The Devil's Trill Sonata: An Analysis (Part 5 - The Final Movement)
- cdlawrieofficial
- Jun 6, 2021
- 6 min read
This is the 5th (and final, finally) part in a five-part series thoroughly analyzing Giuseppe Tartini’s The Devil’s Trill Sonata. If you want to learn about the history of Tartini and the fascinating story behind the piece, click here for Part 1, here for Part 2 in which I broke down my favourite first movement, here for Part 3 for the humorous 2nd movement, AAANDD here for the mournful 3rd movement!
Congratulations, you made it to the end. I applaud you. Now buckle in because this fourth and final movement is a ride.
I’m going to be honest that 99% of my brain has no clue what’s happening, and that reading along with the sheet music was a test on my eyesight. Plus, around bar 279 I got lost and had to do a serious rewind. For that reason, I plead with anyone who wants to properly follow along to go to the site where I found this sheet music (provided below) and take a gander at the whole thing, not just the snippets. But I’m going to try my best to walk us both through this, step by step, and perhaps we’ll focus more on the emotional side than the technical, for no particular reason…
Take a moment and appreciate the comparable simplicity of this opening (beginning at 8:36 in the linked here) in comparison to the rest of what we’re about to encounter, because this is only one of two sections I could easily follow along with. I think of this movement as a descent into insanity, and this literal descent of notes that clues into that.
Funnily enough, these few lines harkened back to my favourite part of the first movement in which I first discussed double stops. It’s quite languid and pretty, yet still holds that tinge of wrongness that alludes to a final disintegration. That’s exemplified at the end of bar 236, leading into 237, where the once soft piano become a resentful forte.
Cue our freefall into a horrifying number of sharps, flats, and naturals, with our favourite trills adorning it all. You begin to see why I labelled this movement as I did, yes?
This just hurts my soul to look at, but I think we’re finally witnessing the infamous double stop trills. In reality, it’s a gripping build to a painful break that eerily echoes the 3rd movement (we’ll get there), but I have to apologize at this point for the fact that most of this movement sits far above my musical capabilities and limited technical knowledge. I take my hat off to any musician, classical or not, that has the patience, dedication, and skill to undertake a challenge such as this.
The snippet above is from the current movement we’re looking at, and the one below that is from the previous. Especially in bar 267, you can see it perfectly mirrors the opening rhythm of the 3rd movement. After such intense madness, having gotten whiplash from the twists and turns thus far, it’s perfectly placed, really. It’s an emotional break. Not saying that there haven’t been dramatics up until now (because oh, have there been dynamics) but it’s the first time we’re able to really sit in it. And having it call back to the all-encompassing heartache of the narrative before this final chapter is quite genius. We’re at the edge of the cliff, staring down at the abyss we’re about to plunge into. And plunge we do…
After a bit of repetition from what we’ve already covered, we are greeted by this monstrosity. I mean, if I had wrongly claimed any double strop trills had existed than before this moment, this rectifies that error a hundred times over. It almost looks orderly at first glance, but once you begin to take a closer look, it’s simple lunacy. It sounds nice, reminiscent of a scene in a horror movie, but I’m sure it’s of equal horror to execute successfully. In everything we’ve covered up until this, I’ve been able to at least understand and appreciate the difficulties and intricacies that were at play. Now I’m just nodding and smiling along, as I’m sure you are too. But let’s not let this deter us as we head to the part of the novel that is this behemoth of sheet music in which I got lost…
In my defense, I got lost because I thought this was too complicated to match what I was hearing. The fault was on my ear, however, as this was played so softly and delicately that unless you’re listening for the certain intonations and patterns, it’s easy to miss. It’s a lovely section though, lasting for several pages, and brings to my mind the image of a villain dancing alone slowly in a dim lit ballroom. The elegance and sweeping motion became peaceful, in a demented way, as the tone of it (probably due to all the accidentals) holds a tenseness that makes you feel uneasy.
I don’t want to talk about this…(because I don’t know what it IS).
This section, if none other, if not even the movement regarded as a whole, with every minute detail, subtlety, and passage taken into account, screams “insanity” to me. Not in the technical sense as I’ve been repeatedly insisting upon, but as an emotion. And in this particular recording, the violinist ensures that feeling is exuded with every inflection.
My all-time favourite visual piece of art is a painting called “Fallen Angel” by Alexandre Cabanel. For this climactic close to the finale, it is a perfect portrayal of what I imagine to be a living being’s experience of damnation and the subsequent loss of self in insanity.
I know it’s difficult for a lot of people, even weathered musicians, to listen to classical music. Some need the lyrics to hold onto, some don’t have the patience, and others (especially those who, for lack of a better word, don’t understand the music in a technical sense) just get lost in it. And I understand all those perspectives. Lyrics are often what makes a song my favourite, I’m one of the most impatient people in the world, and (as you could probably tell as I struggled through this last movement) am not educated enough by far to fully be able to appreciate a lot of what I listen to. But the reason why The Devil’s Trill Sonata is my favourite classical piece is because of the story. No, I’m not referring to Tartini’s dream, despite its charm. I mean the story of the piece as a whole, and each chapter that it consists of. From the duet of Tartini and the devil I imagined from the first movement, to “the dance to hell” of the second, even to my assignment of “Fallen Angel” for the climax…those are all stories. They’re mine, but like I had previously discussed in the second part of this series, is that it’s the interpretation and personal meaning the listener gives to a song, or a piece, what have you, that makes it their music. That’s very special. And I’m not able to do this for every classical piece, or even every modern or mainstream song, I listen to. But I have, and do, with The Devil’s Trill and the simplest way to explain why is to point out that a staple of the Baroque era was that one melodic line, one idea, would be consistent throughout the whole piece. That’s exists here. Never mind the technical intricacies that are fun to talk about and even more fun to pretend to be appalled by, it’s that idea, that weight, that story that lives in this piece that I just don’t feel exists in every single classical composition. That’s why I encourage anyone who doesn’t hold a particular fondness for classical music (even though I can’t imagine many non-classical musicians would have gotten this far) to listen to The Devil’s Trill Sonata in its entirety. Or just start with the first movement, and my favourite part. Try to see what I see. The beauty of instrumentals is that you can indulge in your imagination, without constraints or the weight of lyrics confining you to what the writer has told you to feel. The Devil’s Trill is a beautiful place to have that, to find it again if it’s been lost. So, take advantage of it. Like children do.
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