Music@Menlo’s thirteenth season, Schubert, celebrated one of history’s most profound and universally beloved musical voices. The festival offered an unprecedented chronological journey through Franz Schubert’s remarkable life, presenting virtually all of his greatest chamber music in the company of the astounding works that he composed like no other: his lieder. Each disc of the 2015 edition of Music@Menlo LIVE captures the vibrant spirit of the season. The Schubertian figure of the lonely wanderer is central to Disc III, which places Schubert’s lied Der Wanderer and his virtuosic “Wanderer” Fantasy for Solo Piano between works by his idols Haydn and Beethoven. Composed towards the end of each of their lives, Haydn’s elegant, unfinished String Quartet in d minor opens this recording, while Beethoven’s profound String Quartet in c-sharp minor, op. 131, offers a spellbinding conclusion. JOSEPH HAYDN (1732 – 1809) String Quartet in d minor, op. 103, Hob. III: 83 (unfinished) (1803) Haydn set to work on his String Quartet in d minor, op. 103, in 1803. The work remains unfinished: we have only the second and third of its projected four movements. Haydn was in poor health when he accepted the commission from Moritz von Fries, a Viennese arts patron, to compose a new quartet. He began with the inner movements—traditionally, the slow movement and the minuet—presumably because these were easier to tackle. Haydn probably figured he would get to the more challenging outer movements when he was back at full strength. But upon realizing that his health would not improve, Haydn had the two completed movements published on their own in 1806, with an announcement that these would serve as his farewell. He continued to decline over the next three years and died in 1809. Though the Opus 103 Quartet is properly listed in d minor, its intended key, its Andante grazioso movement—the quartet’s projected second movement—is in the amiable key of B-flat major. The movement begins with a simple, tuneful melody. But this music’s seeming simplicity belies its refined craftsmanship. Haydn, after all, was the composer responsible for transforming the string quartet from a first violin plus supporting cast to a sophisticated conversation between four distinct voices. And the independence of each instrument here results in a richly satisfying ensemble texture. The movement’s middle section enters, without warning, into the rarefied key of G-flat major. This music is simultaneously charming and strange: it begins with a four-bar phrase, derived from the opening theme—but rather than complete the melody, Haydn proceeds to a series of decorative triplet figurations. After mischievously steering this material through various keys, Haydn returns to the material of the opening. The stern d minor minuet movement forecasts the Sturm und Drang sensibility of the Romantic composers more than it reflects the genteel manner of the traditional minuet. FRANZ SCHUBERT (1797-1828) Der Wanderer, op. 4, no. 1, D. 489 (1816) Schubert’s lied Der Wanderer (The Wanderer) of 1816 sets the poem “Ich komme vom Gebirge her” by the German poet Georg Schmidt. Der Wanderer rivaled Erlkönig as Schubert’s most popular song during his lifetime, and its central image of a lonely wanderer and his existential desolation was one that resonated with Schubert throughout his life. The same image inspired two Goethe settings, Wandrers Nachtlied I and II; Der Wanderer an den Mond, composed in 1826; two songs both entitled Der Wanderer; and, of course, the immortal song cycle Winterreise (Winter Journey). Der Wanderer begins with a brooding recitative: I come down from the mountains, // The valley dims, the sea roars. // I wander silently and am somewhat unhappy, // And my sighs always ask “Where?” The pace of the lied slows as the singer intones: The sun seems so cold to me here, // The flowers faded, the life old, // And what they say has an empty sound; //I am a stranger everywhere. The music turns bright as the singer remembers his beloved homeland. Where are you, my dear land? // Sought and brought to mind, yet never known, //That land, so hopefully green, //That land, where my roses bloom… Schubert highlights the change in mood with a shift to E major and a galloping 6/8 time. The song reverts to its initial introspective tempo—but the wanderer, now gladdened by thoughts of home, the music remains in E major. FRANZ SCHUBERT Fantasy in C Major, op. 15, D. 760, “Wanderer” (1822) Though classified as a fantasy by the composer, Schubert’s “Wandererfantasie” (a label not bestowed by the composer), with its four distinct movements, could equally well be understood as a full-length piano sonata. Indeed, its structure represents an audacious feat of architectural imagination: its four movements, played continuously without pause, are essentially merged into one cyclic work. Each movement bears a thematic connection to Schubert’s lied Der Wanderer of 1816. The “Wanderer” Fantasy’s musical character is as inspired as its formal structure. It is one of many instances when Schubert appropriated an earlier lied in his instrumental composition. Although its tightly wrought design sets it apart from the traditional fantasy genre (i.e., free-form, semi-improvisational works), the “Wanderer” Fantasy has a rhapsodic flair that is fantastical indeed. The work held great appeal for Franz Liszt, who frequently performed it and even orchestrated it. The piece is arguably the most technically demanding of Schubert’s works for piano; the composer himself, a skilled pianist in his own right, apparently could not play it. The first section, marked Allegro con fuoco, ma non troppo, establishes its big, bravura character right away. But a formal elegance accompanies the daunting athleticism required by the work. Each melodic idea leads organically into the next. A headstrong dactylic rhythm powers the robust opening theme. This same rhythmic idea, now cast in a softer light, also begins the gentler second theme—whose second measure, in turn, introduces the three-note gesture from which a third theme later unfurls. The Adagio second movement presents the fantasy’s most literal allusion to Der Wanderer.. The subdued note on which the Adagio section ends points abruptly towards the animated Presto. This section, analogous to the scherzo movement in a four-movement sonata, presents three primary musical ideas, the first and third of which are variations of the first and third themes, respectively, of the first movement. The fantasy’s opening theme likewise gives rise to the mighty fugue, which constitutes an Allegro finale. LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN (1770-1827) String Quartet in c-sharp minor, op. 131 (1825-1826) The impetus for Beethoven’s late quartets was a commission from the Russian prince and amateur cellist Nikolay Galitzin, who asked Beethoven for “one, two, or three quartets, for which labor I will be glad to pay you what you think proper.” Even after fulfilling Galitzin’s commission for one, two, or three quartets, Beethoven had conceived so many musical ideas that he needed to continue. The resulting works are the String Quartet in c-sharp minor, op. 131, and the String Quartet in F Major, op. 135. Opus 131 holds a special place in the hearts of many. It is unique among Beethoven’s quartets in its structure—its seven movements are to be played without stopping—as well as in its powerful emotive content. Few works in the repertoire so completely fascinate, challenge, and inspire both listeners and performers as does Beethoven’s Opus 131. Its challenges to the performers begin with its rare key signature: c-sharp minor—a key that precludes the players from relying on their instruments’ open strings. It is as though, by suppressing the instruments’ natural resonance, Beethoven has encoded the notion of human struggle into the work’s DNA. The quartet begins with a slow, sinewy fugue. In addition to its enigmatic melody, this subject is characterized by its recurring sforzandi—sudden accents that puncture the line. As the ensemble texture develops, the piercing effect of this gesture becomes more pronounced, evoking a stabbing pain that dissipates and leaves a feeling of melancholy in its wake. Near the end of the movement, these pains recur with increasing frequency, becoming nearly too much to bear. The fugue finally comes to a mysterious stillness; the full ensemble sustains a quiet c-sharp. Shifting up a barely perceptible half step, the music turns bright for the second movement, marked Allegro molto vivace. After the movement comes to an understated conclusion, two loud chords forcefully announce the arrival of something new. The third movement serves as a recitative, prefacing the substantial Andante at the center of the quartet: a set of variations on an eloquent theme, introduced by the violins. The seven variations that follow share the same key but proceed at different tempi and traverse a wide range of characters. Without pause, the cello brashly interrupts, launching the quartet’s wild fifth movement Presto. After what seems like a triumphant conclusion, three strident G-sharps extend the proceedings, and the rambunctious Presto dissolves into the desperate sadness of the sixth movement, marked Adagio quasi un poco andante. This pithy movement, as searingly expressive as it is compact, prepares the way for the quartet’s tempestuous finale. A sudden burst of anger points the quartet towards its final movement’s sustained rage. The attentive listener might detect the dark motif on which the first movement is built transformed in this turbulent finale. The return of this material in the quartet’s final chapter contributes to the unified quality of the work’s wide-ranging musical ideas. The journey has come full circle. Along the way, Beethoven has, with remarkable insight and empathy, given voice to seemingly the entire spectrum of human experience. An anecdote from violinist Karl Holz reports that when Schubert first heard the Opus 131 Quartet, “He fell into such a state of excitement and enthusiasm that we were all frightened for him.” In November 1828, shortly before his death, Schubert made his last musical request: to hear Beethoven’s Opus 131, which was played for him five days before he died. In Holz’s words: “The king of harmony had sent the king of song a friendly bidding to the crossing.”