Beethoven – piano sonata no 7 in D major, opus 10, no 3
by richibi
when I first decided to explore Classical music
the field of course being so large it seemed
advisable to narrow my search, approach it
methodically, I hadn’t had, nor since have had,
formal training, neither in the history nor in the
evaluation of music, apart from lessons in
flute and piano however extensive and
undistinguished those might’ve been it’s
been just me and my headphones ever and
my Walkman®, remember Walkman®s
but a world nevertheless opened up, and
bountifully, not this one, but the one I was
exploring
putting two things together and comparing
is at the root of any kind of knowledge, your
plant will grow profusely if you choose well
your soil, your soil is your avidity
I stirred in some Beethoven, already for me
a question for being so highly revered by
succeeding generations, Nietzsche had
even made him out to be the template for
his superman, and I hadn’t got it yet
it seemed to me that a chronological
investigation, opus 1, then 2, then 3, would
be the manner in which to proceed for being
able to watch a genius grow, I couldn’t’ve
chosen better
the movement from Classical music to
Romantic rests on essentially his shoulders,
something I’d determined even then, and one
can watch, hear, its advance as Beethoven
moves from his early to middle to late periods,
it is like being there
the early sonatas are trite to my mind, though
other informed people have disagreed, and
I am merely responding to my own aesthetic
impulses, but there you have it
they are academic, didactic, musically constricted,
to my mind, though they are full of evident personal
power, Beethoven bristles and burns through the
Classical chains that constrain him, through also
his own inexperience and emotional immaturity
he kicks in splendidly however early enough with
a beautiful cello sonata, for cello and assumed
piano, his opus 5, no 1, in an apparently amateur
production here nevertheless utterly commendable,
but reaches total emancipation already by his
opus 10, after which he doesn’t put a foot wrong,
but rather consistently inspirationally
with the okay pieces you follow dutifully their
music, perhaps with even an encouraging smile,
with the great ones you’re simply irresistibly
carried away, drawn in, you alone can tell the
difference
as with art
as with poetry
in the first case you wonder when it’ll finish,
in the second you don’t want it ever to end,
that’s your unmistakable cue, given that you’re
at least paying some attention
his opus 10, no 3 is irresistible at the hands
of Eric Zuber, precise and meticulous in his
rendering, but mostly electric, effervescent
and exhilarating
and evidently also timeless
enjoy
Richard
for your ease of chronological comparison,
if you follow the list and the opus numbers
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