This concerto, as well as the one in E-flat, was probably composed in
1848. It was revised in 1856 and in 1861, and published in 1863. It is
dedicated to Hans von Bronsart, by whom it was played for the first time
January 7, 1857, at Weimar.
The autograph manuscript of this concerto bore the title, "Concert
Symphonique," and, as Mr. Apthorp once remarked, "The work might be
called a symphonic poem for pianoforte and orchestra, with the title,
'The Life and Adventures of a Melody.'"
The concerto is in one movement. The first and chief theme binds the
various episodes into an organic whole. Adagio sostenuto assai, A
major, 3-4. The first theme is announced at once by wood-wind
instruments. It is a moaning and wailing theme, accompanied by harmonies
shifting in tonality. The pianoforte gives in arpeggios the first
transformation of this musical thought and in massive chords the second
transformation. The horn begins a new and dreamy song. After a short
cadenza of the solo instrument a more brilliant theme in D minor is
introduced and developed by both pianoforte and orchestra. A powerful
crescendo (pianoforte alternating with string and wood-wind instruments)
leads to a scherzo-like section of the concerto, Allegro agitato assai,
B-flat minor, 6-8. A side motive fortissimo (pianoforte) leads to a
quiet middle section. Allegro moderato, which is built substantially on
the chief theme (solo 'cello). A subsidiary theme, introduced by the
pianoforte, is continued by flute and oboe, and there is a return to the
first motive. A pianoforte cadenza leads to a new tempo. Allegro deciso,
in which rhythms of already noted themes are combined, and a new theme
appears (violas and 'cellos), which at last leads back to the tempo of
the quasi-scherzo. But let us use the words of Mr. Apthorp rather than a
dry analytical sketch: 'From this point onward the concerto is one
unbroken series of kaleidoscopic effects of the most brilliant and
ever-changing description; of musical form, of musical coherence even,
there is less and less. It is as if some magician in some huge cave,
the walls of which were covered with glistening stalactites and flashing
jewels, were revealing his fill of all the wonders of colour,
brilliancy, and dazzling light his wand could command. Never has even
Liszt rioted more unreservedly in fitful orgies of flashing colour. It
is monstrous, formless, whimsical, and fantastic, if you will; but it is
also magical and gorgeous as anything in the Arabian Nights. It is its
very daring and audacity that save it. And ever and anon the first
wailing melody, with its unearthly chromatic harmony, returns in one
shape or another, as if it were the dazzled neophyte to whom the
magician Liszt were showing all these splendours, while initiating it
into the mysteries of the world of magic, until it, too, becomes
magical, and possessed of the power of working wonders by black art.'