Tag Archives: shostakovich

some thoughts on returning to beethoven after a long period of playing much more recent music

All of last semester, and up until today, I have been playing somewhat unusual rep for a piano performance major. It was almost exclusively chamber music, most of it written in the past hundred years (I hesitate to use the term “modern”), and anything common practice was an orchestral reduction: not written for piano (with only one exception). So in all cases, difficult because of either the notes, the awkward writing, or both.

This semester instead of Copland, Shostakovich, and some Big Romantic Reductions, I’ve got Beethoven and Brahms! And Scarlatti! And maybe some Mozart! Okay there’s still some Shosty, I can’t lie, but still. Tonality! And let’s jump right in because that Beethoven horn sonata performance is in a week!

And these are the things I noticed as I got reacquainted with Beethoven.

1. I learned the entire sonata tonight. In about two hours. I will hit up some of the less obvious spots tomorrow and then it will be rehearsal-ready. Granted it’s not that difficult, but the last 24-page piece I had to learn took me more than a week to get the notes under my hands and required hardcore woodshedding every day just to keep it at acceptable levels. And let’s not talk about how much work/time to get it sounding good. It feels unnatural to not spend eight- or ten-hour days slaving over it just to accomplish a few pages. It feels too easy. Like I’m missing something or I’m cheating.

2. It’s relatively easy to play. It’s written for piano, by a pianist. The scale passages, melodies, and chord patterns are logical and fit under the hands. There are no strange tricks, I don’t have to finagle fingerings or orchestrate major note redistribution, acrobatics, or weigh the importance of individual notes and play Sophie’s Choice. I just have to write in the occasional finger number or accidental.

3. It requires more smart thinking than elbow grease. In this piece, every rhythmic or technical issue I encountered could be solved by either re-barring, re-stemming, or shifting hand positions. Yes, solved. In every piece I played in the last six months, every rhythmic/technical issue had to be mitigated by lots of slow work and an infuriating amount of repetition. Also copious cursing.

4. Simple rhythms are suddenly challenging. An eighth-note melody over a sixteenth-note accompaniment? Impossible. Requires some fingering write-ins and a few slow readings to get it right. A triplet embellishment of that same melody over that sixteenth-note accompaniment? Nailed it on the first try. (This may be because the last time I had to play straight eighths, it entailed a jump of more than an octave per hand twice per measure on consecutive eighths. And wasn’t tonal.)

5. It’s tonal. There is a colossal difference between “It was written in 1948 but all the harmonies are triadically based so it’s easier to read! Too bad it’s a different triad every single eighth at Quarter Equals 152” and “It’s in F with a harmonic rhythm of one measure.”

6. I’m playing off a library copy. I never do this. I always buy and play from my own copy (if I don’t borrow one from the soloist). However given the short lead time on this performance, I borrowed one from the library (I haven’t even met the horn player yet). And after spending only about two hours with the score I’m feeling a special kinship with whoever used it before me. First off, they erased all their markings before they returned it (the first time I’ve ever seen that! Props to you!). But as usually happens, ghosts of their markings can be seen if you look closely enough. And every time I go to mark something for myself, I find a ghost – this person made the same marking I am. Every accidental, fingering, circled reminder, was made by the person before me. I feel a strange kinship with them. “You kept missing that Bb too, huh?” “Yeah, they give you the start of the turn but not how to get out of it. I agree, 4 as the pivot.”

7. I missed Beethoven. I have been having (and will continue having) a pretty steamy affair with Shostakovich, but one quick harmonic turn brought it all back to me. Only Beethoven could find such perfection in such a tiny detail. It’s nice to be welcomed back, and with a wink at that.

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kick-awesome project

Frederic Rzewski actually once said to me, “You should play the Hammerklavier. You’d be good at it.” So, that’s what I’m going to do.

He said this to me at the Music09 festival in Switzerland, and I have been pondering it ever since, weighing whether it was feasible and whether it would be worth it. It’s one of those notorious pieces where everyone claims it’s ridiculously difficult on multiple fronts – and part of me believes them (because why would they lie?) and part of me doesn’t (because how many have played it over the last 200 years?).

So, I have “permission” from my professor – that as long as I understand what I’m getting into and how big a project this will be, then do it. He also said he would be learning it with me – he’s never actually made a real study of it, but has taught it and read it many times. So that will also be very cool.

Okay then, next question: what to program with it? My first reaction is something French, like one book of Debussy’s Images. So that’s out – I’m definitely looking for something less obvious and more intriguing. This stumped me for a good year – what the heck do you program with it?! So then switched trains of thought: What do people think of when they hear “Hammerklavier”? First, that it’s enormous; second, that it’s real difficult; and third, partially because of the fugue. Fugue – what to pair with a fugue? A PRELUDE.

This was definitely more what I had in mind. Pull together a smattering of preludes by pretty much everyone – Debussy, Chopin, Shostakovich, Scriabin, maybe some late Baroque ones, etc., and end the set with Rachmaninoff’s Bb prelude – both a good set end and a good setup for the Beethoven. Solid.

So I approached my prof about it. He also thought it was a cool idea, but suggested possibly doing a complete set of preludes by one composer. I have to admit, I had considered it, but for some reason dismissed it as being too much (as if the Hammerklavier weren’t already). So he started suggesting complete sets. And I think we both lit up when he got to Shostakovich. I have always wanted to perform them as a set, and I think they’re a great counterbalance to this program.

So, as it stands, that’s my next solo recital program:
Shostakovich: Preludes, Op. 34
Beethoven: Sonata in Bb, Op. 106
It will take me at very minimum a year to learn. And it’s probably the most ambitious thing I’ve ever done. No, not probably – it is. This may work, or it may prove too much. But what better opportunity will I ever have than now?

Seriously though, I’m so excited.

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Also, if you’re wondering where “kick-awesome” comes from, it’s (of course) in a sbemail:
http://www.homestarrunner.com/sbemail138.html

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pianists are people too

If ever evidence be offered or an explanation required, let it be this:

I spent the day in Monticello, like I do every Sunday. I left my place at 9:30 and arrived at 10:30 for the 11:00 service. I briefly rehearsed with the creepy guy who will not stop hovering me, I played the service, I had lunch with the choir director and his family, and at 2:00 I returned to church to practice.

So as to avoid burnout, I alternated between the Dahl sax concerto and the Shostakovich cello sonata. I was in the middle of a Dahl session when the door behind me opened. I had been warned, two of the choir ladies were coming to arrange Easter flowers. Being polite, I turned around to say hello. I apparently caught the last one off-guard, since she exclaimed when she saw me as she was coming through the door, “Oh! I thought it was a small child at the piano!” I turned back around and resumed practicing. I understand many people don’t like “modern” music, but they should probably realize that comparing what they hear to a small child’s attempt at imitation might not be the most tactful.

I became annoyed at Dahl, and possibly also the chatter bubbling behind me, so I switched back to Shostakovich and dove in headfirst, hoping to drown out the distractions. During a pause in which I successfully didn’t curse, the same woman asked me, “What are you playing!?” It was equally question and statement. She had this most fascinating half-exasperated tone that belied complete irritation with what she was hearing, mixed equally with curiosity and an attempt at politeness.

I took a breath and answered, “It’s the Shostakovich cello sonata.”
“Just-a-what?”
“Shostakovich. The sonata was written in 1934. I have to perform it Friday.”
“Friday, oh my.”

I threw in the year on the assumption it was written after she was born. Either way, she left me alone after that.

Ten minutes later I encountered her outside, sitting with her flower-arranging partner, the one who had previously identified Beethoven as “some of that modern music.” They were discussing piano, and pianists – so-and-so’s daughter, who can play any hymn without even the book in front of her, isn’t that just amazing! I attempted to offer some of the more interesting conventions of pianism, but each time they edged me out of the conversation.

I played a 4:30 rehearsal of terrible and terribly bastardized music, I played the 6:00 service. I was tired, still had to drive 40 minutes home, eat, practice, and rest up for another long day beginning at 9am. Unfortunately, before I could accomplish any of that, I had to play an extra rehearsal at 7:00, after service, on trio music arranged by a non-musician with no concept of “key.”

As it ended, the trio’s leader scheduled upcoming rehearsals; apparently they will all be after Wednesday rehearsals or Sunday services. He concluded it was a great idea:

Leader: That’ll work out just fine then.
Choir Director: Well, you’ll have to wait until after [other group] rehearses after Wednesday’s choir rehearsal, since they’re having one at 8pm.
Leader: Yeah, but [our third trio member] is already in that, so she’ll already be here. So I’m the only one that will have to stay!
Me: … [awkward silence]
Leader: And Liz of course! (tries to pinch my cheeks) Is that okay with you?
Me: I’ll have to play it by ear each week, it depends on my schedule, whether anyone needs a late rehearsal or not.
Leader: Well, yeah, you’ll just clear your schedule and it’ll be fine.

Yes, I will be sure to clear my professional recital rehearsals so I can stay until 8:30pm on a Wednesday night for an unpaid extra church rehearsal.

Pianists are people too.

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an open letter to shostakovich

Dear Shostakovich,

I don’t know how to say this delicately, so I’m just gonna come out with it: I love you.

I used to consider you one of my favorite composers when I was reminded of you. No longer: I shall never forget you again. I mean it. I want to play your music. No – I want to practice your music when I feel like hell, when the only realistic thing for me to do is call it a day and go to bed.

Like today, when your sonata’s cellist bribed me with beer to come in for a 9pm rehearsal. He didn’t have to – I was going to come in anyway. (I felt he wouldn’t take no for an answer on the beer. You understand that, I’m sure.) I was going to come even though I have a headache, even though I’m exhausted, even though we lost an hour of sleep last night, even though my left wrist hurts, even though my eyes are tired, even though I spent the entire day being frustrated at church, even though I already practiced the sonata for 3 hours. Even though I should have just gone to bed, I would have come in anyway. And after we rehearsed for an hour, I stayed an extra hour and kept working. Really, I love you and I want to thank you for that.

Many people much smarter than I will say that you are a phenomenal composer for lots of important sounding concepts and socio-political things and all that. Not that those aren’t important, but to me the only one that counts is that I want to play your music unequivocally. Only one other composer inspires me to do that.

Also, please forgive me for dropping the last LH 16th note in m210 of the fourth movement. I’m not particularly proud of it, but if I don’t, my hand will flop around like a suffocating fish for the next measure. And I think we can both agree that dropping the note is preferable.

With all the possible affection,

Liz (your little Ukrainian girl)

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