Pre-ludes...Middle-ludes...After-ludes (Part II)

This is the second of four installments about 24 Pre-thoughts, Middle-thoughts and After-thoughts on Chopin's epic 24 Preludes Op. 28.

7) Bach's Preludes and Fugues were conceived as a "study", an "exercise". One can argue that a few of Chopin preludes also sound as a kind of a "study". Both Bach and Chopin wrote these works as a labour of love for the keyboard, its keys, colors, sensualities, timbre and infinite potential. However, even-though some of Bach's Preludes and Fugues have inner-connections, as a whole, they were not thought of as one gigantic work to be performed as such. Chopin's Preludes on the other hand are inseparable. The more I play them, the more I feel how they are connected. They support each other, they rely on one another. Each prelude complement as well as contradict the previous one or the next one that follows. Put together side by side, they become a journey, a roller-coaster ride, or more poetically a symbol of the infinite diversity of the human spirit.

8) Unlike Schumann who was somewhat bewildered by the Preludes, Franz Liszt

on the other hand found them "admirable for their variety, the labour and learning with which they abound…appreciable only by the aid of a scrupulous examination; everything seems fresh, elastic, created at the impulse of the moment, abounding with that freedom of expression which is characteristic of works of genius."

9) Chopin was a ground breaking pioneer not only with transforming the prelude into an independent entity, but also with the way and to the extent in which he freed the right hand from the left hand - or perhaps better to say the melody from the accompaniment. The art of great Chopin playing involves "a free walk (the melody) on a firm ground (the accompaniment, the pulse)", to quote the words of the great Artur Schnabel.

10) Harmonically speaking, Chopin was among those who lay the foundation for the break-up of tonality! Take for example Prelude no. 2 - the sense of tonal ambiguity is astounding. Not until the very last chord of the piece do we finally arrive at the home key of A minor, which has not been heard even once before.

11) Furthermore, harmonic analysis of the preludes can be tricky at best, useless many times. Prelude no. 4 is one of the most beautiful single pages of music ever written. Analyzing this prelude vertically, knowing the degree of each chord means not knowing much at all in regards to this masterpiece. Chopin tells us that true harmonic understanding dates back a century or two - first and foremost to Bach or even prior, when figured bass and voice leading stood above all.

12) But maybe Chopin is trying to tell us that harmonic examination is not the way to approach this piece (and others as well). "Passing notes", "neighbor notes", "leading notes", all serve a much greater purpose. Chopin decided to write one of his most profound pieces when he reached the key of E minor in the cycle. This key used to symbolize the crucifixion in the Baroque era. Just as Bach's "Crucifixus" from the B minor Mass was written in E minor so was this prelude. And just as Bach's music descends as if picturing the descent of Jesus into the grave, so does the notes in this prelude descend slowly and steadily. Slowly as if trying to cling to life, and steadily inexorably striding towards its ultimate faith and final breath.

...to be continued with Part III which includes yet another reaction to the Preludes: "Chopin's music is essentially unhealthy".

An Adventure in Anti-Gravity

Dedicated to Leon Fleisher in celebration of his 85th birthday.

It has been fifteen years since I received my last "official" lesson with my sainted teacher Leon Fleisher. I remember telling him not long after I moved on that my best decision in life was to come and study with him, and the second best decision was to leave. He smiled. That was said, obviously, with much love and admiration.

Fleisher's teaching did not involve extensive demonstrations. Not being able to play with his right hand for many years, he spent a lot of time searching for the right word to express what his inner ear was seeking. Musicians tend to say that music cannot be described in words. I believed it until I heard Fleisher speak. It was so clear, so eloquent, so rich, so incredibly precise, even if it took me a while to figure out how to spell surreptitious, periodicity, subtle or menacing. His goal was to teach us to teach ourselves: to know what to ask and when to ask, how to do, where to find, why this and why that.


It was not too long after I began my studies with him that at one of my lessons after playing for him, he said one of the most beguiling yet resolute discoveries I heard him saying. It was during a lesson on a Schubert or Beethoven sonata, while I was trying to find the focal point in the phrase, create a long line, generate momentum and so forth, that Fleisher leaned backward slowly in his chair, closed his eyes gently, raised his eye-brows and said that "music is made out of physical forces."  Every note, every ascending or descending line, circular patterns or huge leaps is surrounded with physical forces. They are the magnet between the notes. This is what the music is made of. Understanding these physical forces, knowing how to utilize them makes for an interpretation that is not only irresistible but inevitable.

The other day I came back to my alma mater, the Peabody Conservatory of Music, to rehearse Mozart's concerto for two pianos with Katherine Jacobson Fleisher in preparation for a performance with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra later this summer. In the midst of rehearsing Fleisher entered the room unexpectedly and we both embraced the opportunity to be transported by his presence.

As we began the first movement these physical forces slowly awakened – Centrifugal force pushed us outwards when an ascending melodic run changed its direction. Centripetal force pulled us inwards when a descending line suddenly turned upwards. Circular patterns, angular ones, leaps, jumps, sustain notes - all generated forces that glued the notes to become a musical phrase. 


There was one force, though that existed from the moment the first note of the piece was pressed and until the last note disappeared. That was the force of gravity. As the melody soared high above, then dived back down almost touching the ground, making loops and leaps, taking us on a roller-coaster journey, it was a journey in anti-gravity. Fleisher, Kathy and myself, were conversing together with Susanna, Dr. Bartolo, the count and Figaro. Oh, and Mozart… he was conducting the whole opera.

Hours passed, Fleisher became more immersed in the music. As we began the second movement he was pointing out the achingly beautiful suspended notes in the melody. "It hurts so good" he said, and then continued: "Listen to the way the long notes make a crescendo after being pressed, followed by a diminuendo before the next note arrives." Every physicist would say this is impossible, but we musicians are not physicists, we are illusionists. This is vocal playing.

When Fleisher was pressing those keys there was a sense of rightness. The notes appeared at exactly the right place in time. He (and Mozart) did not need to use many keys to open the lock into the mystery of such divine beauty.  Elevating our level of awareness to the next sphere, Fleisher described a tune as "rising the way a balloon does, at an ever-decreasing rate of speed, to the point where the pressure outside equals the pressure inside and it stays suspended".

The heavenly beauty of the opening tune gave way to the intense sorrow of the middle section. I was bewildered by Fleisher's reorganization of the phrase structure. "Listen to the way the held notes in the melody change their color when the harmony underneath changes". A simple held note, so painful, became so hopeful under a different harmony, different color. After experiencing this extraordinary moment, the rising line with the force of resistance felt exhausting. The next held note was one of resignation, of acceptance. It gave in to gravity.

The middle section came to a close, and the opening melody returned. At the beginning this melody had a future. Now it had a past. It sounded entirely different as a result. Our resistance to the force of gravity was soon coming to a close as the movement approached its end. Taking off when the movement started, being carried on top of one giant force, hovering above when the pressure outside equaled the pressure inside, experiencing all those ever-changing moods, while being aware of the forces surrounding the notes, and at the end coming back down.

It seemed so natural, so obvious when Fleisher put his hand on the piano. Every key he pressed was part of nature's forces that shape our world in general and this music in particular. For Kathy and me it was a great adventure. After all, music is an adventure in anti-gravity.  

Closing Circles

Celebrating the 25th anniversary of Ravinia Festival's Steans Institute of Music

It was the summer of 1994 that gave a whole new perspective for me as a musician. A new chapter started less than a year prior to that, when I left Israel to come and study with Leon Fleisher at the Peabody conservatory of music in Baltimore, MD. So much had happened during the course of that year, and yet something very special was left for the summer, when I was accepted to attend the Steans Institute of the Ravinia Festival in Highland Park, IL not too far from Chicago.

"I hope your experience here will be an everlasting increase of awareness" asserted Mr. Fleisher to a group of young musicians at a festival, me being one of them. My experience that summer of 1994 at the Steans was not so much to do with awareness. It was to do with awakening!

I was never a big fan of competitions. It gave me neither motivation nor inspiration to go and practice. Yet competitions seem to have been the excuse for countless of hours of practice to so many young pianists, seeking that elusive thing we call "career".  The Steans institute took me on a different path, one which was much healthier in my humble opinion.

Five weeks of intense work on solo repertoire as well as chamber music literature - one nourishes as well as supports the other. It is interconnected, interwoven. The Piano faculty consisted of Leon Fleisher, Menachem Pressler, Christoph Eschenbach, and Claude Frank to name just a few. The String faculty was of equal merit with Miriam Fried, David Geringas, Lynn Harrell, Kim Kashkashian, Paul Biss and many more.

Miriam Fried the leader of the program with her uncompromising musicianship and sense of integrity has created an environment where individualism and creativity flourishes. I will always remember the many hours of extra work that Paul Biss spent with Laura, Inna and me on Schubert's E flat major trio, helping us achieve a performance that opened our eyes (and ears) to the infinite beauty of Schubert and of chamber music. I remember how Lynn Harrell, while coaching Colin, Si-Fei, Inna and me the Brahms c minor quartet joined us in the last movement. His playing with us amounted to a tsunami wave which I had never known existed. For a moment I can also close my eyes and feel the aura in the room when Claude Frank spoke about and played parts of Beethoven's sonata op. 90, or feel the exhaustion after working nearly six hours with Christoph Eschenbach on Beethoven's Les Adieux sonata.

After that summer I decided that at the end of each year I would go to a different summer festival. I went to Aspen, Tanglewood, Verbier, Marlboro and Santa Fe. All have their special virtues. For me though, it was the Steans Institute that turned on the light and showed the way that was best for me.

Sometimes a lightening strikes twice in one place. I was struck for the first time in the summer of 1994. Then again when Miriam Fried called me to join the Piano faculty.  For the past three years now I have been coming to teach / coach at the Steans. To share and pass on what was given to me here in this special place more than a decade ago, together with other experiences each with its own nuances, is what we are meant to do. It is a privilege. To see how the Steans continues to grow and inspire young musicians while still keeping its core values is one of the joys in my professional life.  

Eat, Play, Fly...

I made my orchestral debut when I was 18, playing Rachmaninov's 1st piano concerto with the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra under the baton of Zubin Mehta. Needless to say how exciting that was: the sense of achievement, of fulfillment - reaching for the stars and then touching one. I was completely intoxicated by the whole experience and contemplated pursuing a career playing just one piece... the Rachmaninov 1st. After all, I played it quite well, and also I did not know much else.

Jumping ahead a few years (twenty-three to be exact) and about three dozen concerti, I was reminded of that thought when touring Latin-America with the Israel Chamber Orchestra conducted by Yoav Talmi.

For nearly one month I enjoyed a superb career playing only two pieces - Beethoven's concerto no. 2 and Mendelssohn's concerto no. 1. Sixteen concerts, starting in Tel-Aviv and continuing in Mexico (two concerts), Guatemala, Costa Rica, Columbia, Peru (2), Ecuador (2), Argentina (5), and Uruguay.  All of the concerts were in the major halls of the major cities including Teatro Colon in Buenos Aires, Palacio de Bellas Artes in Mexico City, Teatro Nacional in San Jose, etc.

Several stretches of this tour turned out to be: playing in Guatemala City, flying the next morning to San Jose (Costa Rica) and playing that night, flying the next morning to Medellin (Columbia) and playing that night, flying the next morning to Lima (Peru). My "job" was to be at my very best sixteen times in order to serve Beethoven or Mendelssohn (as to be at their service), as well as serve to the public Beethoven or Mendelssohn (I am also a waiter in some sort of way). All I did was Eat, Play and Fly. There really was not much sleeping involved. And yet, in many ways it ended up being much easier than the "normal" erratic concert schedule when one plays once or twice each week usually different repertoire.

I had no time (zero, nada, zilch) for anything but what I came here to do - perform B&M. No e-mails, no voice messages, credit card statements, traffic jams (we cruised through traffic with the help of the local police in Medellin and Lima), or any other 21st century improvements/distractions.  The level of concentration was at its highest, constant adrenalin, getting into the rhythm of performing. It was a continuous state of euphoria. This was one of the most rewarding music experiences I have ever had.

Performing sixteen consecutive times with the vibrant and wonderfully supportive Israel chamber orchestra under the commanding hand of the venerable conductor Yoav Talmi allowed for a degree of insight and intimacy that I have rarely felt. The possibility for experimentation and exploration, risk taking and stretching the boundaries was enormous.

* Should I launch onto and bring out the dramatic side of Beethoven right at the opening statements of the concerto, or should I play with a Mozartian elegance and leave the dramatic aspect more to the outrageously daring Cadenza?

* How far can I push the limits of the operatic scene in the second movement of the Beethoven? Perhaps each day I can give the role to a different singer?

* Can I totally change each appearance of the Rondo theme of the third movement, or should I "try to get closer to how my inner-ear would like it to sound" as my legendary teacher Leon Fleisher would have said?

* Can I really joke around in the last movement of the Mendelssohn concerto, while even adding a few ornaments?

* How about giving the First movement of the Mendelssohn a Lisztian flair?

All these questions and countless more were "up for grabs" or rather "up for trying out". What ecstasy!

Feeling at home on the stage, challenging and being challenged by the warmth and wit of Maestro Talmi; Making chamber music with the whole orchestra; And above all, being proven yet again that Music has a power of communication like no other. The music of Beethoven and Mendelssohn have not only transcended time and survived over centuries, it has also transcended place and touched the people of Guatemala, Peru, Ecuador or Columbia, just as profoundly as in any other parts of the world. We all witnessed it, and were privileged to have taken a role of ambassadors - ambassadors for music, for dialogue, for friendship, for multi-culturalism.

At the beginning of the tour I was excited every day we had a concert. As we approached the end. I got excited when we had a day off...

Now, it is time to move on, but I want to linger just a little longer. I want to savor the moments, perhaps even write about them, talk, share, and most of all start dreaming about the next tour.


Alon Goldstein

In front of the Palacio de Bellas Artes in Mexico City with the whole orchestra and Yoav Talmi

Inside the hall warming up just before the concert

My second visit to see Il Sistema in action in Guatemala City, Guatemala

The add for the concert in Teatro Nacional in San Jose, Costa Rica

In front of Teatro Nacional in San Jose, Costa Rica

This (and the concert) is pretty much what I remember from the 12 hours we spent in Medellin, Columbia

OK... I did not just perform (Lima, Peru)

A sign for our performance in Guayaquil, Ecuador

With Yoav Talmi in a moment of profound concentration

The beautiful hall in Cordoba, Argentina during the second half of our concert

Teatro Colon at night - This is It!

In action - Tearto Colon

I had to add one more

Four hands encore with the multi-faceted maestro

Teatro Solis in Montevideo, Uruguay

One last goodbye together in Montevideo, Uruguay (after the concert)

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.

A Questionnaire to Share

I was recently asked to be a featured artist in a publication. I needed to answer the following questions:

1) What or who inspired you to want to be an artist?
2) What was was your creative journey that has brought you to where you are in your career today?
3) What do you need as an artist today?
4) What creative project are you working on now?
5) Where do you see yourself and your career in 10 years?
6) What does it mean to you to be an Israeli artist?
7) What does it mean to you to have an organization like AICF available in the art world?


This is what came out:
1) Looking back, trying to re-live those early days when music became an integral part of my life, it was my late grandfather who first opened the door for me into the world of music. I was always drawn to interesting, multi-faceted people. My late grandfather was such a person – a painter, an accomplished violinist as well as a pianist, and a great actor who could impersonate Charlie Chaplin brilliantly. In other words, he was an artist in the true sense of the word. Every minute with him was filled with music and stories. Many of the stories were of survival during World War II. Throughout my life, the people that inspired me where the ones that were multi talented, larger than life, charismatic figures. Another such person was the composer / violinist / author and educator Ben Zion Orgad, to be further elaborated later on.

2) The creative journey that brought me to where I am right now involved on the one hand events, while on the other hand people that I met. When I was 17 years old I heard a concert in which Zubin Mehta conducted young soloists. I was so moved by the whole event. It energized me with tremendous ambition to be the next young soloist that the maestro will invite. That manifested itself in my commitment to practice harder every day. The following year I got my wish.
In the earlier question I mentioned Ben Zion Orgad – together with Leon Fleisher, both figures shaped my musical thinking enormously. When Ben Zion Orgad gave me his newest piano piece, a Toccata, asking me to add all the dynamic and interpretative markings, he elevated my level of awareness of what I do and why, to levels that I did not experience before. And when Leon Fleisher asked me to “direct his ear to what he should listen for”, before I played for him, whether it was Schubert or Chopin, he taught me to teach myself.

3) There are many things that I feel I need as an artist: My family and my friends above all – my support team. I also need time – time to explore, to ask questions, to succeed as well as to fail. I need peace and quiet that allows me to concentrate. I need “Godot” – something that constantly challenges and stimulates me to wake up the next day and run to the piano. I need to see a good play, a good movie, take a beautiful scenic road… and oh, I almost forgot, I also need a glass of red wine with a few lamb chops.

4) One of the creative projects that I am working on right now deals with creating a mega work out of two enigmatic monumental works. One of the most important, yet difficult to understand, solo pieces of the 19-century is the 24 preludes by Chopin. Even Schumann’s review of this work was quite elusive in its praise. I am in the process of inserting into these 24 jewels the 11 miniatures called ‘Musica Ricercata’ by the 20-century composer Gyorgy Ligeti. I strongly believe that music makes infinite number of connections, just like our brain. The juxtaposition of the raw passion of Chopin with the somewhat “scientific” passion of Ligeti fascinates me, and I hope will shed new light on the essence of these wonderful works. I am also working on another project - to record the two Mendelssohn concerti with the Israel Chamber Orchestra and the wonderful conductor Yoav Talmi.

5) During the past year two major trips - one to China and the other to Guatemala - shaken my musical journey to the core. In both cases children where involved. In China, witnessing in each concert I gave the attendance of hundreds of kids was absolutely incredible. In Guatemala I was introduced to the "Il Systema" program, which takes children from poor areas and give them a sense of purpose, a sense of identity and pride through a classical music program ages four till twenty. This daily program (five hours each day) includes singing, building instruments, playing them and ultimately performing in the children’s neighborhoods. I hope that in ten years my career will somehow be linked with these sorts of inspiring experiences, all of which are connected with education through music.

6) An Israeli artist is an ambassador! This is a great responsibility, which I embrace with all my heart. It is a responsibility to show the immense creative power that emerges and is cultivated in the land of Israel. Once, following a concert with the Rhode Island Philharmonic orchestra I was asked to shed light on the possible reasons that despite constant security issues and existential threats Israel is still able to produce so many wonderful artists. My answer was that perhaps this is our way to bring sanity and hope to an otherwise a very sad situation. Maybe it is a retreat. We need that and you need that. Together, with the help of Beethoven and Brahms we will succeed.

7) To have the America Israel Cultural Foundation in the art world means first and foremost to have a family – one that gives you the love and support you need as well as the faith that you can fulfill your potential. The AICF is also a hub for ideas to explore, for friendships to make and for opportunities, which you are given. It is also a place with experience that will always be happy to share an advice. Combining all that together for over seventy years, they have had a central role in the development of some of today’s most beloved and successful artists. I have the privilege to say that I belong to this family.


Alon Goldstein

A Pianistic Paradox

The art of playing the piano involves quite a strange paradox.

In our pursuit of creating a beautiful horizontal singing line we have to make vertical movements!

Pressing keys down seem to me such an unnatural movement in an attempt to create anything horizontal...

The legendary pianist Artur Schnabel in his quest to reconcile this asserted that "vertical is not only going from up to down. It is also going down up."

Indeed we press keys down. However, the overall motion must be upward - the palm, the wrist, the torso, and above all our concept of sound. This must go up!

Would that be enough to achieve the sense of a horizontal line?
Well, perhaps some talent to support this might help.


Alon Goldstein