Is this the greatest piece of music ever written?

Schubert’s last chamber work is by common consent his greatest. It lives by itself on a calm, lofty plane of perfection, higher even than those other visionary works Schubert composed in the last, pain-wracked months of his short life. The pianist Artur Rubinstein and the writer Thomas Mann said they would like to die to the strains of the sublime second movement. Some, including the philosopher Wittgenstein, have gone further and said it is simply the greatest piece of music ever written.

Background

Schubert’s final years were darkened by money troubles and symptoms of what was probably tertiary syphilis, ie headaches, dizzy spells and nausea. He was desperate for a court appointment, but his republican politics – a drawback in a city swarming with police informants – plus his tendency to miss important appointments and stay up all hours carousing with friends meant that would never happen. In March 1827, Schubert was a torch-bearer at Beethoven’s funeral, a sign of his increasing fame. On the advice of his doctor, he moved on 1st September 1828 into his brother Ferdinand’s house in the countrified Viennese suburb of Wieden. There he composed five masterpieces: the last of his three great song-cycles Schwanengesang, the last three piano sonatas, and this quintet. He died weeks later, on November 19, aged only 31.

Why it’s so great

This piece, written for the unusual combination of two violins, viola and two cellos, has a massive sublimity. It shares its key of C major with Schubert’s ninth and final symphony, the so-called “Great” symphony, and it has the same grandeur, the melodies stretching for miles across serene accompaniments. But unlike the symphony, the quintet visits strange areas of human feeling, particularly in the despairing central section of the slow movement, and the middle section of the third movement, where the music seems to touch on death.

What to listen out for

The YouTube performance I discuss below comes from the very distinguished Emerson Quartet, with the quartet’s one-time cellist of 35 years standing David Finckel returning to take the role of second cellist:

First movement: Allegro ma non troppo (fast, but not too fast)

A radiant C major chord grows from nothing, swells to a troubled suggestion of C minor and then subsides back to the major mode, with a fragment of violin melody over the top. This back-and-forth between major and minor will be a constant feature of the piece. At 1.11 there is a grand restatement of the opening phrase, now transferred to the bass region, with heroic cascading arpeggios in the violins and viola. The music has now moved seamlessly from what felt like a slow introduction to the main fast tempo of the movement – a brilliant stroke. At 1.57, the music “pivots” via a sustained single note G into a heavenly melody in a new unexpected harmony, an effect repeated at 2.41. At 4.02, this opening section (the so-called “exposition”) winds up with an unexpected dry little march. In the following, “development” section, the military strain becomes dark and obsessive, until the return of the opening phrase brings a shaft of sunlight at 8.41, now with a new rising figure in the violins. Listen out for that “pivoting” note, now shifted to C, at 10.23 and 11.07.

Second movement Adagio (slow)

This slow movement gets its feeling of vast serenity partly from the very distant tonality key of E  major. A three-part melody in second violin, viola and first cello unfolds with rapt slowness, with little decorations in the first violin, while David Finckel (he’s the cellist in the middle) provides a pizzicato bass.  At 16.56m there is a typically Schubertian move to the minor mode, but the cloud is only momentary. Then, at 19.57, comes a sudden move to F minor for a passage of wild despair.  At 22.59, a very mysterious transition begins. We seem to be heading into the dark – but then, by some miracle, the opening melody returns at 23.56, with new undulating bass line and lyrical countermelody in the 1st violin.

Third movement: Scherzo – Presto (fast). Trio – Andante sostenuto (at a walking pace, sustained)

A very quick ONE-two-three dance in two sections surges forth with colossal energy. This opening section is repeated at 30.09, after which, at 30.41, the second half launches off with a startlingly brusque assertion of a new key. At 32.17, the haunted Trio begins, unusually in ONE-two-three-four time instead of the expected triple time. It appears to be in a gaunt minor key but unexpectedly arrives at a radiant major key at 32.30. The back and forth between major-key warmth and graveyard coldness and loneliness continues. At 33.51, it really does seem as if we’re entering the tomb, but then suddenly out of nowhere the rumbustious Scherzo surges back, this time without repeats.

Fourth movement: Allegretto (moderately fast) – Più allegro (faster)

This Finale launches off as one of Schubert’s typical Viennese dances. The opening tune will keep coming back, with contrasting “episodes” in between, a form known as a Rondo – but this one isn’t entirely predictable.  At 39.08, the first episode arrives, a meltingly Viennese tune with cheerful bouncing-bow decorations in the violins. Minor-key shadows gather at 41.24, but soon the opening tune returns at 42.01. At 43.00, a new episode based on a fragment of the main tune begins. At 44.11, we unexpectedly get a return of the second tune, not the first. At 45.50, the minor-key shadows that originally brought back the first melody become the lead-in to the closing so-called Coda (literally “tail”) section at 46.41, which has its own final prestissimo coda at 47.15. The major-minor, sunshine-shadow ambiguity grips the music right to the very end.

Recommended recordings

Of the recent versions, the one from the Pavel Haas Quartet and Danjulo Ishizaka on Supraphon is probably the best. The Smetana Quartet’s older recording with Milos Sadlo on Testament has a novel but surprisingly effective take on the Adagio, which is played almost twice as fast as “normal” performances. The historic recording from the Hollywood Quartet and Kurt Reher has a scratchy old sound, but is fantastically impassioned.

Tell Ivan your thoughts

Is Schubert’s String Quintet in C the greatest piece of music ever created? If not, what do you think is? Ivan will be in the comments section below between 4pm and 5pm today.