Programme — wigmore/hough, Sonata in D major, K.53, Sonata in A major, K.322 …

Domenico Scarlatti (1685-1757)

Sonata in D major, K.53

Sonata in A major, K.322

Sonata in D major K.492

One of the many attractions of the Scarlatti sonatas is that, with more than five hundred single-movement constructions to chose from, there is no end to the number of coherent sequences that can be made by linking a careful selection of them together. The composer himself, as is clear from Ralph Kirkpatrick’s chronological catalogue, thought in terms of pairs. It is quite possible, on the other hand, to make entertaining suites out of three or four (or more) of them even though, in chronological terms, they might be decades apart.

The relatively early Sonata in D major, K.53 - which was written before, as maestro de cámera at the Spanish court, Scarlatti became too corpulent to indulge himself in his favourite hand-crossing technique - is a highly effective virtuoso invention. It is comparable in every way to the similarly dramatic Sonata in the same key, K.492, except that the brilliance in this case derives largely from guitar-like arpeggio figuration and contradictory scales in the two hands. The Sonata in A major, K.322, in the dominant relationship of its tonality and its contrastingly simple two-part texture, is ideally well placed between them.

Franz Schubert (1797 -1828)

Sonata in A minor (D.784)

Allegro giusto

Andante

Allegro vivace

Much of Schubert’s work on the piano sonata was concentrated in two short periods - in 1817 and in 1828. The latter period was the extraordinary month of September when he wrote the three extended masterpieces in C minor, A major, and B flat major. The foundations of that mastery were built eleven years earlier, however. He had just set himself free from schoolmastering and, with access to a piano in the lodgings of a friend in Vienna, he had worked determinedly on no fewer than six sonata projects in seven months, including the first (D. 537) in a series of three highly dramatic works in A minor.

The second of the A minor sonatas (D.784), written in 1823, is in some ways a rethinking of the first. It is a model of the clarity, conciseness and structural strength he had sought to achieve six years before. The two works have much in common: the energetic opening theme of one is echoed in the violent descending scales in dotted rhythm in the first movement of the other, for example, and there is a similar brooding atmosphere at the end of the exposition in both cases. The superiority of the present sonata is attributable partly to the main theme of the first movement, which has the advantage of being both lyrical and capable of dramatic development. It last interval, moreover, a falling minor third, is easily detachable and it echoes more or less ominously throughout the movement.

Another aspect of the superiority of D.784 is that, whereas the main theme of the slow movement of the earlier work could conveniently be adapted for use in the rondo of the late Sonata in A major, this Andante belongs exclusively between this Allegro giusto and this Allegro vivace. Its structure is illuminated, like that of the first movement, by a recurring motif - an eerie little chromatic figure in dotted rhythms marked sordini to ensure a special colouring for it. In spite of the securely F major ending of the slow movement, the sinister implications of the sordini figure are confirmed in the unhappy final rondo with its main theme of one line of triplets in restless contrapuntal pursuit of another.

Frédéric Chopin (1810-1849)

Ballade No.1 in G minor, Op.23

Ballade No.2 in F major, Op.38

Ballade No.3 in A flat major, Op.47

Ballade No.4 in F minor, Op.52

According to Liszt, it was the success of Chopin’s Polish contemporary and fellow exile, Adam Mickiewicz, in the classical forms of poetry which inspired Chopin to take up their equivalent in music - resulting in piano sonatas less successful in Liszt’s opinion than Mickiewicz’s Grazyna and Wallenrod. It is not a convincing theory. It is true, on the other hand, that Mickiewicz’s Ballady I romanse had considerable influence on Chopin’s creation of a form new in instrumental music, the ballade.

Although it is very unlikely that any of the four Chopin Ballades was inspired in detail by any one of the Mickiewicz Ballady, each one is a sort of narrative poem with the narrator playing almost as prominent a role as the main protagonists of the story. His presence is particularly obvious in the first of the Ballades in G minor, Op.23. It begins with a short harp-like prelude which establishes the bardic personality destined to reappear in the other Ballades. The narrator introduces the first thematic character, the melancholy but excitable first subject, in G minor. The second subject is happier and more relaxed in E flat major. The latter is compelled to change its mood during the course of the development, goaded by the first theme into full-scale eloquence in A major and, at the end of a scherzando episode based on the narrator’s theme, it is urgently rapped out in E flat major. The first subject reappears in the tonic but not the second subject: all conventional expectations are swept away in a presto con fuoco coda. The narrator adds a dramatically expressive epilogue.

When Schumann heard Chopin play that work in 1836 (a year after its completion) he declared it “the best of all his works.” Chopin agreed with him. In 1839, when he had finished the second Ballade in F major, he dedicated the new work to Robert Schumann (crossing out the description, “my friend,” incidentally, and spelling the dedicatee’s name wrong in his instructions to his publisher). This work quickly became a favourite too. Chopin performed it frequently but never, apparently, in its entirety. He is said to have played only the first part, in an extended version. Obviously, this is the most attractive part, and it is particularly inspired in the way its gentle pastoral theme grows so naturally out of the repeated harp notes in the first few bars. The parts Chopin did not play are the two stormy presto con fuoco episodes, with the narrator’s voice from the first Ballade rising in an impassioned cry in the left hand. The idyll is definitively drowned by the second episode, which leads not into F major again but to an agitato coda ending in a desolate A minor.

The third Ballade was completed two years after the second and is already more subtle in construction than the its predecessors. It is impossible to say for certain whether the first section, which is so elusive and so changeable in colour, is introduction or exposition. The opening bars return, are converted into a low echo of the narrator’s theme from the first Ballade and pause on a chord of A flat major. A delightful new theme enters, preceded by an outline of its lilting rhythm in the right hand. This could be a second subject or it could easily be the first main theme. Whatever it is, it is closely related to the earlier material. It dominates the piece from this point on in an apparently spontaneous series of variations, passing dramatically through C sharp minor and into a climax of keyboard brilliance and acoustic magnitude.

The ballade conventions - the 6/8 metre, the narrative style, the bardic prelude - are retained in the fourth and last in the set, written in 1842. This F minor Ballade is even more liberated in form than the A flat major, however, and is on a larger scale. One of Chopin’s greatest works, it is a structural masterpiece and, like all the best examples of story-telling, never predictable. The main theme, introduced after the short prelude with the characteristic repeated notes, sounds like a fragile stray from one of the nocturnes. It gives no hint of the epic trials it is about to withstand. It proves, however, to be an adaptable melody, capable of carrying a weight of passionate expression, before it is relieved by the entry of a happier, less complicated theme in B flat major. The burden of the main climax is borne by this more robust second subject, now in D flat major. But the brilliant coda, beginning after the slow and quiet chords which bring the music temporarily to rest on C major, is yet another transformation of the mercurial main theme.

Gerald Larner©