Somberness, Ferocity Poem by gershon hepner

Somberness, ferocity
combined with luminosity
project the message of the Brahms
First Symphony, less full of charms
than of a threat to Beethoven’s
uniquely great preeminence.
Hans von Bulow saw its sterling strength,
and said: “It’s Beethoven’s great Tenth, ”
but it is hardly like the Ode
to Joy that for a chorus Ludwig wrote
to make the Ninth so very great.
Although Brahms made his listeners wait
for twenty years before he brought
it out, the mood with which it’s fraught
is gloomy first, till the finale
ends grandly, and not as bizarrely
as that which Beethoven composed
to end the Ninth, to gloom opposed.
Between the staves, though, there are hints
of late quartets that should convince
all Ludwig fans to aime their Brahms,
eschewing Beethoven alarms,
for even if Brahms didn’t reach
the same heights, there is room for each.

Inspired by Mark Swed’s review in the LA Times of a performance of Brahms’ First Symphony by the Berlin Philharmonic, conducted by Sir Simon Rattle, at the Disney Hall on November 23,2009 (“Rattle, Berlin Philharmonic triumphant”) :
It is not easy to create a sensation with the Brahms symphonies. These four sturdy scores are the standard repertory’s comfort food, often served overcooked and under-spiced, meant more to nourish than excite. Monday night the Berlin Philharmonic played Brahms’ First in Walt Disney Concert Hall. Simon Rattle conducted. As always, the symphony ended in its conventionally feel-good rush to glory on a C-major chord. But this time the crowd began to cheer just as the sound was evaporating, turning Brahms’ chord into a swelling tone cluster as cheers expanded into an exhilarating roar. The performance had been so alive that it seemed the audience needed to extend the symphony long enough to physically absorb Brahms and take him home with them.
On Monday, Rattle began with Schoenberg’s orchestration of Brahms’ early G-minor Piano Quartet. Brahms was a conservative orchestrator. Schoenberg was not. When he made the version in 1937, he had recently moved from Berlin to Los Angeles and was clearly entranced by the resplendent light of his new home. He garbs the quartet in garish instrumental colors that have taken many Brahmsians aback. Rattle emphasized everything in the most polystylistic way possible. A horn solo in the solo movement had a raw jazzy quality; a clarinet solo in the Gypsy-inspired last movement was klezmer-like. A xylophone clattered, a bass drum thumped. But within this ruckus was also ravishing ensemble playing and, from Rattle, the inspiration not only for great characterization but also for momentum.

That, though, was but prelude to the opening of the First Symphony on the second half of the program. It began with a massive weight, as if the orchestra were a volcano ready to erupt. I had never thought of Brahms and 'The Rite of Spring” in the same breath, or John Adams’ “Harmonielehre, ” but this was the kind of thrill Rattle was after. Rattle’s Brahms is all that Brahms can be. His is Brahms for we who have lived through the 20th century and are trying to figure out in a fast-changing world what to take with us from the past and what to discard. His Brahms is still stolid. The Berliners have lost nothing of their pre-Rattle somberness, ferocity or luminosity. I’ve long thought this the greatest orchestra of them all and Monday did nothing to change my mind. But this was also Brahms untamed. The lilting Andante movement didn’t just lilt, it felt as though it might lope right out of the hall. The last movement, so monumental, just about began to crack apart, with new life growing out of each fissure. Yet when Rattle whipped up excitement, he channeled the famed old Berlin Philharmonic ensemble, which can do anything.Of course, we wanted to take this home with us. It was a sensation.

11/25/09