For the last six years, I have spent a good bit of time on the theory and composition side of my career. Starting today, I'm coming out of retirement as a pianist. (I'm only 41, so it's not time to hang up my hat just yet. And I actually do have a hat.)
This summer, barring some unforseen events, I plan to get back into gear as a pianist. Perhaps blogging about the process will contribute to my momentum.
The repertoire:
a new program for the coming year which I hope to perform numerous times -
Bach Prelude and Fugue in E minor, WTC Book I
Mozart C Major Sonata K. 330
Some Messiaen work (suggestions anyone?)
and Schumann Fantasy
The Back and Mozart are old pieces and the Schumann and I casually dated a few times in the mid-90s.
Plus, a Rachmaninoff program to be performed with my excellent string colleagues, Ron and Annabelle Gardiner: Cello Sonata, Elegiac Trio, and Vocalise.
The plan:
Learn one movement of the Schumann and one of the other pieces each month -
May - Bach
June - Mozart
July/August - Messiaen
Today I put in a little time with four of Persichetti's mirror studies. There are 16 in all. I'm aiming at an average of four a day so as to get through the cycle once a week over the summer.
I also practiced sightreading today. I haven't really practiced sightreading regularly since I was a child. Today's selections included "El Albaicin" of Albeniz. There's some tricky whole-tone stuff in there.
I also listened to Rachmaninoff's tone-poem The Rock this morning and read the liner notes then spent some quiet time admiring nature. I feel like a student again!
Day 1, pretty good.
Showing posts with label Rachmaninoff. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rachmaninoff. Show all posts
Monday, May 06, 2013
Tuesday, March 01, 2011
King David
On Friday, I was listening to a recording of Josef Hoffmann playing Rachmaninoff's C-Sharp Minor Prelude, and with the first three notes, I remembered the term "sound picture" or "tone picture" that I think I first encountered in an older book about Beethoven.
That Rachmaninoff prelude is so vivid that images and emotions immediately came into play and moved me away from thinking of musical values like harmonic progressions and the performer's inflections that usually occupy my mind when I'm listening.
Friday evening, I attended Rich Balach's senior recital and had similarly fresh and transporting experiences listening to Wolf's "Schlafendes Jesuskind" and "Begegnung."
Last night, I had the privilege and fun of playing piano in Southeastern's performance of Honneger's King David. The work is a compelling choice for a college department to present. It's a masterpiece involving a variety of 20th century techniques in addition to being a little Hebraic and a little Handelian. It's challenging for the performers, but not as forbiddingly difficult as a 20th century work can be. There are lots of solos, each of which is brief, of a distinct character, and has a few difficulties of pitch or rhythm. Thus, lots of students get to sing manageable but challenging solos.
In the midst of all of this is the conductor who, on this occasion, was our own very capable Dr. Dan Gordon. This was my first time playing an extended work with him and I was impressed with his conducting clarity and presence of mind. He made me think of a World War I fighter pilot, exposed to the elements, piloting, sometimes upside down, through clouds of bitonal bullets and metrical mayhem - an odd image, but an appropriate one for a work premiered in 1921.
As a member of the chamber orchestra playing this performance, I had the perspective of a pianist sitting in front of singers, behind trumpets, next to a keyboardist (playing harmonium and celesta parts), and at the opposite side of the room from the percussion, cello, and trombone. What I heard was not what the audience heard since I was sitting two feet from the piano and positioned as I just described. So while I'd like to hear the overall product, I did get to know about some details that the audience didn't experience as fully as I did. This is one of the reasons that playing in performances of works like this is so valuable. You get an entirely different perspective on the work involving a different kind of intimacy. While the experience provides another way of understanding the work that I could share with others, it is primarily meaningful and special to me.
This particular piano part is a very enjoyable part to play once you get over the fact that you are counting for much of an hour and half while also trying to calibrate your musicality to the movements of the conductor. Actually, those things can be pleasurable, too, but they require discipline.
During our rehearsals and the performance, I started to appreciate the extent and power of Honneger's "tone painting" in this work. Similar to my experiences with Hindemith, once I accepted Honneger's techniques as a part of his language, I could more readily focus on how masterfully clear he is in conveying the experiences that his "symphonic psalm" is all about. His constant responsiveness to text is something he shares with Handel.
A few examples from the piano corner:
#2 The Song of David, the Shepherd - the chromatic counterpoint within a small range throughout beautifully conveys the feeling of the "quiet pool" of the text, but it can also convey a sense of disquietude as David desires restoration of spirit, protection from pain, and so forth.
#4 Song of Victory - the energy of this choral writing is totally galvanizing. I'm surprised that this brief chorus hasn't become a musical icon to be used by HBO and others alongside the opening of Carmina Burana and the Dies Irae from Verdi's Requiem.
#6 Psalm: In the Lord I put my Faith - the piano chimes in with tremelo and vaulting patterns at "Flee like any bird unto the mountain" instantaneously transporting the listener to a different clime. It is also in this number that the pianist gets to strum the first harp-like chords that frequently accompany David in his many moods throughout the oratorio.
#11 Psalm: God the Lord shall be my light - the rhythm of the piano part is positively infectious and underscores the joy of triumph over a dangerous foe as described in the text.
#12 Incantation of the Witch of Endor - I've been involved with a couple of performances of King David and this number seems to capture the imaginations of the listeners the most. It's about an incident with Saul and a witch that is probably kind of obscure to a lot of us. Honneger has his own fresh way of painting the creepy sound-world of such a scene. In a way, it's in the tradition of Berlioz. But it strikes me that to paint his scene, Honneger doesn't resort to anything particularly novel in terms of instrumentation or instrumental techniques (for his time) as Berlioz did. To me, the two pianissimo interjections played by the piano at "Appear! Appear!" seem as erie as any woodwind bending its pitches. Of couse, a lot of the imaginative impact of this movement comes from the spoken monodrama.
At the end of #12 there's a strange chord, one that's physically uncomfortable to play for both hands. There's so much sound going on when you play it that I doubt anyone could discern if you just played a more comfortable cluster in each hand. I tried that in rehearsal and it sounded pretty much the same to me. But in the performance, I played Honneger's chord. Maybe he wanted the pianist to feel a little uncomfortable there, and at the very least, I'm sure the pitches he wrote fit logically with everyone else's notes at that moment.
#16 The Dance before the Ark - includes a very striking chord change in an already sparkly bit of writing for the piano at the word "splendour" in the phrase "O radiance of the morn and the splendour of noon, Mighty God be with us."
#18 Song of the Handmaid - has a questionable instrumentation choice, I think. In a pretty transparent texture, piano and flute play short notes together in a high register, and the tuning is problematic, given the nature of the instruments themselves. But maybe that slight disagreement about pitch is what Honneger wanted - an imitation of the sounds of crickets David could have heard when he rose from his bed to walk around the roof of the palace one evening and saw Bathsheba.
#19 Psalm of Repentance - puts words of repentance in the mouths of both male and female choristers which made me think of David and Bathsheba repenting together. That's a scene I'd never thought of before.
This brings me to a final general reflection on King David. Before the concert, Dr. Gordon prayed a thoughtful prayer that emphasized that David was human in all the best and worst ways that we are, too. I believe Honneger's music communicates the richness of that human story. Indeed, it restores humanity to a familar character from the pages of the Bible.
That Rachmaninoff prelude is so vivid that images and emotions immediately came into play and moved me away from thinking of musical values like harmonic progressions and the performer's inflections that usually occupy my mind when I'm listening.
Friday evening, I attended Rich Balach's senior recital and had similarly fresh and transporting experiences listening to Wolf's "Schlafendes Jesuskind" and "Begegnung."
Last night, I had the privilege and fun of playing piano in Southeastern's performance of Honneger's King David. The work is a compelling choice for a college department to present. It's a masterpiece involving a variety of 20th century techniques in addition to being a little Hebraic and a little Handelian. It's challenging for the performers, but not as forbiddingly difficult as a 20th century work can be. There are lots of solos, each of which is brief, of a distinct character, and has a few difficulties of pitch or rhythm. Thus, lots of students get to sing manageable but challenging solos.
In the midst of all of this is the conductor who, on this occasion, was our own very capable Dr. Dan Gordon. This was my first time playing an extended work with him and I was impressed with his conducting clarity and presence of mind. He made me think of a World War I fighter pilot, exposed to the elements, piloting, sometimes upside down, through clouds of bitonal bullets and metrical mayhem - an odd image, but an appropriate one for a work premiered in 1921.
As a member of the chamber orchestra playing this performance, I had the perspective of a pianist sitting in front of singers, behind trumpets, next to a keyboardist (playing harmonium and celesta parts), and at the opposite side of the room from the percussion, cello, and trombone. What I heard was not what the audience heard since I was sitting two feet from the piano and positioned as I just described. So while I'd like to hear the overall product, I did get to know about some details that the audience didn't experience as fully as I did. This is one of the reasons that playing in performances of works like this is so valuable. You get an entirely different perspective on the work involving a different kind of intimacy. While the experience provides another way of understanding the work that I could share with others, it is primarily meaningful and special to me.
This particular piano part is a very enjoyable part to play once you get over the fact that you are counting for much of an hour and half while also trying to calibrate your musicality to the movements of the conductor. Actually, those things can be pleasurable, too, but they require discipline.
During our rehearsals and the performance, I started to appreciate the extent and power of Honneger's "tone painting" in this work. Similar to my experiences with Hindemith, once I accepted Honneger's techniques as a part of his language, I could more readily focus on how masterfully clear he is in conveying the experiences that his "symphonic psalm" is all about. His constant responsiveness to text is something he shares with Handel.
A few examples from the piano corner:
#2 The Song of David, the Shepherd - the chromatic counterpoint within a small range throughout beautifully conveys the feeling of the "quiet pool" of the text, but it can also convey a sense of disquietude as David desires restoration of spirit, protection from pain, and so forth.
#4 Song of Victory - the energy of this choral writing is totally galvanizing. I'm surprised that this brief chorus hasn't become a musical icon to be used by HBO and others alongside the opening of Carmina Burana and the Dies Irae from Verdi's Requiem.
#6 Psalm: In the Lord I put my Faith - the piano chimes in with tremelo and vaulting patterns at "Flee like any bird unto the mountain" instantaneously transporting the listener to a different clime. It is also in this number that the pianist gets to strum the first harp-like chords that frequently accompany David in his many moods throughout the oratorio.
#11 Psalm: God the Lord shall be my light - the rhythm of the piano part is positively infectious and underscores the joy of triumph over a dangerous foe as described in the text.
#12 Incantation of the Witch of Endor - I've been involved with a couple of performances of King David and this number seems to capture the imaginations of the listeners the most. It's about an incident with Saul and a witch that is probably kind of obscure to a lot of us. Honneger has his own fresh way of painting the creepy sound-world of such a scene. In a way, it's in the tradition of Berlioz. But it strikes me that to paint his scene, Honneger doesn't resort to anything particularly novel in terms of instrumentation or instrumental techniques (for his time) as Berlioz did. To me, the two pianissimo interjections played by the piano at "Appear! Appear!" seem as erie as any woodwind bending its pitches. Of couse, a lot of the imaginative impact of this movement comes from the spoken monodrama.
At the end of #12 there's a strange chord, one that's physically uncomfortable to play for both hands. There's so much sound going on when you play it that I doubt anyone could discern if you just played a more comfortable cluster in each hand. I tried that in rehearsal and it sounded pretty much the same to me. But in the performance, I played Honneger's chord. Maybe he wanted the pianist to feel a little uncomfortable there, and at the very least, I'm sure the pitches he wrote fit logically with everyone else's notes at that moment.
#16 The Dance before the Ark - includes a very striking chord change in an already sparkly bit of writing for the piano at the word "splendour" in the phrase "O radiance of the morn and the splendour of noon, Mighty God be with us."
#18 Song of the Handmaid - has a questionable instrumentation choice, I think. In a pretty transparent texture, piano and flute play short notes together in a high register, and the tuning is problematic, given the nature of the instruments themselves. But maybe that slight disagreement about pitch is what Honneger wanted - an imitation of the sounds of crickets David could have heard when he rose from his bed to walk around the roof of the palace one evening and saw Bathsheba.
#19 Psalm of Repentance - puts words of repentance in the mouths of both male and female choristers which made me think of David and Bathsheba repenting together. That's a scene I'd never thought of before.
This brings me to a final general reflection on King David. Before the concert, Dr. Gordon prayed a thoughtful prayer that emphasized that David was human in all the best and worst ways that we are, too. I believe Honneger's music communicates the richness of that human story. Indeed, it restores humanity to a familar character from the pages of the Bible.
Monday, February 01, 2010
January 2010
We've been enjoying a beautiful and much-needed, snow-induced sabbath these last few days. There are at least four inches, and some places, seven inches of snow in our region, plus layers of ice. It's a quiet time and great for eating homemade muffins and drinking coffee.
Last weekend I played two recitals with my good friend Jeremy McEntire at University of Richmond and Randolph Macon. I hadn't played at Randolph Macon before and enjoyed St. Anne's Hall, which is a small timbered church building with a nicely responsive Steinway and a warm acoustic.
One of the works we played was Rachmaninoff's Vocalise. I've played the piece many times with various instruments and voice. I always wonder at its falling lines, especially the long descent at the beginning. This aspect of falling is one of the things about Russian music that has mystified and depressed me by turns.
One of the lectionary passages for the day was Psalm 130 which begins, "Out of the depths I cry to thee, O thou Eternal." As I thought about that reading and Vocalise, I thought of a new way to understand those falling lines. I can hear them not as our sinking down but Christ's coming to be with us in the depths of our human experience. This removes the desolation and replaces it with hope, strength, and empathy.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Nutcracker
Yesterday we went to the Richmond Ballet Nutcracker performance, which is always great and great fun. The dancing, costumes, and sets are all beautiful, and there are dancers of all ages and all species (giant rats and a bear).
The Nutcracker provides a fine yearly reminder of the high quality of composer that Tchaikowsky was. Upon hearing his score this time, I was struck by the following.
Tchaikowsky seems like a much better-mannered composer than Wagner or Mahler (whose music I love). Tchaikowsky's music seems cooperative and cultured. Its themes never overstay their welcome, and it can charm us with its Mozartean balance. It's hard to beat that sort if charm. What's more, it is deeply moving without ever blurting out something inappropriate.
While Tchaikowsky's music is sometimes thought of as very emotional, I found it moving more often in a structural way. Its long lines move me like the elegantly engineered expanse of a great bridge.
The orchestra slipped up on me at one moment while I was focused on the dancing. The musical climax at that point, driven by the trombones, gave me the same sort of thrill that orchestral music gave me most of the time when I first started going to lots of live performances. It may be that so much thinking about music, particularly as I listen to it, keeps me from having those experiences as often now. But watching a staged production like a ballet or an opera can get my mind on something else, and the music can bypass my thinking. I recommend the experience for those musicians reading who find themselves in a similar place.
Perhaps the climax of the entire score is the tune that amounts to a descending scale during the grand pas de deux. A descending scale is essentially an ending, and constructing a piece out of endings is one of Rachmaninoff's strategies as in the famous C Sharp Minor Prelude. Maybe he got it from Tchaikowsy. Also, I heard little bits of orchestration throughout the ballet that reminded me a bit of Wagner. I've never looked into any Wagner/Tchaikowsky link. And of course, the descending scale pattern is a prominent leitmotiv in the Ring, representing Wotan's staff and treaties.
The Nutcracker provides a fine yearly reminder of the high quality of composer that Tchaikowsky was. Upon hearing his score this time, I was struck by the following.
Tchaikowsky seems like a much better-mannered composer than Wagner or Mahler (whose music I love). Tchaikowsky's music seems cooperative and cultured. Its themes never overstay their welcome, and it can charm us with its Mozartean balance. It's hard to beat that sort if charm. What's more, it is deeply moving without ever blurting out something inappropriate.
While Tchaikowsky's music is sometimes thought of as very emotional, I found it moving more often in a structural way. Its long lines move me like the elegantly engineered expanse of a great bridge.
The orchestra slipped up on me at one moment while I was focused on the dancing. The musical climax at that point, driven by the trombones, gave me the same sort of thrill that orchestral music gave me most of the time when I first started going to lots of live performances. It may be that so much thinking about music, particularly as I listen to it, keeps me from having those experiences as often now. But watching a staged production like a ballet or an opera can get my mind on something else, and the music can bypass my thinking. I recommend the experience for those musicians reading who find themselves in a similar place.
Perhaps the climax of the entire score is the tune that amounts to a descending scale during the grand pas de deux. A descending scale is essentially an ending, and constructing a piece out of endings is one of Rachmaninoff's strategies as in the famous C Sharp Minor Prelude. Maybe he got it from Tchaikowsy. Also, I heard little bits of orchestration throughout the ballet that reminded me a bit of Wagner. I've never looked into any Wagner/Tchaikowsky link. And of course, the descending scale pattern is a prominent leitmotiv in the Ring, representing Wotan's staff and treaties.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Jacob and Rachmaninoff
Today's Old Testament reading dealt with Jacob's wrestling match with the angel. As a meditation on this passage, I played some of Rachmaninoff's B minor Prelude. After hearing the context of the scripture and the passage itself I could easily hear aspects of the story in the music:
at the beginning, Jacob already struggling in the womb,
at the end of the climactic section - the wounding of Jacob,
and on the final page, Jacob limping,
While this music and the story are full of struggle, I am also reminded of a theme that has surfaced several times during the commentary on the Olympics. I keep hearing that the best athletes actually relax as they get further into their tasks. Perhaps that is a good thing to bear in mind as performing musicians. While the music may picture a struggle, we need to be relaxed so as to be at our best to physically perform the music well. The desire to embody the emotions of the music sometimes leads to a very unrelaxed place.
at the beginning, Jacob already struggling in the womb,
at the end of the climactic section - the wounding of Jacob,
and on the final page, Jacob limping,
While this music and the story are full of struggle, I am also reminded of a theme that has surfaced several times during the commentary on the Olympics. I keep hearing that the best athletes actually relax as they get further into their tasks. Perhaps that is a good thing to bear in mind as performing musicians. While the music may picture a struggle, we need to be relaxed so as to be at our best to physically perform the music well. The desire to embody the emotions of the music sometimes leads to a very unrelaxed place.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Father
My father would have turned 78 yesterday. That means he passed away a little over eight years ago. It's very hard to believe it's been that long.
Last night at choir practice we were rehearsing the old American tune "Hark! I Hear the Harps Eternal." Kathy said we are to sing it on All Saints Day.
Part of the text of "Hark! I Hear..." is:
"Souls have crossed before me saintly
to the land of perfect rest
and I hear them singing faintly
in the mansions of the blest."
That first line made me think of my father. Over the years, my mother highlighted his integrity in conversations with me by commenting on aspects of his personality:
"He doesn't have an ulterior bone in his body."
"One thing your father can't stand for is people being mistreated."
My father loved music, especially the music of the church. The song "It Is No Secret" by Stuart Hamblin played a crucial role in his call to ministry. One of his favorite hymns was "When Morning Guilds the Skies." He chose that as a congregational hymn for many of the worship services he planned.
He grew up in the heyday of the big bands. He really knew the history and output of Benny Goodman and Harry James. He also loved the crooners like Dick Haymes. He even wrote and recorded a ballad on a couple of occasions. It's called "The Moonlight and You" and it sounds a little Glenn Miller-esque. I have the 45s.
In terms of classical music, certain works that I played really captured his imagination:
Debussy . . .la cathedral engloutie
Paganini-Liszt E Major Etude
Ginastera Sonata, First Movement
Liszt Dante Sonata
He liked the image of me as a happy young musician playing the opening theme of Kabalevsky's Youth Concerto.
Debussy First Arabesque was a bit of theme for us - a little bit nostalgic - as it was theme music for a short segement about astronomy that appeared on Saturday TV. After I went away to college, he would sometimes hear it and think of how he and I had often looked at the stars together when I was still living at home.
He also identified deeply and personally with the beginning of Rachmaninoff Second Piano Concerto. In those opening bars he heard the struggle of a hero and his family facing the stormy opposition of the world and fate.
The second movement of Beethoven Sonata Op. 111 conjures up in my mind my father on his hospital bed in our living room during his last summer. During his mostly unconscious last days it was as though his soul was lingering in the room - not necessarily in his body - maybe up near the ceiling. It is that sensibilty that I hear in the Beethoven: sad, beautiful, questioning, floating, and all about the essence of human identity and existence.
Dad and I were good friends.
Maybe I'll learn Op. 111 for him one of these years.
Last night at choir practice we were rehearsing the old American tune "Hark! I Hear the Harps Eternal." Kathy said we are to sing it on All Saints Day.
Part of the text of "Hark! I Hear..." is:
"Souls have crossed before me saintly
to the land of perfect rest
and I hear them singing faintly
in the mansions of the blest."
That first line made me think of my father. Over the years, my mother highlighted his integrity in conversations with me by commenting on aspects of his personality:
"He doesn't have an ulterior bone in his body."
"One thing your father can't stand for is people being mistreated."
My father loved music, especially the music of the church. The song "It Is No Secret" by Stuart Hamblin played a crucial role in his call to ministry. One of his favorite hymns was "When Morning Guilds the Skies." He chose that as a congregational hymn for many of the worship services he planned.
He grew up in the heyday of the big bands. He really knew the history and output of Benny Goodman and Harry James. He also loved the crooners like Dick Haymes. He even wrote and recorded a ballad on a couple of occasions. It's called "The Moonlight and You" and it sounds a little Glenn Miller-esque. I have the 45s.
In terms of classical music, certain works that I played really captured his imagination:
Debussy . . .la cathedral engloutie
Paganini-Liszt E Major Etude
Ginastera Sonata, First Movement
Liszt Dante Sonata
He liked the image of me as a happy young musician playing the opening theme of Kabalevsky's Youth Concerto.
Debussy First Arabesque was a bit of theme for us - a little bit nostalgic - as it was theme music for a short segement about astronomy that appeared on Saturday TV. After I went away to college, he would sometimes hear it and think of how he and I had often looked at the stars together when I was still living at home.
He also identified deeply and personally with the beginning of Rachmaninoff Second Piano Concerto. In those opening bars he heard the struggle of a hero and his family facing the stormy opposition of the world and fate.
The second movement of Beethoven Sonata Op. 111 conjures up in my mind my father on his hospital bed in our living room during his last summer. During his mostly unconscious last days it was as though his soul was lingering in the room - not necessarily in his body - maybe up near the ceiling. It is that sensibilty that I hear in the Beethoven: sad, beautiful, questioning, floating, and all about the essence of human identity and existence.
Dad and I were good friends.
Maybe I'll learn Op. 111 for him one of these years.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Olga Kern
Last week, several of us from Murfreesboro drove down to Greenville to hear Olga Kern play a concert at East Carolina University.
In Chopin's Third Piano Sonata she created a beautiful calming effect as she released the intensity of the sound and tempo beginning with and moving into the second theme.
The second half of the concert included Rachmaninoff Second Sonata and Liszt Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 with a cadenza by Rachmaninoff. This got me wondering about the Liszt-Rachmaninoff connection. Rachmaninoff studied wuth Siloti, who was a Liszt student.
As I was researching that connection, I came across information regarding Rachmaninoff's burial. He was buried in Kensico Cemetery in Valhalla, NY where many other famous people are buried including Anne Bancroft, Tommy Dorsey, Lou Gehrig, Ruth Laredo, Robert Merrill, and Ayn Rand.
Back to Olga Kern, her encores were all Russian, and included probably one of the very best performances we are likely to hear of Rachmaninoff's C sharp minor Prelude, which we most often hear played by high school (or younger) pianists.
In Chopin's Third Piano Sonata she created a beautiful calming effect as she released the intensity of the sound and tempo beginning with and moving into the second theme.
The second half of the concert included Rachmaninoff Second Sonata and Liszt Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 with a cadenza by Rachmaninoff. This got me wondering about the Liszt-Rachmaninoff connection. Rachmaninoff studied wuth Siloti, who was a Liszt student.
As I was researching that connection, I came across information regarding Rachmaninoff's burial. He was buried in Kensico Cemetery in Valhalla, NY where many other famous people are buried including Anne Bancroft, Tommy Dorsey, Lou Gehrig, Ruth Laredo, Robert Merrill, and Ayn Rand.
Back to Olga Kern, her encores were all Russian, and included probably one of the very best performances we are likely to hear of Rachmaninoff's C sharp minor Prelude, which we most often hear played by high school (or younger) pianists.
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