Run time: Approx. 45 min

Looking back on history’s great musicians, it’s easy to see them as abstract, isolated figures. But they were ordinary people, many of whom knew each other—particularly in 19th-century Germany, which practically overflowed with artistic talent. Among the great stars of this era was violinist Joseph Joachim, who was perhaps the most well-connected musician of the day. Schumann, Dvorak, and Bruch all wrote concerti for him; he performed Beethoven’s Violin Concerto with Mendelssohn conducting. And it was none other than Robert and Clara Schumann who first introduced him to Johannes Brahms.

At just 20 and 22 years old, Brahms and Joachim formed a fast friendship, one that would last the rest of their lives. At the heart of their bond was a wholehearted agreement on what they believed music should be. Both abhorred the flash and excess that was quickly taking hold of German romanticism. The grandeur of Wagner and the showmanship of performers like Liszt were, in their eyes, self-aggrandizing, robbing music of its substance. Instead, they approached music with great seriousness and reverence for the discipline and traditions of classical writing.

The concerto that Brahms ultimately wrote for Joachim feels like an ode to both their friendship and to their shared vision. At its core, it’s a very traditional concerto, possibly modeled on Beethoven’s (it’s even in the same key), and infused with Brahms’s characteristic symphonic depth and warmth.

As with many of Brahms’s concerti, the orchestra takes an extremely active role. There are passages, particularly the tender opening of the second movement, where the solo violin remains silent for a long period. Often, the principal melodic lines are carried by the orchestra while the solo violin floats above, “providing commentary,” as violinist James Ehnes describes it.

Joachim was quite involved in writing the piece, offering many suggestions which Brahms accepted, and even composing the first movement’s cadenza, which many of today’s violinists still play.

Today, the work stands as one of the most frequently performed violin concertos. Still, perhaps more potently, it remains a tangible remnant of the loving friendship and shared artistry between two of history’s great musicians—a love letter to the violin, full of all the emotion, reverence, and joy that they believed music ought to have.

It may be of interest that Joachim and Brahms lived long enough to make some of the earliest recordings, including one in which they perform Brahms’ Hungarian Dances together. The recording, though badly degraded, even captures a few seconds of Brahms speaking before the music begins. It can be found on YouTube.