The listener is invited on a journey through the Romantic imagination – from Liszt’s visionary landscapes and Rachmaninov’s nostalgic vignettes to a secret Schubertian dance saved from oblivion and a scintillating gem of the virtuoso tradition. These pieces, disparate in origin, are bound by threads of influence and homage, forming a continuous narrative of musical inheritance across the 19th and early 20th centuries in a poetic dialogue of souls.
Franz Liszt’s Sonata in B minor S.178 stands as a towering testament to Romantic innovation. Composed in 1853 and dedicated to Robert Schumann (who had in turn dedicated his own Fantasie op. 17 to Liszt), the work was Liszt’s bold answer to the classical sonata tradition. It unfolds in one uninterrupted movement of volcanic intensity and lyrical introspection, fusing the four-movement sonata layout into a single architectural span. In its opening bars, a few terse motifs are quietly proclaimed. Seeds that will transform and proliferate into the work dramatic themes. Through Liszt’s pioneering technique of thematic transformation, these motifs assume protean guises: at times noble and aspirational, at times diabolical and stormy, at times tenderly hymn-like. The effect is of an epic drama told without words. Indeed, later listeners have fancied that Liszt here creates a Faustian narrative in music – identifying themes for Faust, Gretchen, and Mephistopheles in the sonata shifting characters – though Liszt himself left no explicit program. Whether heard as abstract sonata-form or as a metaphysical tone poem, the Sonata in B minor carries the listener through a vast emotional terrain. Its revolutionary structure initially baffled many (Clara Schumann, upon seeing the score, dismissed it as “mere noise”), but champions like Hans von Bülow – Liszt’s protégé, who premiered the piece – revealed its genius. Wagner hailed Liszt as “the most musical of all musicians”, and in the orchestral breadth and spiritual depth of this Sonata one hears why. Today the Sonata is revered as Liszt’s masterpiece for piano, a synthesis of virtuosity and intellect that influenced generations to come. It is noteworthy that the composers’ pedagogical lineage extends directly into the modern piano era. One of his pupils, Alexander Siloti, became a teacher of Sergei Rachmaninov representing a symbolic passing of the musical torch.
It is fitting, then, that Sergei Rachmaninov’s own solo piano opus on this programme builds upon that inheritance. His Six moments musicaux op. 16 pay tribute in title to an earlier Romantic master, Franz Schubert, while encapsulating Rachmaninov’s youthful artistry and the rich traditions he inherited. At age 23, pressed for money and racing to meet a deadline, Rachmaninov composed these six pieces in a creative torrent. Despite the haste of their creation, they are finely crafted jewels, each a “moment” that evokes a distinct musical genre of the past, refracted through a late-Romantic lens. In this set we hear the composer both returning to old forms and reinventing them: a gentle nocturne unfolds in the first piece (Andantino in B-flat minor) with a long-breathed melody tinged with Slavic melancholy, eventually cresting in passionate climaxes. The second (Allegretto in E-flat minor) sparkles with fleet-fingered figuration and capricious rhythms, a virtuoso étude that showcases the young pianist-composer’s agility and recalls the poetic etudes of Chopin. By contrast, the third piece (Andante cantabile in B minor) is a darkly expressive elegy – a funeral march in spirit – intoning grave chords and a lamenting theme that speaks to the Russian soul, perhaps echoing the funereal echoes of Chopin and the Orthodox requiem tradition. Rachmaninov’s incomparable gift for melody sings forth in the fourth and fifth moments. The Presto in E minor hurtles with impetuous, scherzo-like energy and bursts of incisive rhythm, drawing inspiration from Chopin’s lightning preludes and études, while the Adagio sostenuto in D-flat major offers a brief respite, swaying in a lilting barcarolle – one can almost imagine moonlight on water in its gently rocking accompaniment. Finally, the set closes with the Maestoso in C major, a heroic culmination built as a small theme-and-variations. Here Rachmaninov summons a noble hymn-like theme which he then varies and intensifies, piling up rich textures and monumental chords. In its grand three-part counterpoint and even a stately canon, one hears a nod to Bach’s learned craftsmanship, but also the resonance of Russian choral song. Together, the six pieces form a half-hour tableau of Romantic piano art: a compendium of styles and moods, unified by Rachmaninov’s passionate voice. Though written on the eve of the composer’s early career crisis, these works already display the hallmarks of his mature style – the sweeping lyricism, lush harmonies and thunderous sonorities. It is as if Rachmaninov were summing up the 19th-century pianistic tradition (Schubert, Mendelssohn’s Lieder ohne Worte, Chopin, Liszt) even as he set the stage for his own later Preludes and Études-Tableaux. Notably, the chain of influence runs clearly: Rachmaninov’s mentor Siloti imbued him with Liszt’s teachings, and in Moments musicaux we can feel the cumulative weight of that heritage transmuted into something distinctly Rachmaninovian – earnest, melancholic, and unabashedly virtuosic.
From the sweeping panorama of Liszt and Rachmaninov, the programme turns to a quieter corner of musical history – an intimate waltz born in a circle of friends and nearly lost to time. Franz Schubert’s Kupelwieser Waltz is a tiny masterpiece of nostalgia, its very existence the stuff of legend. In July 1826, Schubert attended the wedding of his close friend Leopold Kupelwieser, a Viennese painter, and as a heartfelt gift he sat at the piano and improvised a graceful waltz in G-flat major for the newlyweds. This charming dance, imbued with intimate and sweet, good wishes, was never notated by Schubert himself – it lived on only in the memories of those who heard it. Remarkably, the little tune was passed down through the Kupelwieser family for generations, preserved as an oral heirloom. Decades turned to centuries; the musical world moved from the age of Schubert’s ländler and waltzes into the age of Wagner and Brahms. Yet within one family the Kupelwieser Waltz remained a cherished secret, a direct echo of Schubert’s own hands on the keys. In an extraordinary twist of fate, during the Second World War in 1943, a descendant of the Kupelwiesers played this long-guarded waltz for the elderly Richard Strauss – himself a titan of late Romanticism and a family friend. Strauss, moved by the simple beauty and historical significance of the piece, took it upon himself to write it down, effectively rescuing it for posterity. Thanks to Strauss’s transcription (published in 1970), we can now all hear Schubert’s fleeting wedding gift, lovingly preserved. The Kupelwieser Waltz is a delicate musical postcard from Schubert’s Vienna – its melody gentle, wistful and unpretentious, the accompaniment lilting in the style of an unhurried country dance. It is also emblematic of how musical ideas can bridge eras: that Richard Strauss, a modernist of the 20th century, would value this tiny Romantic gem enough to save it, shows the enduring reverence great composers have for one another across time.
The final offering in this collection brings a different kind of legend to the fore: the virtuosic encore, a fiery confection that carries forward the 19th-century virtuoso tradition. Paul de Schlözer’s Étude in A-flat major op. 1 no. 2 is a scintillating showpiece that, in its own way, connects to the same lineage of Romantic piano music. Schlözer was a Polish pianist and pedagogue of German descent, remembered almost exclusively for the two Concert-études of his op. 1 – of which this A-flat Étude has attained a curious fame among pianists. Published in 1875, it appeared at a time when the great era of the piano virtuoso was at its height: Liszt and Chopin had set the standard with their transcendental and poetic études, and composers like Thalberg, Rubinstein and Moszkowski were contributing brilliant salon pieces to the repertoire. Schlözer’s Étude follows in this grand tradition, serving up a cascade of glittering arpeggios and flying scale passages that celebrate the piano as an instrument of both elegance and thunder. In the manner of Chopin’s famed études, the piece marries mechanical difficulty with musical charm – its rippling figures in the right hand create a halo of tonal colour, while a cantabile melody is tucked within the whirl of notes. The choice of A-flat major (a key Chopin himself favoured for some of his most lyrical virtuoso works) lends a warm sheen and nobility to the sound. With its sweeping romantic harmonies and roulades of pearly semiquavers, the Étude is a quintessential encore piece: short, intoxicating, and demanding an almost acrobatic prowess. It was a favourite encore of Golden Age virtuosi, and even Rachmaninov himself, by some accounts, would warm up his prodigious fingers with its cascading runs.
Heard together, these works create a panorama of the Romantic spirit in music, each piece reflecting and refracting the others across time. Liszt’s epic sonata, Rachmaninov’s evocative miniatures, Schubert’s wistful dance and Schlözer’s brilliant étude may differ in scale and character, yet all share a deeply poetic core and a concern with transforming personal feeling into sound. They also illustrate the way musical knowledge and inspiration are handed down: Liszt’s innovations echo in Rachmaninov’s voice; Schubert’s melody finds new life through Strauss; the virtuosic spark that Liszt and Chopin ignited blazes anew in Schlözer’s encore.
Giuliano Marco Mattioli © 2025
Liszt: Sonata in B minor | Rachmaninov: Six Moments Musicaux Op. 16
