Sound Bites: 'Consolation No. 3' by Franz Liszt

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Daniel Barenboim playing Franz Liszt's 'Consolation No. 3'

‘Art is to console those who are broken by life’ wrote Van Gogh. Some would argue that you do not need to be ‘broken by life’ to seek consolation from art. Others would argue that art is not about consolation, that its purpose is to disturb and reinvigorate, or ‘make it new’ in the words of modernist pioneer and disruptor Ezra Pound. Even Emily Dickinson, whom we might think of as a quiet recluse, said ‘If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.’ Robert Frost described poetry as a ‘momentary stay against confusion’ – so not necessarily a consolation then, but a clarification, or at least a pause in proceedings, in which to reflect. Driving home from the supermarket late one night, after a last-minute Christmas shopping trip I was definitely in need of something (consolation, invigoration or otherwise) and was delighted when, from the radio, came the sound of Liszt’s ‘Consolation No. 3’, which up until that point I’d  never heard before. It was only until after the music had finished that I discovered the title, and was intrigued by the simplicity and directness of it — the idea that an artist would simply say ‘here is some music to console you’. I found there to be something plain, unpretentious, refreshing and, actually, bold about this approach by Liszt. In the tumult of Christmas with its travelling and preparing and wrapping and cooking and everything else, this three and bit minutes of piano was revelatory. I think I may always remember the stretch of road I was driving on that night as I heard its melody for the first time. Scholars argue over its inspiration but there seems to be a strong argument for it being inspired or at least connected to poetry in one way or another. Published in 1850, Consolations, a set of six solo works by Franz Liszt is also referred to as Six pensées poétiques (six poetic thoughts), and is thought to be inspired by the poem ‘Une Larme, ou Consolation’ by Lamartine. Another reported  source of this meditative piano sequence is Saint-Beuve’s poem Consolations published in 1830. Whatever is the case, it made me think about how great art remains, and speaks to us, almost seeks out in its own way, over time, through the ages, and how it survives. If I took consolation from anything in this piece of music, it is just that. In 1883 it is said that Liszt was sent a Grand piano from Steinway, which had a sustenato (sustaining) pedal, and after acquiring the instrument he transcribed Consolation No. 3 afresh, with adaptations including the pedal, to make some of the notes linger that bit longer. I wonder if he ever could have conceived of the notion that, some 132 years later, his notes would be lingering yet.