Introduction and Allegro appassionato (Concertstück) Op.92

Schumann had long had serious misgivings about the piano concerto. What worried him was not so much the empty virtuosity perpetrated by most of his composer-pianist contemporaries as something far more fundamental – which was the three-movement structure conventionally required of the form. Writing concertos for string instuments, for cello in 1850 and violin in 1853, he apparently had no problem with the three-movement convention. As early as 1836, however, in reviewing the (four-movement) Concerto fantastique by Moscheles, he had argued that a piano concerto in one movement is more likely to make a “satisfactory whole.” In fact, he was so taken by the idea that, he said, he “would like to realize it in a special composition” of his own.

Five years later he wrote a Phantasie in A minor for piano and orchestra – the single-movement inspiration which convention required him to convert into the three-movement the work we now know as the Piano Concerto in A minor. Interestingly enough, in spite of the popular success the Concerto eventually achieved, Schumann never attempted to emulate it. Both of his other scores for piano and orchestra, the Introduction and Allegro appassionato Op.92 of 1849 and the Introduction and Concert Allegro Op.134 of 1853, are constructed in one movement. Unlike the original Phantasie, however, those two similarly titled and similarly shaped works were not intended as one-movement concertos. Nor, surely (in spite of distinguished opinion to the contrary) are they based on a recognition of the then common virtuoso practice of performing only the last two movements of a three-movement concerto. Both works are just what it says on the title page, the implication in each case being a slow introduction and a sonata-form Allegro. The violin Phantasie in C major Op.131 of 1853 follows the same deftly integrated pattern.

The opening of the Langsam (slow) introduction to Op.92 is particularly beautiful, the piano sustaining a pattern of quiet G major arpeggios while a clarinet and then a horn steal in with the melodic material. The aspiring horn line, which has long-term importance, is taken up by various woodwind soloists and, although it is hidden in the arpeggio figuration, by the piano too. The change of tempo to Allegro is signalled by an aggressive march-like theme in E minor immediately followed by a still urgent but more conciliatory melody reserved for the piano. The other main theme, introduced rather surprisingly by the pianists’s left hand under off-beat chords in the right, proves to be less exclusive.

Up to this point in the Allegro there has been no allusion to the horn theme from the introduction. When it is recalled, on horns and bassoons, it marks the beginning of a development section of remarkably sustained creative energy. So many valuable ideas arise during the course of it, in fact, that the recapitulation is extended to accommodate them – though not without converting the E minor march theme into the more congenial G major in which the work is destined to end.

Schumann had serious misgivings about the piano concerto. What worried him was not so much the empty virtuosity perpetrated by most of his composer-pianist contemporaries as something far more fundamental – which was the three-movement structure conventionally required of the form. Wwriting concertos for string instuments, for cello in 1850 and violin in 1853, he apparently had no problem with the three-movement convention. As early as 1836, however, in reviewing the (four-movement) Concerto fantastique by Moscheles, he had argued that a piano concerto in one movement is more likely to make a “satisfactory whole.” In fact, he was so taken by the idea that, he said, he “would like to realize it in a special composition” of his own.

Five years later he wrote a Phantasie in A minor for piano and orchestra, a single-movement inspiration declared by one of the greatest pianists of the day, the composer’s wife Clara Wieck, as nothing less than “wonderful.” But it wasn’t until he had added an Intermezzo and a Finale, to furnish a conventionally complete three-movement Piano Concerto in A minor, that he was able to get it published. Interestingly enough, in spite of the popular success of the Concerto in A minor, Schumann never attempted to emulate it. Both of his other scores for piano and orchestra, the Introduction and Allegro appassionato Op.92 of 1849 and the Introduction and Allegro Op.134 of 1853, are constructed in one movement.

Unlike the original Phantasie, however, those two similarly titled works were not intended as one-movement concertos. Nor (in spite of distinguished opinion to the contrary) are they based on a recognition of the then common virtuoso practice of performing only the last two movements of a three-movement concerto: with a pianist like Clara readily available there was no need for such compromise. Both works are just what it says on the title page, the implication in each case being a slow introduction and a sonata-form Allegro.

The opening of the Langsam introduction to Op.92 is particularly beautiful, the piano sustaining a pattern of quiet G major arpeggios while a clarinet and then a horn steal in with the melodic material. The aspiring horn line, which has long-term importance, is taken up by various woodwind soloists and, although it is hidden in the arpeggio figuration, by the piano too. The change of tempo to Allegro is signalled by an aggressive march-like theme in E minor immediately followed by a still urgent but more conciliatory melody reserved for the piano. The other main theme, introduced rather surprisingly by the pianists’s left hand under off-beat chords in the right, proves to be less exclusive.

Up to this point in the Allegro there has been no allusion to the horn theme from the introduction. When it is recalled, on horns and bassoons, it marks the beginning of a development section of remarkably sustained creative energy. So many valuable ideas arise during the course of it, in fact, that the recapitulation is extended to accommodate them – though not without converting the E minor march theme into the more congenial G major in which the work is destined to end.

Gerald Larner © 2008