Ludwig van Beethoven (1770 - 1827) Symphony No. 9 in D minor, op. 125

When young Beethoven’s father saw his musical talent, he tried to turn him into a moneymaking commodity like Mozart, starting him on a grueling musical education at age five. His early performances were not profitable as hoped, but by the age of thirteen young Ludwig knew more about music than any of the teachers his father could afford to hire. At sixteen he played for Mozart, who said to other listeners, "Watch that chap! Some day or other he'll make a noise in the world!" That was 1787.

An illness that struck Beethoven in 1787 began to destroy his hearing. By 1818, the loss of hearing had become almost complete. And owing to his poor money management skills, he worried about affording food and lodging. After completing one of his best piano sonatas, he complained to his friend Czerny, “The sonata was composed under stressful circumstances for it is hard to write almost for the sake of bread alone, and to this pass I have come.”

This has come to be known as Beethoven’s third period. His deafness reduced his social contacts to almost none. He was morose and suspicious of all, including family and friends. He paid even less attention than before to worldly concerns and became more introspective. The music of this period showed extreme contrasts of mood even within a single movement of a work. A meditative quality permeated his new works. He advanced the fugue form and the theme and variations form to new heights. In some cases he left the classical forms of composition behind altogether, creating new forms as he went.

When, in 1823, he got the Philharmonic Society of London to promise him payment for a new symphony, he plunged into the work. His friend Schindler wrote of him during this time, “…Completely preoccupied, he roamed through fields and pastures, sketchbook in hand, without giving a thought to the arranged hours for meals. When he returned, he was repeatedly without his hat, which never happened formerly even in the moments of highest inspiration.” A great work was being born.

The symphony begins like an approaching storm. One can hardly imagine more fierce and serious music than this first movement. The high contrast of moods only heightens the thunderous intensity. The second movement is written in a form that began in Haydn’s time as a charming minuet and contrasting trio, but this marvel of a swift scherzo fugue and its pastoral interlude are barely recognizable as the same idea. The third movement is a slow movement that shows elegant theme development. But the last movement was a new thing, one that has barely been equaled since. After a frenzied orchestral introduction and brief returns of themes from previous movements, a soloist begins singing! In a symphony! And a chorus, and more soloists! For the vocal text, Beethoven chose stanzas of Schiller’s Ode to Joy having to do with Beethoven’s own ethical ideal that when the Divine inspired universal brotherhood, joy would reign. This took the music of the classical period to its limits and beyond. For decades, no composer dared follow along the same path.

This symphony, particularly the last movement, seem to contain writing for instruments and voices that can barely be performed by mere humans, ideas that seem too large for them to express. Some have asserted that Beethoven wrote such difficult parts because he was deaf. But when the performers rehearsing for the premiere complained, he refused to change anything. He knew what he was doing and what he wanted to say.

Notes by Ron Teplitz