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Showing posts with label Johannes Brahms. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Johannes Brahms. Show all posts

Sunday, January 19, 2025

What is a Symphony?

 After the extraordinary musical developments of Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven the composition of a symphony became a daunting challenge, for many years the ultimate challenge for any composer. Many rose magnificently to that challenge, not least Brahms, Mahler, Sibelius and Shostakovich

Johannes Brahms
Johannes Brahms

As Richard Bratby notes in his article What is a Symphony?: 'Few musical terms carry such baggage. And to write a symphony, now as then, means engaging with Western music’s most ambitious ongoing attempt to create meaning out of sound; declaring to the world that you have something important to say – and are about to deploy all your creative powers to say it.' 

We hope that the gathering of the 10 composers below serves as a informative introduction to the vast universe of symphonic writing, outlining the diverse ways that the greatest composers have responded to the task of writing a symphony, from the 18th century to the 20th. There are many outstanding symphonists to explore outside this initial list of 10 (Mendelssohn, Schumann, Tchaikovsky, Dvořák, Copland, Carl Nielsen, Florence Price, Per Nørgård, Malcolm Arnold, John Adams – to name just a few), but we hope that this guide will set you off an an inspiring listening journey. 

We have recommended both a complete symphony-cycle and a recording of an individual symphony for each composer.


Joseph Haydn (1732-1809)

Haydn’s contribution to musical history is immense, he was nicknamed ‘the father of the symphony’ (despite Stamitz’s prior claim) and was progenitor of the string quartet. Like all his well-trained contemporaries, Haydn had a thorough knowledge of polyphony and counterpoint (and, indeed, was not averse to using it) but his music is predominantly homophonic. His 104 symphonies cover a wide range of expression and harmonic ingenuity.

Austro-Hungarian Haydn Orchestra / Adám Fischer (Brilliant Classics)

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756–1791)

There is less than half a century between the death of Handel (1759) and the first performance of Beethoven’s Fidelio (1809). Bach and Handel were still composing when Haydn was a teenager. To compare the individual ‘sound world’ of any of these four composers is to hear amazingly rapid progress in musical thinking. Without doubt, the most important element of this was the development of the sonata and symphonic forms. During this period, a typical example generally followed the same basic pattern: four movements – 1) the longest, sometimes with a slow introduction, 2) slow movement, 3) minuet, 4) fast, short and light in character. Working within this formal structure, each movement in turn had its own internal structure and order of progress. Most of Haydn’s and Mozart’s sonatas, symphonies and chamber music are written in accordance with this pattern and three-quarters of all Beethoven’s music conforms to ‘sonata form’ in one way or another.

Mozart composed 41 symphonies and in the later ones (try the famous opening of No 40 in G minor) enters a realm beyond Haydn’s – searching, moving and far from impersonal.



Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)

Ludwig van Beethoven coupled his genius for music with profoundly held political beliefs and an almost religious certainty about his purpose. With the possible exception of Wagner, no other composer has, single-handedly, changed the course of music so dramatically and continued to develop and experiment throughout his entire career. His early music, built on the Classical paths trod by Haydn and Mozart, demonstrates his individuality in taking established musical structures and re-shaping them to his own ends. Unusual keys and harmonic relationships are explored, while as early as the Third Symphony (Eroica), the music is vastly more inventive and cogent than anything Mozart achieved even in a late masterpiece like the Jupiter. Six more symphonies followed, all different in character, all attempting new goals of human expression, culminating in the great Choral Symphony (No 9) with its ecstatic final choral movement celebrating man’s existence. No wonder so many composers felt daunted by attempting the symphonic form after Beethoven and that few ever attempted more than the magic Beethovenian number of nine.



Franz Schubert (1797-1828)

On March 26, 1828, in the Musikverein of Vienna, there was given for the first time a programme entirely devoted to Schubert’s music. It was put on by his friends, of course, but though successful, was never even reviewed. Less than eight months later, Schubert died of typhoid, delirious, babbling of Beethoven. He was 31 and was buried as near to him as was practicable, with the epitaph ‘Here lie rich treasure and still fairer hopes’. Schubert left no estate at all, absolutely nothing – except his manuscripts.

It was only by chance and the diligence of a few musicians that some of it came to light – in 1838 Schumann happened to visit Schubert’s brother and came across the great Symphony in C (the Ninth) and urged its publication; the Unfinished Symphony was not heard until 1865, after the score was found in a chest; it was George Grove (of Grove’s Dictionary fame) and the young Arthur Sullivan (of Gilbert and Sullivan fame) who unearthed in a publisher’s house in Vienna Schubert’s Symphonies Nos 1, 2, 3, 4 and 6, 60 songs and the music for Rosamunde. That was in 1867. Over a century later, in 1978, the sketches for a tenth symphony were unearthed in another Viennese archive.



Anton Bruckner (1824-1896)

‘I never had a more serious pupil than you,’ remarked Bruckner’s renowned teacher of counterpoint, Simon Sechter. Certainly, no one could ever accuse Bruckner of being frivolous and quite how this unsophisticated, obsequious boor came to write nine symphonies of such originality and epic splendour is one of music’s contradictions. You don’t turn to Bruckner the man or the musician for the light touch. His worship of Wagner verged on the neurotic for, really, there is something worrying about his debasement before the composer of Tristan. The dedication of his Third Symphony to Wagner reads: ‘To the eminent Excellency Richard Wagner the Unattainable, World-Famous, and Exalted Master of Poetry and Music, in Deepest Reverence Dedicated by Anton Bruckner’; before the two men eventually met, Bruckner would sit and stare at his idol in silent admiration, and after hearing Parsifal for the first time, fell on his knees in front of Wagner crying, ‘Master – I worship you’. His soliciting of honours, his craving for recognition and lack of self-confidence, allied with an unprepossessing appearance and a predilection for unattainable young girls, paints a disagreeable picture. The reverse of the coin is that of the humble peasant ill at ease in society, devoutly religious (most of his works were inscribed ‘Omnia ad majorem Dei gloriam’) and a personality of almost childlike simplicity and ingenuousness. God, Wagner and Music were his three deities.

Johannes Brahms (1833-1897)

Not all composers fell under Wagner’s spell. Brahms was the epitome of traditional musical thought. His four symphonies are far nearer the style of Beethoven than those of Mendelssohn or Schumann, and the first of these was not written until 1875, when Wagner had all but completed The Ring. Indeed Brahms is by far the most classical of the German Romantics. He wrote little programme music and no operas. It’s a curious coincidence that he distinguished himself in the very musical forms that Wagner chose to ignore – the fields of chamber music, concertos, variation writing and symphonies.



Gustav Mahler (1860-1911)

Mahler is the last great Romantic symphonist, music conceived on the grandest scale and employing elaborate forces. He wanted to express his view of the human condition, to set down his lofty ideals about Life, Death and the Universe. 'My symphonies represent the contents of my entire life.'



Jean Sibelius (1865-1957)

To most people Sibelius is the composer of Finlandia and the Karelia Suite; to others he is one of the great symphony composers; to the people of Finland he is these things and a national hero. While he was still alive the Finnish government issued stamps with his portrait and would have erected a statue to him as well had not Sibelius himself discouraged the project. Probably no composer in history has meant so much to his native country as did Sibelius. He still does. ‘He is Finland in music; and he is Finnish music,’ observed one critic.



Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872-1958)

Vaughan Williams emerged as an adventurous, unmistakably English composer with a distinct voice of his own. His discovery in the early 1900s of English folksong, through the recently formed English Folk Music Society, focused his style. VW and Gustav Holst, his lifelong friend whom he’d met at the Royal College, went out seeking the source of their country’s folksongs; many had never been written down before and the cataloguing and research that VW and Holst undertook in this area was of considerable cultural significance. His music now took on a different character. Apart from war service (for which he volunteered, although over 40), Vaughan Williams devoted the rest of his long life to composition, teaching and conducting.

Vaughan Williams worked on into old age with undiminished creative powers – his Eighth Symphony appeared in 1955 (the score includes parts for vibraphone and xylophone) while his Ninth, composed at the age of 85, uses a trio of saxophones.



Dmitri Shostakovich (1906-1975)

Following his death, the government of the USSR issued the following summary of Shostakovich’s work, drawing attention to a ‘remarkable example of fidelity to the traditions of musical classicism, and above all, to the Russian traditions, finding his inspiration in the reality of Soviet life, reasserting and developing in his creative innovations the art of socialist realism and, in so doing, contributing to universal progressive musical culture’. The Times wrote of him in its obituary that he was beyond doubt ‘the last great symphonist’.



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Saturday, January 18, 2025

Six Women In Brahms’s Life

by Emily E. Hogstadt, Interlude

Johannes Brahms, c. 1885

Johannes Brahms, c. 1885

And yet, despite his best efforts to stay free from emotional attachments to women, over the course of his life, he had deeply meaningful relationships with several of them.

Today, we’re looking at six of the women he was closest to and how they impacted his life, work, and music.

Christiane Nissen Brahms (1789-1865)

Christiane Nissen Brahms

Christiane Nissen Brahms

Christiane Nissen was born to a tailor in Hamburg, Germany, in 1789.

She began working as a seamstress when she was just thirteen. During her twenties, she worked as a servant before returning to seamstress. Eventually, she moved in with her sister and brother-in-law and helped to run their shop, where they sold sewing notions.

To make some extra money, the family took in a lodger. He was a musician by the name of Johann Jakob Brahms. Eight days into his stay, he proposed to Christiane.

The proposal was surprising, to say the least. He was 24, she was 41. But she accepted, and they were married soon afterward, on 9 June 1830. They would have three children together: Elise, Johannes, and Fritz.

Brahms biographer Jan Swafford describes Christiane as “small, sickly, gimpy from a short leg, plain of face though she had enchanting blue eyes.” But she was a talented cook and housekeeper, and Johannes loved her deeply.

Unfortunately, her marriage deteriorated by the 1860s; the age difference and other issues caught up with the couple, and they separated. She died in 1865 after having a stroke.

Clara Wieck Schumann (1819-1896)

Robert and Clara Schumann

Robert and Clara Schumann

Clara Wieck Schumann was born to Friedrich Wieck, a piano teacher and music store owner, and his wife, singer Mariane.

Wieck was determined to make his daughter into a prodigy pianist as a kind of walking advertisement for his methods. He got very lucky: Clara became one of the most celebrated piano prodigies of her era.

As a teenager, she fell in love with one of her father’s students, Robert Schumann. Despite her father’s protestations, she married him in 1840.

On 1 October 1853, Clara and Robert met a 20-year-old Johannes Brahms, who nervously visited their home to network. The Schumanns were immediately taken by the music of this young genius from Hamburg. They invited Brahms to stay for a few weeks.

Robert Schumann believed him to be the future of music, and he wrote an article saying as much that was distributed in a magazine called the Neue Zeitschrift für Musik.

Brahms was starstruck by Robert’s faith in him…and, awkwardly, found himself falling in love with Clara.

Unfortunately, Robert Schumann’s mental health, never good, deteriorated drastically over the next few months. He attempted suicide in February 1854 and agreed to be admitted into an asylum. He would never return home.

After Robert’s departure, Brahms stayed to comfort Clara – who was pregnant at the time – and help with the children. Robert died in the summer of 1856.

We don’t know exactly what conversations Brahms had with Clara during this time. We do know that the idea of being in a marriage where his wife would out-earn him was unappealing, and Clara didn’t want any more children. Ultimately, they decided not to marry.

However, they stayed close friends for the rest of their lives, and neither of them married anyone else.

Elise Brahms Grund (1831-1892)

Elise was the eldest child of Johann Jakob and Christiane Brahms, born in February 1831, eight months after her parents’ wedding.

She suffered from headaches and was often bedridden with chronic pain. Because of her health issues, combined with the sexist mores of the time, she wasn’t able to get a good education. Christiane’s purportedly affectionate nickname for her was “the fat dumb peasant.” Her little brother Johannes, however, loved her.

In the 1860s, her parents split, although they never formally divorced. Elise’s mother was her ally in the household. The rift in the household deepened after Johann Jakob refused to pay for their expenses.

Unfortunately for Elise, her mother died suddenly of a stroke in 1865. Her father remarried. The situation left her vulnerable, and she ended up renting a room from friends, being subsidised by Johannes.

In 1871, when she was forty, she married a widowed watchmaker named Christian Grund, who was twenty years her senior. Johannes urged her not to, believing she was too naive and inexperienced to be a successful wife and mother. He even offered to pay for her room and board at a convent. (Clara Schumann, on the other hand, perhaps remembering how her father had once disapproved of her marriage to Robert, urged Johannes to support his sister.)

Happily, Johannes’s doubts were misplaced, and the marriage was happy. The two even had a child together, but unfortunately, the baby died a few days after it was born.

Her husband died in 1888 and she died in 1892. The letters Johannes had written to her were all returned to him after her death. Interestingly, although Brahms burned most other correspondences, he couldn’t bring himself to burn Elise’s.

Agathe von Siebold Schütte (1835-1909)

Agathe von Siebold Schütte

Agathe von Siebold Schütte

In July 1858, two years after the death of Robert Schumann, Brahms went to the town of Göttingen to visit friends and conduct the local women’s chorus. Clara Schumann, her composer brother, and five of her children also came with her.

During the trip, he befriended one of the sopranos in the chorus, a young woman named Agathe von Siebold. She had lovely dark hair, an attractive figure, and a playful sense of humour. She was also an amateur composer.

Their friend group stayed out late into the summer evenings, laughing and playing games, and Brahms and Agathe soon started flirting. However, he gave away to her that he still had Clara on a pedestal, telling Agathe at one point that he had to also walk with Clara occasionally so she wouldn’t get jealous.

He was right: Clara was so upset when she caught Brahms and Agathe embracing that she abruptly cut the vacation short.

After New Year’s, her family politely encouraged Brahms to propose, so that there would be no risk to their daughter’s reputation. He obliged, but they didn’t set a date for the wedding.

Unfortunately, simultaneously, Brahms experienced the relative failure of his first piano concerto. He claimed he could never face a wife after enduring any similar professional failures.

He wrote Agathe a rather appalling letter with the lines, “I love you! I must see you again! But I must not wear fetters!” Agathe interpreted this as shorthand for “Be my mistress, but not my wife.” She replied by sending her engagement ring back to him. The marriage was off.

She never forgot the relationship. In fact, later in life, she wrote a novel inspired by it. As for his part, Brahms included a theme made out of the letters of Agathe’s name in several musical works, including his second string sextett. 


Julie Schumann (1845-1872)

Julie Schumann

Julie Schumann

Julie Schumann was Robert and Clara Schumann’s third child. She had been seven years old when her father left home for the asylum and Johannes Brahms moved in to help her mother.

Unfortunately, Julie’s health was poor. She traveled to stay with family friends in more southern climates, hoping to grow stronger.

During one of those trips, she met an Italian count, who fell in love with her. In 1869, she married him.

Johannes Brahms served as witness. Little did Julie know that doing so was torture. He’d fallen in love with her, but, given the complicated dynamics at play, he hadn’t verbalised his love fast enough – and now she was lost to him forever.

Johannes Brahms: Alto Rhapsody 

He had confusing romantic feelings for Julie that he never really verbalised, instead choosing to write them into his Alto Rhapsody.

He wrote to his publisher, “Here I’ve written a bridal song for the Schumann countess – but I wrote it with anger, with wrath! What do you expect!”

Clara Schumann had feared that childbearing would weaken Julie, and tragically, her fears were well-founded. She had two children, her health weakened, and she died of tuberculosis in Paris in 1872 when pregnant with her third.

Learn more about what happened to the Schumann children.

Elisabeth von Stockhausen Herzogenberg (1847-1892)

Elisabeth and Heinrich von Herzogenberg

Elisabeth and Heinrich von Herzogenberg

Elisabeth von Stockhausen was born in 1847. She was a musical child from a musical family (her father had studied piano with Chopin), and in the winter of 1863-64, she began taking piano lessons from Johannes Brahms. He found her very attractive and was so unnerved by her that he passed her to a colleague to teach.

Elisabeth met Heinrich von Herzogenberg in 1865, and they married the following year. After she was married, Brahms grew less afraid of her and felt freer to befriend her and her husband properly.

The couple moved to Graz before settling in Leipzig in 1872 and then Berlin in 1885. Heinrich taught music; Elisabeth maintained a cheerful household and charming correspondence; and both played piano and composed. Here are some of her pieces:

Elisabeth von Herzogenberg: 8 Clavierstücke 

To their devastation, they were unable to have children, so their musical friends became their family. Brahms became an especially treasured friend.

He was deeply impressed by Elisabeth’s musical opinion and began sending her work to get her feedback. “You should know and believe that you are among the few persons whom one holds so dear that one cannot tell them so,” he wrote to her.

The couple’s health was not great, and in 1891, they went to the Italian town of Sanremo, where Elisabeth died in 1892 when she was just forty-four years old.

Brahms wrote to her grief-stricken husband: “It is vain to attempt any expression of the feelings that absorb me so completely. You know how unutterably I myself suffer from the loss of your beloved wife and can gauge accordingly my emotions in thinking of you, who were associated with her by the closest possible human ties.”

He dedicated his Rhapsodies, op. 79 to her.

Friday, November 15, 2024

Piano Practice: Etudes for Intermediate Beginners

 

Félix Le Couppey

Félix Le Couppey

I started piano lessons at the age of six, and it was a lot of fun. There were so many exciting things to explore, and thankfully I had a very nice and knowledgably teacher. At that age, I didn’t get bored with finger exercises and I just loved the first little piano pieces with cute and charming melodies. Many of these first etudes are custom-written for younger children—they certainly sound that way—which really doesn’t help beginning adult students. Nowadays there are countless piano methods on the market that promise to make the learning process easy and fun. At some point, however, you will still have to stumble across various etudes to strengthen your technique without numbing your brains. Finding etudes for your second or third years of piano studies that are both technically beneficial and musically entertaining isn’t an easy task. It was nevertheless a lot of fun finding interesting etudes composed for the intermediate-beginner pianist. Let’s get started with a graduated set of etudes by the French music teacher, pianist and composer Félix Le Couppey (1811-1887). 

Félix Le Couppey: L’Alphabet, Op. 17

Félix Le Couppey: L’Alphabet, Op. 17

Félix Le Couppey was a student at the Paris Conservatoire, and by the tender age of 17 he was already employed at that institution as an assistant professor of harmony. He went on to receive the first prize in piano and harmony in 1825, and in piano accompaniment in 1828. Couppey became a full-time professor in 1837, and he taught piano at the Conservatoire from 1854 to 1886. He wrote a substantial number of textbooks on the piano, and an equally large number of studies and etudes. His most famous set is a series of elementary etudes called L’Alphabet. We find 25 etudes in total, and they do get progressively more difficult. These little charming didactic pieces offer an interesting approach to polyphony and harmony, and they are simply delightful.

Carl Czerny: Preliminary Studies to the School of Velocity for piano, Op. 849

Carl Czerny: Preliminary Studies to the
School of Velocity for piano, Op. 849

Any list of rudimentary etudes has to include the name Carl Czerny (1791-1857). So let’s get him out of the way. Czerny was greatly concerned about acquiring and maintaining piano technique, and he invested much time and energy in providing students with a graduated progress. He composed studies and etudes for all skill levels, and his Thirty New Studies in Technics, (Preliminary School of Velocity) Op. 849 bridges the gap between the Practical Method for Beginners, Op. 599 and The School of Velocity, Op. 299. Despite getting all the bad press, Czerny was a skilled pedagogue who tried to write pleasing compositions that combine musical potential and technical benefit. 

Cornelius Gurlitt

Cornelius Gurlitt

The German composer Cornelius Gurlitt (1820-1901) counted Robert Schumann and Johannes Brahms among his close personal friends. Like Brahms, he hailed from Hamburg, and he studied at the Leipzig Conservatory with the famed Carl Reinecke for six years. He first appeared publically at the age of seventeen, and subsequently decided to go to Copenhagen to continue his studies. While taking organ, piano, and composition lessons, Gurlitt became friends with Niels Gade.

Cornelius Gurlitt: Morning Greeting, Op. 130 No. 1

Cornelius Gurlitt: Morning Greeting, Op. 130 No. 1

Originally, Gurlitt took on a position as organist, and later moved to Leipzig where Gade was musical director of the Gewandhaus concerts. Always on the move, Gurlitt traveled to Rome and graduated as a Professor of Music in 1855. Returning to the Hamburg region, the Duke of Augustenberg engaged him as a teacher for three of his daughters. Gurlitt also worked as a military bandmaster, and then as an army conductor. He produced a vast number of compositions, including operas, songs, cantatas, and symphonies. But he is best known for his small and delightful piano works for students and amateurs. His 35 Easy Etudes, Op. 130 are charming musical miniature and portraits, prefaced by imaginative titles, that become gradually more challenging. Play

Béla Bartók

Béla Bartók

Béla Bartók composed a good many of my favorite pieces during my initial years of piano studies. Bartók traveled throughout remote regions of Eastern Europe and North Africa to record folk music. The songs and sounds he gathered became a fundamental element of his musical voice, and he was highly enthusiastic of passing on these cultural treasures to subsequent generations. His Mikrokosmos, a collection of 153 piano pieces in six books of graded difficulty is a work of great pedagogical value. But it is not a conventional piano method. According to Bartók, “technical and theoretical instructions have been omitted, in the belief that these are more appropriately left for the teacher to explain to the student.

Bartók: Mikrokosmos III

Bartók: Mikrokosmos III

The first four volumes of Mikrokosmos were written to provide study material for the beginner pianist and are intended to cover, as far as possible, most of the simple technical problems likely to be encountered in the early stages. The material in volumes 1–3 has been designed to be sufficient in itself for the first, or the first and second, year of study.” The large-scale Mikrokosmos occupied him for several years. Bartók described the genesis of his new piano work in 1940: “Already in 1926, I was thinking of writing very easy piano music for the teaching of beginners. However, it was only in the summer of 1932 that I really began working on it, and at that time I composed about 40 pieces; in 1933-34, another 40 pieces, and an additional 20 in the following years. Finally, in 1938 I had 100-odd pieces together. But there were still some gaps. I filled in these last year, and among others, completed the first half of volume one.” These fantastic pieces are arranged in order of difficulty, so it is very easy to tailor assignments to the abilities of the student. 

Hans von Bülow

Hans von Bülow

Today, Hans von Bülow (1830-1894) is remembered as a highly influential conductor, and as the husband of Cosima née Liszt, who left him for Richard Wagner. What is frequently overlooked is his lasting influence as a pianist. During his American tour in 1876, a critic wrote, “Those who heard Hans von Bülow in recital, listened to piano playing that was at once learned and convincing. He was a deep thinker, analyzer; as he played one saw, as though reflected in a mirror, each note, phrase and dynamic mark of expression to be found in the work.” Bülow was one of the first performers to play the complete 32 piano sonatas by Beethoven, and contemporaries described him as the “greatest living authority on Beethoven.”

Hans von Bülow by Hans Schliessmann

Hans von Bülow by Hans Schliessmann

In addition, Bülow premiered Liszt’s B-minor Sonata, and he also was one of the most successful pedagogues of the 19th century. He was employed in Frankfurt and Berlin and famous for his exacting master classes. Richard Strauss attended the Frankfurt classes and wrote, “I am rapidly coming to the conclusion that Bülow is not only our greatest piano teacher but also the greatest executant musician in the world.” Bülow’s legacy for today’s piano student is not expressed in original compositions, but in his precise editions. Aimed at players who might need technical and musical guidance, “Bülow’s editions offer very specific practical and artistic suggestions based on his own understanding of the works as teacher and performer.”

Jean-Baptise Duvernoy

Jean-Baptise Duvernoy

Many of his editorial suggestions, such as pedal marks, dynamics, articulations, and musical commentaries are often explained at length in the prefaces and footnotes. Bülow favors long phrases, lyrical expression, and dramatic effects, which are achieved through fingering suggestions or by the addition or deletion of original slur marks and dynamics.” His prose footnotes explain how to execute certain passages in order to effectively bring out the appropriate expressions such as singing quality, humor, or drama—suggestions whose poetic and aphoristic style was also an important characteristic of his teaching.” And for the beginning student he edited a delightful collection of 25 Studies by the French pianist and composer Jean-Baptiste Duvernoy (1802-1880). 

Christian Louis Köhler

Christian Louis Köhler

The German pianist, composer, critic and teacher Christian Louis Köhler (1820-1886) was born in Brunswick and sent to Vienna to study music. He studied piano with the famed C.M. von Bocklet, and theory with the esteemed teachers Sechter and Seyfried. Köhler eventually settled in Königsberg, now Kaliningrad, and worked as a conductor in the local theatre. From 1847, Köhler devoted himself exclusively to piano pedagogy and to writing about music. He was music critic for the “Hartungsche Zeitung” and his correspondence articles from Königsberg for Brendel’s “Neue Zeitschrift für Musik” brought him to the attention of Liszt and Wagner in 1852. His first book, “The Melody of Language” established him as one of the leading German writers. In addition, Köhler remained influential throughout his career in the area of piano pedagogy. “He published collections of graded instructional pieces and books of exercises, published new editions of the works of Classical and Romantic composers, wrote widely disseminated books about piano pedagogy, and taught a great number of pupils. In all, he published over 300 original compositions, pedagogical works and editions, including 12 Easy Etudes, Op. 157. 

Ludvig Schytte

Ludvig Schytte

The Danish composer, pianist and teacher Ludvig Schytte (1848-1909) originally trained as a pharmacist. He received his first musical training at the age of 22, and made such rapid progress that he was still able to embarked on a successful musical career abroad. He took lessons from Niels Gade in Leipzig, Wilhelm Taubert in Berlin, and from Franz Liszt in Weimar in 1884.

Ludvig Schytte: Easy Characteristic Etudes, Op.95

Ludvig Schytte: Easy Characteristic Etudes, Op.95

Schytte was appointed at various conservatories in Vienna, and by 1907 he had settled in Berlin as a teacher at the Stern Conservatory. He composed an imposing piano concerto, and his expansive piano sonata “bears witness to a more serious approach to the problems of musical form.” However, Schytte was also considered a master of miniature forms, and he is primarily remembered for about 200 attractive piano pieces, some of which became extremely popular. He composed numerous pedagogical piano methods, of which his collections of Etudes, especially, opp. 75, 95, 106, 161 and 174, are still in widespread use.

Henri Jérôme Bertini

Henri Jérôme Bertini

Henri Jérôme Bertini (1798-1876) was born in London, but quickly returned to Paris with his parents. He received his early musical education from his father and his brother, a student of Muzio Clementi. There was no doubt that Bertini was a child prodigy, and his father took him on a concert tour of England, Holland, Flanders, and Germany. After studies in composition in England and Scotland he was appointed professor of music in Brussels but returned to Paris in 1821. Robert Schumann reviewed one of Bertini’s trios, and wrote, “Bertini writes easily flowing harmony but the movements are too long. With the best will in the world, we find it difficult to be angry with Bertini, yet he drives us to distraction with his perfumed Parisian phrases; all his music is as smooth as silk and satin.” We also know that Bertini gave a concert with Franz Liszt on 20 April 1828, playing Bertini’s transcription of Beethoven’s 7th symphony for piano eight hands. Bertini’s playing was described as “having Clementi’s evenness and clarity in rapid passages as well as the quality of sound, the manner of phrasing, and the ability to make the instrument sing characteristic of the school of Hummel and Moschelès.” And let’s not forget that Bertini was a celebrated teacher who concentrated on strict pedagogy. In all, he published 20 books of roughly 500 studies for all levels and abilities.

Giuseppe Concone

Giuseppe Concone

Giuseppe Concone (1801-1861) was one of the most influential singing instructors of his time. Originally born in Turin, he initially tried his hands at theatrical composition and produced an opera that failed to meet expectations. Discouraged he relocated to Paris to become a famous vocal and piano teacher. He published a good many books of vocal exercises that are still in use in vocal studios today. Specifically, he achieved worldwide recognition for a book of 50 solfeggi for a medium voice, 15 vocalizzi for soprano, 25 for mezzo-soprano, and a book of 25 solfeggi and 15 vocalizzi, 40 in all, for bass or baritone. “The contents of these books are melodious and pleasing, and calculated to promote flexibility of voice. The accompaniments are good, and there is an absence of the monotony so often found in works of the kind.” Concone returned to Turin after the French revolution of 1848, and he was appointed organist of the Royal Chapel. Besides publishing vocal primers, Concone also issued a collection of 15 Studies in Style and Expression for the piano. Sporting imaginative titles like “Anxiety,” “Melancholy,” “Robin Redbreast,” and “The Waves,” these etudes are especially appropriate for the early advanced pianist in developing appropriate expression and interpretation.