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

One of the most monumental yet enigmatic works of the nineteen-century is the 24 preludes op. 28 of Frederic Chopin. It puzzled as well as fascinated the most celebrated musicians including people like Schumann and Liszt. Is it one work, or are these 24 little miniatures? Should it be played as a whole? Does it have an exposition, a development, any climax, goal, and resolution? 

Chopin's preludes re-examine, re-shape, re-evaluate (and more) common notions or expectations so to speak, as we delve dip into the Romanic era. Sensuality of sound; what constitutes a melody; rhythmic complexities; textural transparency; are all but a little teaser to what this epic work has to offer. It is the culmination of an era and at the same time the foundation of what is to come. 

Here are 24 thoughts – some pre-thoughts, some middle-ones and some after-thoughts - about the 24 Preludes of Chopin:

 1) First of all Chopin liberated the Prelude from the… Fugue! Similarly, he liberated the Etude from being a mere exercise or the Scherzo from being part of a larger work. There were predecessors, but he was by far the most masterful.

 2) These are Preludes then, but to what? Well, the first one is probably a prelude to the second one. The third one is a prelude to the forth one. But is the second one a prelude to the third? Can we also say that the first twelve as a whole are a prelude to the succeeding twelve? I certainly feel that.

 3) Are all the 24 preludes??? No. 23, the penultimate one has the flair of an "after-lude" in my opinion. No. 15, the famous one with the nickname "raindrop" feels very much like a "middle-lude", being the center of gravity in the cycle. Hence the reason that I called this entry "Pre-ludes, Middle-ludes, After-ludes".

 4) Bach's "Goldberg Variations" among MANY things, is also a study of baroque dance genres, as each variation explores a different dance genre of the high baroque era. I would like to make a similar proclamation and say that to a large extent the 24 preludes are also 24 studies of 24 dance genres as well as other nineteen-century salon pieces that were common (more or less) in the Romantic period. We can find a barcarole (no. 13), a Nocturne (no. 15), Fantasy-Impromptu (no. 8), an elegy (no. 4), a funeral march (no. 20), a Polonaise (no. 6) a mazurka (no. 7) and etude (no. 19) etc.

 5) Staying with Bach… when the great master wrote his B minor Mass he was approaching the end of his life. Writing a grand Mass for his legacy was of highest importance for him. Perhaps there was something of a "legacy" also with Chopin's decision to write 24 Preludes in all 24 major and minor scales – a large scale work that will encompass not only the eternity of music but of humanity in a sense. An emotional journey with the widest of range from triumph to despair, great struggle to euphoria, anger to ultimate sweetness etc.

 6) In 1834 Robert Schumann founded the New Journal for Music. His first review was written about a little known polish composer by the name of Frederick Chopin and started with the words "Hats off Gentleman, a genius". Five years later even though Schumann still admired Chopin greatly, he had this to say about the preludes: "The preludes are strange pieces... They are sketches, beginnings of Etudes or so to speak, ruins, eagle wings, a wild motley of pieces... He is and remains the boldest and proudest poetic mind of the time. The collection also contains the morbid, the feverish, and the repellent. May each search what suits him; may only the philistine (dilettante) stay away."

...to be continued with the words of Liszt and others in the next entry.

Dance in the Desert

Every August - far from the big city, but close to the human spirit, detached from our endless daily race, and connected to our need for time and peace of mind, deep in the south of Israel - in the desert – a remarkable, one of a kind enterprise comes to life. It is the "Tel-Hai International Piano Master Classes", which take place in Sde Boker – about two and a half hours south of Tel-Aviv.

Classical music in the desert? Can Mozart and the "Wilderness of Zin" find a common language? Will Beethoven find his way through the spring of "Ein Avdat"? In this surreal location the real becomes unreal, and the unreal becomes a dream, where our eternal music caresses the landscape in a way I have never experienced before, or maybe it is the other way around.

For nearly three weeks, some seventy pianists from about two dozen countries come together in search of answers, of discovery, in a most unusual place. For all of us – staff, students and spectators – this becomes an experience of everlasting increase of awareness, one that is drawn from several unexpected inspirational resources.

From the first day, private lessons, public master classes and concerts are being held. On top of that a competition of a newly commissioned Israeli work takes place as well as a concerto competition, in which three young pianists are chosen to play as soloists with the Israeli Symphony Orchestra Rishon LeZion. One of the primary goals of this unique project is that the center of gravity will be the students and their experience, which they are able to shape according to their own needs, with us – the professors – giving advice.

As the master classes begin to take shape, people get acquainted with themselves and with the land. Then, miracles start happening: I saw Mozart the other day, playing tricks with some girls at the bottom of "Zin" wadi. He can be so "uncivilized" at times... also in his music! A few other students went after midnight to watch the stars. Instead, they saw Chopin dancing privately with George Sand. She wanted to dance to a Polonaise, while he preferred a Mazurka. Usually he looks so frail. Here, in Sde Boker, I swear he was feeling much stronger.

After the first few days a sense of familiarity takes place, and adventures are attempted. We all travel together about thirty minutes south to "Machtesh Ramon", the largest natural crater in the world. On the way we make a brief stop to admire the unfolding view. In the far distance we can almost see Haydn working on his new "Creation". Here, in Sde Boker he is regaining some of his lost fame, with countless of fine performances of his sonatas.

In "Machtesh Ramon" we go for a hike. A quick glance into the impressive horizon lying in front of us sends our imagination soaring. These are sights coming straight out of the book of Genesis. Looking at the walls of this enormous natural structure reveals millions of years of history. Can our music, which is mostly from the last three hundred years, somehow relate to that?

Oops… suddenly Ginastera jumps out of the cliff, with his Argentinean dances. They almost sound as chaotic as Haim Permont's Moment Musical – the commissioned work for this year's classes. Beethoven decides to join us along for our walk. I think he hears better here, although he still complains. His late sonata – no. 30 in E major Op. 109 – is performed three times during the course of this festival. Is this a coincidence, or does late Beethoven fit our atonal landscape better than anywhere else? We head back just in time to have some cheese and wine, and hear Liszt trying to impress Clara Schumann with his flamboyant playing of a new "Israeli Rhapsody". I believe he is thinking of a new Annees de Perelinage ("years of wondering") – after Swiss and Italy, now… Israel!!

One morning a family of ibexes (mountain goats) climbed up from the valley to listen. One after another, I counted sixteen. People say that classical music has a shrinking audience. Maybe we should turn then to the animals... Perhaps we should "invite" nature. We might find some answers. Schubert certainly thinks so. He just rented a little trolley calling everybody "all aboard", before disappearing in the distant creek.

If classical music is dead, then I guess the desert has no life: I see no water, yet there are so many different kinds of plants all around, up and down the rugged hills. I see no food, yet so many insects in all shapes and form find enough to live together in perfect harmony – scorpions, butterflies, spiders, beetles and many other kinds of small creatures whose names I probably will never know. The desert is full of life, and our classical music finds it to be a natural spring, full of pure energy.

Are we ready to take some risks – Brahms says "yes", as do Prokofiev and Rachmaninov, and of course Liszt. They dominate the "Concerto competition". Bach and Mozart preferred to stay out of this. Bach was last seen running after one of his fifteen children. They are absolutely thrilled playing with the ibexes. Mozart on the other hand was working on a new opera – "The Magic Canyon".

The competition begins. Risks are taken. Mistakes are made. These are all essential in the learning process. Out of fifteen contestants, six are selected to play in next day's finals. Three are chosen to play in a couple of months with the orchestra.

By now, two weeks have gone by. Only five days are left and it seems to me that most students are going through a period of transformation – they spend most of their time outside, rather than inside, some even decide to sleep out in the desert. Is it the music, the way we teach here, or is it the place? I truly believe that the answers to the questions we encounter, when we learn a new piece, do not lie all inside the practice room. They are also found outside – in a place, in a conversation, a hike, a visit, and sometimes also in just marveling the surroundings of a place like Sde Boker.

There are only a couple of more days. Schumann hasn't yet sent out all the invitations for his new "Desert Carnaval". I heard he has some new characters in it that we have never heard of. He must hurry up if he wants Mendelssohn to join the party. The latter thinks he found a new symphony hidden in one of the caves here. Will he resurrect another composer yet again?! Tchaikovsky in the meanwhile has to quit worrying about hearing his Nutcracker piano arrangement played here. Who said one cannot Dance in the Desert?

A total of 72 students and 14 teachers performed about 150 pieces in the concerts, worked on 27 other pieces in the public master classes, and explored countless of other works in the private lessons. We head to a Bedouin tent for our farewell dinner before waking up from the dream and going back to reality.

Two and a half weeks of intense back and forth between young musicians and senior ones, all nourished by this magical environment changed us, made us more aware, enriched, rounded, rugged, inspired and perhaps even... better pianists.

See you next year!!








Alon Goldstein