Composed 1855-74; 35 minutes

Begun as his first piano quartet but published nearly twenty years later as the last, the C minor Quartet is the most autobiographical of the three Brahms piano quartets. Its origins lie in the composer’s youth. At 22, he wrestled with a three-movement piano quartet in the unlikely key of C-sharp minor. There were private performances, but Brahms remained dissatisfied and withdrew the piece. A few years later he began work simultaneously on two further quartets, both of which were published.

It was a difficult period. Schumann, who strongly supported his music, was dying from complications that developed during the two and a half years he was institutionalized for his mental health. Brahms felt compelled to remain at the side of Schumann’s wife Clara and her seven children during the crisis, staying until Schumann’s death in 1856. Still a young man—clean-shaven, long-haired, handsome—he was torn between loyalty to a friend and benefactor and a deepening love for his friend’s wife.

Nearly two decades later, his feelings for Clara had mellowed and Brahms appeared more at peace, absorbed in composition. In 1873 he returned to the abandoned quartet, writing the two new movements that close the work heard tonight, Op. 60. He retained the Scherzo from the earlier version and thoroughly reworked the first movement, transposing it down a step to C minor—a kinder key for the strings. Yet the anguish of two decades earlier is rekindled in the music, nowhere more than in the tragic opening movement, built upon two falling notes—a minor second, whose cry of pain also, not coincidentally, speaks the name ‘Clara.’ The movement grows largely from short motifs rather than extended melodies, its broad second theme, still punctuated by the keening ‘Clara’ theme, offering only partial consolation.

The intensity carries over into a brief, driving Scherzo, while the glorious slow movement brings consolation, as Brahms weaves rich and complex layers of sound upon one another. The finale offers no easy resolution. An underlying vein of sadness persists, especially in the fragmentary development, with its dream-like restlessness. It is as though the older Brahms were commenting on his younger self, seeking to lay old ghosts to rest. Even with its resolute chorale and determined close, complete peace of mind remains elusive.

— All program notes copyright © 2026 Keith Horner. Comments welcomed: khornernotes@gmail.com