Poking Poulenc

Preceding the performance of Poulenc’s concerto for two pianos in Savannah GA, I addressed the audience with the following short introduction:

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen. I wanted to share with you a few thoughts, perhaps insights into this unique work which you are about to hear - the Concerto in d minor for two pianos by Francis Poulenc.

At the end of the 19th century the musical scene in Europe was dominated by the music of Wagner and Strauss. This rich, lush, self-indulgent, self-oriented music completely overwhelmed and overshadowed anything in its way. Composers such as Stravinsky, Ravel and Debussy had to look elsewhere for their sources of inspiration. They tried to break away and go as far as possible from this intoxicating, somewhat "dangerous" music. Stravinsky started to incorporate African rhythms into his compositions. Ravel looked to Persia and being fascinated by the new cultural possibilities wrote Scheherazade. Debussy went even further, off the coast of Indonesia to the island of Java and brought back the sounds of Gamelan music - an orchestra of bells. The search for new sounds - exoticism - was central especially to the French composers.

Francis Poulenc was born into this atmosphere in 1899. Absorbing these new waves and musical thoughts, he also raised an important question - whether music / art has to always represent something serious, above, high, elitist. Can music, at times, be just plain silly. This concerto is in d minor. The two most famous d minor concerti are those by Mozart and Brahms. Both are profound masterpieces with monumental as well as tragic substance. The piece which we are about to hear, although in the same key, is a complete antithesis to its predecessors. It might be looked at as a counter-reaction to everything that d minor represents. 

In his pursuit of sounds and silliness Poulenc also asked the orchestra to get out of its comfort zone and be something else. Right at the opening pages of this magnificent work, the strings are being asked to sound like drums. In the middle section of the first movement, the wood winds and brass will produce hallowing, wining sounds resembling some creepy creatures. At the end of the first movement, one of my favorite places in the concerto, the two pianos need to create a gamelan orchestra of high-pitch bells while the principal cellist will be transformed into a glass-harmonica. Good luck with that…

  

This is music that combines buffoonery with brilliance; elements of fear with elements of flirt. It will make you love as well as laugh. It is sophisticated and surprising. It is very moving music, as well as movie music. Ladies and gentlemen, you are right! Combining all these things together might end up sounding more like one big cacophony than a piece of music. Well, we thank you for coming. We wish you good luck, and hope that you will enjoy this evening’s performance."

Poulenc plays Poulenc

Orchestral Music @ the Piano

Music is an art form that “happens” in the dimension of time. It is horizontal - starting at point A and ending after some time at point B, or perhaps Z. It has high points and low points, climaxes and moments of relaxation, drama, chaos, order, relief, triumph and so much more. When we make music we strive to tell a story and create these infinite array of emotions while keeping throughout a sense of movement, a sense of horizontality.

Piano is a strange instrument. We press keys down in a vertical movement in order to create something that is purely horizontal. We do not blow air into an instrument as with a wind instrument, or have the advantage of using a bow to create movement as with a string instrument. The piano has 88 evenly laid out keys which hit strings with hammers in order to create something which is anything but even or percussive.  Composers dealt with this “ethical” enigma when they wrote for the keyboard. One of the inspirations and aspirations for composers in reconciling this problem is to transform the piano into something else… an orchestra. The piano (after all) does have some advantages - the ability to deliver many notes at the same time, the ability to use different registers all at once, the enormous span, the different colors and so on.  Composers put this idea at the forefront, and in pursuing their goal turned the piano into an orchestra in astonishingly different ways.

J. S. Bach published his Italian Concerto in 1735 as part of what is known as “Clavierübung II” or “Keyboard practice book 2”. At age 50 Bach decided to publish a book consisting of only two works - The Overture in French Style and the Italian Concerto. Both pieces are studies in orchestral writing. While the Overture examines the dance genre, the Italian Concerto looks at the brilliant writing of the concerto style. A presenter once asked me upon seeing that I will be performing this piece, “who are you playing it with? which orchestra?” Not realizing this extraordinary work is played with one instrument. The essence of the concerto genre is the confrontation between the soloist and the orchestra. This creates a lot of the drama. This drama may be severely damaged if a conversation between two becomes a monologue of one! Bach created here the effect of an orchestra against a soloist by experimenting with textures, registers as well styles of writing. The first movement suggests the style of a violin concerto with virtuosic writing for the solo right hand. The second movement is a highly ornamented aria accompanied by a continuo bass. Though sounding quasi improvised, it is very meticulously written out. The third movement is a concerto grosso, or concerto for orchestra having all the voices in high speed participating as soloists as well as orchestra. 

Almost 90 years separate Bach’s work, with one of Franz Schubert’s most monumental “orchestral” works - the Fantasy for solo piano in C major known was “The Wanderer”. Its dramatic power, bold formal structure, emotional range and conciseness, makes it one of the most revolutionary pieces in the Romantic era. The piece was shocking in the way it treated the piano. It influenced generations of composers such as Liszt (who orchestrated the piece) Mendelssohn, Chopin and others. A student played the piece for me once. His playing was extremely aggressive and percussive. When I suggested the idea of looking for an orchestral sound, he instantly agreed exclaiming “here we have the bells. and here are the drums, the gong, cymbals and so on.” I then suggested that this should not be a Stravinsky orchestra, but rather a similar orchestra to the one that performed a Schubert Symphony. The “Wanderer fantasy” is a grand symphonic work - The “modernity” of its use of the piano is truly revolutionary - Its exhaustive use of the sonorities of the instrument, its insistent use of broken octaves - suggesting string tremolo, the cascading full throttle octaves - perhaps a brass section, the broad rich texture - full tutti, the wide range of dynamics, the entire scope of the piece, all suggest the search for a multitude of forces that exist only within the orchestra. The piece was written in C major, the same key that Schubert later wrote his final symphony nicknamed “The Great”. 

Moving forward to the world of Franz Liszt who wrote over 60 transcriptions, paraphrases and arrangements of operas from Mozart to Bellini, Verdi to Wagner. He made these for several reasons: Being a virtuoso pianist, it was a way to show-off his abilities and imagination also as a composer / improvisor. Secondly, it was an opportunity to bring this music to a wider audience at a time when not everyone was able to connect to YouTube… and Lastly and the most important reason in my opinion - these arrangements celebrated the instrument that had become so popular, so central during the first decades of the 19th century. To celebrate the piano as well as to challenge it - above all the sonorities which included dynamic range, articulation possibilities, note repetition and pedals. It is commonly thought that Chopin wrote “everything that was possible for the piano”. Well, in that case Liszt wrote everything that was NOT possible for the piano. This is not to say one is better than the other. It simply suggests that the things Liszt asked for from the piano were beyond what the instrument was “supposed” to do. LIszt’s arrangement of Wagner’s last scene from Tristan and Isolde is a wonderful example. Bringing to life Wagner’s epic orchestra - 100 string players, six harps, 12 horns and more - all captured within one single instrument is “mission impossible” or is it not?   It is fascinating the way Liszt creates the effects of a timpani drum-roll, string tremolo, harp arpeggios, and of course winds solos. The arrangement is full of imagination. At a certain point one forgets about the orchestra altogether and immerses himself in the toxic beauty of sound and color that comes out of the piano. 

At the hight of Romanticism, from 1890 to the beginning of the 20th century, the music of Wagner and Strauss was so overpowering, so dominating that the composers that followed - Debussy, Ravel and Stravinsky - had to look anywhere but Germany to find their sources of inspiration. That went a long way in the areas of sound, texture, sonority and rhythm. There was a search for new colors - exoticism was central especially in the works of Claude Debussy. One of Debussy’s most enchanting piano works “Estampes” gets its inspiration from Gamelan music coming from the island of Java of the coast of Indonesia. This is an orchestra made up of almost entirely percussion instruments - clappers, rattles, a variety of gongs and bells producing timbres which were previously unknown to classical music. Debussy revolutionized our perception of the scale of dynamics, silences and articulation markings as means of expression. In this exploration he achieved a whole new range of orchestral colors within the piano. We might compare his revolution in that aspect to what Liszt had achieved a few decades before with his virtuosic demands on the piano . A short piano work called “D’un cahier d’esquisses is particularly interesting as it explores silences and sound in just as much intensity and consistency as it explores the moments of ecstasy and climaxes. One gets a sense of hallucination as if being catered for under a magical spell.

After WWII, the entire world was in a state of complete shock and lost hope. In the music world that manifested itself in the idea that we have to “start anew”. Composers began asking themselves whether a piece needed to have structure, melody, rhythm and so on. Furthermore, can structure be something different, new? The same question applies to melody and rhythm. What is a melody?  What is rhythm? Along these lines, the concept of whether instruments can produce different sounds was tested. Does an orchestra needs to sound like an orchestra?  Georgy Ligeti’s Musica Ricercata which was written between 1951 and 1953 examines the very foundation of such questions. Six movements from this collection were transcribed for a Wind quintet. Humor, wit, sarcasm, pain, songfulness, folklore and paying homage, are all played-with and ultimately given new meanings in what lay the foundation to post-modernism. One of the most important phenomenas that occur when we listen to music in general is “Expectations”. We expect a theme, we expect to feel, we expect to resolve tensions, we expect certain sounds. The idea of “expectations” is being put to the test and shaken to the core in this fascinating piece by Ligeti. 

Throughout the centuries the Keyboard remained central in the creative lives of composers. Some wrote their new symphony first at the keyboard and then orchestrated it. Others wrote their new symphony FOR the keyboard, imagining the range of sound and color that an orchestra can produce within that enigmatic instrument. Some of the most fascinating pieces ever written were for the piano but with the full resources of an orchestra behind as the driving force. 

Pre-ludes, Middle-ludes, After-ludes Part IV (Final)

This is the forth and final part of the journey to find 24 "musical" thoughts and after-thoughts, middle-thoughts and Pre-thoughts after Chopin's beloved and yet enigmatic Preludes. 

19) With such a pastiche of 24 miniatures, one is compelled to try all sorts of directions for inspiration and imagination. I often find it helpful to orchestrate as my interpretation evolves. For example the surging melody in the left-hand of the b minor prelude (no. 6) might be beautifully conceived on a cello. The texture of the chords in the c minor prelude (no. 20) reminds me of brass. The soaring beauty of the cantilena line in the B flat major prelude (no. 21) could be played on the flute. However, what is extraordinary to me is how idiomatic Chopin's music is. It belongs to the piano! Thinking, imagining, referring to other instruments might add greater nuance to one's playing. But whenever I heard such realizations of Chopin's music on other instruments - whether strings or winds - the music sounded very weak, timid and ultimately unconvincing. Can it be that as great as Chopin's music is, it only sounds good on the piano? 

20) The preludes are at once similar as well as strikingly different. While the differences seem obvious, the similarities are more implicit, hidden. Take for example preludes nos. 2, 3 and 24 - all three exhibit a left-hand obstinate that governs the entire piece. ostinato also sets its tone. In all three preludes the left-hand pattern also begins a few bars before the melody enters. And yet how obviously different these preludes are. Such inner-connections are in abundance throughout the whole set. 

21) While the preludes are so different in character they are also incredibly varied from a technical point of view: the child like simplicity of the A major prelude (no. 7) is at times taught to amateur pianists while the gargantuan b flat minor one (no. 16) is among the most difficult compositions Chopin ever wrote. I once taught the very slow pace chordal c minor prelude (no. 20) to a 9 year old, and yet, I would never attempt to even introduce the same pupil the immensely difficult (especially when the hands are still cold) G major one (no. 3). The reason for such drastic variety lies in the fact that Chopin's technical demands always serve a much greater purpose. Unlike some of his contemporaries (i.e. Liszt) who could enjoy the showmanship aspect of technical difficulties, Chopin did not write technical difficulties for the sake of exhibition. In the preludes the difficulties are part of the music, part of the DNA of the piece, its essence and message. 

22) The composer Robert Schumann was known to have had the gift to sketch in music people that he knew - a portraitist in music. His Carnival op. 9 is the example where several of the movements have names such as Paganini or Chopin.  The Preludes of Chopin, being so many different things, are also influenced by and as a result paint a sketch portrait of a wide range of composers - the elf-like lightness of
Mendelssohn (10); the lied-like with brook-like texture of Schubert (13); the tour-de-force virtuosity of Liszt (16, 24); the coloratura of Bellini (21); A Bach homage and a Bach choral (no. 1 and no. 20); emblematic ambiguity of Schumann (14, 23); and what about Mozart his idol, or Beethoven, even though he did not like him. The subconscious work in mysterious ways.

23) And if we bring up other composers, then what about the ones that came after Chopin’s death and were highly influenced by the Preludes - Faure, Szymanowski, Scriabin, Debussy, Rachmaninov and Shostakovich among others. Interestingly Chopin had a profound impact on Russian music. The Russian public was introduced to his music as early as 1829 in a concert in St. Petersburg. The genuine clarity and beauty of Chopin’s melodies, the deep sadness, tenderness and melancholy of his music greatly touched his listeners in Russia. The audience as well as the critics saw him not only as a pianist and composer, but also as a genius poet. The way Chopin incorporated national dances into his music also captured the Russian interest.  With the composer Karl Szymanowski the influence obviously is the direct link to the Polish national school of piano. In my humble opinion though, if we were to draw a line from Bach’s WTC to Chopin’s set, then the next line should be to Debussy’s two books of Preludes! In their originality, inventiveness, new ideas, use of dynamics, finger articulation, use of pedal, motivic development, amorphic shape, emotional range and much more, the Debussy Preludes are as revolutionary as the Chopin’s!!

24) The last words have to be given to none other than George Sand - the woman that causes so much inspiration for Chopin, together with anguish. Sand described the preludes as “most beautiful of short pages, which bring to mind visions of deceased monks, the sound of funeral chants, melancholy and fragrant. They came to him in time of sun and health, in the clamor of laughing children under the window, the far away sound of guitars, birdsongs from the moist leaves, in the sights of the small pale roses coming in bloom on the snow… while charming your ear, they break your heart… Chopin’s genius was filled with the mysterious sounds of nature, but transformed into sublime equivalents in musical thought… The gift of Chopin is the deepest and fullest feelings and emotions that have been existed.”    

An Epilogue…sorry an Epi-lude:

The Preludes of Chopin are a fountain of inspiration, a wealth of ideas that, having an important place in the music literature. For their brevity, ingenuity, originality, wit and poetry, they constantly attract musicians and audience alike. The most Romantic of composers disliked this association altogether. His music wasn’t inspired by literature or paintings as some of his contemporaries such as Liszt or Schumann. Whereas Beethoven turned the piano into an orchestra (or string quartet at times), and Mozart was bringing to life an opera at the piano, Chopin completely and wholeheartedly conceived his music solely for the piano. In no other single piece that he wrote his genius is more conspicuous as in the set of 24 preludes Op. 28. Even-though these are miniatures, they encompass tremendous emotional power. With seemingly inexhaustible variety of moods and ideas and an endless supply of beautiful melodies the set stands along the great achievements of human creation and vision.

Wolfgang Amadeus Bartok

On performing Bartok's concerto no. 3 with the Rhode Island as well as the Fort Wayne Philharmonic Orchestras - February 28 and March 14, 2009.

In the midst of a February month dominated by playing four different concerti (Schumann, Brahms 1, Mendelssohn 1 and Bartok 3), I suddenly discovered something which at first seemed totally absurd - that Bartok has potentially more in common with Mozart than say Schumann or Brahms. To be more specific, I realized that by thinking in Mozartean terms I would reveal more of the mystery in this piece (Bartok 3), get closer to its core, its ultra sensitive quality, its unique intimacy.

As I walked on stage I saw a magnificent sight - a huge instrument comprised of nearly eighty musicians - string players, wood winds, brass and percussionists who were playing a wide range of instruments in all shapes and sizes. The stage was completely packed.

During the first run-through of the piece I recognized much more Stravinsky and Debussy in our playing than say Bach or Mozart. I believe there is a strong misconception of Bartok as being an aggressive, heavy-handed composer. I often hear his music being played loudly and with some brutality. In music history of the twentieth century, Stravinsky's use of the simplest rhythmic patterns being repeated, and elevated above melody is called "primitivism." We also use the same term when addressing Bartok's melodic lines which are derived from folk melodies and especially peasant songs from Hungary and the neighboring countries (Romania, Bulgaria). Yet, these melodies, simple as they may sound, use quarter tones in a melodic scale, which is far more elaborate than "our" major or minor scales. Their rhythmic ingenuity juxtaposes similar recognizable rhythmic patterns in a way that creates entirely different stresses and tensions within the phrase. So different than Stravinsky. Primitive would not be the word I would use.

We begin again. This time I ask the orchestra to "Think Mozart". The scoring of the opening is so thin, so minimal - no tutti, just strings, timpani and piano. The very first notes, rather than create a Debussy-like murmur, I ask the strings for the precision and clarity that would characterize a Mozart accompaniment. The timpani should sound like as if it is playing "pizzicato." On top of that I could introduce my folkish dance. This intricate and very peculiar dance is deceptively simple. Its complexion is due to the displacements of strong beats and weak beats within the bars. It needs extreme attention to agogic, stresses and overall phrasing. A different kind of listening is asked for. Transparency is crucial. When this opening theme reaches its climax and brass instruments are added, it is still with the same sense of clarity and style that defines the classical era, rather than the full blown thick massive sound of late romanticism.

In the second theme, piano, strings, winds and percussion participate. Sounds big...? Well, "yes", however the result is quite

the opposite. In this subtle interplay between the various instruments, piano is the leading voice while the other

instruments add spices, colors and missing beats. The use of each instrument - triangle, side drum, horn, clarinet, violins is so economic, so sparse. What is even more fascinating is that to my ears, Bartok is asking the percussion instruments to sound like string pizzicato, the strings are asked to sound like wood-winds or alternatively like light percussion instruments (i.e. triangle), the wood-winds sound somewhat like a piano, and the piano... well, with music that has such purity and directness of expression, the piano needs to combine the clarity and precision of an early fortepiano with the infinite resources that the modern instrument can provide.

Let's think about that - asking a percussionist to sound like a wind player... or the latter to sound like a piano... This is a revolution to our common notions of sound. But that belongs to another entry.

Early in his life Bartok was most influenced by the composers he emerged from - Brahms, Liszt, Strauss. As he evolved, during the 1920s, Debussy and Stravinsky became a great source of inspiration. Now, late in his life (with the present piece), he is looking back to Mozart and even further... to Bach! It is in the first movement that I felt the greatest benefit in listening through Mozart "Ear-glasses." In the following movement, the slow second movement, an altogether different atmosphere is created. Its religious state of mind, its choral as well as polyphonic writing resurrect another very familiar figure, that of Johann Sebastian... Bartok.

Alon Goldstein

The Road Not Existed...

There are big cities, there are small cities, there are tiny little cities, and then there is Tiffin Ohio. This American city brought about yet another big smiling question mark on the face of Laurence, my relative from New York. Other than telling me with his witty touch of cynicism "it is my favorite city", or "been there many times...", he seemed to be at a loss in terms of its geographical whereabouts. He would not even admit that it is within the continental United States.

So there was no surprise when after asking the journalist that interviewed me from the local newspaper about Tiffin's tourist destinations or places to eat... all I heard was laughter. To be more accurate: regarding places to eat, I was advised to drive out of town, and in terms of places to see... well, it seemed that the biggest attraction within a 50 miles radius was the interstate that takes you North or South of here! But I like traveling, especially when no expectations are involved. This trip to Ohio included three solo recitals - Tiffin, Dayton and Cincinnati.

After landing in Cincinnati airport and getting my rental car, I looked at the map and saw that to get to Tiffin, one only needed to go North on the interstate and turn East at one point. That's all. My hard working manager - Jennifer - equipped me with directions from Yahoo map, to be on the "safe" side. These directions, however, showed a much more "contrapuntal" way to reach Tiffin - one that when placed next to the most complex of Bach's fugues, would probably prove superior in its intricacy, and its use of deceptive cadences. In other words there were quite a few dead-ends! I saved it for posterity.

For the love of traveling I went for excitement and took the road less traveled. What followed, though, reminded me of Frost's famous poem "The road not taken". But I will have to rename it to "The road not existed!" Battling with countless of country roads, byways, bicycle trails, foot paths, sidewalks as well as all sorts of non-grooved ways, I finally reached my destination... three hours or so late. I used "the Schwartz".

After settling in my hotel, I went to look for the hall. At this point I have lost my sense of adventure... and asked in the lobby for the directions!

Initially, when learning about this engagement. I was expecting to play in a small shabby looking barn or something like that. I understood that this presenter wanted to introduce classical music to his community and so forth. I was happy to come.

How surprised I was to find out that this was not a small barn, but rather a stunning-looking theatre from the 1920s that hosts a series of serious productions each year. Between the Broadway productions, and other big events, there was me and my solo piano recital going on tomorrow night...

Every now and then when I travel in the US, I come across a theatre from the earlier part of the twentieth century, which ends up being truly a jewel - a real beauty that has been preserved, renovated and cherished by special people in the community, that would not let it turn into a parking lot, or just deteriorate. A few of such theatres which I had the opportunity to perform at include the Coronado theatre in Rockford Illinois; the Ohio theatre in Columbus Ohio; the Old opera house in Franklin New Hampshire; Powers auditorium in Youngstown Ohio and the "Ritz Theatre" here in Tiffin Ohio.

Most of these halls, as is the case with this one, started as movie theatres. For me, just to be in such places, looking at the intricate plaster work, absorbing the inspirations for the interior design - Italian Renaissance or Greek - observing the atmospheric lighting, embracing the warmth, all this is very memorable. It is tangible!

My recital included works by Bach, Janacek, Debussy, Schubert, and my friend Avner Dorman. Each piece in this recital program seemed to have drawn its inspiration from a different source - whether religious as in the arrangements from the Bach Cantatas; current events, which inspired the Janacek sonata; a picture from the French Rococo period influencing Debussy; nature scenes and German poetry coming to life in Schubert's Impromptus and an individual (the legendary Jazz pianist Art Tatum) which inspired Avner Dorman's 2nd sonata.

I started with the Bach, in order to get the audience (and myself) "into the zone", into the state of concentration from which all else can then unfold.

The Janacek is a favourite piece of mine. One of the reasons is that I don't think it is "music for the piano". I will explain: unlike composers such as Mozart, Beethoven, Liszt or Chopin, who understood the piano intimately, Janacek's expressive (at times explosive) piano sonata seems to have written without the instrument in mind. This tragic score rather than written FOR the piano, it is music first and foremost! played AT the piano.

One of the advantages of playing a piece like the 2nd sonata by Israeli composer Avner Dorman is that after it ends, you feel that the audience is in a "shock". They did not expect something like that - that a contemporary work by a composer they haven't yet heard of, will bring them to such enthusiastic response. The sonata's colorful, poetic / somewhat melancholic opening movement is coupled with an outburst of immense energy and rhythmic power in the closing second movement. This is a tremendous showcase of creativity and imagination.

Following intermission I played Debussy's "Island of joy". Dated September 1904, Debussy wrote gaily about it “Heavens! How difficult it is to play… This piece seems to embrace every possible manner of treating the piano, combining as it does strength and grace…if I may presume to say so.” Indeed this is a world that unites joy and pathos, humor and love. In Debussy’s score, rhythmic control and suppleness exist side by side, and intoxicating dance rhythms mix with surging melody.

Schubert's sublime first set of Impromptus culminated the program. These pieces have a depth of feeling and Romantic intensity from true happiness to the most profound longing. Childlike innocence mixes with spiritual darkness. Optimism and hope confronts a reality of solitude and poverty. The composer of more than 600 songs is writing here four extremely poetic masterpieces. The range of emotions expressed in these exquisitely beautiful pieces is overwhelming. Schubert, who died at age 31, was able to reconcile the so called Classical style with the Romantic spirit of freedom and emotional extremity. The song-like quality of these jewels comes across also in the more agitated second and forth impromptus which are fast but lyrical without any intention of sheer virtuosic display. The picturesque characteristics found in Schubert’s songs are an essential part of this music – nature, the rippling brook, the un-attained love, the loneliness of the wanderer, the feeling of being a stranger in any land, breathlessness of hope as well as resignation and despair, and many more.

At the end of the recital I felt grateful at the opportunity to play in this hall, and for this audience who most likely experienced this music just now for the first time.

The next morning, as I was heading to Dayton I decided (if you don't mind) to take "The road existed"...


Alon Goldstein