Now that we enter the Romantic period, things fragment. It is a lot harder to see clear progressions. And since from here on out I’m going to pick pieces more or less randomly, I might as well start with a composer that I greatly admire despite his emotional excesses: Franz Schubert. He’s still very much in the Classical tradition. But by the end of his life — he died at only 31 years old — he was certainly a Romantic composer.

Today we listen to a personal favorite of mine, the String Quartet No 15. It could so easily have been written to accompany Wuthering Heights — even though it was written two decades before the novel. Harmonically, it is riveting. It starts with alternating major and minor chords that sounds totally different from anything we’ve ever heard. Of course, Schubert was an experimenter. It’s surprising that he doesn’t have a bigger reputation. But that seems to come from the fact that academics have tended to disregard him for the reason they have disregarded so many great composers: the man can write a melody!

Listen to this. Really, it is beautiful. Orchestral music never gets better than this. And it is performed by the exceptional Belenus Quartett.

Look at that Joseph Karl Stieler portrait of Ludwig van Beethoven. If that was all you had to go on, you would say that Beethoven was a Romantic. Indeed, he was a revolutionary force in the Classical period, and effectively the beginning of the the Romantic period. In fact, I’ve long had this idea that Beethoven was the cause of so much that I don’t like of that period. Because it is relatively easy to be overwrought like Beethoven but without much of his talent. And the Romantic period is indeed filled with with that kind of work.

But I don’t want to look at his later work, because that, it seems to me, is clearly Romantic period stuff. But even at the beginning of his career, he was making important changes. In fact, I’m presenting his Symphony No 1 — which he probably started when he was 25, but wasn’t first performed until he was 30. There are a couple of things to note here. First, the harmony is more complicated. In fact, I think Beethoven liked messing with the listener’s expectations. You can especially here this in the beginning of this piece. Also of interest is the expanded use of dynamics — it gets louder and software than Mozart generally did. And then there is much more use of the wind instruments, which adds a lot of color — something that becomes more clear as time goes on.

Many classical music fans think of it as being summed up with the Three Bs: Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms — cleverly skipping my two favorite periods of classical music. But there are three towering figures of the Classical period: Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven (although as you will see later, he’s more of a transitional composer). Yesterday, we listened to some early Haydn. We could now very easily listen to some late Haydn. But there is no way I am getting through the Classical period without Mozart.

One of my big complaints with the way many people treat Mozart is to assume he was some kind of composing machine. Clearly, this has much to do with Amadeus. It would make an interesting week of music to show Mozart’s progression throughout his life. He was always hugely talented, of course. But his juvenilia is very clearly that. If you want to get an idea of this, check out his very first symphony, which he wrote at the age of 8. It’s a fine piece of music — and shockingly great for someone that young. But compare it to his Symphony No 40 — written three years before his death.

The really tragic thing about him is that the last six years of his life were stunning with regard to his production. Just in terms of opera: The Marriage of Figaro, Don Giovanni, and The Magic Flute. But today, I want to highlight an instrumental work that he wrote at the beginning of this incredibly productive period, the Piano Concerto No 23. What’s interesting here is the way that the modulation from one key to another is seamless. It’s particularly exciting in the third act. It is the Platonic ideal the Classical period music:

Since I feel like I’m a little less crushed for time with the new schedule, I thought it might be a good idea to return to our survey of classical music. When last we left it, we were at the end of the Baroque period, Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach. You can check there for a full list of the week’s posts. And so today, we start at the beginning of the classical period.

As you can no doubt understand, the periods are not exactly clear. Obviously, people were still playing and composing Baroque music well into the classical period. Interestingly, one of the very greatest Baroque composers, Antonio Vivaldi, was all but forgotten until the 20th century, when the great violinist Fritz Kreisler wrote a violin concerto and attributed it to Vivaldi. But what you will notice is that there is not a huge difference between the best work of the late Baroque and that of the early Classical period. In fact, my late Baroque composer CPE Bach is really more of a Classical computer.

The first great composer of the Classical period is Joseph Haydn. (Let’s set aside Gluck for now.) In fact, other than Mozart, there is no one I like as well. In fact, the two men were very close friends. I think that Haydn was kind of a father figure to Mozart — but one who wasn’t a total prick like his real father. I wrote about their special relationship last year, The Son Joseph Haydn Never Had. But Haydn lived such a long time that it would be wrong to think about him only with regard to the early Classical period.

So let’s listen to an early quartet. It was composed in 1763, when Haydn was just 31 years old. As time goes on, it gets harder to be clear about what is changing. There are a few things that stick out to me, however. First is the lack of ornamentation. In the same way that the worst of Romantic period music mindlessly uses chromatic scales, Baroque often ornamented melodies out of existence. There’s also more harmonic structure, with phrases driving to resolution. But it is also, and most importantly I think, less academic — more emotional. This is his Quartet No 8 in E major. I’m sorry, but I could not find a professional live recording of it. Understandably, professionals tend to stick with his later and more refined work. This is still quite beautiful:

Well, it is the end of our Leo Kottke week. A week of music is very different for you than it is for me. I end up listening to far more music than I post. In this case, pretty much all of his first 12 albums. It’s kind of hard to believe, although his albums don’t tend to be that long. Regardless, it was very enjoyable. There are a lot of great technicians — especially on the guitar — who lose sight of making their music enjoyable. But that never happens to Kottke. He always makes really enjoyable music.

The following is a performance of his at the Bottom Line. It revisits a couple of tunes, and moves into some of his later work. It is well worth listening to. And then after you are done, check out the second part.

You will have to forgive me for spending a second day on Leo Kottke. This is the end of the week, except for tomorrow when I plan to post a whole set by Kottke. And I realized that I hadn’t made it very far through his career. But at this point, he starts to mix it up more — singing, using a band, and also not being on YouTube. So I figured we would stop on this album and it would make a good overview of his early music.

Today we listen to a very nice slide guitar number, “Up Tempo.” It’s a beautiful tune — managing to be both upbeat and sad at the same time. Also, kind of funny.

In 1976, Leo Kottke moved to the now defunct Chrysalis Records. His first album for them was the self-titled, Leo Kottke. It consists only of instrumentals — except for the first song, Nashville session musician Bob Morris’ “Buckaroo.” The songs are produced in a much more evocative way than had been the case before. They could easily have been used for a film score.

Today, we are going to listen to “Airproofing.” It is hard driving, relentless number. I haven’t mentioned it this week, but Kottke has done a number of Baroque pieces. There are a lot of Baroque aspects to his music. “Airproofing” doesn’t sound Baroque, but it still contains a lot of the techniques typical of the period. And the first time you listen to it, it’s kind of like watching a tightrope walker. But trust me: he doesn’t fall. Just enjoy the music.

In 1974, Leo Kottke put out one of his most successful albums, the all instrumental Dreams and All That Stuff. There is a lot of production on the album, which I tend to think is more about making the process more fun for him than us. Although it is generally effective, especially on When Shrimps Learn to Whistle (which you should check out).

Today, we listen to a very pretty song that still makes me slightly sad with its longing, “Mona Ray.” It’s easy to get caught up in his technique, but the music really is beautiful. It’s easiest to experience by not watching him as he plays. But it is wondrous regardless.

Next in our journey through the career of Leo Kottke, we have 1972’s Greenhouse. He sings a lot more on this album. And at times, he’s very good. For example, check out Tiny Island. He also does a few songs by John Fahey — probably the biggest influence on Kottke’s style. The album is a true solo album — except for the last track on the album, it is just Kottke with his guitar. And it was recorded in just three days.

The song I’ve chosen today is, “The Spanish Entomologist.” It is really too delightful for words. It’s a medley. It starts with “Grand Texas” — but you probably know it from the Hank Williams classic “Jambalaya (On the Bayou).” (That would be a good week of music — following that progression.) And then he transitions into the Sons of the Pioneers song “Tumbling Tumbleweeds.” And then back. Unfortunately, I can’t find a live version of the song, so here is the title track with nothing to look at but the album cover. Not that it matters; it’s two and a half music of joy.

In 1971, Leo Kottke had his major label debut with Mudlark. I’m very inclined to present his 12-string version of Eight Miles High. But you can check that out on your own. Instead, we can listen to another song where he sings, “Hear the Wind Howl.” The truth is, I’m not that fond of him singing. It’s not that it’s bad, but he is the kind of musician where you want him to just shut up and play his guitar. Of course, his playing is as great regardless of what else he’s doing. That’s true here where he does some beautiful slide work.

I was going to get back onto my history of classical music, but it’s kind of time consuming and I’m working a lot right now. Also, I was listening to Pandora the other day and a song came on that blew me away. The guitar playing was unbelievably great. So I rushed back to the computer and saw that it was Leo Kottke. That didn’t surprise me. But it had been a while since I had listened to him. It’s easy to forget just how awesome he is.

So let’s start with a track from his first album 6- and 12-String Guitar, “Busted Bicycle.” This is from a recent concert, shot on a phone. But the sound is okay and the video doesn’t annoy me. What it shows is how much you can do with an open tuning. But if it weren’t for his amazing right-hand picking, it just wouldn’t work. That’s not to say that his left hand isn’t great. He makes it look easy. But then, he always does.