# Something about music - a closer look at a variation by Brahms



## muk (Jul 9, 2017)

Hello guys


Are you up for some digging about the ‘hidden’ contents of music? About meanings that may slip by unnoticed when only listening? Ultimately, all music is made to be listened to of course. But that is not all. Music can be studied too, and that can uncover a whole new world of exciting insights. That’s what we are trying to do here, to get a glimpse of what studying music can be.


Still with me? Well then, let’s get to work. We will have a closer look at one variation out of Johannes Brahms’ op. 9. Brahms wrote these variations on a theme by Robert Schumann in 1854, aged 21, for Clara Schumann. At that time Robert Schumann was already living at the asylum in Endenich, after having tried to kill himself by lunging into the Rhine at night in February 1854. This set of variations, then, was written in a time of great distress for Robert, Clara, and their close friend Johannes Brahms.


First we will listen to the theme by Robert Schumann:






Here is the score:






It is an inwardly, melancholy, and sad music keeping a constant expression throughout. Yet at the same time it has something comforting, an expression of hope about it. Maybe it is not complete coincidence that Brahms chose this theme to write variations for Clara at that time.

The structure is straightforward: a-b-a’ (a’=variation of a), each period being 8 measures. I just want to point towards one tiny clever detail. The first 4 bars of a start and end in f sharp minor. The following 4 measures are more or less a repetition of the first four. With the exception that they lead to A major at the end. In order to round off the theme, Schumann reverses that order in a’ (measure 17 to the end). The part leading from f sharp minor to A major comes first now, followed by the 4 measures leading firmly back to f sharp minor and ending the theme. It is but a tiny detail, but it is exactly what gives the theme its air of completeness and steady melancholy.


Now listen to a variation of that theme by Brahms (it is the tenth variation of his op. 9):





Did you like it? Find it beautiful? Boring? No wrong answers here, you simply perceive it the way you do. In any case it is pretty unspectacular at the surface. In the stream of variations it may go by more or less unnoticed. It is certainly no earcatcher, though it will probably grow on you after repeated listening (I myself find it profoundly beautiful). In other words: from simply listening to it once or twice you might not notice anything so special about it. So what’s all the fuss about? Only the score can tell, and I hope it will transform the way you perceive this music. So here is the beginning:







We see a melody line, a bass line, and an accompaniment figure between them. Each one pretty unsuspicious. But let’s have a closer look. That melody line on top, does it sound familiar now you are looking at it? It is not coincidence that this melody line looks exactly like this. Brahms did not write it that way on a whim, or because he liked it that way. In fact, he didn’t write it at all. Schumann did. It is the bass line from Schumann’s theme. Literally. Note for note. Brahms repurposed it to make for the astonishingly beautiful melody of this variation.

But that is not all. Look at the bass line of the variation. Looks familiar? This one is a bit tougher to figure out. It is, again, the bass line of Schumann’s theme, but inversed (!). Here is how that works: where the bass line goes up, the inversion goes down by the same interval. The bassline goes up a major second - the inversion goes down a major second. And so on. That’s exactly what is happening here. So Brahms repurposes Schumann’s bassline as the melody, and counterpoints it with its inversion as the bassline! Good luck trying that at home, let alone getting a result of such serene beauty as Brahms did.

But that is still not all. Remember that accompaniment figure between the two? Surely that is a filler to complement the beautiful outer voices? Why, yes, if you listen at it that is its function. And yet it is much more than that. Its shape - like nothing in this variation! - is not coincidence or whim of the writer either. It is precisely shaped and not one note could be changed without diminishing the piece. Because this figure is, in fact, the diminution of the melody of Schumann’s theme! Play the melody of the theme on your piano, but all note values changed to sixteenth notes. Then play the upper line of the accompaniment. See what I mean? It is Schumann’s theme, changed to sixteenth notes and the D major of this variation instead of f sharp minor.

So, in these unsuspicious opening measures we do have a true masterpiece of counterpoint. I can only marvel at the fact what Brahms managed to pull off here with the strict rules of counterpoint. It is a triple counterpoint he uses - the bassline as the melody, its inversion as the bass, and the original melody between them as ‘accompaniment’ - yet by simply listening you would notice none of that. All that you notice is the sheer beauty of the result of this contrapuntal tour de force.


And that is only the opening measures of the variation. Brahms has still more tricks up his sleeve. See where the sixtuplets begin in the bass? A repetition of the opening canon begins there, but now the bass is entering one bar after the melody line! So now we have the bass line as the melody, and its inversion starting one bar later in the bass to form a strict canon. If you look at the last four measures of the picture, the inversion canon between melody and bass is still going on. But now in the tenor a third voice enters, presenting the inversion again one measure later than the other two voices. Another case of triple counterpoint, and even more complex than in the opening measures.


There is a lot more to say and discover about this one single variation alone. About the way, for example, Brahms uses arpeggiated chords to mark the entrance of canon voices for example - no, arpeggiated chords aren’t a coincidence either. Like everything in Brahms music they have a specific function and structural significance. Or about the touching way Brahms cites a theme of Clara Schumann in the last measures of the variation.

All of this may slip the attention of most listeners. Most would, I would argue, hear the music, maybe even be touched by it. But there is an addiational layer to it. A layer that makes me marvel at the depth of thought and the musical genius that went into the creation of this masterpiece of art. And as subjective as the first layer, the listening is - everybody has their own taste - this second one is not. You can say 'I do not like this variation'. But you can not objectively say 'the counterpoint in this variation is not masterfully done'.

What I tried to show is that in the best music, in true pieces of art, every single note has its purpose, a specific structural role. It is not only about sounding good (though it is about that too). There is an additional meaning to the way it is composed. And sometimes, if we study the music closely and are lucky, we might get a glimpse at exactly that cosmos of meaning behind it.


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## Phillip (Jul 9, 2017)

Thank you for this great analysis.


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## muk (Jul 10, 2017)

Thank you Phillip. I'm glad if it is helpful.


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## synergy543 (Jul 10, 2017)

Very interesting analysis. Retrogrades and inversions, while interesting compositional techniques, always seem a bit like a technical exercise as I can't really hear these as a "listener". My brain doesn't connect the dots in listening. Does yours? Or are these techniques strictly for generating material that might slightly be similar harmonically or intervalically - and this is the "connection"? Of course I will listen more and see what I can hear as I become more familiar with it.

It would be interesting to read about analysis of the other variations as well. How are the others related? Does such an analysis already exist? And how does Brahms variations compare with other composer's variations? This clearly is a form I'd like/need to study more but don't know of good resources for this. Any suggestions? Thanks.


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## Paul T McGraw (Jul 10, 2017)

@muk what an amazing, brilliant, and inspirational post. Your analysis of the Brahms is mind blowing. Did you discover all of this yourself? I have never been a fan of Brahms and have often wondered why so many hold him in such high esteem. This analysis makes me think there is a lot in Brahm's music I have been missing.

Thank you for posting this!


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## Rowy (Jul 11, 2017)

I don't like his music. Too much brain, too little heart. If you analyse his work, you'll find lots of clever things, but the music hardly ever touches you. More about the counterpoint in this piece:

http://www.allmusic.com/composition...-for-piano-in-f-sharp-minor-op-9-mc0002368509

Click 'Read more'.


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## muk (Jul 11, 2017)

@synergy543 it is difficult to detect the more complex contrapuntal devices simply by hearing. Especially if they are done as naturally and skillfully as in this Brahms. That's one reason why I think studying the music is so important. There are so many traits that are practically impossible to consciously notice simply by listening, yet they can be the very reason why the music exists in that exact form.

Don't be shy to try to analyze other variations of the set for yourself. See what you can discover! I'd assume that some analyses of the whole op. 9 exist. Look for it in musicologist writings (maybe you will find some if you look it up in the New Grove lexicon. Sorry that I can't recommend any specific resource.


@Paul T McGraw Thank you very much, that is good to hear. Not at all did I discover all that myself. If you consult some musicological texts you should find most of it really. All I did was gathering the info, study the piece for myself, and then try to convey my interpretation of that music. If that was giving you a new point of view on Brahms I shall be very glad.


@Rowy interesting perspective. That is exactly what I meant with the part about subjectivity and objectivity. You can dislike listening to Brahms, while still appreciating the intellectual depth of his music. Personally I find Brahms’ music to be about the most touching I know (similar to Schubert). That’s where tastes differ.


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## TGV (Jul 11, 2017)

Rowy said:


> I don't like his music. Too much brain, too little heart.


Are you talking about Brahms? There's a lot of brain, for sure, but he's one of the most lyrical and crafty composers, according to me. There is nothing more joyful than his string sextets, nothing more melancholic than Gestillte Sehnsucht, no song that shows fatalism behind a pretty facade better than Da unten im Tale. Well, that might be a bit exaggerated, but there's a lot of emotion in his music, understated as it may be. Weird how tastes differ. What's your classical favorite, may I ask?


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## muk (Jul 12, 2017)

Speaking of touching, is Brahms‘ Wiegenlied (‚Lullaby‘) ‘Guten Abend, gute Nacht’ as well known in the US and Uk as it is in german speaking countries?





Brahms wrote it in 1868 on the occasion of the birth of Bertha Faber’s second son. Bertha Faber, née Porubszky, was a singer in the women’s choir that Brahms had directed in Hamburg. At that occasion she used to sing Austrian folk songs to Brahms. There are some indications that Brahms fell in love with her and proposed to marry to her, but she declined. Instead she later married Arthur Faber.

Now, if you payed close attention to the piano accompaniment you may have noticed that it sounds like a landler. That is because _it is_ a landler. Brahms secretly quotes the folk song ‘S’is anderscht’ (‘It’s not like that’) that Bertha Porubszky sang to him in Hamburg:





S'is anderscht






Brahms Wiegenlied op. 49 Nr. 4

More precisely the quote is from the line ‘Du moanst wol die Liab lässt si zwinga’ (‘So you think that love can be forced’). The text goes on: ‘Zatritst wo a Bleamle, steht ’s nimmermer auf.‘ (‚If you trample a flower it won’t ever get back up again’).

If these observations are true the Wiegenlied is not only a wonderful lullaby for Bertha’s son, but maybe a bittersweet farewell to Bertha herself. To me this is a deeply touching gesture. One that gives a quietly tragic subtone to the music. That is very typical for Brahms as I see him. In any case maybe Brahms put more of his heart into his music than it might at first appear.


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