These late works for clarinet by Brahms, 2 clarinet sonatas and a trio for clarinet, piano, and cello, were quite unknown to me, and I am not entirely certain how familiar they are to the general public.  I am inclined to assume that they are rarely heard pieces, as most of Brahms’s vast and heady orchestral and solo piano repertoire tends to eclipse his equally worthy chamber music.  Nevertheless, I would suggest that any enthusiast of Johannes Brahms, and I have yet to meet any musician who dislikes the composer, get to know these pieces.

The last one especially, the trio, is an unsurpassable gem. The music is simple and focused; romantic and beautiful, yet subdued with a sober logic.  One will never find any Lisztian fanaticism in the modest yet superior style of Johannes Brahms.  Here we have Hideaki Aomori on the clarinet, Joshua Pierce on the piano, and Daniel Barrett on the cello.  The performance is quite exquisite.  These are great chamber players and this is great chamber music.  The sound is constantly fresh and the poetry of the music is made quite clear and integral.  The best way to get to know these works (other than the ideal situation of a live performance, perhaps by the same ensemble) is through a recording such as this.

One important aspect of these works is that, like many of Brahms’s chamber works, they inherently adopt the proportions of orchestral compositions.  Though the intimacy of these pieces is undeniable, the power of the individual players and the stormy dramaticism of the music almost tricks one into thinking s/he is hearing an entire orchestra, or at the very least there is an illusion that an orchestra is constantly on the verge of emerging.  In other words, there is no restraint of an audacious yet tender musicality in these chamber works that would differentiate them from the composer’s orchestral works.  There is no difference save for the physical reduction of the sound produced by 3 players as opposed to 60 or 70.

Then again this comment is a bit of a cliché and perhaps even glib.  It is often made about the chamber music of Beethoven, and indeed one can never forget Beethoven when trying to understand Brahms.  The latter was the German heir apparent and was never without the former’s shadow over his shoulder.  Perhaps, as is the convention, the piano simply replaces the orchestra, as the instrument is so often employed to do.  However the concerto-like quality is retained and nothing is simply accompaniment or conventional.  There is no simple job assigned to anything.

The credit, in the end, for this poetic transcendence from a few players to an infinite invisible orchestra goes to the excellence of the performance.  They play not with the music in front of them but with the soul of the music within them.  We do not think of glorified musical phrases or systematic tricks but plain and simple poetry.  We are given real heart and, as precious and impressionable listeners, we find the experience agreeable.  Study and knowledge is not the object here.

© 2009 Thomas Healy