If a fourth ‘B’ were added to the list of great composers—Bach, Beethoven, Brahms—Bruch would probably be it. Many classical music aficionados are familiar with Max Bruch for his first violin concerto. It is a standard of the repertoire, one of the most frequently performed works in that form, and justly so.
In Bruch’s own lifetime, however, his status loomed large for different reasons. A late 19th-century collection of biographical sketches, “Famous Composers and their Works” by J.B. Millet, included Bruch’s name within its pages during his lifetime. It began by mentioning his concertos and symphonic works, then pronounced the judgment that “it is upon his great choruses that his fame as a composer, and his right to admission to the ranks of the masters, chiefly rests.” The six-page biographical entry concludes with a list of his most important compositions that names some of these oratorios, operas, and songs.
A Minor Among Majors
Bruch was born in Cologne, Germany, in 1838. He outlived nearly all of his famous contemporaries, living until 1920. In that span of time, he witnessed many changes ripple through European society, from the revolutions of 1848 to World War I. Throughout all these changes, he and his musical style remained the same.A child prodigy, he composed a large number of works at a young age. His parents encouraged his musical ambitions, a debt that he acknowledged when, at age 9, he wrote a prayer for them and arranged it as a song. At 14, he had a symphony publicly performed.
When he was 35, he achieved international stardom with his first oratorio “Odysseus,” a choral adaptation of Homer’s “Odyssey.” It saw many performances in Europe during his lifetime. Following upon this success, Bruch wrote a number of other choral works.
The popularity of these pieces revolved around the prevalence of amateur choirs in Germany around this time. The Industrial Revolution brought large numbers of people into cities, many of whom wanted a leisure hobby outside of work. Most choir members were factory workers. So as a side effect of manufacturing developments, blue-collar industry during this time also fueled the production of highbrow music. When these amateur groups went out of fashion in the early 20th century, the base of Bruch’s popularity dried up.
Johannes Brahms, Bruch’s close friend, may have sensed the ultimate fate of Bruch’s choral works. When Bruch played his “Odysseus” for Brahms, the older companion listened quietly. Afterwards, Brahms expressed his opinion with acid wit. Instead of directly criticizing the piece, he praised the paper Bruch wrote the oratorio on as “first rate” and asked him where he obtained it.
Violin Concerto No. 1. Op. 26
Most composers aren’t remembered at all, so being remembered for one piece is, perhaps, not so bad. In the same above-quoted collection, “Famous Composers and their Works,” considerable space is dedicated to men like Alexander Campbell Mackenzie, Michael William Balfe, and the tongue-twisting Jacques François Fromental Elias Halévy. Since none of these composers wrote anything as good as Bruch’s violin concerto, their long names, never shortened into initials for mnemonic benefit, were forgotten.The “Violin Concerto in G minor” is one of the most extraordinary works in the classical canon. The orchestra, underutilized through most of the first movement, suddenly springs to life at the end to create a sumptuous complement to the solo violinist’s dramatic intensity.
In the second adagio section, the violinist weaves a tender and beautiful melody as the orchestra, again falling into the background, occasionally swells to echo the lyricism.
The final allegro movement begins with a technically demanding, energetic display from the soloist, who dialogues with the orchestra to provide an exhilarating climax.
Like many great artists, Bruch never saw much in the way of material rewards for his best-known work. He accepted a lump-sum payment for his Violin Concerto No. 1 instead of royalties that would have continued well past his own death, and could have supported an impoverished daughter who spent her later years championing her father’s legacy.
Triumphing Over Successors
“Equilibrium,” an overly violent sci-fi movie from 2002 that is a predictable, contains one excellent scene. Christian Bale plays a lawman in a totalitarian society where art is outlawed. Tasked with eliminating a group of nonconformists, he blunders into a secret room while ransacking their hideout. He struggles to pronounce a German name printed on a vinyl record, then fumbles while attaching it to an unfamiliar object—a record player. Beethoven’s “Ninth Symphony” begins to play. Having never heard music in his entire life, the recording leaves him spellbound. When it is finished, he leaves realizing that everything he has been taught to believe is completely wrong. He resolves to fight against the oppressive system that would outlaw such beauty.
It is doubtful whether Mr. Bale’s character would have experienced such a crucial moment of awakening if he had discovered a record filled with modern experimental music. Most likely, a quizzical expression would have darkened his face. Then he would have just gotten on with destroying art, more committed than ever to his mission’s righteousness.
Promoting music appreciation demands that the untutored ear of the general public not be bombarded with weirdness. Beethoven’s works were considered “difficult” listening in his time, but his large public funeral testified that audiences adapted quickly. Even a century after modernistic music appeared, the average person still struggles to enjoy works written in the non-harmonic 12-tone scale.
