Tuesday, May 13, 2014

String Improvisations, continued: Full Spectrum

Full Spectrum  mostly wool 71" x 44"

Full Spectrum  detail





















Another String Improvisation on sale.  Silent auction bids open May 15 at www.tonalrefraction.com

Crocheted of recycled string, mostly wool

Another Beethoven Moderato

Ever since I realized that this word moderato has a specific meaning -- actually more of an implication than a literal meaning -- I have been on the lookout for it.  Beethoven does not use it in his piano sonatas, though I did find it in the Sonata for Piano and Natural Horn, where it is used for both the first and the third movements.

I just found it again in Op. 96 for Piano and Violin, the great G major Sonata, first movement.  It changes everything to realize that the implication is that the beat is primarily lyrical rather than metric.

The issue of metric beats is a critically important one, since we learn at an early age to count quarter note beats.  But not all meters should be considered divisible into quarter notes.  Classical composers (through at least Brahms!) are very clear about when they want clearly delineated quarter note divisions and when they do not.  A slur over a set of 4 sixteenths should be pronounced as articulating the beginning of a discernible four-note group whether or not it begins at a recognizable quarter note beat.  But a succession of, say, seven sixteenths with no slur should be articulated  as seven distinct units tunable according to the ear of the player, but not accented metrically.

The difference this makes is gigantic, nothing less.  Likewise the technical demand this implies is gigantic.  But the energy thus accessed is well worth the effort as is the humor.  I thoroughly endorse this reading.

It may, indeed, be why the tempo is sometimes marked Allegro vivace: One aspect of the material will be metered in quarter note beats while another will not.  Thus the material partakes of two different natures, not incompatible but totally different.  It would account for the sforzati that sometimes occur on the beat in sixteenth-note passages.  Why should they be there unless they are part of an essentially unaccented succession of notes?

The accents that we too readily impose upon everything we play give a false sense of security and keep us from noticing what is or is not happening.  (By that I mean that they keep us from noticing how bored we get when we play metrically dentical measures one after the other.)

Monday, May 12, 2014

Repetitive Listening Syndrome

Okay.  Let's admit it: There is too much music that we have heard too many times, always played the same way, never commanding our attention.  We are bored to the point where we have ceased to believe that Beethoven might be the least bit interesting.  And let's not even mention that other one....

What on earth has happened?  How could we have let it happen?  Is the damage reversible?

Perhaps the first thing to remember is that neither Beethoven nor that other one was a graduate of an American conservatory of music.  Think about it.

That means that their use of pitches, beats, barlines, tempo markings, and all those other easily understood elements was not subject to passing or failing grades.  What made them write the way they did has absolutely nothing to do with the way we are taught to read their writing.  That is why their music is so tremendously difficult to read that very few people go to the trouble to get below the surface.

There is more to it, dear reader, than counting to four.

Sunday, May 11, 2014

Beethoven Dumbed Down

We do not need to pity Beethoven for being boring, for he is not.  His music has been rendered hopelessly dull by generations of piano teachers insisting that counting to four is all there is to it.

Give the student the illusion that they have learned something by disguising all the mystery, all the conundrums, all the humor of a piano sonata, and there you have the generations-old win-win situation.

Who is laughing?  Probably Ludwig van B.

He had a way of putting in the last two bars of a movement the hint as to what you had missed all along.  How many of us get the joke?

Is this why people find it so hard to believe that there is another, a better way?

Saturday, May 10, 2014

More String Improvisations: Fuzzy Squares


Closeup of Fuzzy Squares
Another piece from the collection to be silently auctioned off before June 9.  This is a throw of mostly wool with some alpaca, measuring 63" x 28."  The irregular shape reflects the improvised nature of the object, an assemblage of "bricks" crocheted on New York City mass transit out of recycled fibers: no plan, no ruler.

Regular Basis

The point of taking lessons is not so much that you will learn in a linear manner from one lesson to the next, but that you will find yourself open to change because you will have put yourself in a position to welcome it should it occur.

It is a particular kind of ritual.

However, it does depend on the openness of the teacher, as well as your openness as a learner - aren't we all learning all the time?  Ah!  There's the rub.

Classical music has too long been associated with a "been there, done that" mentality that leaves no room for change.

That is not at all where I stand or how I practice either teaching or learning.

Friday, May 9, 2014

Amateurs Equal Hope

It turns out that Gregor Kitzis, the thoroughly professional and widely experienced violinist with whom I have been preparing a very special reading of Beethoven's "Spring" Sonata, enjoys playing chamber music with a group of accomplished amateurs.  No wonder we get along!

I based my New York career on the proposition that I would learn more from listening to amateurs than from having to listen to students with professional aspirations.  What is the difference?  As a rule amateurs do not have sufficient technique to conceal their vulnerability to the acoustical events that give music its true meaning.  Even if they do have terrific chops they probably don't spend hours every day going through routines of practice either alone or in professional ensembles.

I always prefer the music of amateurs.  I am myself an amateur a cappella singer.  Yesterday I had, again, the privilege of singing William Byrd's Short Service.  Amateurs are, by definition, given permission to be expressive in a way that happens only occasionally with professionals who are under pressure to produce correct, predictable results.

In a way and even though I ask people to support my work in that department, which I take as seriously as when I performed in more public venues many times in the past, I am affirming amateur status also in that department, the fulfillment of a lifelong dream.