Beethoven's Op. 111: A masterpiece of musical architecture.

There are only a few pieces written by extraordinary music genius that escape description entirely. Beethoven's Op. 111 is one of them. There is no other piece he wrote, perhaps with the exception of the late quartets, particularly Op 132, which embody a sort of summary of the entirety of music and the whole of universal emotion. One would have the tendency to talk about Liszt's B-minor sonata, Brahms' Op. 5 sonata, and so many other sublime masterpieces written by musical geniuses. But no, there is no other masterwork which probably gets close to Op. 111. Op 111 lives by itself in the pantheon of untouchable compositions.

Written by a man full of emotions and suffering, a man totally misunderstood and criticised, a man who felt the weight of the world, injustice, and humanity on his shoulders and assumed responsibility for all the ailments of society, a sort of modern christus persona, Ludwig van Beethoven wrote this masterpiece at a stage of life when he was utterly deaf. He could not hear his piano, his strings, his melodies but in his own head. Even in his own mental world he had difficulty conceiving of the melodic aspects, as he often complained, sometimes in a rage. He had to rely on emotional memory to ensure that the content he tried to convey was incorporated in classical harmonic context.

Op. 111, a piece composed for the piano, has every instrument encapsulated in it - as if it was intended for an orchestra! From the point of view of harmonic structure, it has a menu of every possible compositional technique. The dissonances which persecute the listener in the second movement's dreamy variations, are but a forecast of what is to come in the development of music within only 3 or 4 decades. These dissonances are so perfectly placed that they make absolute sense and obey the accepted laws of classicism which Beethoven himself breaks again and again, embodying them with a sense of obligation and dialectical belonging.

If one analyses this masterpiece of the piano repertoire emotionally, it conveys every aspect of human emotion. Rage and love. Accusation and forgiveness. Indifference and focus. Tenderness and disgust. Love and hate. A sense of persecution and a feeling of despair. One can only understand the extremes of human emotion conveyed by this sonata if one for a moment places herself in the skin of a man who lived every second of his life for his music - but could not hear it. What twist of fate.  

Beethoven's last piano sonata is technically fiendishly difficult to play as it exacts every possible mechanical aspect of piano performance in a background of exaltation and exactitude. This is not a piece for expert pianists. This is a piece which only veteran experts should attempt to play, pianists who will, by playing this piece in public, demonstrate an unbending sense of respect to a gigantic masterpiece of the repertoire. 

It is so that I write these lines because I have heard this piece performed by so many pianists but only a few of the greats play it with the seriousness that it deserves. Playing it in public is an almost religious act of monumental  proportions. I know of only one other masterwork by Beethoven which deserves extraordinary devotional fear, and that is the Hammerklavier. But that is an altogether different story.  

Well, with all due respect to Víkingur Ólafsson, whom I heard play this sonata last night, I am not in agreement with his interpretation. He has reached notoriety as a sort of "modern Glenn Gould" with his Bach interpretations. He does sway circularly life Gould did. He sometimes raises his right arm and uses it "to conduct" his left hand, much like Gould did. There is but one Glenn Gould. Well, Ólafsson did interpret Bach in a very beautiful, mellifluous way, with crisp technique and crystal clarity, which pleased me tremendously. Bach is undoubtedly his forte. However his interpretation of the Op.111 left me exhausted, exhausted in a negative way. Arbitrary changes in tempo, fantom sforzandi where there are none intended, exaggerations of tone and accent, ritardandi in unusual places, and the rubato. Oh please, rubato does not belong in the Op. 111. Nor does changing what is written by Beethoven; that is, the modification of some of the jumps in the first movement from 1/32nds to 1/16ths - or god forbid 1/8ths - to facilitate playing, should be considered unacceptable. The short fugue in the first movement muddled by excessive pedal. Please.

I bid farewell to these short comments to a masterpiece that has accompanied my life for decades now. I particularly adore the interpretations of Claudio Arrau and Alfred Brendel. These pianists themselves confessed that playing this sonata in public brings chills to their soul. And they were extraordinary pianists who dared play this work only after studying it and mastering it for years. Beethoven's Op 111 has guided me, has provided me with a blueprint of the grandeur of art in its most sublime form, has showed me again and gain what all can be achieved with sound, has reminded me of the greatness of humanity.