I do have some volumes of Haydn piano sonatas, but I confess I didn’t realise until quite recently that they didn’t contain all his sonatas. In a charity book sale, I came across a slim volume of selected Haydn sonatas which contained a couple of early works I don’t think I’d ever seen or heard. Out of curiosity, I bought it.
One of the works new to me was an early sonata in B flat, catalogued as Hoboken XVI:2. It probably dates from Haydn’s younger years, before he got that all-important appointment to the court of Esterhazy.
All through his life, Haydn seems to have been acquainted with a succession of female keyboard players, for whom he wrote new pieces. These female musicians were prevented by social convention from playing in public, but some of them were excellent players and had opportunities within the home, or the ‘salon’, to perform to a small but discerning audience. At the time of the B flat sonata, these young ladies may have been Haydn’s pupils. It seems that he gave away new keyboard pieces without even trying to get them printed, and this sonata might be one of them.
To be honest, the outer movements – while modestly charming – don’t really hint at the inventive genius that Haydn displayed so magnificently in later works. But the slow movement was a lovely surprise. It’s a Largo in G minor, three crotchets to the bar. Those bars are generally divided into three pairs of ‘walking’ quavers, over which a melodic line undulates with an effect akin to gentle sobbing.
After eight bars, the mood suddenly changes. Still with the walking quavers in the bass, the right hand becomes skittish. And a few bars later (see photo), it breaks out into what I suppose is the 18th century equivalent of a little jazz riff. For three bars, it skitters between the quaver beats in a rhythm so complicated that I had to stare at it and do some mental arithmetic before I saw how it worked.
Once I’d got the hang of the playful rhythm, I realised how clever the phrasing is. Plodding quavers continue in the left hand but now, instead of each bar consisting of three pairs of quavers, the shape of the little riffs in the right hand divides the bar in half – into two groups of three quavers. This has the effect of making it seem as if the speed of events has suddenly doubled. The bars seem to go by twice as fast. It’s all over in a flash, but leaves behind a slightly heady feeling, as though we had just had a gulp of champagne.
In later years, Haydn gave free rein to the ‘jazzy’ side of his personality, especially in his string quartets. His late piano sonatas are full of jeux d’esprit, passages of wayward humour which some find endearing, while others find them perplexing. I like to think of them as moments when he allowed himself to go off the rails in a way which would make his friends smile.
Haydn is so inventive. There are string quartet movements which – if you’ve switched on in the middle – could be mistaken for music of two centuries later. And his sense of humour bubbles over on many occasions! So nothing surprises me about his experimental forays!
Susan
Good evening
I have just discovered you and your brilliant website today. I am a very poor amateur pianist whose first love is jazz. I bought the second volume of the Floristan Trio Haydn works as i am a recent convert to his entertaining musuc.
I discovered his piano sonatas 2 years ago having previously dismissed all keyboard composers pre Chopin other than Bach and Scarlatti as offering nothing for jazz fans. I was switched on to listening to Haydn through the saxophonist Steve Lacy who was a fan. This article fascinates me as i have been learning some Haydn and i am perplexed that he doesn’t get the kudos he deserves amongst jazz piano players who seem to cite the likes of Bach, Chopin , Debussy and Messaien as influences – which is how i started to listen to classical music. I love the 2nd movement on your trio recording which starts with a walking bass line worthy of Paul Chambers. From the Classical era, Haydn seems seriously underrated by fans of both musics. I am exploring Classical music and find that the tendency to over praise some musicians and ignore others is even more exagerated than in jazz. It has been a rewarding journey for me.
I have just ordered your 100 pieces book because the fact you are also a jazz fan as well as a pianist is exactly the angle i am looking for. I am curious about your choices in both idioms and why you have made your selections. Being into jazz means it is the harmony and rhythm that opens the door for you as well as seeing connections between , say, Scriabin and Chick Corea.
It will be fascinating for me to learn which jazz musicians you admire and why. Most classical pianists cite Bill Evans fot obvious reasons but i really like those pianists who approach jazz in a unique style like Ellington , Monk , Herbie Nichols, and
Andrew Hill. I am also a fan if Herbie Hancock and the seriously underrated Paul Bley. I am also fascinated by Villa Lobos who was not a pianist and was not encumbered by any pianistic tradition and was pretty unique. ( I find him too hard to okay…The Amazonias reminds me of Don Pullen.(This is exactly why i love Monk.)
I am enjoying reading your blog and will appreciate your book too. It is excellent that you are a jazz fan as well as a classical pianist. That will make your book and website fascinating for me.
Cheers
Ian
Ian, thank you for your interesting comments. Your remark that ‘Haydn doesn’t get the kudos he deserves amongst jazz piano players’ has made my day!