Johannes Brahms was deeply routed in the classical traditions of his predecessors, Mozart, Haydn and Beethoven. In a letter he wrote,

“If we can not compose as beautifully as Mozart and Haydn, let us at least try to compose as purely.”

On another occasion, while working on his First Symphony (at the late age of forty three), he wrote, “You have no idea what it is to hear the tromp of a genius over your shoulder.” Later, when someone pointed out the similarity between the theme of this symphony’s last movement and Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, he responded, “any fool can see that.”

Johannes Brahms lived during tumultuous times, as contemporary music was in a state of flux. The music world was dividing into two camps – those favoring the music of Wagner, and his stretching of harmonies to the point of destroying tonality, and the others who were more circumspect in their thinking. In most respects, Brahms was in the latter camp, but when looking at this division, it is helpful to see it in an historical context. One should recognize that as most composers grow older and mature, they expand their harmonic languages. One need only compare Mozart’s Jupiter Symphony, with his earlier opuses, or better still, Beethoven’s early output to his late strings quartets to recognize these changes.

Brahms, like his idols, also pushed some of the boundaries. In a few of the piano intermezzi (various opuses) there are tonal ambiguities and such extensive counterpoint that tonal centers are nearly obscured. No less of a composer and theorist than Arnold Schoenberg noted these advances, and wrote of Brahms’ forward harmonic thinking, and the implications of his use of “stretching” the harmonic boundaries. And, as is so often the case, there are no steadfast rules or regulations between opposing sides, and each individual musician must be judged on his or her own particular merits.

The opus 119 contains some of Brahms’ last piano works. The pieces are short and intimate. In many respects they are both an homage to an era that has ended, and in their own way, a glimpse towards the future. I was introduced to them by my son Loren’s piano practicing. As many of you may know, over the past few years, he has played Mozart’s 20th Concerto and 3 Beethoven Piano Concerti with the Sinfonia, and next year he will play Saint Saens Piano Concerto No. 2.

Not being a fluent pianist, I do not know much of the piano repertoire, and so I approached Loren’s work both as a learning experience for me, and of course with a dad’s pride second to none. As I heard him practicing these pieces, I imagined that three (there are four in the opus) could be orchestrated and form the basis of a very nice chamber orchestra suite. Of the three intermezzi (the last movement of the set is a rhapsody), I felt that only the first one was too pianistic and therefore not suitable for orchestration. With that in mind, anI chose an intermezzo from the opus 118 (the only one that I ever attempted to play) to complete the set.

Most of the romantic composers did not write much for chamber orchestra and Brahms, aside from his two early serenades, composed none that I know of. Consequently, there is a shortage of music from that era in the chamber orchestra repertoire. By creating this and a few other arrangements of romantic music, I have hopes of adding to that repertoire, and at the same time, introducing our audiences to some wonderful music, albeit in a slightly different format from its origins.

—Jay Fishman


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