Liberated from all chains
Linz, the summer of 1861. Anton Bruckner sits hunched over a sheet of music paper. He is doing his homework. Today the curriculum set by his teacher Otto Kitzler includes a dance. In itself, not an unusual situation for a student; at least, were the "student", Anton Bruckner, not already 37 years old. After six years of intensive instruction in music theory with Simon Sechter, he has now decided to also study "free composition". And so once again, he has elected to return to the school benches, this time under the tutelage of the Linz conductor Otto Kitzler. Again, theory is the core subject, but this time placed in a more practical setting, dealing with form and instrumentation. For Bruckner is interested in composing. On July 10, 1863, after two years of study, he feels ready and receives his requested, formal "acquittal" from Kitzler, as was formerly given to the apprentice. Now, once again he is staring down at his sheet of music paper: the familiar blank page that needs to be filled. With bold ideas, new concepts, individual solutions. Although Bruckner probably never actually said that he felt "like a yard dog, which has broken loose from its chain" (Max Auer probably put these words in the composer's mouth) after his acquittal, he now felt safe in his acquired creative freedom. His breakthrough as a composer came in 1864, after writing the first of his three major masses. His friend and patron, Moritz von Mayfeld, wrote a brilliant review following the première of his Mass in D minor, in which Bruckner's future seems to have been put down in words, as a kind of prophecy: "December 18, 1864 can be deemed the day when Bruckner's shining star first rose in the horizon in its full glory. [...] If the theorem is correct – and it is correct – that only someone with new ideas is entitled to compose, and that a craftsman-like manufacturing of pieces in accordance with purely technical rules is no real gain to art, then we may consider Anton Bruckner a fully fledged composer. [...] The astonishment and admiration for Bruckner's genius increases, if one takes into consideration that his acquaintance with both modern and past masterpieces is relatively highly limited, and that therefore he prefers to base his works on his own compositional skills. On the other hand, of course, precisely this circumstance stands him in very good stead, as he is thus free of voluntary and involuntary reminiscences and can go his own way, with the greatest of originality. It is hard to tell exactly where this way will lead him, due to his unusually rich musical imagination and expertise. Just one thing is sure: that in the near future, should he cultivate the field of the symphony, he would indeed cultivate it with the greatest of success. In this field and also that of chamber music [...] we may expect valuable additions to German music from Bruckner." And from now on Bruckner dedicated himself to the symphony with verve and tenacious commitment, until the day he died.
Even as late as the 1980s, musicologists believed that Bruckner's Symphony No. 1 in C minor was, in fact, his third contribution to the genre. After his Symphony in F minor, which dates from 1863 and bears the title "Schularbeit 863" (= homework) in Bruckner's study book (which he kept religiously), the Nullte (= zero) Symphony in D minor was assumed to be his second work. A misinterpretation of the sources led to this assessment. As everyone knows by now, Bruckner did not write his Nullte Symphony until 1869: in other words, after his Symphony No. 1, which he composed between January 1865 and April 1866. The composer probably annulled his first D-minor symphony around the time he wrote Symphony No. 3, (also in D minor), thus during 1872-73. This theory is supported by both the crossed zero in the manuscript (Ø) – a customary deletion sign! – and Bruckner's remarks in the sheet music: "Highly trivial", and; "This symphony is utterly invalid. (Only an attempt)." This permits us to conclude – as did Wolfram Steinbeck – that Bruckner considered his Symphony No. 3 to be the "better" D-minor work.
Directly following the success of the previously mentioned Mass in D minor, Bruckner decided to approach his Symphony No. 1 in medias res. And how. The world had not seen such a symphonic début since Beethoven and Berlioz. A début full of radicalism and innovation. And thus it is no surprise that the world première, which Bruckner himself conducted in May 1868, left the provincial audiences in Linz feeling more puzzled than enthusiastic. Here a new intellect had stridden on stage, trying out his own capacities, rather than showing any special consideration for his audience. As a consequence, the work was not performed again for almost two decades, when the symphony was performed in Vienna – and even this is characteristic of Bruckner's works – in a new version. Mayfeld's above-quoted review of the D-minor Mass appears to have given Bruckner a real boost, combined with his acquittal from Kitzler. And the words of encouragement from his friend Kapellmeister Ignaz Dorn did the rest. Thanks to him, Bruckner became acquainted with the works of Berlioz and Liszt. Dorn also confirmed and perhaps even unleashed Bruckner's own originality and creativity, thus enabling the composer to enter pastures new.
In his Symphony No. 1, one can already recognize the fundamental elements of Bruckner's highly personal concept of a symphony. This concept formed to some extent the matrix for (almost) all his symphonic works, which ultimately represented a kind of "work in progress". Each work provides a more individualized example of the Bruckner symphony model. As is already the case in his student Symphony in F minor, the first movement of each symphony follows the three-theme structure typical of Bruckner. The first theme appears in its finished form. Following crotchet-note beats in the low strings, it rises in piano in the first violins and solo horn during eight bars: a throbbing, forward-striving, almost defiant march theme, which impresses one thing in particular on the listener; it is going in one direction only – and that direction is forward. The "song theme" in the violins remains an episode. As is so often the case with Bruckner, it remains unclear which is the main and which is the secondary voice. The following third theme, a unison figure in the upper strings swirled about by strings passes through a period of intensification to the outbreak of a new section with a mighty theme in the trombone that rings out over demisemiquaver-figurations in the high strings, sweeping over the music like a storm. Musicologists have associated this section of the symphony with Bruckner's affinity to Wagner, and have referred to corresponding passages in Tannhäuser. In the development too, this Tannhäuser-quote returns again in quite a determined manner; however, as it is necessarily subjected to the processing nature of the development, it returns here in a contrapuntal inversion. The recapitulation increases the exposition to gigantic proportions; here, Bruckner tries out his "liberated from all chains" side – with ever-increasing intensifications, exactly as he pleases, until the coda concludes the movement with the rhythm of the main theme played by the full orchestra.
In the Adagio (of which there are two versions), Bruckner turns the listener into his accomplice. One appears to be actually witnessing the emergence of thematic figures. The music is hesitant, unsure of which direction to take. The musical material contains a vast explosive intensification potential, especially as regards harmony. Not until his Symphony No. 9 does such harmonic daring reappear. It is very different to the middle part, where Bruckner concentrates purely on the melody. Is this part perhaps the actual song theme?
After this unusual and novel development of the movement, the Scherzo returns to more traditional footing. The various parts of the Scherzo are full of rhythmic momentum. Here, it pounds away; there, it whirls away at top volume. In the trio, which is dominated by the woodwind, the music is more clearly organized and, at the same time, more melodious.
Dietmar Holland aptly described the finale as follows: "...here all hell breaks loose and the music literally comes apart at the seams." Both the style and the manner of the first movement are once again taken up here; however, in a more excessive and highly intensified manner. This movement is wild, divorced from all conventions, just blithely youthful – at least, if one may still use that term to describe a 41-year-old composer... . The breakthrough of the themes – a characteristic typical of Bruckner's later symphonies – also appears here, when the beginning of the main theme, this time in a bright C major, paves the way for itself, before the culminating, chorale-like unison theme in the coda concludes the work. The blank sheet of music paper has been filled.

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