The Ives String Quartets

While Ives’s violin sonatas are relatively consistent in style and approach, his string quartets, performed here by the Pacifica Quartet, are as different as can be. Ives’s First String Quartet is in a late Romantic style akin to Dvorak or Brahms, using themes paraphrased from American hymn tunes. His brief Scherzo for String Quartet is both literally a joke (“scherzo” in Italian) and an experiment in new techniques. His Second String Quartet is dissonant and difficult to play but has a Romantic heart, as the instruments portray four friends who converse, argue, then—in a lesson for us today—rediscover what they have in common and share a profound and revelatory experience. J. Peter Burkholder introduces the quartets, with musical examples played by the Pacifica Quartet.

Pacifica Quartet
Simin Ganatra, violin
Austin Hartman, violin
Mark Holloway, viola
Brandon Vamos, cello

J. Peter Burkholder, commentary

Charles Ives (1874-1954) 

Scherzo for String Quartet (1903-4, assembled ca. 1935) 

String Quartet No. 1 (ca. 1897-1900) 

   I. Chorale 
   II. Prelude 
   III. Offertory 
   IV. Postlude 

String Quartet No. 2 (ca. 1911-15) 

   I. Discussions 
   II. Arguments 
   III. The Call of the Mountains 

Program note by J. Peter Burkholder

The pieces on tonight’s concert highlight three different sides of Charles Ives’s personality as a composer. The brief Scherzo for String Quartet is both a joke (“scherzo” in Italian) and an experiment, combining two small pieces he wrote in 1903-4 to try out new techniques. In the Scherzo, the upper strings play dissonant figurations while the cello weaves together snatches of Bringing in the Sheaves and two Stephen Foster tunes (including My Old Kentucky Home), followed by Sailor’s Hornpipe and everyone playing the belly dancing song Streets of Cairo in different keys. The Trio, “Holding Your Own,” pits each instrument against the others playing different divisions of the measure simultaneously.

Ives was a professional church organist from 1889 (when he was 14) to 1902, and hymns were a deep and enduring influence on his music. In his String Quartet No. 1 (ca. 1897-1900), he brought hymn tunes into the most prestigious genre of chamber music, adapting the latter three movements from music he had composed for services and the first movement from a fugue for his counterpoint class at Yale. With movements titled Chorale, Prelude, Offertory, and Postlude, the quartet has the shape of a Protestant service, and the hymns Ives chose for it reflect that spirit, focusing in the middle movements on contemplation, individual redemption, and hope for the afterlife and in the outer movements on hymns that call worshipers to action. Yet ultimately this is a string quartet in the tradition of Beethoven and Brahms, a satisfying drama of changing moods and characters that is accessible for listeners who know none of the source tunes. For those that do, what Ives does with the tunes can reveal new treasures and deepen their impact.

The opening Chorale elaborates in turn the four phrases of Lowell Mason’s stately Missionary Hymn (“From Greenland’s icy mountains”). The first two phrases begin alike but then diverge, and Ives presents them both in fugue style, adding for the second one a countermelody from Coronation (“All hail the power of Jesus’ name”). The music builds to a magnificent climax on the exultant third phrase of the hymn over a sustained low note in the cello, and the final phrase, a variant of the first, appears in simple four-part harmony, like a chorale.

The other movements are all in three-part form, featuring themes Ives created by recasting hymn tunes into melodies with greater variety and irregularity, suitable for development in a string quartet, while preserving their hymn-like and American character. For the second movement, Ives based the spritely opening theme on Beulah Land and the theme of the triple-time middle section on The Shining Shore, each so transformed that only fragments of the unaltered source tune float by. When the first section returns, it leads to an exuberant coda with an almost complete chorus of Beulah Land. The third movement theme is more recognizable as a paraphrase of Nettleton (“Come, Thou Fount of ev’ry blessing”), and its middle section theme weaves together elements of all three of these melodies. The opening theme of the finale interlinks phrases from Coronation and from Webb (“Stand up, stand up for Jesus”), and the middle section is a varied reprise of the second movement’s middle section, unifying the quartet through thematic recurrence. In the climactic coda, Ives presents this triple-time middle section theme in the first violin over Webb complete in the cello in quadruple time, bringing the quartet to a glorious close.

If the First Quartet presents a series of character pieces in late Romantic style based on hymn tunes, the Second String Quartet (ca. 1911-15) sounds like it comes from a different world. Most of it is dissonant and much of it extraordinarily difficult to play. Yet despite the modern sounds, it has a Romantic heart, and it draws on the traditional metaphor of a string quartet as a conversation between the instruments. Ives takes that metaphor literally, writing on the first page of his initial sketch of the piece “S.Q. for 4 men—who converse, discuss, argue (in re ‘Politick’), fight, shake hands, shut up—then walk up the mountain side to view the firmament!” The players and their instruments embody four friends who engage in conversation, fall to arguing, then—in a lesson for us today—rediscover what they have in common and share a profound and revelatory experience.

The first movement, “Discussions,” begins like a conversation, each instrument taking its turn to speak. Sometimes they settle into harmonious agreement, or one echoes another, or they all pause to take a breath, as the music changes and flows like a good chat among friends. Briefly, the topic turns to politics, as each instrument signals their point of view through a familiar melody: Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean in the first violin (a salute to national pride), Dixie in the viola (a Southerner speaks), and Marching Through Georgia in the second violin (a Northerner responds), countered by first violin and cello with Hail! Columbia (a call to national unity). But quickly the conversation moves on, eventually wandering back to where they began.

The second movement lives up to its name, “Arguments,” as each tries to outshout the others. The second violin tries to change the subject with a Romantic-sounding cadenza, but gets shot down. The viola starts a twelve-tone fugue, and everyone follows until the second violin gets confused, drops out, and then starts to beat time. At one point, American tunes mix it up with themes from symphonies by Tchaikovsky, Brahms, and Beethoven, as if arguing about musical taste. Then suddenly the arguments are over.

After all that talk, “The Call of the Mountains” begins with rich, soft chords that suggest the stillness of nature. Melodies interweave, and the pace gradually quickens to a walking tempo as the friends begin their hike up the mountainside. Then comes a glimpse of the firmament: the cello marches up and down, the violins murmur soft arabesques, and the viola plays Nearer, My God, to Thee in long notes, mixed with the bell tower tune Westminster Chimes. The rich stillness returns, and the walk resumes, now with the hymn and the chimes echoing around them. A rush of sound, and a transcendent vision of the divine appears: over a descending scale in the cello’s lowest register and repeated figures in second violin and viola, far above the first violin sings out, “Still, all my song shall be, nearer, my God, to Thee” in a serene D major. After all the dissonance, this sounds like a revelation, a moment of communion.