♫ So, because this sonata is such a behemoth, I’ve made the decision to divide it into two lectures: today’s will consist of the preamble or ramble I just subjected you to, plus the first two movements. The next lecture will cover the two gargantuan final movements. I think by now it must be time to hear the exposition of the Hammerklavier’s first movement. ♫ So, as you’ll have noticed, this exposition is not all that long – probably two and a half minutes, tops. Maybe it’s slightly longer than the expositions of the Waldstein or the Appassionata, or any of the other larger-scale sonatas, but not by any significant amount. It is in other ways that the “bigness” of the Hammerklavier overwhelms. You feel it right away, in the humungous leap that opens the work, and that strikes terror into the hearts of pianists. ♫ From the first two notes, Beethoven is sending a message that he will be covering as much “territory” as possible, literally and figuratively. (By the way, I ought to mention that in this movement, along with the two motivic ideas I already mentioned and which run through the whole piece, that opening rhythm – a quick upbeat preceding a long downbeat – ya-bom – that's the dominant feature.] So, you’ll notice that that opening idea is a third – or, a third with a couple of octaves thrown in for good measure. ♫ And in fact, the whole opening theme is, in essence, two falling thirds, ♫ together forming a fanfare of B flat major. Soon after comes a passage of enormous grandeur which forms most of the rest of the first theme group, and this, too can be reduced down to a series of third. ♫ Just as with the opening, each individual third falls, but the chain rises. ♫ It is amazing that music of such scope and power can be boiled down to such simple materials. So the second theme group is, in many ways, in total opposition to the first – whereas the first is impossibly grand, the second is predominantly lyrical. Where the first group is, ironically, given that grandeur, very compact, the second is spacious, in fact encompassing three or, if you count the closing theme, four distinct themes. And whereas the first is, obviously, in the tonic of B flat Major, the second theme is in the relatively remote key of G Major, the submediant. ♫ Now, I’ve discussed this on a number of occasions: how with the middle period monument that is the Waldstein, Beethoven permanently tore up the rule book, making keys other than the dominant permissible as secondary areas in his sonata movements. So this submediant G Major is not a proper shock. But it is still a notable departure from the norm, and going to the submediant – and I should clarify that “sub” here means that rather going up a third, from B flat to D, ♫ we go down a third, from B flat to G – ♫ this really helps make this music totally distinct from the opening, shorn of almost all of its heroism. Naturally, this dramatic modulation is announced in a dramatic way – a reiteration of the opening, with a wrench thrown into it. ♫ So instead of moving up a third, ♫ we get a bull-headed repetition of the same note, just over a new chord. ♫ And then, after a brief transition, saturated with that opening rhythm, ♫ we are established in G Major, and ready for the second theme group. The first of these themes, active but dolce, is yet another essay in falling thirds. ♫ The next of the themes is beautifully childlike, naïve – its simplicity made all the more delightful by the knottiness of everything that surrounds it. And this theme is, if it's possible, even more of an essay in thirds. ♫ All of these various strands of material are “finished” so differently, and in many cases so dramatically, that I don’t think one perceives, not consciously at least, the extent to which they are all based on the same intervallic relationships. The effect is a subliminal one – you might not be able to point out the connection of the thirds, but the fact that it’s there makes this outsized material cohere in a way that it otherwise might not. So, when we come to the THIRD of the second themes, for the first time, the half step idea begins to make itself felt – subtly, at the outset. Like a number of passages to come, this theme lives somewhere between major and minor – closer to major, in this case – and the ambiguity is on account of this juxtaposition of E flat and E natural. ♫ It’s only a detail at this point, and the half step in question is not the B flat-B one which ultimately becomes so crucial. But its presence is what gives this theme a hint of darkness and emotional complexity, making it less straightforwardly dolce than the two G Major themes that precede it. Much the same can be said of the closing theme. It, too, hovers between major and minor – more so, in fact, than the previous theme. ♫ And again, it is in part the half step – actually B flat to B now – ♫ that places a darker cloud over this theme. It may be a detail, but it is the sort of detail that means everything.
