First Movements

In the name of Music Appreciation or something equally vapid, most people learn that the first movement of a sonata is usually in Sonata Allegro form, consisting of theme A in the tonic key, theme B in the dominant, followed by a development section, and culminating in a recapitulation of theme A, still in the tonic, and theme B, now also in the tonic.  Pretty predictable, thus pretty uninteresting.

With the invention of the piano, however, whether a theme was in the key of C (no black keys) or G (one particularly unsettling black key) made a huge difference.  I found this out while studying a Mozart sonata when a theme in C major was so transformed when it appeared in G that I could hardly play it: the single black key so utterly altered the balance of tones as to make it entirely new.

I find this inherently dramatic, the opposite of predictable.

What if the purpose of the first movement is to present a cast of characters, including a masked villain lurking behind a pillar, waiting to pounce on the suspecting soprano?  What if the action is not in the elements that we would identify as obvious themes but in those at the bottom of the texture?

Forms and Expectations

Much of the meaning inherent in musical form comes from expectations aroused by reading the program.
What do you expect of a sonata?  a symphony?

How is that different from an opera?

There has to be an element of irony unearthed when our expectations are not satisfied by actual experience.  Perhaps that irony is what turned minuets into scherzi, and what makes Haydn's sonatas and symphonies such unending delights as he turns the most solid procedure on its head.

A beautiful case in point is the great Schubert B-flat Piano Sonata.  B-flat is one of the most solidly stable tonalities on the piano--indeed, until the invention of the piano keyboard sonatas were rarely in that key.  As I recall performances of the work they invariably indulge in that stability, fully pronounced in the opening chords.  That is like a story opening the words "Period.  The end" and proceeding to repeat them seemingly interminably. 

What are the hints that Schubert is interested in elements that will disturb rather than reinforce that stability?  First is that first accidental, E-natural, which I observe to be Schubert's favorite note.  Second is the mysterious tempo marking: molto moderato, which I take to indicate, as also in the G-major, Op. 79 sonata, with discretion, not pre-determined.. 

Operatic Imagination

If I carried operas around in my imagination and had no success in getting them produced I wonder what I might do with them?

Judging from my experience of creativity it will out.  If the world does not offer an outlet I will make one, like a watercourse continually bowing and swerving to account for natural obstacles on its way to the sea.

Perhaps as he got "older" -- remember he died at 31 -- Schubert took it upon himself to be and make his own opera all by himself.  Thus the late sonatas are perhaps not so much sonatas as some hybrid creature that we have not previously encountered.  Imagine!  A new species.

Magic or Arithmetic?

I happened to meet a mother accompanying her six-year-old to music class this morning. 

The mother's parting words to me were: "Whole note, half note, quarter note!"

I winced.  Starting with arithmetic dumbs down every aspect that distinguishes music from everything else.  It merely reinforces the child's ability to count and, by connecting it to a printed symbol, locks up rhythm once and for all in a tidy concrete container.

Why not start with a finger cymbal or a traingle?  A bell? 

Give a kid magic any day, every day.

Personal vs. Vocal

The NYTimes critic reviewing Anderszewski's Dec. 6 performance gave it high praise noting, among other qualities, that his Bach was "personal."

I think I know what she was referring to, but I would have preferred "vocal."   The difference is that personal connotes idiosyncratic, self-indulgent, while vocal in relation to Bach describes a rich understanding of Bach's music for all instruments.

Vocal art was arguably the most highly developed musical art of the Baroque era.  The essence of great vocal composition lies in astute knowledge of the human voice, its registers, timbres, and specific intonation.  Instrument building of that time was spurred by the desire to evoke human vocal qualities with strings, winds, organs.  Bach died in 1750; the piano was invented in 1727.  Its astonishing vocal characteristics might have inspired a new approach to keyboard composition had Bach had a piano at his disposal.

It was Haydn who picked up on the vocal qualities of the instrument, using them as source material for many of his piano sonatas and chamber music

It was masterful of Anderszewski to find the vocal qualities in every movement he played, making it sound as if Bach had composed for the modern piano.  Most modern pianists are tempted to neutralize the vocal colors of the instrument for Bach, turning his music into a neither-here-nor-there abstraction. 

Having studied a great deal of Bach on the organ for the critical early adult years when I had "given up" the piano, I have found it problematic to play his work on the piano.  That began to change last summer, when I performed the Two- and Three-part Inventions in a series called Classics of Childhood.  Anderszewski's brilliant work inspires further exploration on my part.

Schubert's 18+ Operas

Recently ruminating on the G major Sonata,  Op 79, I was struck by its operatic essence.  Performing it recently for the first time in my life I was astonished at its operatic power.

One listener asked who the characters are in this opera.  Good question.  Fantastic creatures, surely: sprites and demons, not your regular heroines and bad guys.  Another listener, wanting to know whether it was really true that Schubert composed operas, prompted me to consult my Grove Dictionary.  I counted more than 18, including sketches and unfinished works.

Whether or not they made it onto the stage and into history Schubert's operas must have been very much on his mind. 

They were all there in my playing that remarkable work last night.

Memory good and bad

Having quit "serious" piano study at 15, not to resume it until 22 (and even then with physical limitations that precluded immersion in the big repertoire) there were many years during which conventional piano instruction involves learning the standard repertoire, including sonatas by Beethoven and Schubert, and works by Chopin, Schumann, and Brahms.  These years imprint the repertoire on the ear and muscle memory in such a way as to make them easy to recall later in life.

Too easy.  When I have revisited the classics I learned before quitting I find it very difficult to approach the works afresh, without the prejudices of premature exposure.

I think it is wrong to have young people play masterworks before they possess the ear to discern content on their own terms.  Going through the motions--playing Beethoven sonatas because, like Himalayas, they are there to be climbed--does great disservice to the works and to the student.