It was not until he had gained confidence working in many other genres – including solo piano literature, choral music, and especially chamber music – that Brahms felt comfortable introducing his first symphony. Although always a meticulous and methodical worker, Brahms had been limited to a snail’s pace as he struggled with the first symphony, interrupting his progress on it several times in order to write less ambitious orchestral works instead. It took him twenty years to complete the symphony, and he was constantly intimidated by the inevitable comparisons that would be drawn between his efforts and those of Beethoven’s, whose nine symphonies were regarded by some as having taken the genre as far as it could go. While Brahms’s final product is an unquestioned masterpiece, the influence of Beethoven is so strongly apparent that Brahms had to endure criticism that he was mired in the past.
Given this difficult experience, then, the ease with which Brahms wrote his second symphony is astonishing. Even while working on numerous other projects, he completed the second symphony in about a year, a tiny fraction of the time he had spent on the first. The facility of the compositional process is reflected in the character of the work, as well: the entire symphony abounds in generous lyricism and effortless expansion, traits that have made it one of the best loved symphonies in the literature.
The first movement is the longest of the symphony, unfolding seamlessly from small melodic fragments introduced in the opening measures. The second primary theme, first heard in the cellos and violas, is reminiscent of the same composer’s famous lullaby (Guten Abend, gut Nacht, op. 49 no. 4) and is equally serene. Contrast is provided through varying levels of rhythmic activity, but the movement always sings naturally, inspired much more by the vocal music tradition than by the potentially more abstruse practice of motivic development fundamental to Beethoven’s symphonic writing. The sense of harmonic conflict increases toward the middle of the movement, particularly when the trombones come to the forefront with briefly dissonant counterpoint. Even these clouds, however, don’t last long in a movement which feels like a celebration of compositional freedom.
The second movement is the darkest and most emotionally complex. It opens with a broadly arching melody in the cellos, but the chromaticism and irregular phrase lengths establish a much different character from that of the first movement. Additionally, the cellos are pitted in counterpoint against the bassoons, who play an upside-down version of the same melody – an “academic” device that Brahms used frequently, but which tends to undermine any sense of spontaneity. The orchestration also contributes to the unsettled atmosphere: a minute or so into the movement, the horn and woodwinds are left exposed with minimal melodic material, whereas in the first movement the nurturing strings are almost always present. But if all of these features require us to listen more carefully, that extra effort is rewarded by music of unusual depth, where the mood is constantly changing but the thread of psychological continuity is maintained.
Unlike Beethoven, who developed the aggressive symphonic scherzo that became standard in later symphonic writing, Brahms tended toward understated, intermezzo-like dances for the third movements of his symphonies. Here, the oboe begins with a naive, charming melody over an inconspicuous pizzicato accompaniment in the cellos. Contrasting sections feature the strings in more animated dances, but the innocence of the oboe melody is never far away, resulting in a movement that dissipates dramatic tension rather than increases it.
The finale is the most unabashedly upbeat movement in Brahms’s symphonic output. The strings begin quietly, on a mysteriously noncommittal melody that is derived from the opening of the first movement. But it is not long before the entire orchestra erupts in a festive presentation of the same material. The second theme is first heard in the richly scored strings and then echoed angelically by the woodwinds. As in the first movement, most of the harmonic conflict is reserved for the development section, with the earlier melodic material broken down into meandering fragments. The music reaches its minimum level of activity as slow trombone notes are heard through shimmering strings, in an effect somewhat reminiscent of the final movement of the first symphony. Once the primary theme returns, however, there is no break in momentum as the music rushes to its spirited conclusion. In a thrilling coda, the lush second theme is brilliantly transformed into a fanfare for the brass, leading the way to a rousing conclusion.