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.

An Unexpected Friend

There are tall friends and there are short friends. There are close friends, or friends that are far away. There are larger than life friends, and others who are just large. There are friends that you take with you when you climb your mountain, and others that you leave to rest by the sideline. But every now and again we discover that we also have an unexpected friend - one which defies any labeling.

Today I will write about one such friend. Alas, he is not a person, nor is he a pet. As a matter of fact this friend is not a living thing, though "he" is very much alive. This friend with whom I have so many memories and have been through so much together with is actually a piece of music - The Mendelssohn first piano concerto.

For one reason or another this delightful piece accompanied me on many happy occasions, and in the process also exposed me to the possibilities where things can go awry and as I like to see it... quite funny.

The first time I performed the Mendelssohn concerto I was an eighteen year old non-protege pianist. The performance took place in Israel in the southern city of Beer Sheba. Not a cultural Mecca so to speak, but definitely an enthusiastic community where music is appreciated and taken seriously... Very seriously, especially by one stage manager.

My rehearsals with the orchestra went well, playing an old scratchy piano (exhibit A: Steinway) which was o.k. When I came to warm up in the evening about 45 minutes before the concert I suddenly saw on the stage a different piano than the one I had during rehearsals. It was a beautiful shiny piano (exhibit B: Yamaha.) Somewhat agitated I went to the stage manager who politely at first, less so thereafter, shoved me to the side. I kept on being persistent and was finally told that in the morning I played on the "ugly looking" whatever piano (see exhibit A) and now in the concert I was lucky to get the shiny looking other instrument (see exhibit B.) Needless to say no explanation on my behalf helped in any way. He was NOT going to change the instruments. After all the audience is not going to tolerate such lack of aesthetic priorities. The situation got even more serious and ultimately I had to call the conductor to mediate. I finally got my wish to the stage manager's enormous anger.

That was not the end though of that experience. As I went upstairs to put on my tux, I discovered that I forgot to bring my black trousers. Looking for a solution, I saw one of the musicians pass by my door. As if taken out of a devilish cartoon, the next minute that musician was naked and his black trousers which were extremely tight were on me. I walked onto the stage. I was very nervous, and very concentrated.... NOT on the piece I was about the perform for the first time... but rather because the trousers were so tight, they could explode any minute.

A few years later came the next performances of the Mendelssohn. It was in January of 1991. The first gulf war was looming and I just won an important competition in Israel with the Prokofiev third piano concerto. At the announcement ceremony of the winner I was asked whether I can play the Mendelssohn piano concerto the next day with the Israeli Philharmonic under Yoel Levi due to cancellation of the supposed to be soloist. I have not touched the piece since that first performance over two years ago.

Good friends always are at your side, and so did this piece. The next morning I went to the rehearsal (the only one I had) playing from the music. After all, I had less than 24 hours to prepare which were spent on praying rather than practicing. That night, on the way to the concert I heard on the radio that "Zubin Mehta has just landed in Israel and he is on the way to the concert of the Israeli Philharmonic Orchestra". Well, I was way too nervous to remember anything that followed. But the maestro did invite me a few months later to play with him.... the Mendelssohn concerto.

But before the concert with Mehta, I also played the Mendelssohn under my very good friend, the late conductor Mendi Rodan. Again in Beer Sheba, and a couple of months into the first gulf war, at the concert a siren came on. It was the first time that Beer Sheba was attacked. I guessed the Iraqi dictator knew where I was.

Then I went with Mendelssohn and also Mendi on tour to Greece with the Jerusalem symphony in 1992. With that same orchestra I played the Mendelssohn under Yoav Talmi fifteen years later!

Two years ago Mendelssohn came to visit me very close to where I live in Rockville Maryland, when I performed it with Symphony of the Potomac just next door, and then flew to play with with the Shreveport symphony in Louisiana. Last month another happy reunion, this time with the Israeli Chamber Orchestra in a festival in Eilat. And just last weekend a very exciting occasion to celebrate with my friend and with the hope of having two new ones (an orchestra and a conductor) - my debut with the London Philharmonic Orchestra under the extremely intense and insightful Vladimir Jurowski.

This time though I need to thank the stage manager who ran to open for me the stage door that was locked when I came back from warming up in an adjacent hall. I heard the orchestra tune for me and I was outside. Well, all's well that ends well... Especially with such good friends as the Mendelssohn first piano concerto.


Alon Goldstein

Variations Without Words

Schumann - Andante and Variations Op. 46 for two pianos, two celli and horn.
Katherine Jacobson Fleisher and Alon Goldstein - pianos; Sharon Robinson and Julia Bruskin - celli; David Jolley - horn. December 2007 at the 92 street Y in New York.


The Schumanns in 1847





There is a very unique and somewhat interesting aspect to the music of Robert Schumann. This great German composer is, in my opinion, the quintessential advocate of the Romantic era. He represents so vividly what this era stood for. Maybe this fact has something to do with what I would like to bring up.

It seems to me that a large number of the pieces that Schumann wrote have an immediate appeal to them - we love them from the first moment we set our "ears" on them. I think of the piano concerto, the Carnaval Op. 9, the piano quintet and the piano quartet, as well as many of his songs. However, other works remain for one reason or another, not as immediately appealing. They require further efforts by the listener as well as the performer to put before themseves a quest to unveil their beauty... their mystery. Engaging in such a quest takes time and faith, but the remuneration promises to be miraculous, especially with the music of Robert Schumann.

I recently played with a great company of musicians one of Schumann's lesser known works - the Andante and Variations in B flat major, Op. 46, scored for the unusual combination of two pianos, two celli and horn. Written in 1843, this piece most likely has not been performed during Schumann's life time in its original instrumentation. Schumann later revised it into a two piano work which Mendelssohn and Clara Schumann premiered. The piece in its original form appeared in print only 37 years after the composer's death.

The eminent violinist Jaime Laredo told me that this is his favorite Schumann piece! Why is it, then, that this work still remains largely obscure? Is it merely the scoring, or are there more reasons for this?

Schumann enjoyed writing pieces for unusual combination of instruments. Most of these works, though, came several years later - the Adagio and Allegro Op. 70 for horn and piano; the Concert piece Op. 86 for four horns and orchestra; the Romances Op. 94 for oboe and piano are all but a few. The Andante and Variations Op. 46 of 1843, came just after his two chamber masterpieces - the Piano Quintet Op. 44 and the Piano Quartet Op. 47. At the time Schumann preoccupied himself with writing his grandest piece to date - the oratorio Das Paradis und die Peri Op. 50.

A fundamental notion of the romantic era proclaims that creative work is the result of the artist's unbounded imagination. There is also a belief that the artist is merely a vehicle taking dictation of music that arrives from another world.

When we examine closely the Andante and Variations Op. 46, one of the first things which we ought to ask ourselves is about the unusual scoring. The "Two-Pianos" medium was already used before in wonderful works by Bach and Mozart among others. In this work, the dense and complex texture of the two pianos is being enriched with the low and dark colors of the two celli and the horn.

Playing through the piece for the first time, it is quite surprising how sparsely these other instruments are being employed. For the most part they don't get to play the melodic lines, nor do they provide the bass line, as their register might suggest. They add, though, a unique deep dark color in the background, and also in the foreground as the piece progresses.

The opening line sets the color palette. Then the curtain rises upon the theme along with a series of variations, which are more like lyrical miniatures - the first with tender lyricism, while the second with whimsical wit. Thereafter comes the third variation with the soaring melodies followed by the one overdosed with fiery energy. Sudden changes of mood are so much part of Schumann's music, and this piece is no exception. The composer's alter-egos, the demonic Florestan and the dreamy Eusebius, make their subtle appearances. Sweetness mixes with doubt, triumph with despair.

Half way through the piece a miraculous moment - Schumann is quoting himself: the opening of his beloved song cycle Frauenliebe und leben. Interestingly this is the only variation in the entire piece that starts without either of the pianos. For the most part, this variation is devoted solely to the two celli and horn. It is as if Schumann is in such profound state of internal serenity that he abandons completely the richness of the pianos, allowing us to simply engage our ear with the color of the moment, with the help of the other instruments. Is this the moment of Love? ...probably.

A sudden enlightenment - with the quotation from his song, maybe Schumann is writing here something similar to his good friend Mendelssohn's "songs without words". Should we then call this piece "Variations without words"? Oh, I like that!!

After this magical moment the theme re-enters in its pure naked form, and then takes a slight turn into its most painful transformation. The "love" of the previous variation is inflicted with the "pain" of this one. Love and pain go hand in hand. Whether helpful or not, necessary or superfluous, Schumann's deep love to Clara must have had something to do with these varying emotions.

Speaking of Mendelssohn... he now makes an appearance in the next variation, dressed up as one of his forest creatures. Though this variation is somewhat of a technical "tour de force", it is the pizzicato in the strings that draw my attention. It is in those subtleties that the piece becomes such a jewel. Then the horn gets center stage with vigorous calls that hardly ever been used in chamber music before. And in the next variation one of the clowns from the commedia dell'arte, possibly Harlequin, enters gently.

By now we have traveled quite a bit and we reach the grandest of all the variations, the one that uses all the forces which are at our disposal. We become a full orchestra. This is the only variation that begins in the minor key (g minor) and both melodically and rhythmically gets more intricate as it progresses. It culminates in the "coronation" of B flat major, the home key of the piece. There is high drama and passion in this variation, a real confrontation.

Eusebius returns. He gets the last word, as if to send us back to "Fantasy-land", a place we should have never left.

I want to play the piece again. I want to listen to it again, now from a distance. Were these Schumann's internal thoughts or were these mine? ours? Unusual yet seductive. Appealing yet ambiguous.

I feel I just added a new pearl onto my collection - one that is rougher possibly from being out of site, and at the same time serenely beautiful and uniquely shaped from being discovered and loved by not so many. I know that Schumann has more of these pearls.... Can I recommend one more?...go and listen to the Six Etudes in the form of Canons Op. 56.

Alon Goldstein