opportunity to confront the first subject and the movement ends with the ensemble united in a quiet and comparatively slow coda and a final shift of the harmony to A major.

Having integrated them in this way, Brahms is reluctant to set them apart again. The Andante grazioso is a masterfully sustained inspiration of reconciliation between three instruments with nothing basically in common. It is true that the piano does not have a prominent role here. It tends more to mediate between the other two, as when the clarinet introduces the main theme in D major in the opening bars and then passes it on to the cello. The piano does, however, introduce the second subject, under A major arpeggios on clarinet and cello, and it is this material that is associated with the most seductive blend of colours both here and in the recapitulation.

If Brahms indulges his “Primadonna” not only in the slow waltz that opens the Andante grazioso in A major but also in the Ländler middle section, he compensates to some extent by having the cello reintroduce the waltz in a much abbreviated reprise of the first section and by achieving another happy blend of colours in a quietly thoughtful coda. Besides, balance is restored in the Allegro finale, where the cello and the piano lead the progress to the A minor ending. The clarinet plays a largely secondary role, supporting rather than initiating. It echoes the cello on its introduction of both the urgent first subject and the more expressive, metrically hesitant second subject and it joins the cello also in taking up the hint of a Hungarian dance on the piano. It is most effectively blended in the uneasily subdued episode in the middle of the movement and is a brilliant participant in the virtuoso activity of the final bars.

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 wrote his last four chamber works – the Trio in A minor Op.114 and the Quintet in B minor Op.115 at Bad Ischl in the summer of 1891 and the two Sonatas Op.120 at the same resort in the Salzkammergut three years later.

The Trio and the Quintet put the clarinet in quite different textural situations. In the Quintet, as one wind instrument alongside four strings, the clarinet inevitably stands out in high profile. In the Trio, as one of three fundamentally different instruments, its profile is not necessarily higher than that of the others. Of course, it would have been easy to give the clarinet a primadonna role here but Brahms was too good a musician not to accept the challenge of integrating the three of them while retaining the individuality of each one.

They identify themselves at the beginning of the first movement, the unaccompanied cello proposing a short but serious theme in A minor, the clarinet immediately welcoming the idea and lyrically expanding on it, the piano avoiding it and reverting to type with sturdy triplet rhythms and muscular triads (somewhat in the manner of the G minor Rhapsody). Although the clarinet and cello accept the piano’s attitude as part of the thematic material, it is less and less likely to react in this way as the movement goes on. The second subject, again introduced by the cello and expanded by the clarinet, meets no such opposition. Piano aggression arises again in the development but the more significant activity of the keyboard instrument here is its participation in an exchange of scales initiated by the other two. The recapitulation gives the piano no opportunity to confront the first subject and the movement ends with a quiet and comparatively slow coda with clarinet, cello and piano joined in another exchange of scales and a final shift of the harmonies to A major.

Having integrated them in this way, Brahms is reluctant to set them apart again. The slow movement is a masterfully sustained inspiration of reconciliation between three instruments with nothing basically in common. It is true that the piano does not have a prominent role here. It tends more to mediate between the other two, as when the clarinet introduces the main theme in D major in the opening bars and then passes it on to the cello. The piano does, however, introduce the second subject, under A major arpeggios on clarinet and cello, and it is this material that is associated with the most seductive blend of colours both here and in the recapitulation.

If Brahms indulges his “Primadonna” not only in the slow waltz that opens the Andante grazioso in A major but also in the Ländler middle section, he compensates to some extent by having the cello reintroduce the waltz in a much abbreviated reprise of the first section and by achieving another happy blend of colours in a quietly thoughtful coda. Besides, he restores the balance in the Allegro finale, where the cello and the piano lead the progress to the A minor ending. The clarinet plays a largely secondary role, supporting rather than initiating. It echoes the cello on its introduction of both the urgent first subject and the more expressive, metrically hesitant second subject and it joins the cello also in taking up the hint of a Hungarian dance on the piano. It is most effectively blended in the uneasily subdued episode in the middle of the movement, however, and is a brilliant participant in the virtuoso activity of the final bars.