Hungarian Rhapsody No.2 in C sharp minor (1847)

arranged by Vladimir Horowitz

For Liszt, as for Brahms and most of their contemporaries, Hungarian music was gypsy music – which, as Béla Bartók was to demonstrate a generation or so later, was far from the case. In fact, much of the material Liszt noted down in the 1840s for use in his own compositions wasn’t even gypsy music but gypsy improvisations on songs and dances by amateur composers of the day. But the point is that he firmly believed it was true Hungarian music and it is that conviction that gives his Hungarian Rhapsodies their nationalistic fervour, their rhythmic swagger and much of their harmonic and instrumental colouring. Their form too derives from a Hungarian-gypsy source, the csárdás with its slow introduction (lassan) and its quick main section (friska) – although Liszt always elaborates on that basic two-part structure, often at some length.

The Second Hungarian Rhapsody (which begins in C sharp minor and ends in F sharp major) opens with a short declamatory prologue. It is only a few bars long but it most effectively sets the mood for the lassan section (Andante mesto) in the same key and in the same sonorously melodious manner. In fact, it is firmly integrated into the lassan by making a brief reapearance not much later on. In the meantime, however, a new idea has been introduced in the brighter upper register of the instrument – a playful (capriccioso) dance tune which is destined to change the mood of the work when it is reintroduced as the main theme of the following friska section (Vivace). Up to this point, although there have been gypsy-violin-style cadenzas and cimbalom imitations, the piano writing has not been very showy. With the entry of every new theme in the friska – and there are plenty of them – the scoring becomes ever more extravagant and the harmonies ever wilder.

The Horowitz version of Hungarian Rhapsody No.2 remains more or less faithful to the Liszt original up to the point in the friska where it begins to go its own way, structurally as well as technically, complicating an already crowded texture with counterpoints one would have thought well beyond the capacity of just two hands. If Liszt seems perilously close to going over the top, Horowitz demonstrates that there is still room for excess without falling over the other side.