Ives Meets Brahms

The Eusebius Duo (violinist Monika Gruber and pianist Hillary Nordwell) made such a bold move in coupling violin sonatas by Charles Ives and Johannes Brahms that it was a pity that they lacked the maturity to do justice to either composition. Whether the problem involved a lack of education or just enough life experience (probably a combination of the two), the result was a failure to grasp either of the pieces, let alone any reason for their juxtaposition. All that remained for me was the tweaking of a memory from forty years ago, when I had tried to pursue the hypothesis that, in spite of any surface appearances, Ives and Brahms were actually kindred spirits.

Thinking back on that hypothesis, however, I realize that there are at least a few surface appearances. Both definitely had a feisty side that often revealed itself in prankish ways. More importantly, however, both had the experience of "church jobs," which may have involved working the amateurs of different levels of dedication to the music. Also, both composed copious collections of song settings for a variety of contexts. (Ives even set some German texts, but I do not think Brahms had any familiarity with English.) Then, of course, it would appear that both were far more interested in the nature of the performance than in the notes on the page (which did not mean that they did not respect the notes on the page).

Brahms was probably far more interested in formal structures than Ives was; but I first started playing with my hypothesis while listening to Ives' second symphony, which may be the best combination of formal structure and "memory snippets," the incorporation of familiar tunes for which he is probably best known. As Brahms did in the outer movements of his first symphony, in his second symphony Ives experimented with structural frames at different scales, playing games similar to those of Brahms with the interplay of the embellishing the and embellished. This also includes playing with how a surface feature can become a structural feature, which Brahms may have done best in the final movement of his Opus 78 violin sonata (the second sonata on the Eusebius program).

Brahms was often known as a staunch conservative, championing classical values while the likes of Liszt and Wagner were (or at least appeared to be) running rampant over them. Schoenberg tried to put an end to this misconception by writing an essay entitled "Brahms the Progressive." Had Brahms actually been able to hear what Ives called a "violin sonata," the conservative myth-makers probably would imagine him holding his ears in pain. On the other hand the "progressive" Brahms would probably have sat down preparing to doze off through yet another boring recital only to find himself jolted awake to be drawn into sounds he had never before heard. He might have then argued with Ives, but he probably would have first paid him the respect of a serious listening! Some day I hope to hear another program that brings these two together with a bit more understanding of their relationship.