♫ When the return of the A section arrives, the temperature might lower a degree or two, but it is as dramatic as the opening of the movement, or, possibly, more so. The first time around, the taut, tense melodic line was supported by chords that moved only once a bar. ♫ Here, there are chord changes within the bar which add harmonic stress. ♫ A subtle change, perhaps, but one that increases the tension. And when Beethoven alters the music to change the harmonic course of this second A section – much in the same way that he would do to vary an exposition and a recapitulation – he again does so in a manner that heightens the drama. The first version, ♫ and the second. ♫ The three repetitions of that motive – each with a new harmony and in a higher register – ♫ are another example of Beethoven wringing every last drop of intensity from this material. That last alteration ultimately has the effect of bringing this second A section to a d minor resting place, unlike the A minor we landed on the first time around. But actually, “resting place” is entirely the wrong phrase, because as the second A section – the not-quite “recap” – comes to an end, it launches a large-scale coda, which uses many of the same tropes as the B section, but goes even further into the realm of melodrama. ♫ Along with Op. 18 no. 1, the piece this sonata shares the most with, I’ve mentioned the ghost trio as another slow movement that Op.10 no. 3 points the way towards, and this passage I’ve just played is a perfect example. After a huge climax, ♫ the music peters out, and finally comes to a stop on a single d, with no harmonic support. ♫ This is very predictive of the parallel spot in the ghost trio: the ghost is probably Beethoven’s most eerie, unsettling slow movement – ever – and this parallel passage plays out very much as the sonata does, only writ larger. ♫ While the piano is playing that descending chromatic scale, ♫ the strings are repeating a unison d over and over, so that we hear it grinding against the chromatic line in the piano. ♫ And then when the piano finally lands on a D itself, the d is all that’s left. This is obviously far more striking than the sonata, because there are three people playing, and therefore there was a much more palpable sense of conflict, before everyone landed on that drained-of-color d together. But it seems clear to me that Beethoven was testing out this idea in the coda of op. 10 no. 3’s slow movement, and it’s already plenty effective. The tail end of this slow movement is also very predictive of the great Ghost. In both cases, after the great, traumatic climax, the last bars are mostly defeated – but with intermittent cries of anguish. The Ghost’s version is powerful in part because of how compact it is. ♫ Op. 10 no. 3 is more expansive, but in broad strokes, does much the same thing. ♫ You can argue that his later tragic slow movements are more fully integrated, more original, and less reliant on the devices or tropes of the era. But this slow movement is still a major early period statement – an expression of a grief and anger unlike anything he had written up to that point, and one that points the way to many of his most iconic tragic slow movements to come.
