Speaker 1Hello and welcome to Sticky Notes, the classical music podcast.
Speaker 2My name is Joshua Weilerstein, I'm a conductor, and I'm the music director of the Phoenix Orchestra of Boston and the chief conductor-designate of the Aalborg Symphony. This podcast is for anyone who loves classical music, works in the field, or is just getting ready to dive in to this amazing world of incredible music. Before we get started, I want to thank my new Patreon sponsors, Rita, Kathy, Adam, Petria, George, Eugene, Susan, and all of my other Patreon sponsors for making Season 9 possible. If you'd like to support the show, please head over to patreon.com slash sticky notes podcast. And if you are a fan of the show, please take a moment to give us a rating or review on Apple Podcasts. It is greatly appreciated. So today marks episode number 200 of the show. I can't believe it's still going. When I started it six years ago, I was a beginner. I was a beginner, and I was a beginner, and I was a beginner, and I never would have thought I would make it to 200 episodes. But that's all thanks to you, the listeners who keep asking for more and more repertoire, my Patreon supporters who keep this podcast going, and of course, you know, the music, which is an inexhaustible treasure trove and just keeps being as inspiring as ever, both in my conducting career and with this podcast. So thank you all so much for all of your support. And here's to the next, I hope, 200 episodes. Today, we're going to be looking at one of the greatest pieces ever written, Beethoven's Fourth Piano Concerto. Imagine yourself back in December of 1808, heading to a concert full of premieres by the great composer Ludwig von Beethoven. He's known as a bit of a hothead, a man whose music shakes its fist at the heavens and at fate. He rushes around Vienna in a constant state of agitation, and his music reflects every bit of that agitation. At this concert, you are most looking forward to the premiere of his new piano concerto, his fourth. If the third piano concerto is any indication, that personal agitation that marks so much of Beethoven's music will be in full effect in the fourth. As you sit down in your seat, thinking about how cold it is already, and we'll get to that later, you're expecting grandeur, you're expecting energy, you're expecting a bit of violence, a bit of grit, and a whole lot of intensity. The man himself, Ludwig von Beethoven, tromps out on stage, hair covering his face. He sits down at the piano and you lean forward, expecting whatever scintillatingly exciting idea that Beethoven has come up with. You're waiting for something like this. Or this. But instead, Beethoven plays this. On December 22nd, 1808, a day that would live in classical music lore forever, Beethoven sat down for his very last appearance as a solo pianist to play this new piano concerto, his fourth. This performance was not only the premiere of the new piano concerto, but the premiere of two new symphonies as well, the fifth and the sixth. It featured many other new works, including the choral fantasy, and the concert itself lasted nearly four hours, all inside of the cold and dark Teater an der Wien, with an under-prepared and under-rehearsed orchestra. The concert, despite featuring three works that would go on to be some of the most performed works in the history of classical music, it wasn't a success. It was too long and too cold, featuring too many premieres and too much difficult music. It was criticized severely in all quarters, and Beethoven himself considered the concert a failure. And even that new concerto, the one that surprised so many people with its supremely gentle character, well, it didn't catch on quickly at all. It wasn't until 1836, nine years after Beethoven's death, when Felix Mendelssohn, who we have to thank for so many of these situations, revived the piece. Today, it is known as one of the most beloved concertos in the entire piano repertoire, partly due to the fact that it is so surprising, but not for the reasons one normally would expect. In the fourth piano concerto, Beethoven turns his entire musical brand, so to speak, upside down. Instead of a blazing fire, we get a gentle warmth. Instead of drama, we get tenderness. And instead of virtuosity, we get a practically transcendental level of simplicity. Other than the short second movement, which does give us some of the old Beethoven fire, it is one of the most tender creations of Beethoven's entire career. And we're going to learn all about it, coming up on Sticky Notes. One important thing to mention about this concerto is that it is without precedent, but also barely has imitators. It's a theme that has come up a few times recently on the show, with Schubert's cello quintet and Mendelssohn's octet, as the prime examples of a composer inventing a new genre of chamber music - two cello quintets and string octets - that was so spectacular that barely anyone tried to write one afterwards, since the genre itself was almost completely mastered by those original pieces. Now, obviously, Beethoven didn't invent a new genre of music with his fourth concerto, but he did do something completely unprecedented in the concerto literature that was almost never tried again by anyone else: he started with the soloist completely alone. A typical classical-era concerto first movement featured a long orchestral introduction, laying out all the main themes while the soloist either accompanied with the bass line or just sat and listened, finding their feet and getting comfortable on stage. Beethoven himself followed this method in his first three piano concertos. This is called an orchestral tutti, and it is a feature of just about every classical-era concerto and many romantic-era concertos as well. And this concerto does have an orchestral tutti, but it doesn't start until the piano has had its say. I really do try to imagine that concert sometimes, in 1808, in that cold and dark theatre. As I've mentioned many times, concert etiquette in those days was quite different than it is now. Concertgoers often milled around the hall, people talked openly, ate, shouted at the stage, made social calls, and more. Many symphonies and concertos started loudly at the time, simply to make the audience pay attention to the stage. So I wonder if the audience even heard Beethoven start his new concerto. The opening is so extraordinary that it deserves quite a bit of time taking it apart. We begin in G major, the home key of the piece. G major is a warm and gentle key, and that is exactly how Beethoven begins the piece. He marks the piano to play "sweetly," a marking that is not very common for Beethoven. Listen to the first time the notes move, though. Beethoven was writing his fifth symphony, somewhat simultaneously to this concerto, and it's just another marker of how different the same rhythm can sound. "Ba-ba-ba-ba" sounds gentle and content in this concerto, but terrifying and defiant in the symphony. But it's not all kindness and contentment in this opening. After the first two measures, we hit a stopping point, which Beethoven says to emphasize. This is an A minor chord, known as the "2" in music theory because it's the second step up from G major, G to A. It's a chord that can really resolve to anywhere. It could even take us to a new key. The theory itself isn't so important, but the point is that this chord presents us with ambiguity. Two measures of contentment, and then a note of ambiguity, which Beethoven then quickly resolves with a little turn, and then leaves us with a chord that is the resolving chord back to G major. Whatever comes next, we expect it to be in G major. ♪ so what makes this music so extraordinary it's of course hard to describe in words but i think it's three things the throwing of our expectations by beginning the concerto softly when we assume we're going to have the orchestra start that one ambiguous chord making us wonder if there's more to this music than it seems and ending the phrase on that hanging chord if beethoven simply resolved the chord back to g major this would be a closed loop instead the opening is an invitation to the orchestra turning exactly on its head the typical way a concerto begins with the orchestra inviting in the soloist here's the whole beginning now listen for the gentle character that ambiguous chord and the invitation you so how does the orchestra respond remember the logical rsvp to this invitation the piano laid out is another g major chord something a little like this you instead beethoven has the orchestra come in with this it's like the orchestra has levitated off the ground what beethoven has had the orchestra enter with is a b major chord a major third up from g major and a chord that has no business being played in the orchestra it's like the orchestra has levitated off the ground and it's moving place into this spot but the combination of the invitation from the piano the surprise but also surprisingly soft entry of the orchestra makes this entire opening feel more like a spiritual exercise than a bravura piano concerto and the orchestra continues on in this vein playing the same melody as the piano but with a few important differences of course we have the harmonic differences but also the orchestra's version is more complex and longer than the piano introduction instead of the emphasized ambiguity in the introduction beethoven has the string section play two bars of that but with no emphasis and then he has the strings play an emphasis on the downbeat of the third bar and then he has the strings play an emphasis on the downbeat of the fourth bar something much less ambiguous it's as if beethoven has started a conversation between the piano and the orchestra and the orchestra is now emphasizing the point in a more logical place than the piano and what that emphasis allows them to do is to find their way back to g major so in just about one minute of music beethoven has created two surprises contentment ambiguity tenderness and started a conversation that will culminate in the second movement of the concerto all of that before the traditional orchestral tutti has even been even really begun. Not bad. Here's the entire first minute of the concerto now, without interruption. So now we are in what we would normally call the orchestral tutti. Beethoven takes up the theme which had been so full of ambiguity and allows it to blossom. This is the warmest and kindest music Beethoven almost ever wrote for orchestra, though it should be noted that he was also ready to do more of it. He's also writing his sixth symphony around this time as well. Beethoven would now present us with a second theme in A minor, another unusual key for a concerto in G major. But wait, do you remember a minute ago when we were discussing an unusually ambiguous A minor chord? Here it is, now fully fleshed out. Now this theme is also a little more Beethovenian, which is a little bit more like a concerto in G major. Now this theme is also a little more Beethovenian, with dotted rhythms and a more motoric accompaniment. It also happens to move through a set of keys, from A minor to C major and then back to G major again. A quick stroll away from home and then right back again, a little bit like that introduction. But not all is well. When you're listening to this concerto, look out for these moments of ambiguity and tension. They serve to make the breakthroughs even more glorious. Here we seem stuck for four measures in a loop. We hear the ba-ba-ba-bam rhythm quietly present throughout. But did you hear that? That was Beethoven just gently bumping up the harmony by a half-step until we found ourselves back in G major. If you think of this opening introduction like G major being a planet, Beethoven constantly has little moons in orbit around it, small satellites like B major, F sharp minor, A minor, but they're all pulled into the all-encompassing orbit around G major. Another great feature of Beethoven's music is his use of the rule of three. As we open up once more in this glorious Tuzzi, we hear this theme. And that's its first iteration. Then Beethoven repeats it, but with some figuration. And then he repeats it one more time, but again with even more notes and more excitement. He also reiterates his as-loud-as-possible dynamic marking to give an extra push to the musicians. All of this creates the momentum which we need to send us toward the end of the Tuzzi section. That's what the great composers do: they create momentum, dramatic thrust, and forward motion that takes us to where they want us to go. The orchestra has finally exhausted itself, with a long discussion of the main theme and a short diversion to the second theme. And with that 5th symphony motive, the orchestra invites the soloist back in. But instead of playing the theme as we might expect, the piano moves on as well. It's as if the soloist has already said what it wanted to say in those first five bars, and now has other, more pressing needs to explore. One would also expect that it's time for the piano to show off some virtuosity. But like in Beethoven's Violin Concerto, that doesn't really happen in a traditional way. Beethoven takes certain techniques that display virtuosity, like playing in octaves or thirds or arpeggios, but he makes them integral to the musical line of the piece. Like in this passage, where the piano plays the main theme in octaves, and then begins a series of arpeggios, all accompanied by the ba-ba-ba-bum rhythm in the orchestra. ♫ ♫ ♫ This isn't traditionally virtuosic music, and it's down to the pianist to find a way to make poetry out of these lines, rather than just wow the audience with their technical abilities. The first theme section in this extremely expansive movement is, well, expansive. Besides all these non-virtuosic virtuoso moments, there are these kinds of heart-stopping moments of beauty, where all the motion virtually ceases and we are back into the dream world of the beginning of the piece. In fact, this first section is so expansive that it's easy to lose track of where we are. For example, this seems very much like a second theme. Except we didn't hear that music at all in the orchestral tutti section. This is a clue that it's not actually the second theme, but more of a diversion, allowing the woodwinds who have a very prominent role in this movement to shine. Listen to the way Beethoven layers this section, with the winds playing the theme, the piano playing a bouncy accompaniment, and the strings shadowing the piano. Add it all up and we have this magical transitional section. Which leads us right to the actual second theme, which begins in D minor, but almost immediately leaves that key. Remember how Beethoven moved through keys in his original second theme? Well, he does the same thing here, in order to find his way to a glowing C major, allowing the piano to elaborate on the theme itself. So, we're going to play the second theme, which is the C major in B minor, in this case. And then we're going to play the C major in E minor, which is the C major in E minor. Now, just as a quick refresher, most classical era concertos feature a double exposition, where the orchestra plays the main themes and then the soloist elaborates on them, followed by a traditional development where those themes are worked over, and then a recapitulation where the main themes come back. We are in the midst of this second exposition, which is mostly a chance for the piano to do that kind of elaboration, meaning adding notes to the themes themselves. This is no more true than in this moment, as we are nearing the development. Beethoven takes this from his first exposition and expands it with a blossoming of harmony that is almost overwhelming in its beauty. The winds play a fragment of the main theme, while the piano reaches higher, higher, and higher. And that stopping point isn't actually a stopping point at all. It's actually this theme, but played gently and softly. In the first exposition, the appearance of this theme was the end of things, a chance to bring the piano in. But have you noticed something? The piano itself hasn't had a chance to reflect on that theme. It's been running around accompanying the woodwinds for quite a while. So just at the end of the second exposition, Beethoven brings everything inside and gives the piano another magical moment of introspection and quiet poetry. The piano is a very powerful instrument, and the piano itself is a very powerful instrument. The piano itself is a very powerful instrument, and the piano itself is a very powerful instrument. Which he, as you heard, quickly subsumes with the most rambunctious music of the piece so far, which marks the beginning of the development section. Often in a classical concerto, the development section begins with a long orchestral tutti, but here Beethoven cuts that short. He quickly has taken us to what was the end of the first exposition, and the orchestra invites the piano in much the same way as it did in the first exposition. But the piano's response is quite different.
Speaker 1Isn't it incredible
Speaker 2how within four measures, Beethoven can take us into this mysterious and somewhat anxious world? And he does it with just the ba-ba-ba-bum motive, and a little elaboration on the main theme. Suddenly, without even realizing it, everything has turned darker and colder. This is the Beethoven we tend to recognize more than the dreamy character we've been in. It's like the journey has started all over again. All this is a preamble to something, perhaps the most dramatic moment of the first movement, but one where sometimes you scratch your head and say to yourself, how does this work so well? Why do I say that? It's because Beethoven will now write a sequence which repeats five times in a row, all on this music. The only change Beethoven makes is in the harmony. Every two bars, the music changes key. But the idea, arpeggios in the piano, falling scales in the strings, first theme fragment in the winds, it never changes. So why does it sound so convincing and exciting? I think it's because Beethoven hasn't had this much harmonic motion in a while, even though the notes themselves aren't changing much. In the exposition, there were long stretches where the key didn't change at all. And so here we get these kaleidoscopic changes. And if Beethoven changed things around even more, it would be hard to follow. Also, this is the moment of the highest drama in the development. And so Beethoven, as he always does, needs to hammer in his point as much as possible. We've had the high drama now. So in order to get back home, we need one more moment of introspection and even gloom. It's a moment that is a preview of the whole thing. And so we've got the high drama now. It's a moment that is a preview, though we don't know it yet, of the second movement. And it once again shows off Beethoven's remarkable harmonic capabilities. First, we arrive and see Schur minor, and the music seems totally hopeless. But with a magical sleight of hand, Beethoven emerges into E major and then to D major, the resolving key, back home. We can see the finish line in sight. It's just a matter of how we get there. Beethoven is about to use his ba-ba-ba-ba rhythm and a dizzyingly layered orchestration, the most complicated in the whole piece so far, to bring us back to what we expect, to be the most complicated piece in the whole piece so far, to bring us back to what we expect, to be a full orchestra restatement of the main theme. Beethoven is about to use his ba-ba-ba rhythm and a dizzyingly layered orchestration, the most complicated in the whole piece so far, to bring us back to what we expect, But it wasn't that, was it? Instead of the full orchestra doing what it's supposed to do, Beethoven once again throws a curveball, or whatever the equivalent of a curveball was in 18th century Vienna, and has the piano play a full-out version of the main theme. It is magisterial, glorious, and it bookends the surprise of the beginning. Especially when Beethoven revisits that magical leap to B major, but this time has the piano play what seems almost like literal angel dust over the top of it. The rest of the recapitulation is quite similar to the exposition, which makes sense, because it was so expansive and detailed that if Beethoven made more changes to it, it would start to become unwieldy. We then come to the cadenza and the coda, one of Beethoven's most magical creations. The cadenza is a passage for the soloist, a place for them to finally show off all their virtuosic and improvisatory abilities. In Beethoven's time, many cadenzas were not written down. but improvised in the moment. Beethoven himself wrote down what seems to have been somewhat of an improvisation, and nowadays many pianists use that cadenza for the concerto, but some write their own, and I always love to hear those. Beethoven's is full of storm clouds raging away, plus some humorous surprises. But in the end it's still a beautiful piece, and I think that it's not only about the music itself, but also about the audience, and I think that it's about the music as a whole as a whole. I think that it's about the music as a whole, and I think that it's about the music as a whole, and I think that it's about the music as a whole, and I think that it's about the music as a whole, But the key is getting out of the cadenza and the return of the orchestra. Every composer handles this differently, but in Beethoven's case we get a return to the magical calm of the exposition of the piece. Beethoven picks up the orchestra practically mid-sentence, with that music that always signals the end of a section. In this case it signals the end of a movement, In this case it signals the end of a movement, In this case it signals the end of a movement, but it's a timeless music, with the piano gently elaborating on the woodwind theme. But Beethoven will bow to convention in one way, and with a slow simmering boil of energy, this magisterial and transcendent movement comes to a close, 20 minutes after it started, but with everyone changed by the experience. with Beethoven's music, the slow movement is in some senses a relief from the intensity of the first or sometimes the second movement. Think of the fifth symphony, the ninth symphony, opus 59 number two string quartet, and many other pieces of Beethoven's. But it's quite rare for Beethoven to write such a contented and somewhat tension-free movement like the one we just went through. So to solve that problem, Beethoven knows that he cannot write a slow movement that is in that same dreamy character. Well, what Beethoven decided to do for his slow movement is write one one of the most remarkably concentrated, remarkably theatrical, remarkably powerful movements he ever wrote. All in just five minutes of music. We'll go through it first, and then I'll tell you about the different interpretations of what this music supposedly means. The woodwinds who played such a prominent role in the first movement are silent. Instead, the movement is marked by a dialogue between the orchestra and the solo piano. It is the inversion of not only the order of entry in the first movement, but of the character as well. In the first movement, the piano was calm and tender, and the orchestra initially took on that example but soon became more excited. In the second movement, the orchestra is enraged, playing a violent dotted rhythm in unison. It's like stepping into another world from the first movement. The piano responds alone, softly, with Beethoven marking them to play "molto cantabile," or "very singing." It is a line of aching sadness and loneliness, almost like a chorale that should be sung sung by dozens, but instead is only sung by one. The orchestra is unmoved and responds again with aggression. I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that there had never been purely instrumental music written like this before. It's like an opera, or perhaps even a Greek tragedy.
Speaker 1The piano responds again with
Speaker 2more consoling music. But this time the orchestra cuts off the piano just as it ends their phrase. are heating up and the music is compressing. the orchestra interrupted the piano four times there. In the right performance, I think personally that the orchestra should get more and more emphatic each time, though this is not something that Beethoven writes. But did you notice something about these interruptions? It's as if the piano barely noticed that they were there. Both groups seemed determined to stay on their paths all the way to the end. Until now. Suddenly the orchestra, which was so full of rage before, plays much softer, though still with that dotted rhythm. The piano continues on, but the interruptions get softer and softer and softer, as if all that anger is fading away. And now the piano is left alone, wandering around the instrument while the angry strings have been reduced to single pizzicato notes. It's at this point that an unearthly silence is usually descended on the concert hall in a performance of this piece. The piano comes to rest on a B major chord. And then something happens that unfortunately in many modern performances is lost. The piano makes a crescendo and for the first and only time in the movement seems to be infected by the rage of the orchestra. In fact, it seems as if the piano is having some sort of breakdown. The music's spinning around a single point of terror and agony. So what's the effect that is missed? Well, one thing that I haven't mentioned is that for the entire movement, Beethoven has instructed the pianist to play with a soft pedal engaged. Modern pianos have usually three pedals. The soft pedal on the left, a middle pedal which is not often used but that can be used to sustain specific notes, and the right pedal which allows every note to be sustained. Most pianists judiciously use the right pedal to sustain specific notes. They judiciously use the right pedal to create sustaining and dampening effects and to bring out certain lines. But the soft pedal is not hugely common, except in this movement where it gives a muted character to the piano's melody. But in this moment, Beethoven tells the pianist to switch from the soft pedal to the middle pedal and then to the sustaining pedal. It should sound as if the piano is getting louder almost on its own. Now, modern pianos don't do this as effectively as pianos of Beethoven's time. And so this is one spot where I really do love hearing historical performances, as it is utterly terrifying when it is played on an 18th century piano. Beethoven then instructs the pianist to return back to the soft pedal for the end of this remarkable movement. The orchestra returns by playing triple pianissimo, all remnants of the anger of the opening extinguished. This is the first time that the piano has been played on an 18th century piano, and this is the first time that the piano has been played on an 18th century piano, and there is no doubt that this is the first time that the piano has been played on an 18th century piano, and this is the first time that the piano has been played on an 18th century piano, and this is the first time that the piano has been played on an 18th century piano, and this is the first time that the piano has been played on an 18th century piano, and this is the first time that the piano has been played on an 18th century piano, and this is the first time that the piano has been played on an 18th century piano, and this is the first time that the piano has been played on an 18th century piano. Beethoven's student Carl Czerny said that when listening to this movement, quote, In 1859, Adolf Bernard Marx, in a biography of Beethoven, surmised that the movement was reminiscent of a scene in Gluck's opera, Orfeo and Eurydice, and the movement was a depiction of Orpheus taming wild beasts with his lyre. This has stuck to the degree that many people call this movement the Orpheus movement. I find it a tantalizing idea, but it's important to say that it didn't come from Beethoven. One final thing about this movement before we head to the last movement. The great pianist Wilhelm Kempf picked up on something I haven't even mentioned yet, the silences in this movement. He wrote, quote, On the two pages of full score which this movement occupies, there are few notes. Instead, there are many rests, which sit like black, sinister birds on the line of this music. Signs signifying a silence which takes the breath away. How does one recover after such a movement? Well, if you're Beethoven, it's with a whispered message of hope and the celebration to come. Beethoven has made yet another magical leap of thirds, though this time we head down from E minor to C major. Everything in this piece is related, from the beginning to the end. What we have entered is the most traditional movement of all time. It's the most traditional movement of all time. Something we need after the expansiveness of the first movement and the concentration of the second. We are in a rondo, meaning a main theme returns again and again with different themes as interludes. We've just heard the first theme, full of suppressed excitement. That is, until Beethoven lets it go. The trumpets and timpani, who have been silent for the entire piece so far, finally are allowed to join, and we get some of that rambunctious energy that makes Beethoven's music so unique. We have another dialogue between the orchestra and piano, but now instead of an angry one, it is a joyful competition. A can you top? This kind of energy descends onto the stage. We're getting some of the virtuosity that we expected in the first movement but never heard. But now the pianist who has been the protagonist in this concerto in an unprecedented way takes us to a new world once again. We find ourselves in D major, with a theme that might remind you of another piece. Decades before Beethoven would write that simple ode to joy, he was playing around with some of the ideas of warmth and tenderness that would make its way into the symphony. But in the concerto, we don't stay in this mode for long. Instead, Beethoven's pianist is to fly up and down the instrument with funny interjections from the orchestra. ©
Speaker 1BF-WATCH TV 2021 ©
Speaker 2BF-WATCH TV 2021 © BF-WATCH TV 2021 © BF-WATCH TV 2021 This middle section of
Speaker 1the rondo is full of dialogue,
Speaker 2rambunctious scales up and down, and interjections from the orchestra. It's like a blooper reel of the first two movements. All of the agony of the second has been swept away, and we are now in the midst of a full celebration. ♪♪ But surprisingly, we don't go back to the A theme when we're supposed to. Instead, Beethoven skips right to the B theme, perhaps a sign of its
Speaker 1importance to him.
Speaker 2And in this reversing of the order, Beethoven finds an ingenious way of playing the melody, which we'll learn in a moment. And in this reversing of the order, Beethoven finds an ingenious and touching way to come back to his A theme. Instead of fading to that terrifying scale, Beethoven gives a group of violas divided into two parts, the theme underneath a gentle, rolling accompaniment in the piano. It's a memory of the first movement with its character, content and dreamy once more. But we're going to get back to the A theme, and yes, sadly for us conductors, Beethoven will use another scale to do it. Though it's a shorter one, and it's not as difficult. At least, for me. At least, for me. We need to find our way to the coda. And to do that, Beethoven is going to go back to that B theme. We start in the glowing key of F sharp major, which is quite a surprise. But Beethoven is never content to stay long in keys during this piece, and he twists the key right up to C major, and then finds his way back to the C major. And he twists his way to G major, the home key, as we get a that's-all-folks feeling from the music. The piano plays another cadenza here, and I have to say, Beethoven's own cadenza is just perfect. It's the perfect length, and it features everything that makes a cadenza great. Energy, virtuosity, surprises, humor, and a driving momentum that takes us right to the end of the piece. Except, as you heard, it doesn't. Beethoven is famous for his extended endings, and this is just another one of those. Instead of rushing off to the end, Beethoven wants to hear his opening theme one more time. But instead of just doing it like he has in the earlier sections of the movement, he gives it to the clarinets and bassoons, allowing the winds to have the prominence again that they had in the first movement. We seem to be coming to rest, perhaps finding our way back to the character of the first movement. ♫ Piano music ♫ ♫ Piano music ♫ ♫ Piano music ♫ But that's not how a concerto should end. And again, after all the innovations of the first two movements, Beethoven knew he needed to give the people what they want. ♫ Piano music ♫ ♫ Piano music ♫ I started the show by telling you about the premiere of the concerto, which was not a success. There were myriad reasons for it, many of which I get into in my shows, about Beethoven's 5th and 6th symphonies. But the concerto itself actually had a specific reason for failing. Louis Spohr related this story about the premiere, which was told to him by Ignaz Xavier Seyfried, the director of the Theater an der Wien. Quote, Beethoven was playing a new pianoforte concerto of his, but forgot at the first tutti that he was a solo player, and springing up began to direct in his usual way. At the first sforzando, he threw out his arms so wide asunder that he knocked both of them off. He threw both the lights off the piano upon the ground. The audience laughed, and Beethoven was so incensed at this disturbance that he made the orchestra cease playing and begin anew. Seyfried, fearing that a repetition of the accident would occur at the same passage, bade two boys of the chorus place themselves on either side of Beethoven and hold the lights in their hands. One of the boys innocently approached nearer, and was reading also the notes of the piano part. When therefore the fatal sforzando came, he received from Beethoven's outthrown right hand, so smart a blow on the mouth, that the poor boy let fall the light from terror. The other boy, more cautious, had followed with anxious eyes every motion of Beethoven, and by stooping suddenly at the eventful moment he avoided the slap on the mouth. If the public were unable to restrain their laughter before, they could now much less, and broke out into a regular Bacchanalian roar. Beethoven got into such a rage that at the first chords of the solo, half a dozen strings broke. Every endeavor of the real lovers of music to restore calm and attention were for the moment fruitless. The first Allegro of the concerto was therefore lost to the public. This is a funny story, but I do find it tragic as well. This performance would mark Beethoven's last as a soloist. His increasing deafness made it impossible for him to continue performing, as he never wanted to repeat a fiasco like this again. It's a cliche to talk about Beethoven's deafness and his unbelievable achievements, but there's a reason it's a cliche. It's so moving to hear this story and then to know what life this concerto has had after its disastrous premiere. The power of Beethoven's achievement was so strong and so clear that it could survive even this kind of a first performance. The way that Beethoven integrates these three very different movements, the way the piano is in a constant dialogue with the orchestra, all of these things are so present and so dramatic throughout, that in a great performance, you feel as if you've watched a great play that has gone through stages of contentment, transcendence, terror, sadness, and then finally joy. There's nothing really like this Fourth Piano Concerto of Beethoven's, a piece that will always be a favorite of mine, and I hope a favorite of yours as well. Thanks so much for listening to Sticky Notes today. We'll have some more exciting stuff for you next week, so don't miss our next episode. If you liked what you heard today, please feel free to rate and review the show on iTunes. It really helps the show gain more visibility. And please send any questions to [email protected] or my Facebook page @stickynotespodcast. And if you'd like to support the podcast monetarily, just head over to patreon.com/stickynotespodcast. Thanks, and I'll talk to you again after a while. Sticky Notes 
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