Schubert’s biography in his last years is essentially the catalogue of his compositions. One can paint a substantial picture of his life just by giving his address(es), and then listing one after another the masterpieces which grew from his incomparably rich inner life (Winterreise, Mass in E-flat, C major symphony and quintet, last three sonatas, f-minor phantasie, to name only a few).

Liszt’s mid-century inspiration, Totentanz (Paraphrase on “Dies Irae” for pianoforte and orchestra), would prove to be one of the most enduring, inspiring, and disturbing works of the 19th century. It was inspired partly by Traini’s fresco, “Triumph of Death,” but also from the entire medieval tradition of Death depicted as a wild sort of Peter Pan, leading the folk to their demise in dances of ecstatic frenzy. It has often been noted how these medieval depictions were psychological aids to those surrounded by inexplicable deaths (that we now know were from plague and pestilence), but they also probably served as strict warnings against excess.

Beethoven’s last three sonatas were sketched and composed at the same time, as he had done with other groups of sonatas, but unlike those other groups, Perhaps he did it because each represents a unique formal statement; perhaps three opera instead of one brought in more money. What interests us here, since two are being performed together, are the aesthetic similarities.

Bach composed the concerto BWV1052 most likely in 1738, while Kapellmeister at St. Thomas’ in Leipzig. At the same time, he was employing the resources of a group of musicians in weekly concerts called the Collegium Musicum, an organization founded 30 years earlier by Telemann, and probably the concertos he composed during this time were performed with this group. Later, the Collegium Musicum was to become the forerunner of the Gewandhaus Orchestra, the orchestra famously led by Mendelssohn in a revival of forgotten works of Bach (incidentally, this concerto was a favorite of Mendelssohn’s).

Beethoven wrote his fourth concerto, op.58 in G major, in 1805 – 1806, and premiered it himself in 1807. The proportions for the first movement are Classical, but enlarged. He follows Mozart’s example in K271, the “Jeunehomme” concerto and begins with piano solo, rather than the orchestra; in the fifth concerto he will take the idea a step further and begin with a piano cadenza rather than a theme. The piano writing here is very innovative, and the majority of it is in the high register, played softly and delicately, giving this concerto a spiritual, unearthly essence. The second movement is unusually short, and gets its power from the austere, extreme dialogue of contrasts between tutti and solo; on one hand, the orchestra plays a stern, unisono line countered by the piano’s legato and emotional responses. The third and final movement follows immediately, and is a very Classical and up‐beat rondo.