Manchester Medical Orchestra 10 December 2012
Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827) - Egmont Overture Op. 84 (1809-1810) and Symphony No. 8 in F major, Op. 93 (1812)
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Allegro vivace e con brio
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Allegretto scherzando
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Tempo di menuetto
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Allegro vivace
There are few musical voids as great as that between the seventh and ninth symphonies of Beethoven. Between these staples of popular repertoire lies what the composer referred to as his ‘Little’ symphony in F major (distinguishing it from the longer Symphony No. 6). From its inception, it has never achieved the popularity of its neighbours, and yet it was one of Beethoven’s own favourites. When asked by Carl Czerny why it lacked the popularity of the seventh, the composer is said to have growled “Because the Eighth is so much better”. George Bernard Shaw agreed, opining that “In all subtler respects, the Eighth is better”. Yet the Eighth remains difficult to grasp, precociously veering between moods, and is undeniably underperformed, with only the first symphony set to receive fewer performances in 2013, according to Bachtrack.
So why is the Eighth so unappealing? From the outside, it perhaps lacks defining features, and is easily the shortest. It is scored for similar orchestral proportions to all but the fifth and ninth, and lacks some of the technical virtuosity demanded elsewhere. It returns to the minuet format of Haydn rather than employing a boisterous scherzo. There is no serious threat of darkness or peril, and the label of symphonic journey, applicable to many of Beethoven’s other symphonies, is of little use.
Unlike most of Beethoven’s symphonies, the eighth lacks a popularly accepted meaning. The third, Eroica, was inspired by the rise and fall of Napoleon. The fifth opens with perhaps the most famous four notes in music, once described as ‘fate knocking at the door’, and the sixth is an exultant hymn to nature. The seventh was famously described by Wagner as ‘The apotheosis of the dance’. The ninth, the zenith of the composer’s symphonic output, revolutionised music with its inclusion of vocal soloists and chorus in its hymn to universal brotherhood, the Ode to Joy. No similar interpretation exists for the eighth.
And yet there is an abundance of beautiful melody and cunning harmonic development to be found in the symphony alongside much wit, humour, charm and drama. A sense of joy underpins the music throughout, and sudden fortissimo eruptions occur frequently, this being one of the composer’s very few works to employ the fff dynamic. The symphony seems to be a battle between warm legato and rowdy exuberance, perhaps suggestive of a struggle between an excitable toddler and loving parent.
The infectious sunny optimism of the eighth symphony betrays little of what was a turbulent period in Beethoven’s life. In 1811 the Austrian Florin underwent a fivefold devaluation, rendering Beethoven's annuity from Prince Lobkowitz’s practically useless. The following year, Beethoven wrote the famous letter to his ‘Immortal Beloved’ (his intense sense of morality prevented fulfilment of his love to a married woman). In the summer, despite the excitement of finally meeting Goethe, his bowel complaint (now suspected to be ulcerative colitis) flared up, delaying a visit to his brother Johann in Linz, who was on the cusp of marrying a woman Beethoven viewed as woefully unfit. He resolved to divide the couple, his methods grossly insensitive, even if stemming from noble motive. Despite his exertions, he poured huge energy into composition, and it was whilst staying with Johann that the Eighth was born.
The music
The first movement opens with a bold statement of the principal theme (in no other Beethoven symphony is there a complete absence of introduction), which is echoed, as so many passages are in the work, by a softer take on the same material, as a parent might gently calm a rambunctious child. After the bassoon imitates and pokes fun at the strings, the music storms briefly before reaching a joyous conclusion, with lower strings restating the principal theme. Moments after the climax has subsided, the violins excitably attempt a repeat, before dolce woodwinds quash the rebellion. The music later searches for a grand finish, but pizzicato strings and hushed winds think better of it, leading to a pianissimo close.
The two inner movements contain much grace and charm, often subtle, but still with sudden loud outbursts. The second movement, often said to be a parody of the recently-patented metronome, breaks the device in its closing bars with a sudden doubling of tempo. The horn section enjoys a beautiful trio in the third movement, accompanied by cello and solo clarinet. Mini brass and timpani fanfares and heavy sforzando accentuations disrupt what might otherwise have been a Haydnesque minuet.
The fourth movement is marked at a tempo often claimed to be physically impossible, if not thoroughly unmusical, which demands up to 17 notes per second from the strings. Few recordings attempt this tempo, and those that do often descend into a migraine-inducing blur. Beethoven's tempo markings have been the subject of much controversy, and so to ignore them is not unreasonable and may absolve conductors of blame for violinists' future arthritis. More importantly, a more moderate pace allows expression of the beautiful second theme whilst retaining the thrilling drive of the first. Several times the music quietens into the distance in F major, before an obscene Db is hammered out. These chords are later explained with almost thrilling logic. They remain an enigma until some minutes before the end of the work, when the Db is struck repeatedly, before, in a stroke of supreme genius, the note reveals its true identity as a C#. This is, of course, the same note, but in its C# guise it permits a briefly turbulent statement of the main theme in F# minor. Only seconds later, though, the music is wrenched back from F# minor to F major (about as large a harmonic jump as can be made) with a downright brutal assertion of the latter key. From here, the music gallops through several pretend codas to a warmly smiling conclusion.
Two years before the Symphony’s conception found Beethoven in much better spirits, and it was Goethe’s trauerspiel ‘Egmont’ which inspired a set of incidental music, now most famed for its overture. Count Egmont (1522-68) was a Flemish nobleman whose protests against Spanish rule of the Netherlands led to his execution by the ruthless Duke of Alba. Here we see common themes in Beethoven’s political thinking: resistance to tyrants and expressions of hope for mankind.
The Overture seems to echo the story in miniature. Dramatic chords mark out a slow introduction, which has been likened to an anguished Dutch cry against oppression. Turmoil continues into the Allegro, where metrically ambiguous descending phrases in the low strings and tense violins hint at unrest. After aggressive brassy chords, sudden silence ensues: has the Count been beheaded? From soft woodwind chords emerges a dancing, major-key figure in the strings which erupts joyfully into a tutti realisation. The Count may be dead, but his cause lives on.