Archive for April, 2009

Opus 109

Thursday, April 30th, 2009

Back to the schedule at last–it’s the last day of the month, and I’ve actually been around this sonata enough for a change.  May and June should be better, since the semester is ending.

After the massivness of “Hammerklavier’s” approach, this little gem in E major just blows me away.  It strikes me that what Beethoven is really doing in the first two movements is preludizing, and that the meat of this sonata is in the set of variations of the last movement.

I will have to dig deeper some day and do some research on the first movement, because there are aspects of it that suggest to me that it is also a variation on the theme from the last movement.  Beethoven isn’t the only composer to have put variations before theme, but I’m not aware of an earlier instance.  This movment is related formally to the second variation (Leggieramente) in the last movement, although the first movment features an additional reprise of the opening material.  The textures of the opening sections also seem to parallel each other.  As a non-pianist, I find myself thinking linearly in much of my instrumental writing, while Beethoven (and other great composers for the piano) are able to draw melody from texture in ways that I often don’t initially perceive by a glance at the score.  This is really the point of this survey of Beethoven’s piano sonatas–to help me understand the approach to composition of a man with whom I believe I share some stylistic traits, but whose life as a musician was completely different than mine.  Another way I heard the first movement is an an extended cadenza or fantasia, much like the beginning of the Choral Fantasy.  This only extends as far as the character of the piece, of course, because a true fantasia would probably not bear so much repetition.

The second movement, Prestissimo, brings to mind some of Beethoven’s bagatelles in both character and design.  I’m thinking particularly of the Opus 119 set in this instance.  It also has the feel of a prelude, and I’m beginning to wonder if this sonata isn’t purely a set of preludes.  More on that in the third movement.

I’m always a little taken aback when I see the title “variations,” because it inevitably brings to mind lightweight, virtuosic pieces by Rossini or Weber for clarinet.  The variation form is, of course, much richer than this, and I wouldn’t trade Bach’s Goldberg Variations for anything.  Beethoven’s Diabelli set is a close second, and he certainly knew what he was doing in this form.  I have also used variation form on occasion, and my first published piece, due out this summer, is a set of Variations on a French Carol for concert band.

I’ve decided that this set of variations–masterful, of course–continues the series of preludes in this sonata.  I’m thinking of the preludes of Bach or Chopin, which explore a texture to its fullest degree.  Some of these variations have very clear parallels in the Well-Tempered Clavier.

Theme–a homophonic chorale, in binary form, with an augmented-sixth chord placed ahead of the half-cadence.

Variation 1–a slow waltz or landler?  If the tempo marking were removed, it could look like Chopin.

Variation 2–I’ve mentioned the similarities to the first movement.

Variation 3–Ingenious use of invertible counterpoint… he only had to write half the variation.  In this sense, some similarities to WTC I, C# major prelude.  The texture is related to that of WTC 1, D major prelude.

Variation 4–This sort of counterpoint is almost a cliche of Bach’s style, but WTC 1, Eb major and A minor preludes come the closest, with G# minor not far behind.  One of my teachers, Gregory Proctor, mentioned Beethoven’s habit of opening a window, harmonically, letting the listener peek through it, and then abruptly drawing the curtains.  This happens at the end of the first section of this variation, where the German augmented-sixth chord is spelled enharmonically to resolve to F-major instead of to the expected dominant-seventh on B, but is immediately snapped back to the home key.  Beethoven is playing with equal temperament here in a way that Mozart or Haydn would never have dreamed of.

Variation V–I’ve studied the book by Beethoven’s counterpoint teacher, Albrechtsberger, and it’s clear that quite a bit rubbed off on his pupil.  This variation begins with a fantastic little canon in four parts, with entrances at the second.  The parts don’t all continue, but the effect is quite fun.    Again, Beethoven opens the window to F-major, but only lets us look out for a moment.  Bach’s Goldberg Variations make use of canon, so why should Beethoven not do the same?  There are similarities here to WTC 1, B-minor prelude in texture and form.

Variation VI–I am completely in awe of the compositional prowess on display here.  There is no parallel to this in Bach that I am aware of, but the idea of creating a sort of accelerando and building the tension through faster and faster note values is so simple as to be genius.  Absolutely fantastic.  Bringing the theme back at the end is a clear homage to the Goldberg Variations, in my opinion.

Musical Theatre

Sunday, April 19th, 2009

I used to pick on musical theatre a lot in college, and not undeservedly.  There is a great deal of musical cheese out there, some of it wildly successful and making piles and piles of cash for its authors and producers.

Honestly, though, in the end, I have to come down on the side of any medium that emphasizes live performance, gets young people and community members involved in the arts across the country and does so much to blend artistic and popular streams of composition.  As much as I wish that opera were more relevant to society, there’s a lot to be said in favor of musical theatre.

I got to experience a good shot of that this week with OPSU’s production of Urinetown: The Musical, which closed on Saturday after three fantastic performances.  The show’s music is extremely pithy, with a huge debt to Kurt Weill, and not a little bit to Leonard Bernstein (the jump number “Snuff that Girl” is placed in just about the same point in the story as “Cool” is in West Side Story (an aside–my former Cincinnati classmate Karen Olivo is currently playing Anita in the Broadway revival of Lenny’s incredible show, and had a write-up in The New Yorker a couple of weeks ago.  Again, I brush up against fame)).  The book to Urinetown is fantastic, with great use of a very post-modern narrator and exactly the kind of snide, knowing, sophisticated comedy.  Congrats to director Tito Aznar and a great cast for pulling this off.

It was an absolute joy to play in the pit of this show and listen to my students and colleagues expand their horizons as both performers and as human beings.  This is the point of both theatre and college, in my opinion.  Sometimes this can be done in the classroom, or through the experience of real life, but sometimes we have to put on a show and band together with others to do so.

Part of what I loved most about Urinetown was its social conscience–a wonderful ability to look at a problem that involves all of us, and to look at it from multiple angles, and to affirm, at the end, that the answer that seems morally right might actually be morally reprehensible.  The road to Perdition is indeed paved with good intentions.  We need theatre like this in all our lives.  If we all lived in New York City, we could experience the Broadway and off-Broadway shows like this that don’t get long runs or touring companies or movie adaptations (although Urinetown has gotten a fair amount of play, and did have a touring company earlier this decade… the movie version could be absolutely fantastic if they made one; I would actually vote for a cartoon by Seth McFarland).

So my plea to community and school theatre directors–choose shows with substance, that make your students make important statements and evaluate them.  The world does not need another revival of Grease, or Bye-Bye Birdie, or The Girlfriend, or even Once Upon a Mattress (which is one of my all-time favorite shows).  Even though I think it’s a snore, and extremely self-righteous, South Pacific at least confronts racism and imperialism.  The Music Man has a lot to say about prejudice and gossip.  Find edgy, exciting music–Kurt Weill or Jean-Michel Schonberg or Sondheim–and wry, dry, meaningful dialog (and for Pete’s sake, if you do put on Grease, don’t let the actors play it straight).  Shows from the last twenty years or so have nice, tidy little pits based on jazz and rock combos, and let the music have a bite and a relevance that just isn’t achieved when a pianist plays the orchestra reduction (or fills in most of the string parts).

I’ve been asked to conduct Sweeney Todd in the fall here in Guymon, and I’m really looking forward to digging into a difficult score and bringing it to life with a great director (Michael Ask, who played Bobby Strong in Urinetown at OPSU).  Will it be a reach for our community theatre?  Yes, but I have confidence that it will come to life.  Was I a little sickened by the movie version last Christmas?  Yes, but, with the chance to dig into Sondheim’s score and reflect on what’s really in the show, I’m hoping that I’ll be able to find the point to the show that justifies all that.

So… this is the time of year that many high schools are putting on their annual shows.  Get out and see one and support a hugely meaningful educational experience and a very important American art form.

Opus 106

Monday, April 13th, 2009

I am way behind on this, I know, but it is time to say something about “Hammerklavier” and move on.

But where to begin?  As a piano operator, I can’t even begin to touch this piece, and as a musician, I’m not sure where I land, to be frank.

It is simply bigger, fuller, greater, and deeper than any music I have ever tried to bring to life.  As a trombonist, I play an instrument with a distinct lack of serious music by great composers, and with the possible exception of the concert by Christopher Rouse, I would say that there isn’t anything that even comes close to this piece.  As an ensemble musician, my experience of a piece is very different from that of a soloist, or even of a clarinetist or violinist.  Yes, I’ve played a Brahms symphony, but I had to sit and listen to the first three movements before playing a single note.  And the conductor was in charge.  And of course, I conduct, but it has never been my privelege to lead any of the band music that begins to approach the level of this sonata–I’m thinking of Colgrass’ Winds of Nagaul or Husa’s Music for Prague.

So my encounter with Opus 106 has been somewhat stunning.  Of course I have listened to and studied epic music before, but to imagine the range of expression and technique required here of a single musician brings to the fore to an even greater degree the scope of this piece.

Beethoven has been percussive before.  He has been formally extensive before.  He has been contrapuntal before.  He has waxed philosophically before in slow movements.  But here, every measure seems endowed with a depth, a seriousness–this is truly what people mean by “late Beethoven.”  There is no orchestration to distract from the absoluteness of the music in piano writing–there is only music, on this very imperfect instrument where notes decay too quickly and half a composer’s energy is given to making them last longer.

If I tried to name specifics, this post would be pages long.  I could spend the next year working out this piece, but it is time to move on–to three more titanic pieces!

I’m still looking for suggestions for what to study next… lately I’ve thought about Bach’s St. Matthew Passion, as well as continuing to ponder the Mahler symphonies.