Early on there were three I could not understand: Haydn, Mendelssohn, and Schubert.
Schubert, first approached at age 14, seemed redundant and flat. I tried many avenues, specifically symphonies 8, 9, and especially Death and the Maiden; there may have been other works now forgotten. The string quartet did have some excitement to it, and I listened to it a fair amount, but I remember trying to like it more for the girl (this quartet being a favorite of hers) rather than for the music itself.
Toward the end of high school, I remember a teacher saying of FS, “Oh, but I like his melodies.” So I gave him another try. Likely due to my own musical maturation, my impression was completely changed. Eight destroyed my previous opinions. This would have been the 1975 Berlin/Karajan. Even then I can recall understanding how this was a completely rounded and expressive piece despite its “Unfinished” moniker. A study in “threeness” (circles and lives rather than squares and artifacts), perfectly balanced between the two movements. Karajan’s slow tempo in the second movement, still to my liking today, probably helped changed my understanding quite a bit. But the full reversal of opinion would have more likely been due to the life-drama of the first movement.
At the exact same time, Leon Fleisher released Two Hands. I bought it out of fascination with the story of his right hand restoration. I didn’t fall in love with most of the disc, although some of it was familiar and pleasing to me (Jesu and Claire de Lune, for example); but then there was the final work, D960. This nearly ended me, particularly the first two movements. This would have been the same time I was discovering the Beethoven piano sonatas; D960 had its similarities, but somehow occupied an even later place. I knew Schubert’s years of course, but it was in my learning of the opus posthumous that I realized how absurd it was for a 31 year old (dying or otherwise) to hear/transcribe this kind of sound.
Mendelssohn took longer. At first, I remember him being backward—too classical, anything but innovative. “Scottish” and “Italian” seemed like silly subtitles for symphonies; and why was a German writing a Hebrides overture? I did like the War March of the Priests (NYP/Bernstein), but that seemed more like pageantry than Serious music. Things turned in college, and it was likely Fifth Symphony that did it. I had matured again, growing in my love of Bruckner; once you understand Bruckner, Mendelssohn easily follows. He’s probably the most religious composer of the nineteenth century, after Bruckner. There are those moments where you can tell he (Bruckner, or Mendelssohn) has limited knowledge of a greater domain, but the beauty within that plane is so great that even if he could transcribe it, the result would be too much. Learning the symphonies in reverse, 5 to 1, was a sacred experience.
The last was Haydn. Even in my mid twenties, it was nearly impossible for me to make it through a symphony without losing interest. The string quartets were worse. At some point I was cleaning up my Karajan collection, and came across the late 50s/early 60s VPO Decca releases. These included 103 and 104, what became my entry points. Shortly after I heard 88 with Berlin and Furtwängler, a spectacular recording. The problem before was that I was comparing JH to Beethoven, and Beethoven he is not. Haydn is a marvelous composer, but I think he wrote music mainly in order to write music. It’s very English in a lot of ways; the drama is there and everything seems to make good sense, but even the most inspiring sections are more delightful than awe-inducing. But if the orchestra can sing, these are indeed worthwhile journeys.