Glenn Gould plays Bach

Hello all,

We’ve listened to the Goldberg Variations here before (https://thisweeksmusic.com/2018/07/31/j-s-bach-goldberg-variations/), but I thought a repeat was necessary in order to introduce you to one of the most intriguing figures in the history of classical music.

Glen Gould was one of the most important pianists of the 20th century. Born in Toronto in 1932, Gould is regarded by most as one of the best in the world at interpreting the music of J.S. Bach. He was drawn from a young age to the intricate textures and complex polyphony of Bach’s music and – unlike every one of his contemporaries – had no interest in the standard Romantic repertoire. His vivid imagination enabled him to take his audience with him on fascinating journeys into Bach’s harmonic genius.

Gould was incredibly eccentric. For instance, he would not record unless the recording studio was heated to an almost unbearably high temperature. He would never play – in practice, recording, or a concert – with any other stool than the one his father had made for him in his childhood. He would never go outside, regardless of the season, without a hat and mittens on. Perhaps the most controversial of his eccentricities was his habit of humming or singing under his breath while he played. The habit was so unbreakable that he did it even while performing in concerts or recording sessions (he attributed this to his mother’s teaching him to “sing everything he played”). Many criticized his early recordings because they claimed that they could hear him humming in the background.

To me, the most amazing thing about Glen Gould is that he almost never practiced the piano. He studied his repertoire by reading it and mentally practicing it. In his view, physically playing the piano was one of the last steps in preparing a performance. As a musician who has practiced regularly for the past twenty years (and who is still nowhere near the level of Glen Gould), I find this concept of mental preparation fascinating. I’m sure his photographic memory helped him in this endeavor, but it is nonetheless interesting to think about the possible benefits of adopting his approach in our personal pursuits.

Enjoy!

T

Tchaikovsky Nocturne

Hello all,

Our music for this week is the Nocturne in F Major for solo piano by Tchaikovsky.

This composition is part of a set of two pieces that Tchaikovsky wrote while on vacation in Nice, France in 1872. The other piece is a Humoresque that has since been transcribed for violin and cello, among other instruments.  

It would be difficult to find a more charming piece of music than this Nocturne. Sensual melodic lines in the right hand flow seamlessly over tumbling waters in the left hand, creating an atmosphere of delicacy and relaxation.  Unlike much of Tchaikovsky’s music, there is no “moment of tension” in this piece that must be resolved; it is content to simply enjoy the ride. For an example of this, listen for the way that Tchaikovsky brings the melody back at around 2:20. Rather than create harmonic tension by entering the world of dissonance or dynamic pressure, he simply lets the development section drop off by itself. I think this creates a wonderful effect, since it enables the original melody to appear out of a moment of complete silence.

Enjoy!

T

P.S. Some of you may remember our recent series on the great Russian pianist Sviatoslav Richter. I would encourage you to check out his recording of this piece, which also includes its Humoresque companion.

Baba-who?

Hello all,

We’re taking a break from our series on Bach’s Brandenburg concerti to listen to the incredibly powerful “Poem for Piano” by Babajanyan, performed by Armen Babakhanian.

Babajanyan was born in Armenia in 1921 to a very musical family that recognized his musical guest at a very young age. After studying in Moscow for several years an establishing himself as a pianist and composer, he returned to his native Armenia to teach and compose.

One of his favorite things to do was to compose music based on poetry and literature. Many of his compositions are rooted in folk lore from Armenia and Russia, and this one is no exception. He was also fearless when incorporating other styles of music into his compositions. There are traces of jazz, rock’n roll, and blues music in many of his compositions. I would encourage you to listen for the jazz-like harmonies that are present throughout the music.

It is fitting to have this piece be performed by Armen Babakhanian, who is one of the most highly revered Armenian musicians of all time. He studied with pianists who were students of Babajanyan himself and has built his career around the music of Armenia. His performance of this brief little composition is one of the most compact and intense displays of virtuosity you will ever see, so I would highly encourage you to take the just a few minutes to watch the video. Notice the ways that his body language reflects the mood and atmosphere of music. He is not aimlessly throwing himself around the instrument like many musicians unfortunately do; he is using his movements to meaningfully accentuate the contours of the music. As far as his technical prowess is concerned, I’m not sure I can adequately describe it (at least not in a way that does it justice). You’ll see what I mean 🙂

Richter #4

 

Our music for this week is a performance of 2 preludes by Shostakovich with Sviatoslav Richter at the keyboard. The first is the A Major Prelude and the second is the A Minor Prelude. This recording was made in 1956.

I wanted to leave this for our last email on Richter because Shostakovich was Richter’s personal favorite. He performed one of Shostakovich’s preludes at almost everyone of his recitals.

There are 24 preludes, one for each of the major and minor keys of the chromatic scale (a scale that ascends by half-steps, not whole-steps). Every one of them has two parts – a prelude and a fugue. Each fugue has between two and five voices interweaving with each other. They proceed in relative major/minor pairs; for instance, C major and A minor go together, G major and E minor go together, etc. It is widely believed that the inspiration for these preludes comes from J.S. Bach’s The Well-Tempered Clavier, which also revolves around the circle of fifths. Shostakovich appears to reference Bach at multiple points through the preludes. For instance, he opens several of the preludes with the exact same notes that Bach uses in his preludes. You will hear in the A Minor fugue (the second piece) that the fugue has an almost identical opening theme to Bach’s A minor fugue. The A minor prelude is also written so that the pianist never leaves the hand position he starts in – this is also something Bach commonly did.

The inspiration for these preludes is worth mentioning. Shostakovich was a devoted member of the ruling Soviet Party, so – unlike Richter – he was treated with respect and admiration by the government. Shostakovich was sent abroad for ambassdor-type missions while Richter wasn’t allowed to leave Moscow. On one of these trips, he judged a Bach competition in Leipzig and listened, over the course of the few days of performances, to many renditions of Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier. This inspired him to write his 24 preludes.

The first piece (A major) is a three-voice fugue. Listen for a bass, a tenor, and a soprano voice. All three of them get their moment to shine, but listen for an abrupt shift to the bass voice right after the climax of the movement – this is his way of highlighted the oft-ignored pedal tone.

The second piece (A minor) is so similar to Bach’s style that it is hard to believe it was written by a 20th-century Russian. It is completely melodic – in other words, there are no dissonances whatsoever.

Enjoy!

 

Richter #3

Hello all,

Our music for this week is the Piano Sonata No. 2 in D Minor by Sergei Prokofiev, performed by Sviatoslav Richter.

Unlike many other musicians (we won’t mention any names…such as Joshua Bell or Sarah Chang), Richter did not rest on his laurels. Instead, he worked constantly to expand his repertoire and learn new music. Almost every one of his performances included a recent composition by one of his fellow Russians – Prokofiev, Shostakovich, Stravinsky, and others. Over time, these contemporary Russian works became his signature.

One of the most incredible stories of Richter stems from his voracious appetite for new music and concerns the seventh piano sonata by Prokofiev. Prokofiev dedicated the sonata to Richter and asked him to premiere it. Richter agreed, and Prokofiev very reasonably assumed that the concert would be in several months. However, Richter confidently stated that he would play the entire thing from memory at his next recital in three days’ time. Not only did he successfully premier the work, but Prokofiev was heard to have wondered at how Richter’s interpretation of his music was better than his own!

This sonata was Prokofiev’s first experiment in what would become his very distinctive compositional style. Many of Prokofiev’s earlier compositions contain noticeable Romantic-era structures, but in his second Piano Sonata, Prokofiev began to leave those conventions behind and focus on the very unique harmonic sense that he is now known for. The brief first movement contains two themes. The first one should be easy to pick out, since it occurs at the very start of the piece and descends to a crashing halt. The second theme mimics the descending nature of the first theme but is more ethereal and less imposing. The third movement is the highlight of the piece. Dark, sombre, pulsating lines in the left hand coincide with a wandering line in the right hand as we hear the harmonic genius of Prokofiev come to life. Richter does a masterful job of creating long lines and phrases despite the disjointed nature of the notes. The phrasing feels so natural that we accept it immediately, but we must be careful not to take this for granted. The skill and emotional intelligence that it takes to create such natural phrasing amidst such difficult music is something that select few people have ever been able to do, and Richter is undeniably one of those few.

Enjoy!

 

Richter #2

Hello all,

Our music for this week is a performance by Sviatoslav Richter of the Nocturne in F Major by Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky.

This Nocturne comes from a set of two larger books of songs that Tchaikovsky wrote while on vacation in Nice, France in the summer of 1872. This particular song is paired with a Humoresque that Tchaikovsky dashed off after hearing an amusing French dance in the marketplace near his lodgings. We do not, however, know much about the Nocturne other than that it is dedicated to Tchaikovsky’s good friend, Vladimir Shilovsky. Shilovsky was an amateur singer, songwriter, poet, composer, and artist who came to study at the Moscow Conservatory under Tchaikovsky’s guidance.

As we saw last week, Richter was particularly well known for his command of a vast repertoire and his incredible ability to create colors and emotions on the keyboard. In addition to these things, however, he was also renowned for his interpretations of specific composers’ music. For instance, his recording of the Beethoven piano sonatas is widely regarded as the best recording ever made of those works. (We’ll hear some of these sonatas in the weeks to come). Along with Beethoven, he was a specialist in the music of his fellow Russians – Prokofiev, Shostakovich, Tchaikovsky, and others. This recording is therefore an excellent example of Richter’s on-stage interpretive capabilities at their fullest expression.

It is amazing that such a simple Nocturne can become such a captivating and powerful story in Richter’s hands. I think we underestimate how hard that is to do. As with anything in life, it is easy to go on “auto-pilot” when the task at hand is relatively easy. Musicians certainly do this, relaxing when playing easier Mozart tunes and pouring all their energy into the complicated romantic-era works. However, Richter’s ability to draw the listener in with even a simple melody is evidence of his incredible power of concentration and devotion to every single note. If you listen carefully, you’ll hear that he puts emphases on certain notes that he wants the listener to remember, and more often than not, those notes are the key harmonic guideposts for the piece as a whole.

Enjoy!

 

Richter #1

Hello all,

Our music this week is the Sonata in B Minor for solo piano by Franz Lizst. This week is also the beginning of a new series, but, rather than focus on a particular composer, we’re going to focus in on a specific musician, Sviatoslav Richter. This obscure sonata is delightful piece to listen to, but this first email will be devoted to giving you all a bit of background on Richter.

Born in what is now Ukraine, Richter is in the conversation for “greatest pianist of all time.” His astounding musical genius was apparent the age of twelve, when, even though he had never taken a piano lesson, he became the conductor and pianist for a local opera company. Although his lack of formal training initially held him back (he was not admitted to the Moscow Conservatory at the age of thirteen because he was not technically proficient enough), a few years of studying with Heinrich Neuhaus brought him onto the world competition stage. Neuhaus was heard to have said that he had waited all his life for the chance to each a musical genius like that of Richter’s. A stroke of good luck came his way when Richter met Sergei Prokofiev and was given the opportunity to premier Prokofiev’s sixth piano sonata. This performance rocketed him into international fame, and word spread far and wide of his prowess at the keyboard. He soon afterwards won the prestigious Stalin Prize, which led to concert tours across Europe.

Richter was restricted from traveling to America for many years because he refused to align himself with the U.S.S.R.’s ideology. As a result, Americans only knew of Richter through recordings of his concerts. He became known as “The Enigma” because of the air of mystery that surrounded his name, as well as his astonishing technical abilities and the powerful range of emotional qualities that he could create on the keyboard. When he was finally allowed to travel to the United States, Carnegie Hall immediately booked his first five concerts and, within three hours, was sold out. He was an immediate sensation.

In many ways, Sviatoslav Richter truly was an enigma. He was reclusive, he hated crowds, he was socially awkward, and he preferred to practice in almost complete darkness. He despised recordings, and it is widely agreed that the only good recordings of Richter are the ones that were made when he was not aware of it (i.e., recordings made during live performances, such as this one). He was almost completely silent at all times, but when talking with close friends he was rumored to be hysterically funny. He had freakishly large hands, capable of stretching over a twelfth on the keyboard (for reference, an average human is lucky to span an octave, or eight notes), that he never knew what to do with and was always trying to hide in his coat pockets. He drank heavily but never seemed to suffer any ill effects. His best friend for most of his life was a soprano named Nina Dorliak, but they never married and had a strained friendship at times. Throughout all of this, he remained a strong and quiet voice of political resistance against the U.S.S.R. When he died in 1997, he was found at the keyboard, with the music open to the sonata that he was practicing for his next recital and his hands still on the keys.

More to come from the great Richter next week!

Enjoy!

 

Triple Concerto

Hello all,

Our music for this week is the Triple Concerto by Beethoven.

You will notice that the recording is from 1970. I am sure that there are many other excellent recordings out there, but this one is head-and-shoulders above the rest because of the musicians involved. David Oistrakh (violin), Mitslav Rostropovich (cello), and Satislav Richter (piano) are three of the best musicians to ever live, and the ability to hear them in their prime is much better than a more recent recording with lesser musicians. This performance was in the Great Tchaikovsky Hall at the Moscow Conservatory, where all three of them studied.

This concerto is rarely played or heard. Part of the reason for that might be relatively unimpressive piano part. Beethoven intentionally made the piano part much simpler because he was writing it for his patron the Archduke Rudolf, who was not a particularly excellent pianist. Beethoven clearly wanted to avoid the embarrassing possibility of writing something that his patron could not play. The violin and cello parts, however, are quite challenging.

Another reason that this concerto is not often played is the clearly inferior thematic material it contains, particularly when compared to his famous 9th Symphony or his magnificent violin concerto. The themes are hard to decipher, and when they can be identified, they tend to wander. The first movement is often criticized because the listener tends to leave the movement wondering what exactly the main melody of the movement was.

However, despite these weaknesses, the Triple Concerto has several things to offer us. First of all, the instrumentation is unique – it is a solo concerto, but the solo part is played by three instruments, rather than one. There are also a number of delightful conversations between each of the soloists and the orchestra. In addition, it is quite impressive that Beethoven was able to maintain his masterful interplay between soloist and orchestra even when dealing with three separate solo parts. I believe that the second movement is the true strength of the work. Listen for the poetic opening line in the cello, and notice how the violin and cello spend most of the movement in a conversation based on that theme. The piano, as expected, maintains a background role in the second movement, and some critics argue that the second movement is the best because it basically eliminates the piano part. The third movement is notable for one unique episode in the middle of it. Right around 27:56, there is a random Polonaise (a Polish dance form). Why Beethoven felt the need to insert this strange addition into the music, we’ll never know.

Enjoy!

 

Chopin Ballades #2

Hello all,

Today we wrap up our series on Chopin’s Ballades for solo piano with a wonderful performance by Krystian Zimmerman.
This Ballade was apparently inspired by the poem The Three Budrys by Adam Mickiewicz, but the poem isn’t about anything in particular so it is hard to say exactly what Chopin was thinking. However, his interpretive motivations did not stop him from connecting this Ballade to the previous three in a few important ways. For instance, you may hear near the end of the piece a refrain from the first Ballade. You may also notice that, like the three prior Ballades, this one is written in 6/8 time and has the same dancing, lilting feel to it. You may also note that it is in sonata form (opening, development, recapitulation), like the prior three Ballades. Finally, like the other three Ballades, the melody of this Ballade takes a few bars to truly open up. Rather than diving right into the main theme, Chopin starts with hesitation and takes his time developing the opening theme.
One of the most interesting ways to listen to this piece is to think of it in layers of complexity. For instance, notice how (at around the 1:30 mark) the music gets just ever so slightly more dense. Then, at the 3:30 mark, a third layer is added. At the 6-minute mark, Chopin adds yet another set of twists and turns to the music (for you harmony nerds out there, he does this by returning to the subdominant while also adding an amazing layer of fourths in the right hand). By the time we reach the end of the piece, we have experienced the growth of the melody from simplicity to complexity.
I hope you have enjoyed this journey through the mind of the greatest pianist of all time. Let me know if you have any requests for future series!
Enjoy!

Chopin Ballades #1

This week we begin a new series on the Ballades for piano by Frederic Chopin.

Chopin’s four Ballades for solo piano are some of the difficult pieces in the piano repertoire. As their name suggests, they are meant to evoke an almost medieval story-telling atmosphere. They are unique in that they don’t fit into any of the common musical formats that we tend to associate with solo piano music. For instance, they don’t have the structure of a sonata but they also lack the characteristics of a caprice.

The first Ballade was written in 1831, and it is said that, at the time, he viewed it as his best composition. This sentiment was shared by the great pianist and composer Robert Schumann, who simply told Chopin that it was the closest thing he had ever heard to  pure genius. You will hear two primary themes in the music. The first comes within the first minute of the piece, directly after the introductory material that lasts only a few bars. This theme is more serene and lyrical, although when it is recapped later in the piece Chopin utilizes more of the keyboard to lend it some additional power. You will hear the second theme arrive around the six-minute mark of the video above. This second theme enters with an additional level of grandeur and nobility. Around 7:50, you will hear the beginning of the Coda, which is the final flourish of the Ballade. Chopin uses this “race to the finish” to provide a dramatic ending to the piece.

Enjoy!

 

T