Valse oubliée No.4

Liszt wrote some delightful waltzes when he was in his twenties and early thirties – the Valse de bravoure, the Valse mélancolique, the Valse-Impromptu – and then more or less abandoned dance forms for forty years. So it has long been assumed that the four Valses oubliées which he produced in his seventies were inspired by some kind of nostalgia for his carefree youth. Although the title (“Forgotten Waltzes”) seems to confirm that assumption and although there is the occasional sentimental episode, the Valses oubliées are actually not so much nostalgic as demonic. Obviously, they do not display the malevolent attitude of the Mephisto Waltzes but they all have mephistophelian qualities – driven rhythms, grotesque figurations, distorted harmonies, harsh keyboard colouring – in one combination or another. It is curious too how they tend not to come to an end but to fade away as if, literally, forgotten. The last of them, written in 1884, is a short but particularly dynamic example - until, that is, it quietly disappears.

It is surely no coincidence that at much the same time as he wrote his first Valse oubliée, Liszt was moved to revisit the Mephisto Waltz. He had composed one sensational, full-scale demonic example(originally for orchestra) in 1859. Now, in his seventies, he was to write three more or four more - the Bagatelle sans tonalité also bears a Mephisto Waltz title- and a Mephisto Polka. The Fourth Mephisto Waltz, which he started only sixteen months before his death was never actually finished: sketches exist for “about 60 bars Andantino” to be inserted near the end of what, for the most part, is a characteristically forceful Allegro vivace in 6/8 time. Although attempts have been made to reconstruct this late lyrical contrast, the work will be performed here as the composer left it.

Mephisto Waltz No.4

Ballade No.2 in B minor

Liszt wrote some delightful waltzes when he was in his twenties and early thirties - the Valse de bravoure , the Valse mélancolique, the Valse-Impromptu - and then more or less abandoned dance forms for forty years. So it has long been assumed that the four Valse oubliées which he produced in his seventies were inspired by some kind of nostalgia for his carefree youth. Although the title (“Forgotten Waltzes”) seems to confirm that assumption and although there is the occasional sentimental episode, the Valses oubliées are actually not so much nostalgic as demonic. Obviously, they do not display the malevolent attitude of the Mephisto Waltzes but they all have mephistophelian qualities - driven rhythms, grotesque figurations, distorted harmonies, harsh keyboard colouring - in one combination or another. It is curious too how they tend not to come to an end but to fade away as if, literally, forgotten. The last of them, written in 1884, is a short but particularly dynamic example - until, that is, it quietly disappears.

It is surely no coincidence that at much the same time as he wrote his first Valse oubliée, Liszt was moved to revisit the Mephisto Waltz. He had composed one sensational, full-scale demonic example(originally for orchestra) in 1859. Now, in his seventies, he was to write three more or four more - the Bagatelle sans tonalité also bears a Mephisto Waltz title- and a Mephisto Polka. The Fourth Mephisto Waltz, which he started only sixteen months before his death was never actually finished: sketches exist for “about 60 bars Andantino” to be inserted near the end of what, for the most part, is a characteristically forceful Allegro vivace in 6/8 time. Although attempts have been made to reconstruct this late lyrical contrast, the work will be performed here as the composer left it.

Although Liszt was sincere in his flattery of Chopin when he adopted forms indelibly associated with the other composer - polonaise, mazurka, berceuse, ballade - he was not always wise in indulging himself in that way. The Ballade in B minor, which was written in 1853 and which is one of the more successful in this group of works, encapsulates the problem most interestingly. In the opening section Liszt himself rises unmistakably in B minor out of chromatic rumblings at the bottom end of the keyboard. The key changes to F sharp major and Chopin enters equally unmistakably in a brighter register of the instrument with an elegantly expressive melody harmonised mainly in tenths. The rest of the work is a quest to balance and reconcile these two contrasting elements as they pass through a variety of ballade-style adventures. What the Liszt themes gains in military vigour the Chopin theme compensates for by taking on a lyrical ally. When Liszt waxes eloquent in the tenor register in B major and is then glorified in a heroic grandioso in the same key it seems that his more poetic colleague has finally been forced out of the way but (in the revised and more commonly performed ending) Chopin makes an irresistible last appear­ance just before the very quiet closing bars.