Piano Quintet in F minor Op.34 (1862-5)

Listening to Brahms’s Piano Quintet in F major, it is difficult to believe that such an authentic sound had such an uncertain history. The work had two previous incarnations –    as a string quintet (with two cellos), which the composer destroyed, and as sonata for two pianos, which he eventually published. From the opening bars, however, where piano and strings in unison declare their common interest, the scoring is unquestionably apt. Although keyboard and strings divide according to their different characters, there are also frequent examinations of the possibilities of blending piano and string sounds: the end of the development section offers a particularly inspired example in the cello’s dark adumbration of the main theme under opaque harmonies on the piano and quiet tremolandos on the viola.

Bearing in mind that the main theme of the Andante derives from the piano part of the “Pause” in Schubert’s Die schöne Müllerin, it is difficult to understand how Brahms could ever have considered it suitable material for a piano quintet. The strings do get to play it in this version, however, subtly changing its character as they do. In contrast to the A flat major cradle-song atmosphere of the Andante, the C minor Scherzo finds no repose at all in its breathless syncopations and its unsettling fugato. The Poco sostenuto opening of the last movement is another example of enterprise in blending string and piano colours – in this case as a witty introduction to the emergence on cello of the unpretentious main theme of the Allegro non troppo finale. With a less serious-minded composer, this would have been the start of a cheerful rondo. With Brahms, the easy-going first subject and the lyrical second are converted into something very much more urgent and passionate in the extended Presto coda.

Listening to Brahms’s Piano Quintet in F major, it is difficult to believe that such an inevitable sound had such an uncertain history. It was first performed in 1865 but the music had been heard at least twice before - as a string quintet (with two cellos) in 1863 and as a sonata for two pianos in 1864. Convinced by his friends that it didn’t work as a string quintet, Brahms destroyed the manuscript; the two-piano version, on the other hand, he liked in spite of its unenthusiastic reception in 1864 and had it published in 1872 - after the Piano Quintet had been generally welcomed as a masterpiece.

    So, in a way, the version for piano and string quartet is a compromise. To the innocent ear, however, it is an unquestionable ideal. The opening bars, with the main theme on the piano in unison with violin and cello, are a symbol of their common interest, after which they divide according to their different characters - the piano in a percussive version of the same theme in rapid keyboard figuration, the first violin and then the viola in a sweetly expressive legato transition to the second subject, where viola and cello express their anxiety in whispered octaves and where a poetic second violin brings the two main themes together. The development is an inspired exploration into the possibilities of blending piano and string sounds, culminating (just before the beginning of the recapitulation) in the cello’s dark adumbration of the main theme under opaque harmonies on the piano and quiet tremolandos on the viola.

    Bearing in mind that it derives from the piano part of the “Pause” in Schubert’s Die schöne Müllerin, it is difficult to understand how Brahms could ever have considered the main theme of the Andante as material for a piano quintet. The strings do get to play it this version but not until the recapitulation, where they exchange roles with the piano and, in so doing, change the character of the melody. In contrast to the A flat major cradle-song atmosphere of the Andante, the C minor Scherzo finds no repose at all in its breathless syncopations, its expectant ostinatos, its sudden assertions of muscular energy, its unsettling fugato. It is only in the central trio section that the piano is able to introduce a brief but broad hint of C major stability before it is swept off its feet again.

    The slow introduction to the last movement rivals the development of the first for its enterprise in blending string and piano colours - not so much to impress or mystify, it seems, as to amuse when the unpretentious main theme of the Allegro non troppo eventually emerges on the cello. With a less serious-minded composer, this would have been the start of a cheerful rondo. With Brahms, the easy-going first subject and the lyrical second are converted into something very much more urgent and passionate in the extended Presto coda.