Grosse Fuge in B‑Flat Major

Like an apocalyptic struggle between order and chaos, Beethoven’s Grosse Fuge for string quartet hammers out its main theme up front with the force of a clenched fist—and then proceeds to tear the theme apart through brutal transformations on the one hand and the more considered processes of fugal treatments on the other. It’s abrasively unbeautiful but thrilling, with a sense of Beethoven careering into worlds beyond the known and comprehensible. Indeed there’s nothing in his output that is quite so on the edge of reason. And it certainly baffled contemporary listeners, who attributed its maverick qualities to the composer’s deafness—although genius might be a better explanation. This Great Fugue is actually two fugues running successively into a coda that unravels all that’s gone before and reassembles it. Originally written in 1825 as the finale of the composer’s Op. 130 quartet, the piece proved overpowering in its sheer size and weight, so Beethoven was persuaded to set it free as a standalone piece—which is how it’s usually heard now. Its complexities resist definitive analysis, but the main theme is clear enough: a motif that climbs upward in alternating short and wide steps, heard at the outset from all the players in emphatic unison. The roller-coaster ride on which it then goes is extraordinary—claiming a unique place in the history of music.