Text by Friederich Schiller (1759-1805)

Run Time: Approx. 80 minutes

 Joy, bright spark of divinity,

Daughter of Elysium,

Fire-inspired we tread

Within thy sanctuary.

Thy magic power re-unites

All that custom has divided,

All men become brothers,

Under the sway of thy gentle wings.

Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony is enormous. The orchestra is big, the chorus is big, and there are four soloists to boot. It runs far longer than any other symphony of its time, and its influence on all music that followed cannot be overstated. It’s also lodged itself firmly in our collective subconscious—who hasn’t heard the famous Ode to Joy, the crown jewel that defines the work?

Beethoven was also big. In response to the claim that he forever changed music, one must first ask: “Which time?” His third symphony marked the transition from the Classical to the Romantic era; his sixth symphony pioneered programmatic storytelling. His late string quartets redefined the genre, and anyone present at ASO’s previous masterworks concert experienced the raw emotional power of his fifth. He didn’t just redefine how music was written, he revolutionized what it could be—its emotional bounds, its narrative potential, its political power, and its role in people’s lives. As the musicologist Maynard Solomon wrote, “What Beethoven created was not just music—it was myth, it was cosmos, it was revolution.”

So, what is the titanic final symphony from a giant of a composer about? It must be something big… mustn’t it? The answer is yes—and no. Beethoven indeed crafts a narrative of epic scope, exploring the existential forces that define the human experience—a musical odyssey touching nearly every emotional realm. A hero’s journey for the entire human race. What could be bigger than that?

But the salvation he offers in the conclusion of the symphony—the part everyone knows—is startlingly simple, even small: Joy. Joy, unity, and brotherhood for all mankind.

Some things to listen for on the journey:

The very opening of the symphony is often interpreted as a depiction of creation. The music seems to emerge from nothing, as if marking the beginning of time. Suddenly, mighty, raging chords explode over the stark backdrop—a musical big bang. The foundational intervals give the music an elemental, almost primordial quality, as though the universe itself is being born in sound.

Listen closely to how Beethoven uses harmony throughout the first movement. When the harmonies are open and simple, with the notes spaced far apart, they evoke a pastoral quality, grounded and earthly. But when the harmonies thicken—layered, dense, and crunchy—that’s where the existential angst creeps in, as if some malevolent higher power is interfering. Here lies the clash between the vast and the intimate, the cosmic and the human.

Throughout the work—but especially in the second movement—pay attention to the timpani. It’s a bit of a havoc-wreaker, bursting in at unexpected moments, like Zeus’s thunder—a divine power throwing the world off balance. Those familiar with Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony (perhaps some recent Masterworks attendees) might recall how he used the timpani to symbolize fate’s relentless meddling. Perhaps he’s up to something similar here?

In the third movement, listen to how he weaves together a tapestry of distinct voices, especially in the woodwinds. Often, multiple completely different yet equally poignant melodies sing against each other, all fitting into the broader harmony. It’s remarkable craftsmanship, but it also feels like a nod to individualism—a popular idea in Beethoven’s day—and a perfect setup for the symphony’s imminent call for unity and brotherhood.

The fourth and final movement begins with a statement that Wagner called the “fanfare of horror.” Today, we are used to such sonorities, but in 1824, it may well have been the most jarring sound ever heard at an orchestra concert. Beethoven was fond of these “wake up and pay attention” moments, but this one was by far his most daring.

He begins his final chapter by repeating a bit from each preceding movement—the fire and brimstone of the first, a glimpse of the bacchanal from the second, and the tender hymn of the third. He makes clear that what comes next is a response to what has been.

Notice that when the famous Ode to Joy theme finally arrives, the chorus and vocalists are still absent. The orchestra begins the declaration in a whisper, but even when it gains confidence, it’s not enough to ward off one final eruption. Only the addition of voices, singing together in unity, can fully defeat the darkness.

It’s a tale both cosmic and deeply human—enormous, yet so very ordinary. Perhaps this is why Beethoven’s Ninth has made such a lasting mark. Its dichotomy transcends time and place, speaking to all of us, not just across the world but throughout the ages. We feel Beethoven’s call for peace and brotherhood as acutely today as he did more than 150 years ago. “Whoever has achieved the great feat / Of being a friend’s friend…” Schiller’s text declares, “Join in our jubilation!”