Piano Sonata in B flat major (D.960)

Schubert’s last piano sonata is his longest, his most daring, and his greatest. Here he discards the long-term structural support of the recurring thematic motif (like that which linked the movements of the immediately preceding Sonata in A major), at the same time expands the form to proportions previously exceeded only by Beethoven’s Hammerklavier, and fills the spaces not with a dramatic conflict but with a scarcely interrupted vision of serenity.

The opening Molto moderato actually does offer a structural motif - the trill and turn low down in the left hand, just after the quiet introduction of the first subject. But while it, or a derivative from it, is heard at the major structural interchanges here, it does not recur after the first movement. The Andante in C sharp minor is exquisitely poised in its own eternity of tranquillity or, in the A major middle section, resting on a basis of unshakable stability. The Scherzo, back in B flat, is too delicate and too elusive to disturb anything. It is only in the suddenly darker, syncopated B flat minor Trio section that a shadow is cast across the light. The happiness of the last movement is expressed with a humour to equal Haydn’s. The held octave on G at the start is one witty idea, used always with fine timing to tease both our sense of rhythm and our sense of tonality. There is a minor-key outburst but it this is so quickly calmed that when it reappears in the recapitulation it is no longer a threat even goes so far as to take part in precipitating the little Presto coda.

Schubert’s last piano sonata is his longest, his most daring, and his greatest. Here he discards the long-term structural support of the recurring thematic motif (like that which linked the movements of the A major), at the same time expands the form to proportions previously exceeded only by Beethoven’s Hammerklavier , and fills the spaces not with a dramatic conflict but with a scarcely interrupted vision of serenity.

The first movement actually does offer a structural motif - the trill and turn low down in the left hand, just after the quiet introduction of the first subject. It, or a derivative from it, is heard at the major structural interchanges here but it does not recur after the first movement. The Andante in C sharp minor is exquisitely poised in its own eternity of tranquillity or, in the A major middle section, resting on a basis of unshakable stability. The Scherzo, back in B flat, is too delicate and too elusive to disturb anything. It is only in the suddenly darker, syncopated B flat minor Trio section that a shadow is cast across the light.

The happiness of the last movement is expressed with a humour to equal Haydn’s. The held octave on G at the start is one witty idea, used always with fine timing to tease both our sense of rhythm and our sense of tonality. Lest the movement should seem too frivolous, however, there is an episode with just a suggestion of a hymn in its melody and then a minor-key outburst. But this is so quickly calmed that when it reappears in the recapitulation it is no longer a threat, and it even goes so far as to take part in precipitating the little Presto coda.

Schubert’s last piano sonatas, three of the most inspired products of the last year of his life, were published only in 1838, ten years after his death. They were dedicated by their publisher to Robert Schumann, whose name was printed in bigger type on the title page than that of Schubert himself – which was disproportionate but not entirely inappropriate. By reviewing hitherto unknown Schubert scores in his Neue Zeitschrift für Musik as they gradually filtered through to the public in the 1830s Schumann had done much to establish his late colleague’s reputation.

Strangely enough, Schumann rather underestimated the last three sonats, which were not fully appreciated for a further hundred years or more. Even so, they must have been of great interest to a composer who had abandoned the piano sonata – just as Brahms was to do later – because of the difficulty in reconciling the form with his romantic lyrical imagination. In the B flat Sonata Schubert miraculously combines pure song-like melody with sonata form and allies serenity to structural breadth on a scale that was quite without precedent, even in the late sonatas of Beethoven. In this respect it is an extraordinarily daring concept, more daring even than its great predecessor in A major. In that work serenity is less secure, subject to dramatic contrast, and Schubert was still very careful to ensure a thematic unity from movement to movement. In the B flat Sonata the serenity is scarcely disturbed and it is this, together with the tonality factor of course, which unifies the whole construction. Thematic links betwen the movements, even ones as subtle as those in the A major Sonata, are discarded.

The first movement actually does offer a structural motif – the trill and turn low down in the left hand, just after the quietly sung announcement of the hymn-like first subject. It is then used to lead into the surprising passage where the melody is played at the same pitch level but harmonised in G flat, and a derivative from it introduces the F sharp minor second subject – which retains the even crotchet movement of the first subject in spite of the more agitated figuration in the accompaniment. After that, the motif’s function is limited to bringing about the exposition repeat (if the pianist chooses to go through with it), to persuading the development away from its preoccupations with less important ideas and back towards the first subject, to introducing the recapitulation and to ending the movement.

But neither that motif nor any other recurs in the later movements. The slow movement in C sharp minor is exquisitely poised in its own eternity of tranquillity or, in the A major middle section, resting on a basis of unshakeable stability. The Scherzo, back in B flat, is too delicate and too elusive to disturb anything. It is only in the suddenly darker, syncopated Trio in B flat minor that a shadow is cast across the light.

The happiness of the last movement is expressed with a sense of humour to equal Haydn’s. The held octave on G at the start is one witty idea used always with fine timing to tease both our sense of rhythm and our sense of tonality. Lest the movement should seem too frivolous, however, there is an episode with just a suggestion of a hymn in its melody and then a minor-key outburst. But this is so quickly calmed that when it reappears in the recapitulation it is no longer a threat. It even goes so far as to take part in precipitating the little Presto coda.

Schubert’s last piano sonatas, three of the most inspired products of the miraculous last year of his life, were published only in 1838, ten years after his death. They were dedicated by their publisher to Robert Schumann, whose name was printed in bigger type on the title page than that of Schubert himself: Anton Diabelli - the originator of the greatest ever musical publicity stunt, the Diabelli Variations - knew how to sell music. It was Schumann who had been largely responsbile for Schubert’s posthumous reputation, reviewing the works in his Neue Zeitschrift für Musik as they gradually filtered through to the public in the 1830s.

Strangely enough, Schumann rather underestimated the last three sonatas, which were not fully appreciated for a further hundred years or more. But they must have been of particular interest to a composer who had abandoned the piano sonata - just as Brahms was to do later - because of the difficulty in reconciling the form with his romantic lyrical imagination. In the B flat Sonata, on the other hand, Schubert combines pure song-like melody with sonata form and serenity with structural breadth on a scale that was quite without precedent, even in the late sonatas of Beethoven.

In this respect, Schubert’s B flat Sonata is an extraordinarily daring work, more daring than its great predecessor in A major. In that work serenity is less secure, subject to dramatic contrast; and Schubert was still very careful to ensure a thematic unity from movement to movement. In the B flat Sonata the serenity is scarcely disturbed and it is this, together with the tonality factor of course, which unifies the whole construction. Thematic links betwen the movements, even ones as subtle as those in the A major Sonata, are discarded.

The first movement actually does offer a structural motif - the trill and turn low down in the left hand, just after the quietly intoned accouncement of the hymn-like first subject. It is then used to lead into the surprising passage where the melody is played at the same pitch level but harmonised in G flat, and a derivative from it introduces the F sharp minor second subject - which retains the even crotchet movement of the first subject in spite of the more agitated figuration in the accompaniment. After that, the motif’s function is limited to bringing about the exposition repeat (when the pianist chooses to go through with it), to persuading the development away from its preoccupations with less important ideas and back towards the first subject, to introducing the recapitulation and to ending the movement.

But neither that motif nor any other recurs in the later movements. The slow movement in C sharp minor is exquisitely poised in its own eternity of tranquillity, or, in the A major middle section, resting on a basis of unshakeable stability. The Scherzo, back in B flat, is too delicate and too elusive to disturb anything. It is only in the suddenly darker, syncopated Trio in B flat minor that a shadow is cast across the light.

The happiness of the last movement is expressed with a sense of humour to equal Haydn’s. The held octave on G at the start is one witty idea used always with fine timing to tease both our sense of rhythm and our sense of tonality. Lest the movement should seem too frivolous, however, there is an episode with just a suggestion of a hymn in its melody and then a minor-key outburst. But this is so quickly calmed that when it reappears in the recapitulation it is no longer a threat. It even goes so far as to take part in precipitating the little Presto coda.

Schubert’s last piano sonatas, three of the most inspired products of the miraculous last year of his life, were published only in 1838, ten years after his death. They were dedicated by their publisher to Robert Schumann, who had been largely responsbile for Schubert’s posthumous reputation up to this point, reviewing hitherto unknown or forgotten works in his Neue Zeitschrift für Musik as they filtered through to the public in the 1830s. Strangely enough, he rather underestimated the last three sonatas, which were not fully appreciated for a further hundred years or more. But they must have been of particular interest to a composer who had abandoned the piano sonata – just as Brahms was to do later – because of the difficulty in reconciling the form with his romantic lyrical imagination. In the B flat Sonata, on the other hand, Schubert combines pure song-like melody with sonata form and serenity with structural breadth on a scale that was quite without precedent, even in the late sonatas of Beethoven.

In this respect, the B flat Sonata is an extraordinarily daring work, more daring than its great predecessor in A major, where serenity is less secure and still subject to dramatic contrast. In the B flat Sonata the serenity is scarcely disturbed and it is this, together with the tonality factor of course, that unifies the whole construction. Thematic links between the movements, even ones as subtle as those in the A major Sonata, are discarded.

The first movement is built on such a vast scale that a structural motif of some kind can scarcely be dispensed with. The trill and turn heard low down in the left hand, just after the gently articulated announcement of the hymn-like first subject, is an unlikely choice but an inspired one in that is effective not only in inducing a wondering silence, as on its first entry, but also in motivating visionary modulations. It is used straightaway to lead into the eerie displacement of the main theme into G flat harmonies. A derivative from it introduces the F sharp minor second subject – which retains the even crotchet movement of the first subject in spite of the more agitated figuration in the accompaniment – and it reappears with classical regularity at every major intersection thereafter. It    brings about the exposition repeat, persuades the development out of its preoccupation with seductive melodic distractions, turns attention back to the first subject, introduces the recapitulation and ends the movement in near silence.

But neither that motif nor any other recurs in the later movements. The slow movement in C sharp minor is poised in its own eternity of tranquillity, or, in the A major middle section, resting on a basis of unshakeable stability. The most prominent feature that the Andante sostenuto has in common with the opening Molto moderato is the silent question preceding the reprise of the C sharp minor section – a question which is answered by the precariously sustained C sharp major harmonies at the end of the movement. The Scherzo miraculously turns the harmonic focus back to B flat without, in its exquisite delicacy, clouding the luminous atmosphere – not even in the somewhat darker and oddly syncopated B flat minor Trio section.

The happiness of the last movement is expressed with a sense of humour to equal Haydn’s. The held octave on G at the start is one witty idea used always with fine timing to tease both rhythmic and harmonic expectations. Lest the movement should seem too frivolous, however, there is an episode with just a suggestion of a hymn in its melody and then – after another questioning silence – a minor-key outburst. But this is so quickly calmed that when it reappears in the recapitulation it can no longer be regarded as a threat. It even goes so far as to take part in precipitating the playful events that lead into the little Presto coda.

Gerald Larner © 2018

Piano Sonata in B flat major (D.960)

Molto moderato

Andante sostenuto

Scherzo: allegro

Allegro ma non troppo

Schubert’s last piano sonatas, three of the most inspired products of the miraculous last year of his life, were published only in 1838, ten years after his death. They were dedicated by their publisher to Robert Schumann, whose name was printed in bigger type on the title page than that of Schubert himself: Anton Diabelli - the originator of the greatest ever musical publicity stunt, the Diabelli Variations - knew how to sell music. It was Schumann who had been largely responsbile for Schubert’s posthumous reputation, reviewing the works in his Neue Zeitschrift für Musik as they gradually filtered through to the public in the 1830s. Strangely enough, Schumann rather underestimated the last three sonats, which were not fully appreciated for a further hundred years or more. But they must have been of particular interest to a composer who had abandoned the piano sonata - just as Brahms was to do later - because of the difficulty in reconciling the form with his romantic lyrical imagination. In the B flat Sonata, on the other hand, Schubert combines pure song-like melody with sonata form and serenity with structural breadth on a scale that was quite without precedent, even in the late sonatas of Beethoven.

In this respct, Schubert’s B flat Sonata is an extraordinarily daring work, more daring than its great predecessor in A major. In that work serenity is less secure, subject to dramatic contrast; and Schubert was still very careful to ensure a thematic unity from movement to movement. In the B flat Sonata the serenity is scarcely disturbed and it is this, together with the force of tonality of course, which unifies the whole construction. Thematic links betwen the movements, even ones as subtle as those in the A major Sonata, are discarded.

The first movement actually does offer a structural motif - the trill and turn low down in the left hand, just after the quietly sung accouncement of the hymn-like first subject. It s then used again to lead into the surprising passage where the melody is played at the same pitch level but harmonised in G flat, and a derivative from it introduces the F sharp minor second subject - which retains the even crotchet movement of the first subject in spite of the more agitated figuration in the accompaniment. After that, the motif’s function is limited to bringing about the exposition repeat (when the pianist chooses to go through with it), to persuading the development away from its preoccupations with less important ideas and back towards the first subject, to introducing the recapitulation and to ending the movement.

But neither that motif nor any other recurs in the later movements. The slow movement in C sharp minor is exquisitely poised in its own eternity of tranquillity, or, in the A major middle section, resting on a basis of unshakeable stability. The Scherzo, back in B flat, is too delicate and too elusive to disturb anything. It is only in the suddenly darker, syncopated B flat minor Trio that a shadow is cast across the light.

The happiness of the last movement is expressed with a sense of humour to equal Haydn’s. The held octave on G at the start is one witty idea used always with fine timing to tease both our sense of rhythm and our sense of tonality. Lest the movement should seem too frivolous, however, there is an episode with just a suggestion of a hymn in its melody and then a minor-key outburst. But this is so quickly calmed that when it reappears in the recapitulation it is no longer a threat. It evn goes so far as to take part in precipitating the little Presto coda.

Schubert’s last piano sonata is his longest, his most daring, and his greatest. Here he discards the long-term structural support of the recurring thematic motif (like that which linked the movements of the A major), at the same time expands the form to proportions previously exceeded only by Beethoven’s Hammerklavier , and fills the spaces not with a dramatic conflict but with a scarcely interrupted vision of serenity.

The first movement actually does offer a structural motif - the trill and turn low down in the left hand, just after the quiet introduction of the first subject. It, or a derivative from it, is heard at the major structural interchanges here but it does not recur after the first movement. The Andante in C sharp minor is exquisitely poised in its own eternity of tranquillity or, in the A major middle section, resting on a basis of unshakable stability. The Scherzo, back in B flat, is too delicate and too elusive to disturb anything. It is only in the suddenly darker, syncopated B flat minor Trio section that a shadow is cast across the light.

The happiness of the last movement is expressed with a humour to equal Haydn’s. The held octave on G at the start is one witty idea, used always with fine timing to tease both our sense of rhythm and our sense of tonality. Lest the movement should seem too frivolous, however, there is an episode with just a suggestion of a hymn in its melody and then a minor-key outburst. But this is so quickly calmed that when it reappears in the recapitulation it is no longer a threat, and it even goes so far as to take part in precipitating the little Presto coda.

Schubert’s last piano sonatas, three of the most inspired products of the miraculous last year of his life, were published only in 1838, ten years after his death. They were dedicated by their publisher to Robert Schumann, whose name was printed in bigger type on the title page than that of Schubert himself: Anton Diabelli – the originator of the greatest ever musical publicity stunt, the Diabelli Variations – knew how to sell music. It was Schumann who had been largely responsible for Schubert’s posthumous reputation, reviewing the works in his Neue Zeitschrift für Musik as they gradually filtered through to the public in the 1830s.

Strangely enough, Schumann rather underestimated the last three sonatas, which were not fully appreciated for a further hundred years or more. But they must have been of particular interest to a composer who had abandoned the piano sonata – just as Brahms was to do later – because of the problem of reconciling the form with his romantic lyrical imagination. In the B flat Sonata, on the other hand, Schubert combines pure song-like melody with sonata form and serenity with structural breadth on a scale that was quite without precedent, even in the late sonatas of Beethoven.

In this respect, Schubert’s B flat Sonata is an extraordinarily daring work, more daring even than its great predecessor in A major. In that work serenity is less secure, subject to dramatic contrast; and Schubert was still very careful to ensure a thematic unity from movement to movement. In the B flat Sonata the serenity is scarcely disturbed and it is this, together with the effect of tonality of course, which unifies the whole construction. Thematic links between the movements, even ones as subtle as those in the A major Sonata, are discarded.

The first movement actually does offer a structural motif – the trill and turn low down in the left hand, just after the quietly sung announcement of the hymn-like first subject. It s then used again to lead into the surprising passage where the melody is played at the same pitch level but harmonised in G flat. A derivative from it introduces the F sharp minor second subject – which retains the even crotchet movement of the first subject in spite of the more agitated figuration in the accompaniment. After that, the motif’s function is limited to bringing about the exposition repeat, to persuading the development away from its preoccupations with less important ideas and back towards the first subject, to introducing the recapitulation and to ending the movement.

The slow movement in C sharp minor is exquisitely poised in its own eternity of tranquillity, or, in the A major middle section, resting on a basis of unshakeable stability. The Scherzo, back in B flat, is too delicate and too elusive to disturb anything. It is only in the suddenly darker, syncopated B flat minor Trio that a shadow is cast across the light.

The happiness of the last movement is expressed with a sense of humour to equal Haydn’s. The held octave on G at the start is one witty idea used always with fine timing to tease both our sense of rhythm and our sense of tonality. Lest the movement should seem too frivolous, however, there is an episode with just a suggestion of a hymn in its melody and then a minor-key outburst. But this is so quickly calmed that when it reappears in the recapitulation it is no longer a threat. It even goes so far as to take part in precipitating the little Presto coda.

Schubert’s last piano sonata is his longest, his most daring, and his greatest.      Here he discards the long-term structural support of the recurring thematic motif (like that which linked the movements of the A major), at the same time expands the form to proportions previously exceeded only by Beethoven’s Hammerklavier , and fills the spaces not with a dramatic conflict but with a scarcely interrupted vision of serenity.

    The first movement actually does offer a structural motif - the trill and turn low down in the left hand, just after the quiet introduction of the first subject.      It, or a derivative from it, is heard at the major structural interchanges here but it does not recur after the first movement.      The Andante    in C sharp minor is exquisitely poised in its own eternity of tranquillity or, in the A major middle section, resting on a basis of unshakable stability.      The Scherzo, back in B flat, is too delicate and too elusive to disturb anything.      It is only in the suddenly darker, syncopated B flat minor Trio section that a shadow is cast across the light.

    The happiness of the last movement is expressed with a humour to equal Haydn’s.      The held octave on G at the start is one witty idea, used always with fine timing to tease both our sense of rhythm and our sense of tonality.      Lest the movement should seem too frivolous, however, there is an episode with just a suggestion of a hymn in its melody and then a minor-key outburst.      But this is so quickly calmed that when it reappears in the recapitulation it is no longer a threat, and it even goes so far as to take part in precipitating the little Presto coda.