While much has been written about the pressure Brahms felt to compose a symphony – no doubt exacerbated by Robert Schumann comparing him directly to Beethoven – once Brahms released his Symphony No. 1, the Second was completed within a year of the First. In a letter to his publisher, Franz Simrock, about the Second, we may even have a glimpse of some of Brahms’ sense of humor. “The new symphony is so melancholy that you can’t stand it. I have never written anything so sad, so minorish: the score must appear with a black border.” Brahms is surely joking here, because his Symphony No. 2 is bright in character and wholly idyllic. His colleague, conductor Hans Von Bülow dubbed Brahms’ first symphony “Beethoven’s tenth” and would go on to call the Second “Brahms’ Pastoral” in reference to Beethoven’s famous Symphony No. 6.

The first movement, Allegro non troppo, is presented as a traditional sonata form, much like Mozart’s piano concerto, with Brahms working to create innovation within standard parameters. Celli and basses introduce a motif that will appear throughout the movement before conceding to a gentle theme in the horns and bassoons. Both of these, however, will give way to the violas and celli and a reimagining of Brahms’ own “Wiegenlied,” or “Lullaby.” Serenity seems the order of the day, until momentum shifts – lively, punched dotted rhythms take over, along with a compositional technique known as “hemiola.” Made famous by Leonard Bernstein’s song “America” from West Side Story, two groups of three beats switch to three groups of two beats, driving the music forward. During the development, Brahms uses fragmentation, creating tension by juxtaposing the melodies against each other. Even the coda, far more gentle than previous material, holds the distinction of bringing all of these disparate elements together into something akin to a dramatic curtain opening.

The second movement, Adagio non troppo, begins with a celli soli before being taken over by the violins. The movement is written in common time, or four beats per measure, but Brahms’ experimentation with meter is on full display with the second theme brought by the winds. The meter shifts to 12/8, splitting each beat into three rather than the stately two previously established in the strings. The movement is at turns tender and wildly passionate but, like the first movement, ends gently.

A typical third movement of a symphony during Brahms’ time in the Romantic era would be a light Scherzo, or “joke,” often in triple meter. Brahms, however, starts his Allegretto grazioso (Quasi andantino) as lightly as he ended the previous movement. The true joke is the following section: Presto ma non assai. The mood shifts, gets much faster, and Brahms begins to play with metric groupings, shifting the time signature to 2/4. The new theme also goes to the strings, a direct contrast to the long, lyrical lines in the winds. This dizzying, fast writing is reminiscent of Mendelssohn, himself an excellent composer of scherzos, but Brahms isn’t done. Just eighteen bars later, the mood shifts again, the full orchestra playing a rustic, folk-like dance. Eventually, the movement returns to the original theme and a lovely conclusion – almost like a tease for the hushed opening of the Finale, Allegro con spirito.

What starts as a whispered opening theme in the strings turns into a sudden and magnificent tutti from the orchestra. Energy bubbles forward, though a beautiful second theme in the violins and violas rises above. Once we enter the development section, Brahms introduces a mysterious seven-note musical idea passed back and forth between the winds and strings, before taking us to an entirely new sound world: a cold, stark pause that foreshadows the opening of Mahler’s First Symphony, written just 10 years later. This dark mood doesn’t last long, though; just 11 bars later, Brahms reinstates the opening themes, leading to a brilliant coda that finally allows the work to end on a dazzling, triumphant close.

© 2023 Mathew Fuerst