Today I had the pleasure of hearing some of the finest organ playing I have heard in decades. It was playful, inventive, lyrical, virtuosic, engaging to the max. I was stunned at how much I enjoyed it and even more stunned to discover that two of the works he played were by Durufle, whose music usually leaves me chilled--another case of how the performer can bring the music to life!
If you have the chance, go hear him.
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Our Stupid Poebel
Last night I played Mozart's variations on Unser dummer Poebel meint. I asked a dear friend in the audience, as she had grown up in Mannheim, to translate this title. What a good thing I did! I had always assumed Poebel to be someone's name. My translation would have been: Our Stupid Poebel is of the Opinion. Turns out Poebel stands for the guy in the street, no not quite, the Lumpenprole.
How politically incorrect can you get. Then I remember The Good Soldier Schweik, one of the great Poebels of all time: If you haven't read it get on it. You never do or did know what exactly might be behind the fellow's expressed opinion or behavior.
There is a lot to think about politically.
Musically there is also a lot to think about. I have never heard anyone play these variations. I can feel them turning into one of my big numbers. They are surely Mozart at his fullest virtuosic maturity: How do I know what to do with them? Years and years of listening to grasp the idiomatic humor of musical devices that, in themselves, as notated, are entirely static.
How politically incorrect can you get. Then I remember The Good Soldier Schweik, one of the great Poebels of all time: If you haven't read it get on it. You never do or did know what exactly might be behind the fellow's expressed opinion or behavior.
There is a lot to think about politically.
Musically there is also a lot to think about. I have never heard anyone play these variations. I can feel them turning into one of my big numbers. They are surely Mozart at his fullest virtuosic maturity: How do I know what to do with them? Years and years of listening to grasp the idiomatic humor of musical devices that, in themselves, as notated, are entirely static.
Saturday, June 15, 2013
Schumann: Album for the Young
I cannot sufficiently praise the brilliance of this collection. Starting with the very first piece Schumann touches the essence of piano playing while giving distilled paradigms of composition in various genres: lyric, ironic, completely serious, teasing, it is all there.
The longer I live, the more I teach, the greater my respect for these jewels. Too bad we think we outgrow them just because they were required when we were 9 years old.
The longer I live, the more I teach, the greater my respect for these jewels. Too bad we think we outgrow them just because they were required when we were 9 years old.
Friday, June 14, 2013
Simplifying Everything In The Name of Achievement
Make a list of all the pieces you play: all of them.
How many of them do you enjoy?
How many do you really get?
Are you ever surprised when you hear someone play a piece you thought you know?
Is that pleasureable or not?
If so, why? How?
How many of them do you enjoy?
How many do you really get?
Are you ever surprised when you hear someone play a piece you thought you know?
Is that pleasureable or not?
If so, why? How?
The Past and Singularity
How ironic it is that the study of the music of the past is so taken up with carrying on traditions when the works that we seek to master are unique creations of singular minds!
I think of Bach's Two-Part Inventions, works of absolute genius written surely as puzzles for his extremely gifted oldest child, Wilhelm Friedemann, to figure out. We are taught them as if they embody principles of good musical behavior while, in fact, they clearly do just the opposite. They are filled with contradictions, teasings, musings, astonishments, all designed to stimulate a highly talented first son. In the name of what exactly do we perpetuate the law and order approach?
Or take those incredible works of Mozart, those that are easy to play, the ones routinely assigned to young or inexperienced players: the Piano Sonata in C, K. 545; the G Minor Piano Quartet, K. 487.
I cannot help but remark that, as a child, I was grabbed by singular sounds within Mozart piano works--not by the pieces as a whole but by individual moments that put me as if in direct contact with a kindred spirit. I got them therefore I was not along in the universe.
I think of Bach's Two-Part Inventions, works of absolute genius written surely as puzzles for his extremely gifted oldest child, Wilhelm Friedemann, to figure out. We are taught them as if they embody principles of good musical behavior while, in fact, they clearly do just the opposite. They are filled with contradictions, teasings, musings, astonishments, all designed to stimulate a highly talented first son. In the name of what exactly do we perpetuate the law and order approach?
Or take those incredible works of Mozart, those that are easy to play, the ones routinely assigned to young or inexperienced players: the Piano Sonata in C, K. 545; the G Minor Piano Quartet, K. 487.
I cannot help but remark that, as a child, I was grabbed by singular sounds within Mozart piano works--not by the pieces as a whole but by individual moments that put me as if in direct contact with a kindred spirit. I got them therefore I was not along in the universe.
Thursday, June 13, 2013
My Audience: My New Teachers
In my current run of in-house recitals there is lively conversation before and after (sometimes during!) performance, all of which has been extremely instructive.
Now I am programming works requested by former students. Last night was the Prelude to Bach's G Major Partita, one of those works I had heard so badly played as a student that I had no interest in playing it. Lo and behold! a marvelous undertaking. I am so grateful for the request.
The listener/requestor's response: It was Nancified (or words to that effect). What does that mean?
I know all too well. The request came from an extraordinary Japanese woman, gifted, insightful, serious about playing the piano. This woman, in tears following a session on a Schubert Sonatina for Piano and Violin, once confided to me how upset she was to realize that the more she learned about Western music the less she understood it. And there it is.
I have stayed away from Bach on the piano because I find it difficult to bring out the essence of his music on an instrument tuned so differently from his tuning, and whose tradition is based on an entirely different tone model than his--namely, harmonic rather than linear.
Also, little in my training prepared me to discern when Bach switches from the lyrical to the dance, from metered to ornamental rhythm, from improvisatory to measured motion, especially in single-line music, like the Prelude to the G major, all made even more complicated by the hints of hemiola that permeate everything in three.
Now I am programming works requested by former students. Last night was the Prelude to Bach's G Major Partita, one of those works I had heard so badly played as a student that I had no interest in playing it. Lo and behold! a marvelous undertaking. I am so grateful for the request.
The listener/requestor's response: It was Nancified (or words to that effect). What does that mean?
I know all too well. The request came from an extraordinary Japanese woman, gifted, insightful, serious about playing the piano. This woman, in tears following a session on a Schubert Sonatina for Piano and Violin, once confided to me how upset she was to realize that the more she learned about Western music the less she understood it. And there it is.
I have stayed away from Bach on the piano because I find it difficult to bring out the essence of his music on an instrument tuned so differently from his tuning, and whose tradition is based on an entirely different tone model than his--namely, harmonic rather than linear.
Also, little in my training prepared me to discern when Bach switches from the lyrical to the dance, from metered to ornamental rhythm, from improvisatory to measured motion, especially in single-line music, like the Prelude to the G major, all made even more complicated by the hints of hemiola that permeate everything in three.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Marlon Feld Composes for his Time
Check it out: The Last Survivors by Marlon Feld. Written with wit and feeling for his generation, I am extremely touched by it, though I have the feeling he didn't expect me to like it and so left it to his friends to call it to my attention.
Think about it: what a compliment to be invited to respond without obligation.
Bravo, Marlon!
Think about it: what a compliment to be invited to respond without obligation.
Bravo, Marlon!
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