Re-listening to this symphony, I was reminded how brief it is — about the length of a decent mug of tea — and how classically proportioned, with everything in its right place. It is one of his sunniest symphonies, right from that opening carefree cascade on the violins and the skipping first subject to the jubilant final bars.
That’s not to say, however, that it is lightweight or lacking in complexity and subtle craftsmanship. The ideas in the first movement flow in constant conversation, each statement either affirmed or countered one bar after each other. You expect dialogue at this stage, but I’m struck by quite how much there is, almost as if Schubert had set himself a specific challenge. See if you agree. I also always look forward to the opening of the development section: sixteen bars of harmonic heaven, and a glimpse of Schubert’s genius.
The slow movement has the cosiness of an old story told by the hearth. The writing for the wind instruments here is particularly intricate and beautiful. The ‘B’ section, which you will hear twice, has the feel of a heartfelt operatic duet, a soprano and mezzo perhaps, with polite accompaniment. And towards the very end of the movement, just when we’re settled in the home key, Schubert does an extraordinary detour, slipping up a semitone and taking us on a very scenic route back to the final bar. It’s a lovely surprise.
The minuet and trio make the perfect classical, antithetical pairing. One in G minor, the other in G major, each with triadic shapes to link them together and with their own moments of drama. The most dramatic contrast, however, is saved for the finale. It starts with the same youthful buoyancy as the first, and we are reminded that Schubert was only nineteen when he wrote it. But then there are passages of real darkness, like flashes of temper. They are short-lived, however, and not enough to disturb the overall cheerfulness of the work. However familiar, this symphony always makes me smile.
