Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Mortality

If you play enough events for long enough, these sorts of things will happen.

One of the gentlemen who attended our house concert last Sunday passed away on Wednesday. I didn't know him, but a number of friends from church had their last visit with him during our musical evening.

On the most recent Sunday, the beginning of Advent, at the conclusion of a worship service devoted to hope, another church member collapsed during our closing hymn "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel." He will be okay, I think.

I have no point to make about this. Using these facts to make a point would be insensitive. I only want to recognize that these things happen and that they change one's perspective.

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Fall House Concert




Sunday night, we had our first house concert at our place here in Lakeland. There were thirty in attendance, mostly friends from church and a few neighbors. We called the event "Piano, People, and Pies." Ten folks brought pies, including my colleague and his wife, Dr. Hawkins and Lisa, who dropped off a fantastic sweet potato pie and pie pockets in the morning, even though they couldn't attend the actual concert.

The repertoire was
Malotte "Lord's Prayer" for horn and piano
Gottschalk "Caprice on Home, Sweet Home"
Hulin Thanksgiving Sonata for horn and piano
Ross "Variations on Auld Langsyne"



The Gottschalk is a lovely version with some Chopin nocturne quality and some three-hand effect. I cut out half of the repetitive section at the end.

The Thanksgiving Sonata is a "medley sonata" as Dr. Guthrie described it. I composed it for Kathy and me, and it features most of the well-known Thanksgiving tunes as its themes. There are three movements:
I. Plymouth - mostly dissonant depiction of the Pilgrims' struggles at sea and here on the American continent.
II. Spacious Skies - a majestic lullaby about the grandeur of the frontier.
III. Rondo - with ASH GROVE as the primary theme.
I like the piece a lot. If anyone ever really has a need or interest in such a work, let me know.

The Ross variations are from my ancestral anthology (click here for blog dedicated to that collection). Ross was a Scottish composer who wrote several concerti, but this is the only work of his that I've explored.

The pies were as follows:
Chocolate with cookie crust
Lemon Meringue
Butterscotch Meringue
Two Pecans
Peanut
Pumpkin
Sweet Potato
Lemon Chess
Cherry

In general, it seemed like a success. With that much pie, the deck was sort of stacked in our favor. Plus, we had an ace up our sleeve, Kathy's charming 97-year-old grandmother who sat in the back corner of the den and conversed with all of these new people.

I felt a little unhappy with my effort, and for a simple reason. Several reasons, actually. I need to get the piano voiced and regulated. Also, I needed a little more regular practice going into the event. But most of all, I was reminded that a bottom line for me ought to be simply to do a good job with the basics of musicianship: tempo, balance, phrasing . . . and having a plan about these things. Composers have a reasonable expectation of at least that much. Spontaneity can be good, but not as one's total interpretive strategy. A plan lets the performer know how to judge his or her efforts. And, playing works of less-than-genius quality might require more conscious planning to give the pieces their best chance.

Monday, November 22, 2010

Engagement


A few weeks ago, I had the privilege of performing a concert with my new colleague, Dr. Shudong Braamse, a marvelously talented soprano who performs compellingly while being the model of humility and egolessness. I was blessed by the way she really performed the repertoire when with an audience. In other words, her level of energy rises to that of the music in a warm and personal way that brings the listeners together in a significant artistic experience. Perhaps having one's energy rise to the level of that of the music is an aspect of the mechanics of the charisma of musicians.

We performed the same concert again this weekend (11/9). While Dr. Braamse put forth an excellent effort once again, my level of energy did not rise to that of the music this time. I was tired. Also, I had fallen over my dog and landed on my wrist a few days earlier (I'm okay now) and that resulted in me not practicing for a couple of days.

I mulled over this energy level issue during the afternoon and night following my recent lack-luster performance. While energy level is part of the equation for me, it struck me early on the morning after that what I was really lacking at that concert was engagement with the music.

I can play most of the repertoire on that concert without practicing, and I have learned the parts that required practice, so I can get through all of the music with just a few minutes' touch-up right before the performance. But daily practice is necessary to maintain engagement with the music.

Saturday, November 20, 2010

Thanksgiving Break

Here's a lovely blog post by a Southeastern music student to get the Thanksgiving holiday started. Be sure to listen to the Youtube link at the end of the post as part of the experience.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Chopin Sonata No. 2

Over our fall long weekend, I visited with a pianist friend who is working on Chopin's second sonata. So we could talk about the piece, I studied the score and listened to some recordings. Here's what I noticed.

1. This seems to be a work without satisfying climax. There is no plateau at which the music feels that it has arrived. Instead, Chopin keeps deflecting in another direction at the moment when we expect a convincing arrival.

(In his recording of the piece, Michelangeli plays it in such a way that the second theme in the first movement sonds like the climax. That is, the resolution is the arrival point in his performance.)

2. There is a general lack of contrast in the work. The themes are closely related within and between movements. All of the movements are in the tonic key except for one in the subdominant. The mood of the first movment is so similar to that of the beginning of the second that it almost feels like the first is continuing when the second begins. The energy and project of the first movement may not yet be done.

3. For a large sonata, the first movement exposition is actually really compact. Perhaps that adds to its tension.

Maybe its agitato marking is more about emotion to be supressed than expressed - a tension between the public and private selves.

The fragmented nature of the devlopment with its unadorned melody-in-octaves utterances can feel downright futuristic.

4. The second movement seems perhaps to indicate a contrast between male and female in a dance setting, perhaps indicated by register, tonality, and mood.

It seems to me that its loud dynamic markings might be of the restraining type, that is, "forte" might mean "only forte."

There is some lightness in this scherzo, but it is easily missed if the pianist doesn't play the passages in major with some joy. Those passages actually don't even sound particularly like they are in a major key if they are played with the same attitude as the minor sections.

5. The march and its return seem to have an inexorable quality. They are part of the public ceremonial acceptance of death, not an individual and personal outcry.

6. The overall impression of the entire sonata feels a little like an unraveling over the four movements.

Saturday, November 13, 2010

DREAM

This may seem like a rare political post from me.

But I don't think this is a political issue. It's a human issue.

It looks like the U.S. Senate will consider the DREAM Act soon. There's lots of misinformation about the Act, as well as general lack of knowledge about the relevant issues. I've met some of the people whose futures hang in the balance, and I think it's very important. Please take a look:

DREAM Act

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Tchaikowsky Champion

Last night, I had the great joy of hearing my new colleague and friend, Young-Ah Tak, perform Tchaikowsky's Piano Concerto No. 1 with the Imperial Symphony Orchestra here in Lakeland. The performance was masterful and a work of art that persists vividly in my mind today.

From the beginning, Young-Ah demonstrated that she was in full command of this very difficult concerto, never even beginning to seem the least bit desperate in handling its demands. Instead, she played with poise and intensity, giving the audience an experience of the concerto, not as a vehicle of virtuosity, but as an expressive masterpiece.

Those who know Young-Ah's playing will rightly assume that the octaves were miraculously fast and clean and that the rapid filigree passages were incredibly clear and consistent. But deeper aspects of her talent made the performance particularly moving.

For example, numerous times Young-Ah listened so well to the orchestra's pacing (which may have been different from her own conception of the flow of the piece) and she bent her playing to meld with the energy of the orchestra. Because of this, the huge emotional waves that pass between piano and orchestra had a cohesiveness that I have rarely felt in this work.

At other times, she pushed in a way that was appropriate and exciting, in a way that emphasized the complex and dynamic relationship between orchestra and soloist in a Romantic concerto.

If you are a pianist with an International score of the piece, the rehearsal numbers in the following remarks will assist you in getting a good sense of what struck me so much about the interpretation.

Leading into #10: Young-Ah's phrasing and sound had a melting quality over the course of this passage that took us all into a deeply personal space.

Between 14 and 15, so much tension is built up, and I think it can be very hard to keep the rhythmic intensity going with a large orchestra exchanging chords with the pianist's octaves, but they did maintain the tension, and the way Young-Ah played the arpeggios just before 15 conveyed the essence of something elemental that had been unleashed and was spinning out.

At 20, there was no sense of diminished energy or sound when the piano took over from the orchestra. The seamlessness was amazing and invigorating.

In the cadenza after 31, in the passage with measures of alternating accelerando and a tempo Young-Ah played the a tempo measures in a beautifully contrasting fashion that returned us to that deeply personal space I mentioned before.

The opening theme of the second movement was played with great tenderness and inflection that still haunts me.

Just after 37: Young-Ah thoughtfully played one of these bars as a slight echo of the bar before.

The bar before 38: a wonderfully felt two-note sigh at this transition.

Also, Young-Ah accompanied the orchestral soloists in a lovely relaxed way at the a tempo before 39.

Given the right instrument, acoustic, and performer, 39-46 can be a colorful sonic feast for the listener. The sounds can be so good and varied that there is no need or time to think about them beyond registering that "This sounds great!" That was the case last night.

At 46: Again, poignantly personal melodic playing as well as amazing trills that fit perfectly into the line.

At the risk of sounding silly, I'll say that in the last movement, Young-Ah's energy was that of a giant cat and the orchestra was her ball of string. It was very playful on a monumental scale.

At 63, I couldn't help but smile at the sparkling suppleness of her playing, and I smile even more now when I think about the storm that was to be unleashed at 66. As Young-Ah precisely coordinated the beginning of the cadenza with that final timpani strike, I also thought about how nice it was to have our departmental chair, Dr. Tindall, as the timpanist. He is, as I have said, the most spirited timpanist around - a real musician.

The orchestra played with heart throughout, and Maestro Thielen listened closely and did an admirable job of coordinating all the effort onstage into a meaningful and unified expression.

Following the concert, there was a lovely reception in which warm remarks were made by the general manager, the conductor, and Young-Ah. Young-Ah spoke of making a connection, which is exactly what she did with the orchestra and the audience. It was an inspiring night that refreshed my belief in the tremendous value of the arts to humanity.

Thursday, November 04, 2010

Feelings

Here are some ideas that help me.
I was reminded of them as I worked with piano students this week.


Be the best you. Noone else has the opportunity to do that.


Feeling the music is an expression of your intuitive grasp of the music. Your subconscious understands the structures of the music that you think about in theory class. Don't let the thinking-about stop the feeling. Being conscious ought to help you feel with greater sensitivity.


What should you feel as you play? Sometimes it's the momentum of a phrase. Sometimes it's conviction about a rhythm. Feeling and movement are linked. Some passages require that your body learn them through drumming or dancing, and that's what you should be feeling when you play them.


relevant paraphrases:

St. Augustine - rhetoric involves conveying structures with appropriate feeling

Fleisher - everybody has feeling, the job is to pour that feeling into the shape of the vessel (piece of music) before you