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Announcer
The Newbery Consort celebrates the scientific and musical innovations of the early Renaissance. In their concert, corkscrews, coils and clocks hear historical instruments that were invented during this time while seeing drawings by Leonardo da Vinci, Gutenberg, and more projected overhead, showing how this period of invention changed the course of Music Forever. Friday, March 13th at the University of Chicago, Saturday, March 14th in Evanston, Illinois and Sunday, March 15th in downtown Chicago. Tickets available at newberryconsort.org.
Musicologist/Host
Good evening. Thank you all so much for being here with us for this. It's a little hard to make a symphonic concert intimate, but we decided we would try to bring you all close to us and we will talk through Brahms second Symphony together. Brahms spent much of his adult life battling with his ambition to write the next great symphony and his terror at the shadow of Beethoven standing behind him. Brahms tortured himself for 14 years while writing his first symphony, and he only published it when he was 49 years old. But when that symphony finally came out, it was a huge success, and with immense relief, Brahms quickly wrote another one in just four months. Brahms First Symphony was quickly dubbed Beethoven's 10th, something that annoyed Brahms very much. When he was told that the main theme of the last movement of his symphony resembled Beethoven's own Ode to Joy, he famously responded, oh, any ass can see that. But all the same, Brahms had been re anointed as Beethoven's successor with that first symphony, and so therefore his second symphony would also be given a Beethovenian name, pastoral. But the question since this symphony has been written has been just how pastoral or idyllic is this symphony? Many people see an unadulterated joy and gentleness in this piece, but some melancholy moments. But overall, it's as sunny as it seems, with just the typical battles between sadness and happiness that happen in any symphony. But there's another school of thought with this symphony, and that is that it is marked by shadows and tremors that go way beyond a simple sad, sad or happy, and that these tremors, these shadows, they leave a mark that can't really be ignored. I tend to believe in the second theory, but we're going to discuss this symphony with this framework in mind. Whether this piece is as sunny as some people would have you believe, or if the shadows are the lasting impression we get as we walk away from the concert hall. We're also, of course, going to discuss Brahms innovations with form and his evergreen ability to revolutionize write some of the most stunning and beautiful melodies ever written. All of this and more is coming right up on this live edition Of Sticky Notes, the classical music podcast with the Aalborg Symphony. Brahms was very notoriously difficult to pin down about what his music meant. He would say contradictory things, he would joke around, and he would use sarcasm and grumpiness to push away any questions about what he was to trying trying to say with his music. As the premiere of this second symphony approached, Brahms joked to his publisher, quote, the new symphony is so melancholy that you can't stand it. I have never written anything so sad, so minor, ish. The score must appear with a black border. Where's the joke? Well, Brahms mentions that the symphony is so minor, ish, but every single movement is written in a major key. And as you heard, it begins with a kind of representation of a sunrise. I know what you're thinking. Shadows, melancholy, we'll get to that. But I want to point out something right at the beginning that seems like nothing more than an introductory pickup to the horn melody. It's played by the cellos and basses. Let's hear that one more time. That little three note motive is going to be the germ of the whole symphony. It holds it together like a calling card that we keep going back to. And as we go through the piece, I'll keep pointing it out again and again as it occurs. But let's go back now to that horn call. There's a reason this symphony was nicknamed the Pastoral, and it's not just because of that music. In another letter to his publisher, Brahms wrote, completely contradictory to his previous letter, that the village he was in for his summer holidays and where he wrote the symphony was, quote, delightful. It's all rippling streams, blue skies, sunshine, and cool green shadows. This bucolic country village figures into that gently lilting, almost waltzing theme right at the beginning. But as I've been saying with Brahms, there are always shadows. And that's where this piece, and especially this movement becomes a source of some disagreements, agreement. So as I said, some people hear just sun and joy in this movement, but others hear a little bit of tragedy. I'll start from the beginning, but listen to the immediate that the immediate change that takes place the second time the horns play. Brahms shifts only 9 measures 15 seconds into the piece, into a minor key, a much darker tonality, and one that maybe gives the image of a cloud passing in front of the sun. Those measures are the first two events in the symphony. The three note motive played by the cellos and basses and the two horn calls. There will be two more events before the symphony really gets going. In event number Three, the strings take over in order to calm this brewing rain shower, taking on the intervals of the horn call to maybe put it to a gentle sound sleep. And finally, for the fourth event, Brahms brings in the timpani, the tuba and the trombones. The trombones are the most important because the trombones were an instrument that Brahms, no offense, wasn't particularly fond of using. And the use of those trombones had very important implications in the piece. Trombones were actually still used a bit sparingly by the Brahms school of composers. And they were usually only brought in to supplement outbursts of joy, especially in final movements like the last movement of Beethoven's fifth and the last movement of Brahms first. But in this symphony, they appear in the first, second and last movements. And except for the last movement, they don't bring a lot of musical joy. So 40 measures into the piece, we've had those four events that will act as reference points for the entire movements of the entire movement. But what about those trombones? The great writer Jan Swafford, who I really recommend, he wrote one of the greatest books about Brahms that I've ever read. He uncovered a remarkable letter that Brahms wrote about this symphony. Brahms was responding to a listener who said that he didn't understand why that moment happens in the first movement. And as I said, Brahms was normally very. He didn't like to tell what he meant in his music, but he actually responded to this letter and he wrote, quote, I would have to confess that I am a severely melancholic person, that black wings are constantly flapping above us. And that in my output, perhaps not entirely by chance, that symphony is followed by a little essay about the great why, if you don't know this motet, I will send it to you. It casts the necessary shadow on the serene symphony and maybe it accounts for those timpani and trombones. Listen again to this moment now with that in mind. And then listen for how Brahms allows those clouds to clear and how he gently melts back into sunniness. But I at least am a bit unsettled by those black wings.
Audience Member
It. Sa.
Musicologist/Host
Now even that theme, that beautiful breakthrough, is colored by the three note motive. Listen to those first three notes of the theme. He continues it, but it starts. It's all part of this obsession with this three note theme, because Brahms was an obsessive developer as a composer. Now, in Western classical music, first movement of a romantic era or classical era symphony, it's most of the time in what is called sonata form, which means that there is an exposition section which has two Main themes, then a development section where those themes are developed, they're twisted around, turned upside down, etc. And then a recapitulation where the themes come back in their original form. And then usually there's a coda where everything is kind of summed up. And that's very much the form that Brahms uses in the first, second and last moments of this symphony. But Brahms didn't just develop during the development section and he started developing right away. And he develops music in multiple layers, which is really what makes him such a forward thinker. He develops themes in the normal way, but he also develops the motives and he also develops rhythmically as well, which we'll get to in a little while. And he's already off developing all these themes. We've got the three note motif flying around and we also have maybe more importantly, rapid contrast between major and minor keys, as if we are already struggling. And all of this is to set up a second theme. Now, in a normal sonata form movement, the second theme would be in A major for a D major movement. So that's what we expect. But Brahms writes this theme in F sharp minor. Some see this music as a gentle lullaby since it is a cousin of the famous Brahms lullaby. But to me there's a kind of yearning in the side of this music that is very much not meant to lull you to sleep. Brahms marks for the cellos in viola is to play it cantando or singing, and the theme continuously reaches up and up, all while we are resolutely in that minor key.
Audience Member
Sam.
Musicologist/Host
All of this leads to a real surprise and a moment that every violinist dreads. This moment that is coming up is on just about every violin audition that exists musically. It's a moment of release from the grips of the yearning of this theme. Brahms writes for the music to be played slightly held back. And we get a feeling of this kind of leaping joy, but also struggle showing again those constant contradictions in Brahms music. But why is it so difficult for violinists? Well, it starts with all awkward leaps in octaves, some of the hardest things to play in tune on the violin. It then continues with leaps of thirds all over the instrument, with lots of string crossings. It's a moment of pure virtuosity and it makes me very glad that I'm no longer a violinist. Brahms is also doing something else in this passage, and it's the passage that's coming up actually, and it should be perceptible to the ear in the right kind of performance. Now I'm going To ask you to do something. I'm going to ask you to close your eyes, listen to the following passage and try to figure out where the first beat of the bar is. So now you can open your eyes and we'll play it again for you. And I'll show you very demonstratively where the downbeat is the first beat of the bar. That's not quite where you would expect it to be because Brahms has done a couple of things. He's melded together the three note idea and the second theme into one rising three note motif. And he's also moved the theme so that it no longer starts on the downbeat. Instead he's moved it to the second beat to the bar. And to me, a performance somehow has to reflect this. We no longer emphasize the first note because we now have to lead towards the third note, the note that falls on the downbeat. And Brahms loved this kind of displacement, this rhythmic displacement in his whole career. And even the resolution of this passage that you'll hear in a moment actually comes on the second beat of the bar and then on the third and third beat of the bar. Why does this matter? Well, even unconsciously, a musician in an orchestra isn't going to hit a second or a third beat nearly as much as they might a downbeat. If these lines were written in a normal way, the music might sound a little too heavy and too straightforward for someone like Brahms, who always wanted ambiguity. Also, the lack of that firm arrival for the musicians means that you, the audience, also perceive that something is missing in the arrival. Brahms is saving those for later in the piece. Here's the whole passage,
Audience Member
Sam.
Musicologist/Host
As we move into the development section, the shadows that threatened the peace of the exposition now turn into full blown storms. The theme is actually based on one of the early themes in the piece, but Brahms transforms it so much that you would barely recognize it. And at the climactic moment of this section, the trombones return and they play overlapping three note motives. A reference as explicit as any in the piece to the opening. And those three notes are responded to by cries of terror from the orchestra. And by the way, do you notice something that has completely disappeared? It's that opening beautiful pastoral horn call. It's barely made an appearance since the very opening of the piece. But at the real climactic moment of this development, the horn calls do return, but underneath them, the three note motive writhes underneath. It's one of the most dramatic moments in any Brahms symphony. Now, many symphonies that are in major keys go into very dramatic Developments in order to create a tension that is then resolved. Maybe most famously, Beethoven's Eroica Symphony does that. But to me, the one in the Brahms symphony, this one, it's different. The shadows were all here from the beginning, those trombones looming in the distance, the minor key, second theme. And all of this makes sense in the context of those outbreaks, bursts that you just heard. And they finally result in a kind of exhausted cry and a return to the recapitulation where the main theme comes back. And now that it's in context, that bucolic theme sounds slightly different in character, rather than sunny and peaceful. Maybe it's nostalgic longing, a bit sad. Now, moving forward to the end of the movement, you might think that the, the coda, the final section, will resolve all of this, and it certainly tries to. A solo horn in a legendary solo strives through the shadows to try to get that closure and to answer the fundamental question of this movement. Is it a major key movement of gentle joy or a somber and nostalgic Looking back,
Audience Member
Sam,
Musicologist/Host
And bravo to Eric for that beautiful solo. In the end, Brahms leaves us a little bit unsatisfied for a moment. After this horn solo, the music becomes almost playful, though again, those tremors and earthquakes in the development have changed this music somehow. It's a little more burnished, more mature, not quite so carefree. And the final thing that happens is a return to D major, the horn call. And yes, peace. 15 minutes have gone by in this movement, but things are very much unresolved.
Audience Member
Sam.
Musicologist/Host
The slow movement, the second movement of the symphony, is one of the more radical movements that Brahms ever composed. It is a movement that is in the typical Western classical sonata form, but the way that it is heard resembles more one unbroken line. The emotional content of the movement also is a bit ambiguous. It begins with an aching and yearning line in the cellos that descends down. But if you listen in the background, you'll hear the bassoons rising up. These are two themes searching for each other in the shadows, Just like in the first movement. This movement is defined by events, and even events within events. Just take this first theme. We've heard just the first couple of bars of it. In the next breath, Brahms changes the sonority completely, allowing the theme to strive upwards. But then the third event, where everything comes inside for a moment, moment of true intimacy before the theme is truly allowed to break out. Now, that theme is also heard on just about every cello audition that exists. So it could be. Should we get a round of applause for the Wonderful cellos. So in performance, it's really important for me to feel that those three events really sound like one long phrase, not like three separate ideas. Why? It's because of the harmony, which you actually haven't heard yet. When the movement begins, the harmony is unresolved. We don't know what key we are in yet. And Brahms only actually resolves the harmony for the first time in B major in the third measure. And as soon as he does it, he moves off, never to return to it for the rest of the theme. Actually, there's another odd thing about this theme, because normally a movement starts on one, the downbeat, but not here. This theme starts on the fourth beat, which again influences how we play this music as well. So Brahms is fooling our ears rhythmically and teasing us harmonically, all while writing a deeply passionate theme full of emotional unrest. Now listen to the whole passage as we try to create that one line that expresses all of that ambiguity and emotional complexity. All of the harmonic resolutions in this movement are brief. It feels like we're floating. But maybe not by choice. As we reach the end of this A section, Brahms builds quite a big cloud climax of Brahmsian tragedy and ecstasy at the same time before he moves on to the B section in F sharp major. This section emerges out of the opening with a freedom and grace that is a reminder of the happier moments of the first moment.
Audience Member
Sa.
Musicologist/Host
But things are about to change in the development section, just as in the first movement, the development is full of drama and emotional intensity. Some of the most wildly passionate music for orchestra that Brahms would write. At this moment of greatest tension, Brahms brings back a familiar face, the trombones. And they're playing something that maybe will
Announcer
be familiar to you.
Musicologist/Host
Should mention also the tuba plays in that passage in the bassoon as well. But this is the three note motive turned upside down by the trombones and bassoon and played right side down, I guess by the tuba. And this is again that just that reminder of what was happening in the beginning of the piece. And it's going to lead to three attempts to find the opening theme again. But remember, that theme itself wasn't exactly comforting. Now, while I have mixed feelings about considering the first movement sad or happy, I confess that I can't see this movement as anything else, but deeply troubled and full of darkness. There are those three attempts, but in the third, which you will hear now, it's an uneasily twisting line in the first violins that does finally get us back home. But if you notice, there wasn't the cello theme anymore. It was just the bassoon was left. So again, there's something missing in our minds and the troubles are not over. In this movement, we again will reach one of the most impassioned moments in any Brahms symphony as this music rushes forward into battle.
Audience Member
Sa. Sam.
Musicologist/Host
And the final bars of this movement are marked by silence, unease, tremors in the timpani, expressive kind of stabs of pain in the violins, and finally, calm. But this calm is infected by the gloom and pathos of what we have been through in the preceding minutes. Sa.
Audience Member
SAM
Musicologist/Host
so if we take stock of this sunny pastoral symphony. So far we've had a first movement that was in D major, but it was dripping with emotional ambiguity and a second movement that is much more about shadows than it is about sunshine. This ambiguity is strengthened by that letter I shared with you earlier. Now, I mentioned in the letter that Brahms talked about this motet about the great. Why, I didn't talk about it then, but I'm going to mention it now. And this is music that Brahms had written just before he wrote the symphony for a choir. The text of the motet is from the Bible, and I really encourage you to listen to a recording of this piece when you get a chance. The text is called why has light been given to the wary of soul? And as I said, it is based on the Bible. Wherefore is light given to him that is in misery, Misery and life unto the bitter in soul which long for death, but it come not and dig for it more than for hidden treasures which rejoice exceedingly and are glad when they can find the grave? Why is light given to a man whose way is hidden, and whom God hath hedged in light and shadow, the key elements of the first two movements of the symphony. Now, in the third movement though, and the last movement, things really do change and all of that ambiguity mostly falls away. And these movements are much more in the character of what you would expect in a sunny pastoral D major symphony. The third movement is a gentle song that is as uncomplicated as the first two movements were complex. It's also heavily influenced by my surprise, the three note motive. Take the opening oboe solo and just remember that three note motive in your ear. This time it goes up a half step rather than down. But it's still based on the same things. So again, why does this matter? It's because I don't think Brahms would have expected you to be taking notes. Ah, that theme in the oboe is based on the three note motive from the beginning of the piece. That's not how Brahms would have expected you to listen. But somehow unconsciously, I think the brain clocks it. It understands that it's hearing something that is related to something that it heard before and that creates this wonderful internal logic to a symphony that has so many different characters to it. He's tying all the movements together basically. And there's more rhythmic fun in this movement and I really do mean fun. This time there's no shadows. Brahms suddenly changes the tempo of the movement to a presto, meaning extremely fast. The theme is the same, but the music now scampers along.
Audience Member
Truly playful for the first time in the symphony.
Musicologist/Host
Sa. Now what's brilliant about this is that Brahms never actually changes the speed of the beat for the conductor. It remains the same. So when we go back to the A section, it's completely seamless. It's a real trick and very few composers are able to pull this kind of things thing off. So watch how I conduct this next section. It goes from one to a bar to three to a bar. But my beat, the speed of it actually never changes even though the music sounds much slower.
Audience Member
Sam.
Musicologist/Host
By the end of the movement we feel as if we have really cast off those shadows that haunted us. Except there's one more heart stopping moment.
Audience Member
Sam.
Musicologist/Host
In that passage there are those moments where Brahms kind of peeled back the layers to show the emotions that were hiding inside of this music. This movement serves as the necessary bridge between the slow movement and the joy of the last movement. It's tender and serene, but still holding on to a lot of that sadness. The last movement begins with what else? An echo of the three note motive. It goes by really fast though. Listen again. It's just the first three notes that the violins play. It's actually the most explicit quotation of the motive yet. But it goes by so quickly that it's just a little joke for the people that are listening with their analytical hats on. And this last movement begins with that motive. Written to be played sotto voce or whispering. This passage goes on for quite a while, wandering around as if it's waiting for an answer to a question. And what an answer we do.
Audience Member
Sam.
Musicologist/Host
Here's that joy that we've been waiting for this whole time. All of the freedom and ease that was missing even from the the sunnier first movement in a pure expression of joy that's actually quite rare for Brahms. In the second theme of this movement, it's one of Brahms warmest. And here he writes for the orchestra to play Largamente a bit Broader. This is the Brahms that people think about when they see the drawings and pictures of a portly man with a bushy beard. This is Brahms, Santa Claus, Grandpa, whatever comforting figure you can imagine. But I'm sorry, I have to come back to that obsessive three note motive. Listen to the first three notes of the violin theme here. One more time. Half step up, half step down. It's there again, whether it's happening. Half step up, half step down. We've been followed around by this three note motive again. Why do I keep harping on it? I'm a nerd, that's why. But really the reason is that it's just a lesson in how incredibly varied music can be when a great artist is composing it. We've gone through so many themes, ideas and characters, and almost all of them have had their root in three little notes. As the movement begins to develop, we get an almost tipsy feeling as the winds start to. Woodwinds start to spin around and around. And as if the music has really had a bit too much to drink, we arrive at another moment of rhythmic displacement. Watch how I will conduct on one. And nobody plays until after the beat. But this time Brahms corrects it quite quickly. In the second time that the second theme, that beautiful, warm theme appears, Brahms writes something that has confused musicians ever since he wrote it. As we arrive, the music is at its most outgoing and we seem to be landing on the most lush version of this theme possible. Here's a version where exactly that happens. Let's play full out. Big dynamic here. That's pretty, pretty satisfying. But if you look at the score, Brahms actually writes poco forte, which is that confusing marking. Supposedly when Brahms wrote poco forte, which means a little bit loudly, he meant for the music to be played with the intensity of forte, loudly, but actually to be played at a volume that was soft. But here's the problem. The music is as loud as possible before, and it runs into that second theme and then apparently pulls back to something much more reserved and intimate and dynamic. Let's try to show that in the most literal way possible, that we really play a soft dynamic, but with a little bit of intensity this time. Okay, show of hands, who prefers version number one, the loud version? Version number two? Oh, wow. That's not the answer that I expected. Okay, we're going to try a third version, which is a kind of a mix of the two. It's with the played with a little bit more feeling and intensity, but still with that slight Brahmsian restraint. Now in the coda of the movement, things truly rush forward and there's no more poco forte anymore. Brahms brings every theme we have heard in this movement together with with joyful ease and with cascading scales. We arrive at music of unbound joy. The final sounds we hear are the second theme blasted away by the trumpets and horns. And in a very symbolically important move, especially considering that letter that Brahms wrote to a listener, the trombones ring through at the end with a glowing D major chord. So in the end, this is not a symphony with a trick traditional Beethovenian darkness to light path. It is a path full of ambiguity, uncertainty, and a kind of partly cloudy feeling that can make Brahms feel like both the most relatable composer and sometimes also the most distant and frustrating. We're never quite sure what Brahms means to say, and this can be difficult. His music always lacks the clarity of of Mozart, the directness of Beethoven, and the open emotionality of someone like Mahler or Wagner. But if you look under the surface, the same intense emotions are there. You just have to look a little harder for them. Brahms holds his cards close to the vest and only lets them go in moments. But to me, this is my favorite thing about Brahms. That complexity and ambiguity makes the moments of spontaneity and joy all the more overwhelmingly beautiful. And perhaps most importantly, I think that complexity and ambiguity makes Brahms music so wonderfully human. Who else would write poco forte at the most emotionally intense moment of a piece? There are very few composers closer to my heart than Brahms. I find him endlessly illuminating. And the truth is, my feelings about what he is trying to say change every day. And I have a feeling that Brahms might have liked that. Let's hear the end of the symphony now. Thank you so much for coming to hear us tonight, and we really hope that you've enjoyed this performance.
Audience Member
Ra.
Episode: Brahms Symphony No. 2 LIVE w/ The Aalborg Symphony
Host: Joshua Weilerstein
Date: February 19, 2026
In this special live edition, host Joshua Weilerstein guides the audience through Johannes Brahms’ Symphony No. 2, performed by the Aalborg Symphony. The episode is not just a performance but a rich, interactive exploration of Brahms’ creative process, musical structure, subtle emotional ambiguities, and the recurring motives that bond the symphony together. Throughout, Weilerstein challenges the notion that this “Pastoral” symphony is all sunshine, illuminating instead its shadows and complexities.
On Brahms as a reluctant programmaticist:
“Brahms was very notoriously difficult to pin down about what his music meant. ... he would use sarcasm and grumpiness to push away any questions.” (02:40)
On the first movement's ambiguous mood:
“Is it a major key movement of gentle joy or a somber and nostalgic looking back?” (24:15)
Insight on performance and interpretation:
“Brahms always wanted ambiguity. ... the lack of that firm arrival for the musicians means that you, the audience, also perceive that something is missing in the arrival” (17:42)
On Brahms’ internal logic and motivic unity:
“Somehow unconsciously, I think the brain clocks it. It understands that it's hearing something that is related ... that creates this wonderful internal logic to a symphony that has so many different characters.” (41:05)
On the orchestral climax:
“In the coda of the movement, things truly rush forward ... Brahms brings every theme we have heard in this movement together with joyful ease.” (54:27)
Final reflection on Brahms’ depth and humanity:
“That complexity and ambiguity makes the moments of spontaneity and joy all the more overwhelmingly beautiful. ... There are very few composers closer to my heart than Brahms. I find him endlessly illuminating. And the truth is, my feelings about what he is trying to say change every day. And I have a feeling that Brahms might have liked that.” (57:21)