Beethoven: The Power of a Soft Answer
Taming the wild beasts
This Substack post continues to explore the theme of Orpheus which has inspired so many great composers. It’s a sequel to my previous post about Gluck’s ’”Che faro senza Euridice.” “A soft answer turneth away wrath.” The timeless wisdom of this biblical proverb (Proverbs 15:1) has found artistic expression in one of Beethoven’s most divine creations– the slow movement of his Piano Concerto no. 4, Op. 58, the Andante con moto.
For some 19th-century commentators, this movement evoked the image of Orpheus taming the wild beasts, even though Beethoven himself is nowhere on record as having claimed any connection with the Greek legend. Yet the music has such compelling power as to make the association quite convincing. What is unmistakable is the vivid contrast presented at the outset. Using only unison strings playing angry clipped phrases in an uncompromising martial rhythm, Beethoven has his solo instrument respond in a lyrical, gently pleading voice (molto cantabile).
It is very significant that Beethoven requires the piano to be played una corde, that is, with the piano hammers hitting single strings — to emphasize the subdued tone of the solo instrument. This is just one example of his consummate craft.
By the midpoint of the movement, this “voice of Orpheus” has won over the strings as it grows ever more expansive. For their part, the strings now punctuate the music with subdued pizzicato chords, harmony coming to “the beasts”at last. In the exquisite closing moments of the movement, with the piano now in serene control, we hear in the lower strings only a distant echo of their opening anger.
As you listen to this movement, pay particular attention to the musical process I have described. Have there been times in your life when you have felt furious and then, through dialog with a quiet inner voice, been able to bring yourself back to a state of equilibrium? Can you recall times when you have intuitively calmed others’ fury through your quietness?
Savor each memory as you listen to the movement. There are quite a number of very fine performances of this concerto, but for me none can surpass this one from the 1980’s featuring pianist Krystian Zimerman with Leonard Bernstein conducting the Vienna Philharmonic.
Here is the link to the complete concerto, “Zimmerman Plays Beethoven Piano Concerto No 4 in G major, Op. 58.”
At 20:18, the second movement begins.
At 23:09, listen for a series of string pizzicatos as the piano assumes a more expansive role.
At 23:53, the piano begins a cadenza marked by a series of trills and a spot where the left hand crosses over the right hand. Some have suggested that this hand-crossing passage evokes the moment when Orpheus makes the fatal mistake of looking back to see whether Euridice is following behind him, only to lose her forever.
At 24:58 is where, in the eloquent words of the noted musical scholar, Edward Downes: “The stern voice of the orchestra relents, the octaves melt into harmony, and at the very end, orchestra unites with solo in a little sigh of acquiescence.”
Copyright 2024 by Joshua Berrett. All Rights Reserved.
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