VII. Intermezzo. Moderato semplice

rethinking of sonata form; thus precisely what appears to be his most important contribution to the emergence of a new chapter in musical composition. In his late works for piano, Brahms is careful not to repropose sonata form. The formal horizon is reduced to miniatures of Lieder origin, to emotional investigations into the subtlest ripples of his shadowy sensitivity, where the world of other human beings no longer has any reason to be a protagonist. As a side note, I would like to emphasise the psychological – rather than musical – distance between Robert and Johannes: while the former, in his happy moments, only needs a singing voice and a simple accompaniment to touch our hearts, the latter seems to fi nd it indispensable to add a second voice or a more complex accompaniment to the former; a way of distracting us from his inability to open up to life freely, without reservations? It might be interesting to recall that, in the years of Brahms’s Op. 76, Liszt composed the third Année de Pèlerinage at Villa d’Este, reduced to a cry of existential pain, and Mussorgsky entrusted the piano with the powerful visionary nature of the Pictures at an Exhibition: the voices of two great musicians who trod the path of expressionism ante litteram, asking the piano for new and shattering sonic innovations. In my previous Odradek recordings I used for Liszt’s Années the same Steinway grand that now paves the way for Brahms, and I do not forget that this instrument was built fi ve years before (1892) Brahms died: as if to say that the sound of the piano that Brahms could hear was this. I always knew that Brahms loved to holiday in the hills and take long walks. But I recently discovered that Herr Professor used to go to Naples to eat big plates of spaghetti and considered Taormina a heavenly place to stay: this makes me happy deep down, in my heart of hearts.

Michele Campanella