This is the second in my series about exploring some of the piano music I have neglected on my shelves.
Today’s discovery is Schubert – in particular, the realisation that he wasn’t always the effortless master he became! I sat down to play through his early piano sonatas, which are not often part of recital repertoire. (Yes, yes, I know there are newer editions, but I’ve had the one in the photo since I was a student and am attached to it.)
Schubert’s first couple of sonatas were written when he was only 18, and the next few when he was just twenty. I was surprised to find that his early sonatas gave only hints of the qualities we so admire in his mature music. Of course there are wonderful melodic glimpses, but also long stretches of rather dull writing, which has the additional drawback of being awkward to play. Schubert was never a great pianist himself, but as time went on his imagination more than made up for any ungainly patches in the piano writing.
In his first few sonatas, however, it’s as if he hasn’t quite got his imagination into gear. He was well known for his many little ‘German dances’ (loved by Robert Schumann). The early sonatas seem a bit like those German dances extended past their natural span. What seems charming and sufficient in a miniature of 16 bars can seem thin if stretched out to eight pages.
As I played through the early sonatas, I came to one where he seems to change up a gear. This was no 6, the A minor sonata D537. He was still only twenty, but this sonata shows a new grasp of shape and how to hold the listener’s attention. And from then on (with the exception of single movements here and there) it’s easy to hear the authentic voice of Schubert as we have come to know it.
Even a sublime genius like Schubert had to learn his craft! I found it touching to play some of the music he wrote when he was still searching for a distinctive voice. It was very pleasing, in fact, to hear that voice starting to emerge and then getting stronger and stronger.