Carlos, I'll preface this by saying that my intervention will be deliberately friendly and playful, just as I wish our relationship were; I hope you don't mind. We are among friends at a bar: you, Armando, Luca, anyone else who wants to participate, and of course me. We are all at various levels and with varying degrees of knowledge as Beethoven lovers but, as beautifully happens, we don't necessarily agree on everything. You said your piece, filling it with those that can quite easily be considered: personal tastes regarding Beethoven's works. Now I will do the same, conversing amiably with you and expressing what mine are, hoping to draw a smile from you. Shall we try?
But that is too little; returning to the discussion on Die Weihe des Hauses; I completely agree. But, "by instinct" as they say, the reason is easily identifiable and concerns that overture like other Beethoven masterpieces which, always, are preferred in a "ranking" that has at the center of its top list the music we might define with the term "heroic," which even transcends the division into the three styles we discussed here in recent days, privileging that aspect of Beethovenian poetics, never born and never finished, present in much music from all three periods. Therefore, the "Pathétique" Sonata op. 13 has become more famous and significantly more performed than the three Sonatas op. 10 (extraordinary) and the two Sonatas op. 14.
Carlos, I consider Beethoven's compositional work a bit like a "Rossinian crescendo" — forgive me this term, but I can never find a better one — where through highs and lows one arrives at final greatness. I know you disagree, but that is how I think.
Of the three sonatas of Opus 10, I consider only the third to be truly excellent, with that initial Presto which is very complex and visionary, and with that colossal Adagio that already foreshadows — damn it, I know you don't like this — that of Opus 106; what a marvel! As for the first, what can I say? It's not bad; but I still find it too close to Mozart's style, and personally, Mozart's piano sonatas, with the exception of K. 311, do not seem anything particularly exceptional to me. In the second, I hear C.P.E. Bach and also Haydn; this one isn't bad either but, yes... the third is decidedly superior and already vigorously Beethovenian, as I like it.
But Carlos... Opus 13, as I already said, is the first true great leap in quality in Beethoven's piano-sonata works; the one that up to that point in his career features for the first time a dramatic introduction in a slow tempo, the first whose movements are undoubtedly linked through the commitment of common thematic material and with conscious reminiscences. It is undoubtedly this one that opens the way to the "Sonata-fantasias," don't you think? No, right!
The two Sonatas of opus 14, yes, are undoubtedly delightful, but I continue to think that the Pathétique and Opus 10 no. 3 are something else.
(not to mention the two Sonatas op. 27, of which the "Moonlight" is known on a planetary level, while its companion op. 27 no. 1 — which I find decidedly better! — is reserved for an audience of "insiders").
Frankly, I wouldn't know which to choose between the two because they are two excellent Sonatas. Moreover, I find the melody of the Adagio con espressione from Opus 27 no. 1 so similar to the Largo of the Piano Concerto No. 3 in C minor, Opus 37, what do you say? That concerto was my favorite among the Beethovenian ones when I was a boy.
Thus, the Fourth Symphony has become "territory for a few," present in 90 percent of cases only in complete cycles, because it is sandwiched between the "Eroica" and the Fifth (not to mention the "Pastoral" and the Seventh!); the same fate, moreover, has befallen the Fourth Concerto, hidden by the imposing Third and the "Emperor."
The Fourth has been rightly revalued today, and for me, the beginning is wonderful: a slow movement full of ideas that break apart and without any connection: truly, genially brilliant!
I am not so convinced that the Fourth is a hidden concerto: in reality, it has always been my favorite, even if today I have also strongly revalued the Fifth: the Adagio un poco con moto is among Beethoven's most beautiful pages ever.
If you think about it, most of the works that have received a name (almost always imposed by the publisher and not chosen by Beethoven) are precisely those that reflect that musical heroism I was talking about and those that have always identified Beethoven, whose most famous portrait is the one in which he glares at the portraitist (as if Beethoven had lived inc*** his whole life, among other things...).
Ehhh well, after all, even this served to build the myth, didn't it?
I say "most of them" because op. 11, namely the splendid "Gassenhauer Trio," suffers the same fate as many other pieces, by virtue of
very cumbersome neighbors (in this case the already mentioned “Pathetique” op. 13, of the three Violin Sonatas op. 12 - which, being the first three, are, like the first three Piano Sonatas and the first Quartets, “fundamental” regardless - not to mention the two trios op. 70 no. 1 “Geistertrio” and op. 97 “Erzherzogstrio”, which we know familiarly as “Ghost Trio” and “Archduke”).
What do you say? You know, I have a very different opinion from yours on this, practically the opposite. First of all, a comparison with Mozart's “Trio for bowling pins” K. 498 is inevitable – even if there is a viola instead of a cello – which is clearly and superlatively better and, furthermore, when compared in its version for violin instead of clarinet, it seems to me a real big step backward compared to the one in C instead of Op. 1: the piano is clearly the master, while the other two instruments seem to me like two docile poodles kept on a leash.
Now, not to say, but do you have in mind what comes before the Consecration? Beethoven's op. 123 is nothing less than the Missa Solemnis (and op. 125 is the Ninth, as they say - also with a nice name stuck on it, namely “Choral”, just so she doesn't lack a posthumous baptism too).
Who knows, perhaps in this case too that is exactly why this overture is in the background!
Years ago, when I was a choir director, we prepared for a concert dedicated to Beethoven a magnificent short piece, for choir and orchestra, titled Mehresstille und glückliche fahrt (one of Beethoven's many attempts to make choristers break into a cold sweat, as they say elsewhere). The piece is truly beautiful and, in its brevity, is a concentrate of "Beethovenism". Does anyone know it? And, for those who do, how many times have you heard it in public or seen it in a record catalog? Very well, take a look at the opus number and, along with me, widen your eyes... It's op. 112! and before that there are the three monuments, namely the three Sonatas opp. 109, 110, 111 and, after, Die Ruinen von Athen, op. 113.
Eh yes but, Carlos, you know well that, especially in the final part of the catalog, the numerical order almost never corresponds to the chronological order of the works.
In reality Op. 112 - which is undoubtedly a "little" masterpiece of sonic painting (Beethoven would have beaten me for this statement, given what he wrote for the Pastoral) - dates back to 1815 and the last three Sonatas of the Bonn genius were conceived between 1820 and 1822; the incidental music “Die Ruinen von Athen” is from 1811 and thus predates Op. 112. But, if I must tell you the truth, they are among Beethoven's least happy pieces, especially if one considers that they are from 1811... my goodness!
Having said all this, in my opinion, a couple of "clichés" emerge that we always carry with us when talking about a composer and which, at least we musicians, should actually contribute to dismantling. One of these concerns almost all authors and refers to the fact that the last works are always and anyway the best (as if, moreover, the author knew they would be the last works). A similar sort exists for the first works, which, as a debut, are always to be considered, alternatively and depending on who is speaking, omens of future splendors, or fundamental to see how much the author himself has since deviated.
Carlos, the last works are anyway the last works because then the composer dies even if he doesn't know it. But even if he did know, it's certainly not because of this that he gives his best, but because he has reached a degree of maturity and experience superior to his youth. I don't know if I have explained myself in all this contortion.
If Beethoven had lived longer and had completed his projects, they would probably have been even greater and more important, and not because death was approaching, but because he had taken other steps forward on his path as a composer.
You can prefer whichever Sonata you want (think that Chopin, whom Beethoven did not like, said that his best sonata was Op. 26) but music criticism says precise things in this sense, however tastes are tastes and must be respected anyway.
Beethoven also suffers from another very heavy burden, namely that he "is" (or was, if you prefer) the musician "with the fist on the table", the musician angry with the world, the musician who scratches... it would instead suffice to remember that he himself considered his Eighth Symphony his favorite to decisively revise these positions. And it would suffice to listen to the few fragments of his Tenth (of which, by the way, there is a "completed" version that, although it cannot be considered "Beethovenian", is illuminating regarding the direction B. would have subsequently taken), to understand how, yes, the Ninth is to be considered a"
a huge leap forward, a decidedly innovative piece, but one that, probably, for Beethoven was nothing more and nothing less than an experiment (of which even he might not have been very convinced, judging by how he started the very next symphony).
In reality, what failed to convince Beethoven about that symphony was the final movement, and that is ultimately the one most contested today, even though it is the most popular, at least in its initial part.
After a couple of hours of writing, thinking, rethinking, and rewriting, I realize that the answer to Luca's question remained hidden between the lines. I reread (again!) and apologize: it must be sought out, but I guarantee it is there!
And what if the answer were that, besides being crushed between two giants, this overture can sound not so popular in its second part? That is to say, in the part that most closely recalls the late Beethovenian style: not popular, just as his late quartets and his last sonatas remain non-popular for a wide classical audience.
Now I'll say goodbye to everyone and go to sleep! Good night!
