WMV Music Web Log

When I was a kid in 7th grade my science teacher wrote a letter (I think recommending me for "Star" boy scout) which was pretty insightful - he said something like I inspire others with my enthusiasms, but tend to move on so quickly that they cannot follow. I'm still like that, and have to be careful to bring my audience along as I move forward into new and exciting projects. Having a board of directors is helpful - the WMV board acts as a kind of flywheel (Marilyn alone is not enough - after all these years I have pretty much learned to outfox her objections). It may not be as simple as mixing old and new work - maybe some better explanations of what we are trying to do would be helpful.

I wish you could have heard the rehearsal Friday morning at Jodi's house! The Diamond Quintet was full of adrenaline: muscular, vernacular and funny, with a kicking Irish jig as a finale. The sound of Keith Wright's flute in the Adagio dripped like ice on a hot summer day. There are little homages to Aaron Copland (the dedicatee) here and there. This performance of the Diamond Quintet has been more than 7 years coming - we came close to performing it in 1997 (I think), but the flutist fell ill and we had to cancel the concert. Marilyn had done two paintings of our rehearsals at that time - one (which appeared on a WMV postcard) is now in the collection of Ori and Leslie Soltes, and the other hangs on our dining room wall.

The rehearsal of the Brahms Quintet was so beautiful I could hardly stand it - we played it through almost without a break. This quintet has been an obsession with me since I was a kid. It is one of those works that seems to get at the essence of something - what is it? Maybe something about the fundamental meaning of sixth chords, and their cousins the thirds. It speaks of wood, trees, forests, and human passions, all together. It is a work that seems to emerge from the ground as an inevitable creation, rather than as a personal statement. The composer struggled considerably with the birth of this work, and it shows in many ways. If it were a sculpture, there would be few smooth surfaces, and many chisel marks. Some of the abrupt modulations read as if they were an abbreviated report of a long and painful thought process. The string players in this group are unspeakably masterful. Playing with them on Friday was one of the most satisfying sessions of music-making that I have ever experienced.

Last week we rehearsed Masa Mitsumoto's new Divertimento - it is brilliant and funny. The 3rd movement, "Let's go shopping," has a sly bit of wedding march snuck into it, followed by the mock tragic "Repentance". Masa insists on writing music that people enjoy - it must be a result of his Hollywood years.

From Michael Strand:

"I was happy to hear you like the Hammerklavier sonata of Beethoven. I hope you find this story interesting: Back in the 70's when my first two daughters were little tykes, I checked out a copy of this work from the Arlington library because I had never heard it. One of the things I enjoyed doing with the girls was to read them stories, often accompanyied by music. I made up a story to accompany the Hammerklavier. The story was about gargoyles, a subject of great interest to Stef and Jen because of picture books and visits to the National Cathedral. Anything to get my kids to listen to Beethoven! For example, the first movement describes how gargoyles liked to fly, chase each other, dive, take risks, scare people, etc. Second movement has some beautiful splashing and flowing sounds that evoke playing in a stream in the woods (e.g. Rock Creek), so there is a near-drowning scene due to the neglect of a teenage gargoyle charged with babysitting a very young gargoyle. The great slow movement has to do with regret, repentance, apology. At the request of my daughter Steffany on the birth of her daughter Sara, I wrote this story of gargoyles down, going a little further by making a book of it (illustrated by my youngest, Alison) so Steffany can read it to Sara some day. I also supplied her with a CD recording of the sonata for the background. Bottom line, I would love to hear you play the "Gargoyle Song Story" (Hammerklavier Sonata) someday. Continuing warm wishes for your upcoming concerts, success of WMV, and always for your enjoyment of music listening, playing, and performing."

This might be just the kick in the pants that I need to sit down with Op. 106 and figure out how to perform it. You know how some of those big dreams just sit there stuck in the back of your mind for years, "right, I'll never get to do that" - not really because they are so hugely difficult, but just because they are so hugely meaningful.

Facing an overabundance of material for solo piano - heaps of it on the piano, in the drawers, in the basement, in boxes, turning up at odd times, favorite scores missing when I need them. Found a piece I really like by John Work (African-American composer) - I know how it should go, just need to spend time nailing down the notes. But then I pick up the Chopin F minor Fantasy and get distracted. And I promised myself I would review the Stravinsky Sonata. But suddenly I am interested in Beethoven. How to impose some discipline here? With chamber music I choose a program, set a date, and line up the musicians. Somehow I am reluctant to do that, even though it is theoretically straightforward. With ensemble music there are good reasons to do one thing or another - available personnel, balanced programming, etc. With solo, it is just me. It was an exciting challenge to come up with a program of Czech solo piano music - it provided the discipline that is otherwise lacking. Yes, I know, the whole solo shtick gets in the way a little. I have successfully sidestepped it several times by performing on the little studio piano without drawing too much attention to myself. A "solo recital", say at the Ratner is both an exciting and a repelling idea. Well, I used to do it for a "living" and then got out of it, for a variety of very good reasons. But the music, the music.

Playing background music at receptions gives me a chance to try things out in a semi-public way which is very useful. How to conceive of a public solo piano concert that is not a "recital" (I do not memorize), and rejects the traditional norms, which are boring and bankrupt. Maybe mix some jazz, Dylan, contemporary, and electronic in with the other stuff. I don't know how, but I obviously have to do it. The Kawai also figures into my thinking, but without precise focus.

You can download Chopin (and other piano music) for free on the web! http://www.sheetmusicarchive.net/index.cfm. Incredible. I downloaded the C minor nocturne, saved it in photoshop, erased all the pedalings and fingerings (worse than useless), and printed it out perfectly sized. Ultimately, you can make your own performing edition. Things like this make 2005 not seem quite so bad (I know, I know).

"Recently I attended a concert by the Emerson Quartet at Strathmore Hall, and you know what? I decided I would rather hear Musica Viva at the Ratner any time."
A nice note from Julia Back, sent with a check for two tickets to the June 21 concert. Thanks, Julia!

I'm listening to Beethoven in the car (about the only place I listen anymore without playing along). An die ferne Geliebte. I've listened to it about 12 times so far, and I'm just beginning to get it. It's a late-middle work (opus 98 from 1816), and it has some of the exquisite qualities of that period. The voice so far seems somewhat distracting, oddly, since they are songs after all. I may not understand it any better until I play it through on the piano. Then, will I want to perform it? (with Gary?) Jenny Rothwell gave me her performing translation, which is why I am listening to it. She also loaned me a book of the scores. There are a bunch of real surprises - songs in English, Portuguese, Italian. Folksong settings. And a rather risque song called the Kiss - "Did she scream? Yes, but much much much much later". There is one song in ferne Geliebte in which the voice declaims on a single low note. It seems to me that the musical interest is in the piano part, which resembles one of the Bagatelles - but of course, it is Fischer-Dieskau and you can't cover him up.

Reminds me of the Pablo Casals recordings I bought recently when I thought I was going to do a cello/piano program this month (what was I thinking?). Casals recorded the same Beethoven sonata with Mieczyslaw Horszowsky and with Rudolf Serkin. It's very interesting who pushes who around in each version.

Beethoven is a relatively neglected composer at WMV. We have not performed much of his music in the last few years, not that I don't love some (but not all) of it. The works I love the most are the Hammerklavier Sonata, the Op. 131 string quartet, the other late piano sonatas and quartets. I don't so much like to play the violin or cello sonatas anymore, I think, because the string players like to ride the piano part like a horse, and the audiences think they know the music too well to be surprised. His piano quartet is a dog, and I won't play it.