It is impossible to say when Brahms’ ideas for a first symphony began to take shape, but sketches are supposed to have existed as early as 1855. He was just 22 at the time. Robert Haven Schauffler refers to the period as Brahms’ “Werther days,” a time when he was “under the spell of his mad young passion for Clara [Schumann.]” Ms. Schumann, who never swayed in her devotion to her younger friend, gave him all the encouragement he needed for his work. Her letters and diary bear witness to the metamorphosis of this symphony from the idea to actuality. The completion was to occupy the composer on and off for 19 years.

From letters written to Brahms by Clara Schumann, we are surprised to learn that the first movement originally had no introduction. The great opening section, so familiar to us today, hardly seems like an afterthought. It is made up of figures lifted from the main body of the movement. In fact, “the introduction is the whole sermon,” wrote Herbert Wiseman. Against relentless pounding on the pedal point C by the timpani, a powerful tension is set up as strings and winds strain in opposing directions. The main portion (Allegro) begins its strong upward thrust, hesitates, then drops back. Another try fails, too, followed by a deep plunge. The movement becomes one huge and persistent struggle. In contrast to the stormy opening, the second movement (Andante) offers an idyllic respite. This lyrical movement eventually rises to a passionate climax, with lovely solo passages for oboe, horn, and violin.

The third movement is a simple song form with trio, the principal theme being a fold-like melody. Briefly, it becomes a preparation for the coming grandeur of the Finale.

With the opening of the Finale, it seems that the gathering storm clouds of the first movement have returned to release their fury. But quickly the darkness disperses, the heavens seem to open; and the horn breaks through with the assurance that all is well. “It comes in like God Almighty” remarked Carl Ruggles. The bold main theme that follows has an unmistakable resemblance to the “Ode to Joy” from Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. When this was pointed out to Brahms, his annoyed retort was, “Any fool can see that.” Edward Downs explains it this way: “Brahms was using words from Beethoven’s vocabulary to say something different.”

This composition was inspired by the music and culture of West Africa, and developed through an ongoing collaboration between Mike Block and Balla Kouyaté, a balafon player from Mali, in West Africa. The title and lyrics of the vocal melody (“Iniche Cosebe”) are from the Mandinka language, and translate to mean “thank you very much.” Kouyaté comes from a long ancestral line of musicians in the Djeli tradition of storytelling through songs, in which each composition has an underlying story or moral. This piece is a meditation on gratefulness and joy, featuring both vocal and instrumental melodies that sit upon a cyclical groove featuring layered interlocking riffs, called a Kumbengo.