Yodelling, jokes and thrilling energy: how Haydn transformed the symphony

Haydn’s Symphony No 103, the “Drumroll”

Joseph Haydn has been dubbed the Father of the Symphony, and no wonder: he left us 104 examples of the genre, a remarkable feat of paternity not just in numbers but also in quality. He lifted the symphony from a light background tinkling for aristocrats to a massively ambitious and thrilling statement full of surprise and drama which the new middle-class public was prepared to pay handsomely for. No 103, composed in 1795 is among the greatest of them.

Background

In 1790 Haydn, by now the most famous composer in Europe, took up an invitation from the London-based concert producer Johann Peter Salomon to become his in-house composer. That meant composing and directing six brand-new symphonies, but it also meant being paraded as a celebrity in swanky drawing-rooms and parties all over England. It all went to the elderly composer’s head. He reported home gleefully on how much money he was making, and how many good-looking ladies were queuing up to pay homage to him (one of them, the amateur musician Rebecca Schroeter, he actually had an affair with).

For Haydn’s second London visit in 1794-95, Salomon expanded the orchestra to 60. In his second set of six symphonies, Haydn went still further in terms of seizing everyone’s attention with unusual twists and turns and hugely expanding the symphony’s expressive range. The happy combination of market forces and Haydn’s genius had now produced a string of 12 masterpieces known as the “London” symphonies, of which the “Drumroll” was one, and changed the whole conception of music. The sublime was now within its reach. Mozart, had he not died four years previously, would have shared the laurels with Haydn; but now the aged master had the field to himself, though a young upstart named Beethoven would soon challenge him.

Why it’s so great

Like all the London symphonies, this one is a perfect blend of populism and high art. There are the striking things that no one could miss: the “yodelling” effects in the third movement, the sudden outburst of military excitement in the second, and of course the famous single drum-roll that launches the piece. But there are the subtle musical relationships that only the cognoscenti would spot.

Also there’s a special rustic charm about the Drumroll symphony. Sometimes it’s a general air of countryside innocence, as in the lilting tune at the beginning of the first movement, sometimes it’s more genuinely folk-like, as in the dance tune that comes along later.

The thing I most treasure about this symphony is the enigmatic second movement. It’s a perfect example of a unique mood in Haydn which can’t be caught in words. “Aloof” is the closest I can get to it, but that misses the enticing tinge of suavity and mystery.

What to listen out for

The YouTube performance I’ve chosen was given in 1994 by the “period-instrument” orchestra La Petite Bande, conducted by Sigiswald Kuijken.

1st movement – Adagio (“slow”) then Allegro con spirito (“fast, with spirit”)

Like most of Haydn’s later symphonies, this one begins with a slow introduction. After the famous drum-roll at 00.39, a bass melody unwinds in two halves. This is then repeated in the violins at 1.33, but the second half of the melody takes a different turn and the mood darkens. When the Allegro begins, with that lilting melody at 3.09, the clouds are dispelled. All of the Allegro is repeated at 4.27, after which the two melodies are fragmented and recombined with incredible inventiveness. Listen out for the surprising brief return of the slow introduction at 8.33.  

2nd movement – Andante più tosto allegretto (“a walking pace, but on the fast side”)

This is a fine example of Haydn’s double-variation form where two melodies are repeated in alternation, each time with subtle new variations. First comes a stealthy yet suave minor-key melody in two parts, both repeated, the first beginning at 10.07, the second at 10.43.  Then at 12.04 comes a smiling, major-key melody which is actually a variant of the first melody. This is also in two parts, both repeated.

At 13.50 the stealthily aloof first melody returns, now with little bassoon and oboe additions. Haydn liked to give solo spots to his key players, and at 15.05 the smiling version of the melody returns with a decorative solo violin dancing over the top. At 16.52, a fierce martial variation of the minor-key melody arrives, which gives way at 18.06 to the major-key melody, now draped in decorative flutes. A lovely coda with a surprising harmonic move at 19.29 leads to a final statement of the major-key melody at 20.05.

3rd movement – Menuetto (a courtly dance in 3/4 time)

This energetic dance is in two repeated sections, the opening phrase rounded off by repeated rustic “yodels” at 21.16. Notice how at 21.29 the “Scotch-snap” (TA-da, TA-da, TA-da) rhythm of the yodel is softened slightly, transforming it into a smoothly elegant, indoorsy sort of phrase. This launches the second half of the Menuetto, which repeated at 22.10. At 22.50, a nicely contrasted, smoothly flowing dance known at the Trio takes over; this is also in two halves, both repeated. A repeat of the rustic/aristocratic Menuetto without repeats begins at 24.00.

Finale – Allegro con spirito (“fast, with spirit”)

This begins at 25.05 with a “call” for two horns, but this turns out to be one of Haydn’s joking false starts. The movement begins again at 25.10, this time with the violins joining in with a perky little phrase. These two things are all Haydn needs to build a six-minute whirlwind of energy. At 26.00, there’s a build-up towards something new, but the melody that arrives at 26.18 is actually the one we already know. Interestingly, this seems satisfying rather than a let-down. Listen out for the entertaining rhythmic confusion at 27.53, where Haydn trips us up with “wrong” accents. A final return of the opening at 28.40 sets us up for a radiantly happy ending.

Recommended recordings

Claudio Abbado’s recording with the Chamber Orchestra of Europe on DG is as super-refined as you’d expect. Colin Davis’s version with the Concertgebouw Orchestra on Philips is more unbuttoned and big-hearted. The most surprising version is the one from Nikolaus Harnoncourt and the Concertgebouw on Warner Classics, which starts with an extravagant military tattoo on the kettledrums and has a blazingly exciting Finale.

Is the “Drumroll” one of your favourite Haydn symphonies? Do you have another particular favourite? Ivan will be in the comments section below between 4pm and 5pm today.