Brahms: Intermezzo, Op. 116, No. 6

My father was a big Brahms fan. At the age of 5 or so, I was not often allowed to handle his collection of easily breakable 78 rpm recordings, but I can remember wearing out an vinyl LP of the Brahms’ Hungarian Dances. They were colorful and rambunctious and exotic.

But when Brahms is not emulating peasant folk dances, his music usually has a certain restraint. It runs the gamut from introspective to exuberant, but almost always you feel a resistance — a sense that there is something more beneath the surface. The music unfolds in longer patterns. Melodies are drawn out, and the rhythmic pulse is frequently obscured or ambiguous. Brahms layers on rich harmonies with surprising variations and details. Moving through Brahms’ music feels like pulling an oar through water.

So when Brahms wants to be introspective, he has all of the tools. This short Intermezzo provides a good example. It’s no longer than most popular songs. Much of it seems simple, beginning with the hymn-like opening. No soaring melodies or dance rhythms here. But in the middle register you hear a second more elaborate line that seems as though it wants to break out of its confines. Throughout the piece, this high and middle voice trade statements, sometimes pushing the other to bolder statements and sometimes holding it back.

It’s sustained tension within a serene context.