Of Beethoven’s five concertos for piano, the last three stand as immeasurably significant contributions to the genre. The first two are youthful works, No. 1 having been composed in 1795, three years after his removal from Bonn to Vienna. No. 2 was begun even earlier, around 1788, while he was still in Bonn, and only seventeen years old. When Beethoven moved to Vienna, he was with high hopes to establish himself as a pianist and composer, and so he studied with a several eminent teachers and composers: Haydn, Albrechtsberger, and Salieri (yes, that Salieri!) most notably. But, his early reputation in that city was understandably achieved not as a composer, nor as an acclaimed public performer as pianist. Rather, he—through adroit social connections with the music-loving Viennese aristocracy—established an enviable reputation as a salon pianist non-pareil. Public concerts were not common in Vienna then, but the capacious palaces of the nobility were teeming with private performances, and Beethoven soon wowed them all with his talent—especially with his superb skills as an improviser at the keyboard.
During his youth in Bonn, he had been active as composer, producing student works, but no opus 1, yet! In fact, he published no works at all during the first three years in Vienna, finally in August 1795 offering to the public his opus 1, a set of three piano trios. They being a natural outgrowth of his active life in chamber music before the aristocracy. Eventually, he first met the general public as a pianist on 29 March 1795—most likely performing his unpublished Bb major piano concerto, begun some years earlier back in Bonn. Since beginning it some seven years previous, he understandably had thoroughly revised and reworked it before its première.
Of his five piano concertos, the first three have long been characterized to one degree or another as “Mozartian,” but that is without question no criticism at all. Mozart is responsible for the creation of the mature piano concerto, and they stand with his operas as his very best works. Moreover, it would be folly to relegate “Mozartian” to the powdered wigs and knee breeches school, standing pale before the putative profundities of popular ideas about “romanticism.” Rather, the technical innovations and emotional gravitas of Mozart’s piano concertos—especially the ones from 1785 on—lead smoothly towards musical romanticism and Beethoven’s last three piano concertos. Moreover, why would a talented young composer like Beethoven not use as models ideas from a contemporary such as that of Mozart?
The Bb concerto is cast in the usual three movements, but reduces the full classical orchestration by omitting clarinets, trumpets, and timpani. The first movement begins immediately with the first theme, with the orchestra conventionally revealing both of the main themes before the soloist gets a crack at them—staying in the main key of Bb in order to reserve the honor of the usual key change for the soloist. Three emphatic punctuations heralded the second theme. When the soloist finally enters, it coyly begins with a brief play on the second theme, before an energetic descending scale brings on the dramatic, descending first theme. After an interesting harmonic diversion, a closing idea soon brings on the development, which really doesn’t last long. It’s straightforward to follow all of the little snippets of the various themes as the soloist and orchestra toss them back and forth. Soon, the orchestra clearly marks the recap with the rhythmic theme from the very opening. But, a real musical treat comes after the brief recapitulation, in the marvelous cadenza that Beethoven composed as part of the major revision that he made to the concerto before the première in 1795. While the opening of the movement is full of the graceful sounds and figures of late Haydn and Mozart, so familiar to our ears, the cadenza is an eye-opening peer into the mature Beethoven that we know so well. Thorough development of short motives from the themes, powerful dramatic gestures, virtuosic figures, and surging passages of tight counterpoint—all make the cadenza practically a miniature composition that reminds us of so much of the future master. (He obviously was keen to exercise his new mastery of counterpoint that stemmed from his recent lessons with the esteemed teacher of the art, Albrechtsberger.) At the cadenza’s conclusion, the orchestra provides a brief and rather gentle tag
The second movement is an early and perfect example of Beethoven’s inimitable lyrical gift. The central idea is a typical example of his penchant for simple hymn-like tunes, but woven all around with tender arabesques. Despite his youth, his mature musicality and imagination lead through a series of melodic and harmonic excursions, always new, yet unified and cohesive.
The last movement, as one might expect, following tradition, a rondo, and a vivacious, bubbling affair it is. A rondo is simply a movement built around a clear-cut idea, but with one or more sections that provide a bit of contrast, with the main section returning after each diversion. In this case, Beethoven provides two contrasting ideas—one that appears twice, and on that is heard only once in the middle. The latter is easy to spot, as it’s in a minor key. The seven brief sections fly by, driven by sparkling, finger-tangling figurations. Beethoven is known for his sense of humor—albeit generally strictly a musical one, he notoriously was more severe with actual people. And so, in the last iteration of the main idea, just when it sounds like that we’re “heading for the barn,” the composer abruptly inserts a very short, gentle little idea in the very “wrong” key of G major. Everyone wonders where this has come from, but all is quickly righted, the key of Bb returns, and the movement ends quietly with just a few light notes.
Beethoven may have later slightly dismissed this delightful concerto as “not my best work,” but it is nevertheless a musical gift. It clearly shows what a virtuoso and a master improviser the teenage composer already was when he penned it to show his stuff to the hometown audience in Bonn. That, and the depth of feeling that we have come to know in the mature works.
--Wm. E. Runyan
©2023 William E. Runyan