tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2475519515947049412024-03-13T11:24:15.151-07:00MathemusingsDorothea Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558111757085336283noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-247551951594704941.post-41499230518286512002014-08-26T00:52:00.000-07:002014-08-26T00:53:12.936-07:00Piano technique in the works of J.S. BachI've been thinking about this for a while and finally decided it was worth writing about...<br />
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The technique required to play Bach on the piano is completely different to the technique required to play, say, Chopin or Rachmaninov. There are some obvious reasons for this: pianos as we know them didn't exist in Bach's time (even during the classical period they were relatively new and very different to modern pianos) and fingerings were very different to what they are today - for example, the thumb was hardly ever used!<br />
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I consider this last point to be all-important. It goes a long way towards explaining why even the most technically proficient pianists often still struggle with early repertoire, despite being able to breeze through far more complex 19th and 20th century pieces without any difficulty. It probably also explains my own technical battle with Bach's music.<br />
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I tend to think of the development of piano technique as we know it today starting with Chopin; however, there were still composers writing for the piano in a relatively conservative style during Chopin's lifetime (during the first half of the 19th century). Chopin was innovative in many respects, and his 24 etudes in particular bear testimony to this, counting among the many works which are especially suited to playing
on a modern piano, with more or less 'modern piano technique'. Such pieces are commonly referred to as highly pianistic. A composer I consider to have attained the pinnacle of 'pianisticness' (no, that's not a word, I just made it up) is Rachmaninov, and any reasonably proficient pianist who has played his music will understand why.<br />
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There are ingrained fingerings that modern pianists tend to fall back on when sight-reading or playing a piece they haven't learnt intensively. These are the fingerings that occur most frequently in romantic-era piano music, and which therefore become automatic after someone has been studying the piano for long enough. Even when the pianist has memorised an entire sonata or concerto they are still likely to be falling back on these 'defaults' a lot of the time, without even realising. This is especially true in highly pianistic music, where the expected 'defaults' are rarely broken.<br />
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Fingering defaults are perfectly adequate for a lot of piano music written in the 19th century, and for simpler music of other eras. However, they begin to fail when the music doesn't fit into the common spacial patterns the defaults were designed for. A lot of baroque and classical music doesn't fit in; neither does a lot of 20th century music. In fact, there's a relatively narrow range of music in which the pianist can rely on these generic fingerings to get by. Extra work is required to be able to play pieces that fall outside the range of fingering defaults convincingly.<br />
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Since an enourmous amount of work is required to get a piece to performance standard anyway, this shouldn't be a problem. However, I've discovered that for me, at least, there are some issues with memorising pieces in which I can't rely on fingering defaults.<br />
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Some really unusual (by today's standards) fingerings are required to play Bach's music on the piano. In my score of his D minor concerto, almost every note is fingered. It's absolutely necessary; I would get totally lost without having meticulously figured out the fingering for every passage. Standard fingerings are useless in Bach's music, and even more so in his highly contrapuntal works (i.e. fugues) than in the relatively simple, mostly 2-part texture of the D minor concerto.<br />
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I've always learned new pieces of Bach using the 'metronome increment' technique: perfect a passage at a certain BPM, increment the metronome by a small amount, perfect the passage at the new speed, and so on until I can play it perfectly at performance speed. This amount of repetition, combined with the sheer oddness of the fingerings required, have always enabled me to memorise Bach very quickly. However, until I noticed how quickly I <i>forgot</i> pieces of Bach that I thought I'd memorised to perfection, I didn't realise how much I fall back on fingering defaults when playing from memory.<br />
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Fingering defaults act like hints when playing from memory. If you're not quite sure what comes next, well, chances are your fingers already know the pattern and will take care of it for you. That is, if the fingering required to play the passage matches those generic patterns. In Bach this isn't the case; the fingering patterns are unexpected, almost unnatural to a modern pianist. You can no longer depend on generic fingerings - they simply won't work.<br />
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Perhaps learning historic fingerings that keyboardists actually used in, say, the baroque era would enable one to develop a new set of fingering defaults that make playing music of that era much easier. This is something I'm very curious about. However, it's important to keep in mind that historical fingerings were not destined for the piano, or at least the piano as we know it today, and different fingerings are probably necessary to play early music on today's pianos - which have far heavier keys - without developing <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Repetitive_strain_injury">RSI</a>.Dorothea Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558111757085336283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-247551951594704941.post-52450757507924647852014-08-26T00:29:00.000-07:002014-08-26T00:53:23.007-07:00Mac reminiscences<i>note: this was a post I wrote about 6 months ago and never published.</i><br />
<i> </i> <br />
Ever since deciding to pursue a computer science/IT degree, I've been trying to remember what my first encounters with computers were like. I've been using Mac computers all my life and since it's <a href="https://www.apple.com/30-years/">Apple's 30th birthday</a> this year, I thought it'd be a good time to try and write about my Mac usage over the years.<br />
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My parents had a lot of historic Mac computers. In fact, even the computer that got used on a daily basis probably became historic after a while, considering the amount of time it took before OS X was adopted in our household (I don't know the year exactly, but I can estimate).<br />
One of our historic computers still turned on. It was a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Macintosh_LC%20">Macintosh LC</a> and we referred to it as 'the Dinosaur'. I have no idea what I actually did on it, but I remember the computer itself vividly - especially the purple stripes on the screen when it failed to boot (which was most of the time) and the creaking noises it made.<br />
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There's a long list of computer failures in my memory: dead backlights, video cards, hard drives, power cords, you name it. I experienced several iBook deaths and I still remember the events leading to them in detail. One iBook started making a horrible grinding noise; I'm pretty sure the hard drive got replaced shortly afterwards. One refused to boot after I'd been carrying it around all day in 40 degree weather. One particularly bizarre and prolonged death involved behaviour similar to a broken record: everything would freeze, weird graphics glitches would appear and the last few seconds of any playing audio or video would loop endlessly.<br />
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I think the iBook that replaced that one was my last, and it was a great little computer. After my mum gave me her old Macbook, I gradually stopped using the iBook, which became more and more lethargic and eventually died peacefully from loneliness.<br />
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About a year ago, the trackpad on the Macbook became very slow and unresponsive and eventually got 'stuck', forcing me to turn it off and use a mouse instead. The trackpad functionality intermittantly returned, and currently seems stable. Meanwhile, during the last couple of months something inside the laptop has started making a gentle growling noise, leading to the nickname "ol' growly".<br />
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That Macbook is 8 years old now, still running Tiger, and it's going a similar way as the
last iBook. I have a policy of turning it on every now and then to keep
it alive, but it's hard to find a reason to do that. Its replacement, running Kubuntu, is the first non-Mac I've ever had. I miss many things about OS X, but I'm enjoying the Linux Experience. Er, I mean using Linux.<br />
<br />Dorothea Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558111757085336283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-247551951594704941.post-57832397445714672512014-03-14T04:52:00.002-07:002014-03-14T04:54:17.520-07:00In defense of the command line and the humble text editorI recently embarked on a new university subject - an introduction to Java programming - as part of my CS/IT degree, and cringed slightly when I heard we were advised (though not forced, thankfully) to use <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eclipse_%28software%29">Eclipse</a>. I've had some experience with Eclipse already, using it for Android development, and my overall impression was that it has almost as many features as it does bugs/'features'.<br />
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I wasn't looking forward to battling with that again, but it occurred to me that a lot of the things I find annoying about Eclipse could probably be customised/turned off in the preferences, so I decided to give it a go. After all, it does have some useful features, and I thought manually compiling code from the command line would be impractically tedious for assignments later on in the course.<br />
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In spite of some ridiculous issues which I can't be bothered relating (long story short: the only version of Eclipse I can use crashes if I try to modify the preferences), for the first week of my new subject I did, in fact, use Eclipse. If I'd been able to do so without it crashing, I might have turned off a lot of its autocompletion features and other things that save typing and make for lazy coding. However, it's hard to resist being lazy, and the way Eclipse is designed also means it's almost <i>difficult </i>to write classes and main methods yourself. Eclipse wants to do everything for you. That's very nice - and very bad for a newbie like me. I'll explain why in a minute.<br />
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Today I finally decided I wasn't going to put up with Eclipse anymore, so I moved all my source code out of the Eclipse workspace into appropriate folders for each week of my uni subject, opened up a terminal and Sublime Text, and tried to write a main() method.<br />
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I realised I had no idea how to.<br />
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It's not like I haven't seen hundreds of them by now; it's just that I've never had to remember how to write them because I've never <i>needed</i> to write them. Eclipse auto-generates these things.<br />
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I spent all day manually compiling and running Java code, and I've learnt more than I did in a week of writing similar programs in Eclipse. I consider it a privilege to be able to learn by trial and error, see exceptions and syntax errors pop up and try to figure out what's going on all by myself without the little lightbulbs and red 'X's that Eclipse gives you. I relish the fact that I can leave a variable unused for as long as I like without being given a wiggly yellow line and a warning that says 'you haven't used this variable yet!' I enjoy being able to make mistakes without being admonished. But most of all, I love having to <i>remember</i> how to do things.*<br />
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It turns out that Sublime Text - an excellent programmer's text editor - has many of Eclipse's better features, including autocompletion, so perhaps it's not so humble after all. However, the fancier features are unobtrusive enough that I barely noticed they were there.<br />
The only autocompletion I use is for variables and methods I've already typed out at least once; Sublime Text doesn't seem to offer autocompletion for things you haven't already typed. I discovered an exception to that rule (and there are probably others) - it does offer autocompletion for the main() method, which I only allowed
myself to use once I was confident I knew how to write it by myself. There's also an option for auto-closure of brackets and strings, but that was one of the features I hated in Eclipse so I'm leaving it off. For now, closing brackets and quotes are too firmly embedded in my muscle memory.<br />
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It's slightly scary to realise that if I'd gone on letting Eclipse practically write code for me, if someone had sat me down in front of Vim and asked me to write a Java program I probably wouldn't have been able to.** Until I know enough about Java to be able to work on the kind of big projects that Eclipse is essential for, I refuse to succumb to laziness.<br />
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*the whole 'not crashing' thing is pretty great, too. <br />
**without googling anything!Dorothea Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558111757085336283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-247551951594704941.post-40413254327255363062014-02-22T18:12:00.001-08:002014-04-12T04:11:21.802-07:00Lazy piano techniqueWhile practising the piano recently, I observed something in my technique which I'd never really paid much attention to before, although I know it's always been there. It struck me as interesting enough to blog about, although it may bore you to death.<br />
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For the purposes of this post, I'm going to coin 2 terms to describe different kinds of piano technique: "controlled" technique and "free" technique. The former is very precise and conscious, while the latter is very automatic and probably best described by the word "lazy". This is a massive over-simplification of piano technique, but I think it's a good summary of the two main techniques I find myself utilising. Both have their place, with different passages and even entire pieces sounding better with different techniques. <br />
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Controlled technique is what I use whenever I'm learning a new piece or section of a piece, especially in the early stages of metronome practise at very slow speeds, which is the technique I use to learn particularly challenging passages. The controlled technique essentially means thinking about precision, about where exactly where each finger needs to go, leaving nothing up to chance. It also means a small amount of tension in the fingers - ONLY in the fingers, not in the wrist or arm, which would be catastrophic and lead to RSI.<br />
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During the early stages of learning a passage, since I won't have developed muscle memory for that passage yet, playing it requires a certain amount of thinking (not something I normally do much of when playing the piano), so controlled technique would be inevitable even if I wasn't making an effort to hit exactly the right notes in order to learn the passage accurately.<br />
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Even once I've learnt a passage, initially - usually during the memorisation process, if I haven't automatically memorised it by that time - I'll play using this 'controlled' technique. This is probably mostly due to the need to maintain absolute accuracy while memorising, so I don't memorise mistakes.<br />
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While controlled technique greatly increases accuracy and clarity, it is also very risky. I believe many pianists, myself included, rely largely on muscle memory when performing. For me at least, this is something that happens without thinking - it's automatic, and being conscious of where to put my fingers or what's happening in the music actually gets in the way of letting the 'automation' take over. So once I've developed muscle memory for a piece, controlled technique feels uncomfortable, because even that tiny bit more consciousness that's required to be absolutely precise about where your fingers are going can result in a memory lapse. I can't speak for anyone else, but for me thinking really is my worst enemy when it comes to playing from memory.<br />
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Contrast this with what I'm going to call "free" technique (you might as well call it "lazy" technique). This is how I usually play something I know well from memory. It involves absolutely no conscious thought, allowing muscle memory to take over completely, and this is aided by complete relaxation of the hand and fingers, which results in a very different (though not always desirable) tone.<br />
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The downside of free technique is that over time, accuracy tends to suffer: when I've just learnt a new passage using controlled technique I've practised accuracy a lot, but once I start playing using free technique mistakes creep in and become embedded in muscle memory, accumulating until eventually I'll need to revert to controlled technique for a bit - or even do some slow metronome practise - to get back to the original standard of accuracy that I had immediately after first learning the passage.<br />
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The advantage of free technique, however, is that it greatly reduces the risk of memory lapses, as long as my muscle memory is sufficiently well established. Under pressure, such as when performing, I'll tend to fall back on free technique to get me through, which results in lower accuracy but a much greater chance of reaching the end without forgetting anything. It's a sort of mindlessness which is very useful to have when you're nervous.<br />
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That was a very long preamble to what I've been meaning to write about all along. For over a year I've been learning Rachmaninov's 2nd piano concerto, specifically the 1st movement (the 2nd I've already performed, albeit without an orchestra). A year is a long time to have something memorised, and for the reasons mentioned above my accuracy has been deteriorating slowly over that period, in spite of improvements in my technique as a whole. <br />
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The other night I was practising this movement and suddenly became aware of something which I never really took note of before: while struggling with a passage whose accuracy needed improvement, I found myself playing with a very different technique in order to try to get the notes right. My fingers became tenser, I found myself thinking more about which keys I had to hit, and the tone I was getting out of the piano changed completely (in a good way). In other words, I was playing using controlled rather than free technique, and I much preferred the result.<br />
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Once I realised this, I tried to play everything using controlled technique, but felt on the verge of a memory lapse constantly because I was THINKING about the notes for once, rather than letting muscle memory carry me along. <br />
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Normally in the course of playing something from memory, I'll constantly switch between controlled and free technique, using free technique most of the time but changing to controlled technique for passages I know are particularly technically challenging. I can actually provide some specific examples of this in the concerto I'm learning: I always use controlled technique in <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WvqozUavDdc#t=1m59s">the fast "Un poco piú mosso" section</a>, and always use free technique in <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WvqozUavDdc#t=3m35s">this subsequent section</a>. It was the 2nd example here that I was having trouble with the accuracy of, and which from now on I am going to try to play with controlled technique (as I did initially, when I first learnt it). <br />
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Although it could be very difficult to strike the balance between passages of the concerto I know well enough to safely be able to play them with controlled technique and passages where controlled tehnique is likely to result in a memory lapse, this is what I would like to try to do before performing it in a piano competition later this year. Dorothea Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558111757085336283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-247551951594704941.post-46904531890170658302014-01-11T17:54:00.000-08:002014-04-12T04:11:36.727-07:00Algorithmic atonality<b>WARNING: I have no idea what I'm doing and errors probably abound.</b><br />
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I recently came across this incredible graphical and musical representation of <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kPRA0W1kECg" target="_blank">sorting algorithms</a>.<br />
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It got me thinking about the musical possibilities of such algorithms, and I immediately set about experimenting, taking a pseudo-random sample of 8 notes (the 5 notes of the pentatonic scale plus 3 arbitrary ones) to create an 8-tone sequence or <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tone_row#Nonstandard_tone_rows" target="_blank">tone row</a> (aided by Python's <i>random </i>module.)<br />
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The sequence is split over 2 bars in rather the manner that hexadecimal splits bytes into two 4-bit groups (<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nibble" target="_blank">nibbles</a>). No note is ever repeated within the 2 bar sequence.<br />
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The random sequence is first copied and pasted into another 2 bars, before sorting starts.<br />
Each 'nibble' is then processed separately. In the case of my particular tone row, it takes 3 repetitions to sort a bar.<br />
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We start by sorting just the 2nd bar of the sequence, meaning the 1st bar remains the same for 3 iterations. The final note in the 2nd bar is compared with the previous note; if the previous note is of a higher pitch, the notes are swapped. The sequence is then copied and pasted again, and the following algorithm is used (in this context, 'greater than' means 'at a higher pitch than'). For demonstrative purposes, let's label our 4 notes A, B, C, and D (<b>this has no relation to actual note pitches!</b>)<br />
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D > C > B >A<br />
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If this statement is false, the first note to break the rule is compared to each of the previously processed notes to determine its place in the sequence.<br />
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This is repeated for the final iteration, by which time all the notes in the 2nd bar in the sequence are sorted. The process is then repeated with the first bar in the sequence, while the 2nd bar remains the same for three iterations.<br />
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The LH starts off in the same direction as the RH, but after a few repetitions it <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Retrograde_%28music%29" target="_blank">retrogrades</a> (is flipped horizontally, in visual terms).<br />
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3rds, 5ths and octaves are added to the left and/or right hands at various points. Sometimes 5ths are added below the pure tone row, and sometimes they are added above it. These patterns can also be flipped vertically so that 5ths that were added below the 'melody' are now on top of it, meaning their intervalic relationship changes.<br />
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There are rules for these 'filler' notes:<br />
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The note must be either a major or minor third, or a perfect fifth, apart from the lowest note in the chord. it must not be the same as any other uppermost or lowermost note in the bar. This means that sometimes (although very rarely), where the overall pattern is using thirds, it becomes necessary to subsitute a 5th in to avoid doubling a note that already exists in the 'melody'.<br />
The fact that this occurrence is so rare - only starting near the very end of the sorting process - fascinates me, although I don't know the reason behind it yet.<br />
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The result of my experiment - which I never ended up doing anything interesting with - can be heard <a href="http://soundcloud.com/dorotheabaker/sorting">here</a>. <i>I cannot stress enough that I don't know what I'm doing. This was just for fun.</i>Dorothea Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558111757085336283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-247551951594704941.post-19094034826429483052013-12-16T22:58:00.003-08:002013-12-16T23:17:02.604-08:00notes vs. tones, digits vs. numbersThere is a little linguistic problem that I've been puzzling over quite a lot recently. It concerns what can probably be best described, in abstract terms, as differentiation between <i>quantity </i>and <i>value</i> in sets.<br />
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I first ran into this with number theory, working with the different numerical bases - hexadecimal, binary, decimal - that are relevant in computer science, as I needed to be able to refer to the length of, say, a bit pattern or hexadecimal number separately to the actual values that appeared in it.<br />
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In binary this is pretty easy, as there are only 2 possible values. However, if I said 'a byte has 8 digits', and you didn't have the assumed knowledge about binary, it could be misunderstood to mean a byte has 8 <i>values</i>, which would be incorrect, since a byte can only contain some combination of 2 values: 0 and 1. This confusion arises out of the ambiguity of the term <i>digit: </i>does 'digit' refer to the value of an item in the byte, or to the number of items in the byte regardless of their value? In this case, if you know anything about binary, the meaning is obvious, but there are other similar situations where it may not be.<br />
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It seems that most often <i>digit </i>is understood to refer to a quantity of items and <i>number</i> is understood to refer to the value of any item. However, all the dictionaries I've checked in seem reluctant to make such a clear distinction, the two words are listed as synonymous, and in reality they are often used interchangeably, making use of either one subject to misinterpretation. <br />
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The problem crops up again in music. For example, when we say '4 notes', are we referring to any 4 instances of an item (for example, four B flats), or are we referring specifically to 4 unique values (for example, a set of 10 items in which only four values, say A, F, D and B flat, occur)? <br />
Officially there are separate words to describe quantity and value in music: <i>note</i> is to <i>tone</i>* what<i> digit </i>is to <i>number</i> - the former describes a quantity, the latter a unique value. But again, the two terms get used interchangeably, making it difficult to ensure any description of musical patterns is absolutely unambiguous. What am I missing here?!<br />
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In writing this blog post, I made an unsettling discovery: I kept trying to use general words that describe quantity or value, only to discover they could potentially be misinterpreted. <i>Range</i> is one such word. I was initially going to use this term instead of <i>quantity</i>, until I realised it could be misinterpreted in much the same way as <i>digit</i> or <i>number</i>. Are we referring to the number of items in the set, or the number of values occurring in the set? <i>Range</i> is perfectly correct in either context.<br />
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Also note how it's almost impossible to discuss these issues without using that pesky term <i>number. </i>In this post I've replaced as many occurrences of the word as possible with <i>quantity</i>, but I've left the ones in the previous paragraph untouched to demonstrate how much we rely on potentially ambiguous language.<br />
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One final thought, venturing into even more abstract territory: consider that we say '<i>number</i> of digits'. This requires some recursive thinking: the digits are a set in which various values, known as <i>numbers</i>, can be stored. Another set, called a <i>number, </i>contains the <i>digits</i> which contain the <i>numbers...</i>see the problem with this terminology? <br />
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*gotta love that <i>tone </i>is an anagram of <i>note</i> ehDorothea Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558111757085336283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-247551951594704941.post-44320225110391936252013-11-29T17:11:00.001-08:002013-12-15T05:50:43.318-08:00The CHORD of resignationBefore you read any further, please be aware that none of this post will make sense unless you've read <a href="http://dorotheabaker.blogspot.com.au/2013/04/the-chord-progression-of-resignation.html">this first.</a><br />
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The minor 7th chord consists of a stack of alternating major and minor thirds: min 3rd, maj 3rd, min 3rd, maj 3rd. It's always been my favorite chord, and at the time of writing the post linked above I was even vaguely aware that there was some connection between this chord and the chord <i>progression</i> I was analysing. However, I was so new to harmonic analysis at that time that I was happy to leave the analysis at a <i>series </i>of chords.<br />
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It's only very recently that I've been able to piece together and understand some of the connections I've always sensed existed between a handful of musical patterns and elements. This post is an attempt to explain these connections, with the aid of some examples. I still have much to learn about this topic, and I'm sure there will be many more blog posts to write as I make new discoveries.<br />
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Let's say we're in the key of B flat minor. In this key, the notes which correspond to the degrees of the scale that form the Chord Progression of Resignation are B flat, D flat, E flat and G flat, from the bottom up:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFm3p1dgEIw4k-QMg9OLOncBhNmbIziWcUbxFno68-BG6fu32b6PQp_3HWnV8sHS0wMi2boijO5yApnOaASkWKisjucUgFFCyPfpUup-oXL2XLkdqd4_d71hdhbKSaX4obZ9GOkQ9GTPiP/s1600/Picture+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFm3p1dgEIw4k-QMg9OLOncBhNmbIziWcUbxFno68-BG6fu32b6PQp_3HWnV8sHS0wMi2boijO5yApnOaASkWKisjucUgFFCyPfpUup-oXL2XLkdqd4_d71hdhbKSaX4obZ9GOkQ9GTPiP/s1600/Picture+2.png" /></a></div>
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<i> </i><br />
Let's now invert this chord to the 2nd inversion, so it starts on E flat (note that the dominant of E flat is B flat...) The resulting chord is E flat minor 7th:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcTUlDe9h8tsSMhBeLQOJEvFZx46nmlA7zqJ0fMRlqS0TUQdcY60Cl99TbwO_9igAgwscLjP6LBG2Burj96OyDja3pVMm9mKyHE-OZx3-Y1mgGYC7fFAubWU2ltlGVn4wkhxIwXThRn4VV/s1600/Picture+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcTUlDe9h8tsSMhBeLQOJEvFZx46nmlA7zqJ0fMRlqS0TUQdcY60Cl99TbwO_9igAgwscLjP6LBG2Burj96OyDja3pVMm9mKyHE-OZx3-Y1mgGYC7fFAubWU2ltlGVn4wkhxIwXThRn4VV/s1600/Picture+1.png" /></a></div>
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The notes used in the examples above are 4 of the 5 notes of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pentatonic_scale" target="_blank">pentatonic scale</a>. If we were still in B flat minor (which we're not, since E flat is our new tonic), the missing note (an A flat) would form the 7th degree of the scale - a fairly common addition to the 'pure' chord progression of resignation.<br />
The pentatonic scale is the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mode_%28music%29" target="_blank">mode</a> you get from playing only the black keys of the piano (although it can be transposed into any key). It's an interesting scale in that it's very pure sounding - you can combine any of its 5 notes, or play them all at once, and as long as you stay within that mode nothing will ever sound jarringly dissonant.<br />
It's also quite tonally ambiguous - shifting from major to minor and between keys is effortless. I've yet to figure out what gives the pentatonic scale this ambiguous quality, as - depending on which note you begin it on - the degrees of the scale that are 'missing' vary.<br />
<br />
The pentatonic scale is prevalent in the traditional music of many vastly different and geographically separated cultures. This can hardly be attributed to coincidence, and the discovery of its relationship to the 'chord of resignation', and by assosciation the chord <i>progression</i> of resignation, has only reinforced my impression that there's something fundamentally significant about the pentatonic scale.<br />
<br />
Below are some examples of the 'chord of resignation'. As with the chord prog list, I'll add to this over time, so check back! (Quite a few examples I could easily include here would double with ones already in the chord prog
list, so I'm leaving some - though not all - of them out.)<br />
<br />
To make collecting examples easier, I'm attempting to group them by harmonic structure a little.<br />
The following examples simply use the minor 7th chord in its purest form:<br />
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<b>1.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aAuGT8o3AvI">Leo Ornstein - Piano Sonata No. 4, 2nd mvt</a> (see 0:07, and probably most prominently 0:14) Aside from the timecodes noted, the opening of this appears to make use of the minor 7th constantly in other ways too complex for me to try to analyse yet. This piece already appears on the chord prog examples list, but I had to repeat it here because it has such a wealth of interesting harmony.<br />
<b>2.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hKgcHjq1xKQ" target="_blank">Ravel - Le Gibet (</a>see 13:42 and several times again until the end)<br />
<b>3.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=odFdQUGtwA8" target="_blank">Gershwin - Summertime</a> (see 9:11)<br />
<b>4.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_sTXE95laQQ" target="_blank">Leo Ornstein - Piano Sonata No. 4, 4th mvt</a> The opening of this is practically built out of minor 7th chords (or stacks of 3rds, in any case).<br />
<b>5.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RaYvMwQd3cs" target="_blank">Steve Reich - Six Marimbas (see 6:15 onwards)</a> The uppermost note of this chord shifts constantly between the 7th and
8th degree of the scale, while the underlying 3rds remain 'fixed'. Interestingly, the tonic doesn't appear in the bass until 6:32, and it dissappears again at 13:42. The inversion of the minor 7th created by this is the one shown in the first image above - the degrees of the chord prog of resignation stacked on top of each other in order: I, III, IV, VI.<br />
<b>6.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aj1ots3E18Y" target="_blank">Ravel - Une barque sur l'ocean (see 4:47)</a><br />
<b>7.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PbIAJmameIc" target="_blank">Ravel - Noel des Jouets</a> (see 2:26)<br />
<br />
<b>8.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hKgcHjq1xKQ" target="_blank">Ravel - Ondine</a> (see 5:20) This example is really in a class of its own, as the chord is not only broken into a myriad of semiquavers and tuplets with a scattering of arbitrary notes in between, but it also isn't even a <i>minor </i>7th. Nevertheless, a Chord of Resignation it undoubtedly is. A far more conventional example can be found at 5:49.<br />
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A very common way in which the minor 7th chord manifests - especially in minimalism - is where a particular interval or combination of intervals are maintained over the top of a changing base chord progression, resulting in the 'Chord of Resignation' seeming to grow naturally out of a pure tonic triad. The following examples demonstrate this.<br />
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<b>9.</b> <a href="http://stellardrone.bandcamp.com/track/in-time" target="_blank">Stellardrone - In Time</a> This is a fairly simple example - harmonically and texturally - so well suited for explanatory purposes. The bass is progressing as follows: I, [V], VI, VII. To start with the...er, constellation of notes being repeated over the top is simply part of the tonic triad, but as it remains the same while the bass changes, it forms a minor 7th over the VI chord.<br />
<b>10.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ERQDxLsfrjw" target="_blank">Porcupine Tree - Trains</a> As with the previous example, the upper notes in the harmony here remain constant over a changing bassline,
resulting in a minor 7th forming over the VI chord. However, there are other relevant complexities to the harmony which you can read about in the <a href="http://dorotheabaker.blogspot.com.au/2013/04/the-chord-progression-of-resignation.html" target="_blank">chord prog examples list</a>.<br />
<b>11.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NmWgIidnXX4" target="_blank">Steve Reich - Electric Counterpoint III</a> This is an interesting example because the underlying chord progression consists only of the degrees of the scale that form the minor 7th - IV, VI, Im. As a result, in this instance it's impossible to say that a minor 7th is only formed over, say, the VI chord, as was the case with the previous 2 examples. The harmony just morphs organically, an effect intensified the gradual introduction of each degree of the scale in the bass at the start of the piece (you have to listen to the whole thing to get what I'm talking about). <i>PS in case you're curious what happens when it briefly modulates, the progression is III, IV, V, but effectively that III chord becomes the new tonic.</i><br />
<b>12.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CrIZBnUda_Q" target="_blank">Steve Reich - Music for large ensemble</a> Initially, the uppermost note of the chord is simply the 3rd degree of the tonic triad (i.e. the dominant), but each time the bass plunges down a third it becomes a minor 7th. <br />
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<i>Yes, there is a lot of Ravel on this list. :P</i>Dorothea Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558111757085336283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-247551951594704941.post-12870127556811939512013-11-06T18:31:00.000-08:002013-11-12T04:22:45.226-08:00A compositional project<a href="https://soundcloud.com/dorotheabaker/sets/mechanism-no-2" target="_blank">Link to the project</a><br />
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About a year ago I wrote what I suppose you could call a 12-track piece for percussion ensemble. I say '12 track' because, although it used 10 separate instruments, I feel like 'track' is a more appropriate way to describe the way in which each stave was a whole composition unto itself.<br />
I named this piece 'Mechanism No. 1', with the aim of writing more pieces in a similar style in the future. I recently completed Mechanism No. 2, which also has 12 'tracks'. You can find both pieces here:<br />
<a href="https://soundcloud.com/dorotheabaker/mechanism-no-1-equation" target="_blank">Mechanism No. 1</a> <br />
<a href="https://soundcloud.com/dorotheabaker/mechanism-no-2" target="_blank">Mechanism No. 2</a><br />
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I write most of my music in Sibelius, which has a mixing panel. While writing<br />
anything with more than a few instruments, I usually mute or solo tracks and adjust volumes to hear how different combinations of instruments sound together and to make sure there aren't any unwanted dissonances.<br />
<br />
With these very large, complex scores, such as the Mechanisms, often things come out in a reduced combination of instruments that are completely lost when all parts are blaring away at once. For example, just the marimba, vibrophone and harp together can convey a completely different mood to the work as a whole, and sound almost like a separate composition in their own right.<br />
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Often this has to do with each instrument's place in the harmony: with the combination of instruments just mentioned, you might never hear the tonic, so the whole <i>key</i> of the piece sounds different. In the work as a whole, these instruments might be filling in the 4th, 6th, or 7th degree of the scale (perhaps all at the same time!), but on their own, they create a new scale altogether.<br />
<br />
It made me sad to think that my listeners would never get to hear all these different combinations of instruments I encountered while writing the Mechanisms. Short of uploading a Sibelius file to the web and hoping that everyone who wanted to hear the piece HAD Sibelius, there was no way of providing the same 'customizable' listening experience that I had from within the software during the composition process.<br />
<br />
For this reason, I've decided to export several extra audio files of Mechanism No. 2 using a couple of different instrument combinations which I think are particularly interesting, and plan to do the same with Mechanism No. 1. I'll upload these to a Soundcloud playlist in the coming week. A link will be posted here when it's ready!<br />
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P.S. I originally considered exporting and uploading EACH STAVE individually, making them downloadable, and letting people remix. While I love projects like this, it would take a lot of time and probably not be worth it, since nobody knows I exist :P Dorothea Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558111757085336283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-247551951594704941.post-76926325291163349282013-11-06T01:24:00.002-08:002013-11-06T01:24:46.447-08:00This blog will no longer be limited to music...Almost ever since I started this blog I've been itching to post about things other than music. However, I did initially set it up to be music-specific, and I didn't think I'd be posting frequently enough about other topics to justify changing that.<br />
<br />
However, I recently changed my mind in light of the amount of stuff I have to say about technology (although literature is also a possible topic). I'm studying IT, and increasingly finding myself wanting to air my views or share my discoveries in relation to this pursuit.<br />
<br />
So from now on, this blog is no longer exclusively music-themed. I'm going to have to think of another title! I'm also working on a widget to create navigation that elegantly divides it into sections based on post labels, but until that's finished, a flat link list will have to do.Dorothea Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558111757085336283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-247551951594704941.post-48372131650194409292013-08-23T00:12:00.000-07:002013-11-01T05:06:20.389-07:00Seeing music through the eyes of a programmerI always intended this blog to have a music-only focus. I've often found myself wanting to blog about other things that interest me, but always refrained because it would have been outside the scope of the topic. However, I'm going to make a slight exception for this post because although it isn't <i>exclusively </i>music-related, music does come into it and I think it might be of interest to the very few people who read my blog.<br />
<br />
A couple of years ago I did a web design course, learned about HTML and CSS, and loved it. This encouraged me to pursue IT further, and 3 months ago I enrolled in an introductory computer programming course
which is just coming to an end at the time of writing. Although the course only taught the very basics of programming, even within a few weeks of starting it I had begun to 'think like a programmer'. Let me provide a few examples of what I mean.<br />
<br />
There is a weatherboard house in my street which has always fascinated me because of the unusual staining of the wood. It appears that over time the stain on the boards exposed to the weather (furthest away from the eaves) wore off. The result is a perfect gradient, with the boards near the bottom of the house very pale and those directly under the eaves still a dark brown color. I found myself trying to figure out how I could write a program to manipulate an image to create the same effect. I never actually did it, but later on in the course we worked with gradients so I got to experiment then.<br />
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More recently, I attempted to draw parallels between music and programming from a conceptual point of view. In case any geeks are curious to know what I actually came up with, it was along these lines (I added the 'print' statement just to make it do something; it's kind of cool because it shows you the bars and the strong beats in each bar):<br />
<br />
for bar in range (120):<br />
for note in range(1, 4, 2):<br />
print bar, note<br />
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The idea is a piece 120 bars in duration, where each bar is in 4/4 time and contains 2 minims. Obviously a very boring piece of music (where every note is the same duration!) but I needed something that simplistic to be able to translate it to this context at all. <br />
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The thing I love about studying programming is it's given me a whole new perspective, not just on music but on EVERYTHING. It's made me think about everything from a logical, even a slightly mathematical, perspective, and it's also made me realise that, contrary to what I've always thought, I <i>don't</i> actually hate maths.<br />
<br />
Learning Jython has been intense and pretty stressful at times, but in the past 3 months I've discovered that although programming can
be incredibly frustrating, the thrill when you finally solve a
problem you've been scratching your head over for weeks is huge. I can't wait to move on to learning Java. In the meantime, to relax a little (haha, we'll see about that...) I'm returning to web design, this time to learn JavaScript.Dorothea Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558111757085336283noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-247551951594704941.post-7386309320950443422013-07-18T05:57:00.000-07:002013-11-01T05:06:58.777-07:00Bach is hardI've discovered that, at least in the pianistic field, pieces by Mozart are often given to young musicians as their 'first concerto' or 'first sonata'. This seems to imply that such works are technically and perhaps emotionally less demanding than sonatas or concertos by other composers, and therefore suitable material for budding musicians who have, presumably, not yet developed these faculties.<br />
I have even read things that imply that Mozart is widely considered to be inferior music ONLY suitable for this purpose, and not serious or "difficult" enough for fully-fledged musicians to pay any attention to. <br />
As I am not personally fond of Mozart, I haven't played much of his music and thus don't feel qualified to judge whether it really IS less technically or emotionally demanding than that of other composers. However, it recently came to my attention that Bach is treated, by some, in much the same way: as excellent 'first concerto' material for children learning the piano, or (in the cases of the preludes and fugues) excellent exercise material, but not really of any worth to the experienced musician.<br />
<br />
This horrifies me for a number of reasons. First, to suggest that anything Bach - possibly the greatest composer that ever lived - wrote has no musical worth is nothing short of blasphemy. I can hardly think of a great composer since Bach's time who has not, in some way, been influenced by his music. However, I hardly need that as an excuse for defending the excellence of his compositions. The main reason I'm offended by this devaluing, as it were, of Bach's music is because it implies that, like Mozart, playing Bach requires less technical skill or musical understanding than playing the music of other composers.<br />
<br />
I've noticed a curious thing when I tell people (generally musicians or music lovers who aren't pianists) about the pieces I'm working on. The conversation usually goes something like this:<br />
<i>Me: 'I'm learning two concertos.' </i><br />
<i>Friend: 'Which ones?'</i><br />
<i>Me: 'Bach's D minor...'</i><br />
<i>Friend: *no reaction*</i><br />
<i>Me: '...and Rach 2.'</i><br />
<i>Friend: 'OOOH! That's one of the hardest concertos there is!' *impressed face*</i><br />
<i>Me: *mumbles something about Prok 2* </i><br />
Misconceptions about hardest concertos aside, it seems like Rachmaninov universally holds the status of Serious Music, while Bach is...well...less serious music - even <i>inferior </i>music - in the eyes of many people. If I hadn't seen evidence of this attitude elsewhere, it would never have occured to me that people might think about Bach this way. Someone once told me they were surprised when they tried to play a Bach
prelude and found it difficult. It strikes me as strange that people can
listen to Bach and not <i>hear </i>the complexity of it.<br />
<br />
To me, Bach has always been characterised by both outstanding complexity and
technical difficulty; in the early music
circle I grew up in, it was widely acknowledged that Bach was
pretty much the hardest early music there was. But how does the technical difficulty of Bach compare to the music of the 19th and 20th centuries?<br />
<br />
In Rach 2, most of the notes are for texture, and the few that form a melody are the ones that need to be brought out. This is usually achieved using the damper pedal and playing the textural notes lightly while the melody notes are played strongly. More often than not the 'textural' notes end up being drowned out by the orchestra anyway, and this combined with the concealing qualities of the pedal mean that you don't need to get every note right for the overall effect to be pleasant.<br />
Since I like to actually <i>hear</i> all the notes, I strongly advocate NOT swamping them in pedal to hide technical inadequacies. The technique I describe above is one of things I find most frustating about modern pianists. But the fact remains that you can do that and get away with it, because romantic music was sort of <i>written to be played like that.</i> In fact, most of it is unplayable without a certain amount of pedal, although swamping is totally unnecessary if you are a good enough pianist (I could probably write a whole <strike>book</strike> blog post about pedal-swamping). I personally aspire to the clean, minimally-pedalled technique which the composer himself utilises, but the truth is my technique isn't good enough to pull that off most of the time.<i><br /></i><br />
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On the other hand, under no circumstances will I resort to the pedal in Bach. It simply isn't in keeping with the sound I envisage for his music. I like a clean, percussive, articulated technique in Bach; it helps to emphasise the counterpoint and also makes the piano sound more like a harpsichord. But this clarity is a lot harder to achieve than the pedal-swamped passages found in romantic music. One wrong note in Rachmaninov might be barely noticable, but in Bach it could be a disaster. You can't fake it: every note is of equal importance (this is especially so in fugal passages, where each voice needs to be heard clearly.) Even if you do use the pedal (and thereby conceal half the notes, making wrong ones less apparent), the keyboard instruments Bach wrote for had a much lighter action than a modern piano, and so were much easier to play on. This made it possible to execute leaps and incredibly fast fingerwork that are awkward, to say the least, on a modern piano. When playing Bach on the piano, the performer often has to battle against the unwieldiness of an instrument for which the music was not designed.<br />
<br />
Rach 2 is hard, and as soon as you introduce the concept of actually <i>hearing </i>all the notes, it gets much harder, because there are lots of them, and they are often very fast. But aside from one or two awkward passages (which can be glossed over with the pedal if necessary) most of the notes feel just right - so right that, once you've learnt them, they are not only easy, but actually physically pleasant to play. This can be attributed to Rachmaninov's own skill as a pianist, which enabled him to write music perfectly designed for the piano and the capabilities of the performer.<br />
<br />
By all accounts, Bach was equally accomplished at the harpsichord, and no doubt his own concertos were similarly well-tailored to his instrument. Like Rach 2, the Bach concerto was never easy in the first place, but (if Bach's vocal works are anything to go by) it was probably written in such a way that once the keyboardist had learnt the notes, everything just flowed - at least, on a harpsichord, where the keys are much shallower than a piano's and only require about a quarter of the effort to depress. I actually have two harpsichords in my house, but they're both in such poor condition that I haven't been able to try playing the concerto on them (apart from the fact they don't have enough keys for the low notes; Bach must have had much bigger harpsichords.)<br />
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In the end, it's hard to draw a comparison, because the technique required to play Bach is so different from that required to play Rachmaninov.* All things considered, the two pieces are probably at around the same level of difficulty. This alone would probably surprise a lot of people. However, I'm finding the concerto that was <i>written</i> for the instrument I'm playing it on, regardless of the number of notes, is actually easier to execute successfully. Meanwhile, I've just started learning the last movement of the Bach concerto, and for the first time since I undertook learning these two concertos, I'm <i>really struggling.</i> I haven't started on the last movement of Rach 2 yet, and I'm fairly certain it's going to be the hardest. Will it be harder than the corresponding movement of the Bach? Even I would feel silly if I said it wasn't, but only time will tell!<br />
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*I have encountered pianists who fully appreciate the technical challenges of Bach, and even go so far as to admit they <i>can't play it. </i>These
are accomplished musicians who have no trouble executing extremely
difficult 19th and 20th century music, which demonstrates just how different the necessary technique is. Dorothea Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558111757085336283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-247551951594704941.post-79236314157398288982013-06-26T05:29:00.000-07:002013-11-01T05:06:58.789-07:00Concert review: Stefan Cassomenos 26/6/13In 2012, I was fortunate enough to witness two incredible young pianists playing alongside each other - one as soloist and one as accompanist - in the Piano Concerto section of my local Eisteddfod. They were Konrad Olszewski and Stefan Cassomenos. Even in what one could say was the secondary role of accompanist, it was evident that Stefan was an extraordinary musician. They played one of my favorite concertos, Prokofiev's 3rd, and the whole experience was unforgettable. I was therefore very excited when I found out that both Stefan and Konrad had got into the Sydney International Piano Competition (SIPCA), and heartbroken when they didn't progress to the 2nd round.<br />
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I've just returned from the first recital I've heard Stefan play in person. This took place in the salon at the Melbourne Recital Centre, and I have to admit I much prefer this more intimate setting to the Elizabeth Murdoch Hall - the acoustic is beautiful and, in my opinion, far more flattering to the piano.<br />
The closeness to the performer also gives me the opportunity to study a pianist's pedalling at close range, which I certainly did tonight.<br />
<br />
I loved Stefan's choice of repetoire, some of which I'd already heard him play in SIPCA, and some of which he obviously learnt for SIPCA but didn't get the chance to perform due to not progressing past the first round. This included one of the Australian works commissioned for the competition, Carl Vine's <i>Toccatissimo, </i>with which Stefan opened the program and in which I would be completely confident to say his accuracy was 100%.<i> </i>For some reason I never fully appreciated this masterpiece when I heard it on the radio during SIPCA - I don't know whether it was never played particularly well (it's a technical monstrosity) or whether I was just so exhausted from hours of listening that I couldn't even take it in. But tonight, it left me fervently wishing I was able to compose like that - as did the 3 Ligeti etudes (Nos. 4, 11, and 8), during which I simply gaped the whole time.<br />
<br />
After the Vine and before the Ligeti, Stefan played 3 Liszt etudes (Nos. 7, 11 and 8). I confess I'm not a fan of Liszt, but I marvelled at Stefan's technique in these extraordinarily difficult works. I particularly noted that Wilde Jagd, which I heard several times played by different pianists (including Stefan) during SIPCA, sounded distinctly more accurate than when I had heard him play it previously. In fact, I would venture to say it was 100% accurate.<br />
<br />
Following the Liszt and Ligeti, Stefan played a Debussy etude (No. 11) which for some reason has left less of an impression on me than the other works on the program. I quite like Debussy, and I like that etude, but it didn't particularly stand out for me, perhaps because I was so busy anticipating the 5 Rachmaninov Etudes that followed.<br />
<br />
When I hear what is, for me, a definitive interpretation of a work, from then on I never really like any other interpretation. This is how I feel about Ashkenazy's Rach Etudes, with one exception - Op. 39 No. 1, which I first heard played by Konrad Olszewski in SIPCA. Ever since then, no other interpretation of that etude has sounded right to me, and Stefan's interpretation of Op. 39 No. 1 doesn't quite cut it for me simply for that reason, but on some levels he has more technique than Konrad. It was interesting to hear how Stefan brought out melodies in this etude that I hadn't heard before.<br />
<br />
At this point I can no longer put off discussing the one thing that struck me most about Stefan's playing this evening: his pedalling. <br />
<br />
I was watching Stefan's feet the whole way through the recital, and was amazed to see that he frequently took the pedal <i>completely off</i> in technical passages where most pianists I've heard leave it down. Stefan used little to no pedal wherever he could, and only a pianist with impeccable technique can get away with the exposure this results in.<br />
When he wasn't playing completely pedalless, Stefan changed the pedal frequently and subtly - sometimes fully changing, sometimes half or quarter-changing - so that there was always the utmost clarity. I was particularly struck by the way he used the sostenuto pedal in one piece to hold a bass chord while he played a
delicate, virtuosic passage in the right hand, completely without the damper pedal. This is the kind of pedalling technique that seems to have been forgotten, or has gone out of fashion, and of which Rachmaninov is the supreme example.<br />
<br />
My only criticism of Stefan's pedalling is a fairly minor one. He has a way of very abruptly lifting his foot off the pedal. He never does this in the middle of passages - as many pianists I've heard do - but only when he comes to the end of a pedalled section. Often it's quite effective, if the music is agressive, since the 'clunk' of the pedal adds to the overall harshness. But occasionally he does it when the music is less suited to added clunking, and I don't like it. However, it's part of his playing style and insignificant in comparison to his otherwise extraordinary command of the pedal, which particularly made itself clear in the Rachmaninov etudes.<br />
<br />
Most modern pianists I've heard pay little, if any, attention to pedalling, and I
gather that many judges don't either, considering some of the finalists
in competitions. It's refreshing to come across a pianist who grants the
pedal the importance it deserves. I reckon if we could hear Rachmaninov play his own etudes today, in person, his pedalling would not be unlike Stefan's. And as a self-confessed pedalling freak and Rachmaniac, that's more or less the highest praise I could give anyone.<br />
<br />Dorothea Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558111757085336283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-247551951594704941.post-79214740977425419122013-06-16T23:11:00.003-07:002013-11-01T05:06:58.785-07:00Concert Review: Valentina Lisitsa 8/6/13I originally discovered Valentina Lisitsa when I came across her <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ROVy9PC8_8A&list=PL08FF1714185695DA">Chopin Etudes DVD</a> on Youtube. To start with, I didn't like her all that much. I appreciated that she was an excellent pianist with formidable technique, but her style wasn't to my taste. It was only once I realised how she was revolutionising classical music through the use of social media that my respect for her really took off.<br />
Gradually I began to realise what she was doing was very different: she talked about the music when she did a recital,
tweeted to people in the audience, and was prepared to livestream her
practise and performances to the whole world. Last but not least, whereas most pianists achieve fame by winning prestigious competitions at a tender
age, Lisitsa's career took off via the internet when she was
middle-aged, without the aid of any competitions (and the agents and record companies they entail) whatsoever. <br />
<br />
The <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lNEhdiG4Yp8">Royal Albert Hall recital </a>was what finally made me a fan. I'd listened to Ashkenazy's Rach preludes CD, but his intepretation, while excellent, had never really communicated the essence of the music to me in the way Lisitsa's did. I felt like I was hearing the preludes for the first time. It was then that I decided to learn Op. 32 No. 10, and my obssession with Rachmaninov began.<br />
<br />
Some time later I joined with hundreds of other pianists and music lovers around the world to watch Lisitsa <a href="http://new.livestream.com/accounts/1069269">livestreaming</a> her 12 hours of practise a day, and later a performance of Rach 3. It was an amazing experience, not least because of the wonderful live chat board, where I was able to talk with fellow pianists around the world and discuss what Lisitsa was playing in real-time.<br />
<br />
Last weekend, I flew to Brisbane for a couple of nights and saw Valentina Lisitsa perform at the Queensland Performing Arts centre. It was unforgettable, and a very different experience to other piano recitals I've been to. Lisitsa talked at length about the music, the composers, her own childhood and the reasons for her programming (which was refreshingly unconventional) before sitting down to play, straight through, 6 Rachmaninov preludes, followed by Prokofiev's 7th sonata (a personal favorite of mine) and then the Beethoven Appassionata. And that was just before interval. She didn't want applause between pieces, but couldn't prevent a few outbursts from the enthusiastic audience.<br />
<br />
From the very first piece, I disliked the piano. Lisitsa favours Bosendorfers, and it's a pity she wasn't able to play on one, because the Steinway in the auditorium was poorly tuned (not out of tune exactly; just <i>poorly </i>tuned), unevenly voiced and jangly. However, Lisitsa was able to make it sound beautiful, especially as she warmed up.<br />
<br />
Hearing her play the Rachmaninov preludes again since I'd gotten to know them better, I realised I didn't actually like her interpretation of Op. 32 no. 10, the prelude I learned. Some of the more technically challenging preludes were also a bit messy, but when a performer sees the bigger picture rather than focussing on the details, mistakes are unimportant, and Lisitsa certainly saw the bigger picture. In fact the Rach preludes were really just a warm-up, and the fact that Lisitsa was able to play 6 such challenging works <i>to open a recital </i>is indicative of her pianistic skill.<br />
<br />
The <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yd3u48YSHY8">Prokofiev sonata</a> and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xlcVu8SLDdo">Beethoven</a> which followed were flawless - and very fast, something which seems to be Lisitsa's trademark. After interval, she spoke some more and then played 8 <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=walwdY8ssrE">Chopin nocturnes</a>. This time the audience managed to not applaud between pieces. Again, the bigger picture was of the utmost importance. I was particularly impressed with how Lisitsa had programmed the nocturnes according to key; she had obviously put a lot of thought into the order of the works, rather than simply arranging them chronologically (as most pianists do). It's practically unheard of to put a Op. 55 before an Op. 15.<br />
<br />
The final piece on the program was <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zGBXA1tBiLw">Liszt's Totentanz</a>. There are several recordings of Lisitsa playing this on Youtube, but I swear she played it better in this recital than I've heard in any of her recordings (in fact, I would say that about everything she played). It was interesting to hear Totentanz again since I wrote my own variation on Dies Irae - I know the plainchant melody so well now that I hear it everywhere, and this familiarity meant that Totentanz made a lot more sense to me than it had before; I suddenly heard it as a piece of music and not merely as a way for the pianist to show off.<br />
<br />
There followed a well-deserved standing ovation and two encores. The first was Liszt's transcription of <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RCucnn-95nY">Schubert's Ave Maria</a>, which was very beautiful. Amazingly, Lisitsa then played <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vwc-nmyPm4I">La Campanella </a>- a piece I would hardly have considered appopriate encore material after such an exhausting program! But Lisitsa's stamina is unfailing and this, too, was stunning. I couldn't help comparing the ending with <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PZbtlcLKJnw">Gavrilov's</a>, which I think someone on Youtube once tried to call the 'fastest La Campanella' or something like that. Gavrilov fakes it, and in the last few bars is basically just playing random notes as fast and loud as possible (don't get me wrong, I do actually like Gavrilov - just not his La Campanella.)<br />
In any case, Lisitsa did NOT fake it. I would even go so far as to say her accuracy was 99.9 percent (I heard no mistakes, but I have to leave a .01 percent margin to cover the possibility - after all, there are <i>a lot</i> of notes....) <br />
<br />
The thing that impressed me most about Lisitsa's performance was her incredible stamina. Even some of the best pianists tend to hold back when they have a big climax to reach in a piece, or if they know they have to play something very technically demanding later. Lisitsa never held back once - she kept playing with the same intensity, showing no signs of fatigue, and maintaining an incredible volume. The secret to this is complete relaxation: you can tell just by watching Lisitsa play that she is very, very relaxed. Of course, physical strength is also necessary, but strength is completely useless without relaxation, and that isn't as easy as it sounds. In fact, the inability to keep my arms and wrists sufficiently relaxed is probably the thing that holds back my technique the most.<br />
<br />
I think a lot of young pianists (including myself) could benefit from taking a leaf out of Valentina Lisitsa's book by viewing a piece of music, and the challenges it entails, as a whole and thinking about the overall impression rather than worrying about every mistake; and RELAXING and letting their entire weight sink into the piano. Relaxation doesn't just improve stamina: it also results in a beautiful rich tone, something that is distinctly lacking in most of the pianists I hear in competitions.Dorothea Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558111757085336283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-247551951594704941.post-80119881980157724792013-06-12T19:54:00.001-07:002013-11-01T05:06:58.793-07:00Many a Rach 2It's not uncommon for me to listen to lots of different recordings and interpretations of the same work. However, nothing can compare to the number of different recordings of Rachmaninov's 2nd piano concerto I've listened to. If I come across a recording of Rach 2 I haven't heard before, I just HAVE to listen to it. And then, preferably, compare it with all the other Rach 2 recordings I know of.<br />
<br />
The following are some of the pianists I've heard play Rach 2:<br />
<br />
Van Cliburn<br />
Alexei Sultanov<br />
Andrei Gavrilov <br />
Alexander Gavrylyuk<br />
Vladimir Ashkenazy<br />
Yefim Bronfman<br />
Sviatoslav Richter<br />
Garrick Ohlsson<br />
Evgeny Kissin<br />
Ivo Pogorelich <br />
Benno Moisewitch<br />
Valentina Lisitsa<br />
<br />
These are merely the recordings I can remember of the top of my head, and which left an impression on me. I find comparing them fascinating - especially 'vintage' recordings versus modern ones. I usually prefer the vintage recordings in every respect, especially with regards to the piano tone. In old recordings the piano sound is warmer and closer. In modern recordings the piano often sounds harsh, percussive and distant, and you can barely hear it over the orchestra. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ejtjJqDpDuo">Gavrilov's</a> recording is one of the worst examples of this, which is unfortunate since I admire his interpretation - it has a slightly out-of-control quality I find exhilarating. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Rachmaninov-Piano-Concerto-No-2/dp/B009V8PN86/ref=ntt_mus_ep_dpi_5">Valentina Lisitsa's</a> recording suffers from a similar production problem: it's a superb recording of the orchestra, in which you can hear details notably lacking in other recordings - pizzicato, pianissimo strings, and very enthusiastic timpani - but very little piano!<br />
<br />
Here are my 'top three' recordings of Rach 2:<br />
<b>Vladimir Ashkenazy</b><br />
There is a curious story attached to this recording. I originally heard Ashkenazy's recording with, I think, Bernard Haitink and the Concertgebouw of Amsterdam. I hated it. The piano sounded <i>awful. </i><br />
I happened to come across a recording on Spotify recently with 'Andre Previn and Ashkenazy' listed as the artists. Unfortunately it didn't say who was the pianist and who the conductor. I searched in vain for the recording (a Decca Ovation: Rach 2 coupled with the Paganini Rhapsody). Eventually, I figured out that it could only be Ashkenazy playing, with Previn conducting the LSO. The recording is on Youtube, unfortunately chopped up into bits, but someone has put them all in <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=haFPBgsgBMw&list=PL6518DBA0D27A2230">this playlist</a> for easy listening.<br />
Ashkenazy's<b> </b>technique is flawless, and his interpretation incredibly sensitive. I really think Ashkenazy understands Rachmaninov better than anyone. The production is fantastic: the orchestra sounds great, but in no way swamps the piano, which has a beautiful tone and perfect clarity. Many recordings also lack the 'oomph' which Ashkenazy gives this concerto, and I do like a bit of oomph. <br />
<b>Van Cliburn</b><br />
I first heard <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=huu-nir6RNw">Van Cliburn's Rach 2</a> on
Youtube and fell in love with his interpretation immediately; it's so
warm and full of love for and understanding of the music. Cliburn takes
all 3 movements a lot slower than is the norm, and I particularly admire
this. His interpretation is romantic without being too sentimental.
Above all, the recording - although old - is superb, and the piano
crystal clear above the orchestra, which is something I look for in any
concerto recording (and which is sadly lacking in many modern
recordings.) This is my favorite version aside from Rachmaninov's own. <br />
<b>Rachmaninov</b><br />
Before I go on, I should explain that there are actually 2 recordings of Rachmaninov himself playing Rach 2. Although almost identical in interpretation, the sound quality does differ a little: as one would expect, the (surprisingly rare) <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z51QA2517sg">1929 recording</a> is somewhat higher quality than the 1927 recording.<br />
Rachmaninov takes his own concerto <i>incredibly</i> fast. There's nothing wrong with this, and if I had Rachmaninov's technique I'd probably do the same, but I prefer the way Van Cliburn wallows in the music. However, aside from the tempo this recording is by far my favorite. Two things make it stand out particularly: the pedalless candenza (to date I have heard only one other pianist play the cadenza without pedal), and the fast 'Alla Marcia'. Pianists usually take this section way too slow (in my opinion), and it gets very laboured, detracting from the melody the orchestra plays underneath.<br />
<br />
One of the things that distinguishes my 'top three' Rach 2 recordings from the rest is the absolute clarity of the piano part. Despite the low audio quality, there is still more piano detail audible in Rachmaninov's recording of Rach 2 than I have heard on many modern recordings. I don't know what they do differently these days, but the piano is always swamped by the orchestra. Perhaps there is also <br />
the factor of technique - the clear, ambidextrous and under-pedalled style of playing which was prevalent during the earlier half of the 20th century, and of which Rachmaninov was the supreme example, is no longer fashionable. While there are still some more modern pianists who employ this technique, they are getting rarer and rarer, as is actually <i>hearing</i> the left hand in a recording of Rach 2. Coincidence? I think not.<br />
<br />
Runners up include:<br />
<b>Yefim Bronfman</b> - when I first started learning Rach 2, I hunted around for ages for the 'perfect' recording to buy. I was specifically looking for a modern recording, since I wanted to be able to play along with it and many of the older recordings are a slightly lower pitch. I chose <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yJpJ8REjvqo">Bronfman's</a> due to the superb production. His technique is absolutely flawless, but the interpretation isn't particularly interesting.<br />
<b>Alexander Gavrylyuk</b> - one of my favorite young pianists. His interpretation is original and beautiful, but I can't seem to get hold of the recording anywhere - all I can find is a couple of <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aOceOnRrJqc">excerpts</a> on youtube. I love the clarity of his playing. As I mentioned earlier, that kind of technique is rare in modern pianists.<br />
<b>Garrick Ohlsson</b> - a really brilliant pianist I didn't even know about before I went to a concert where he played a Beethoven concerto. His <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Piano-Concertos/dp/B000VL1E9E/ref=tmm_other_meta_binding_title_0/177-5704901-3432534">recording</a> of Rach 2 (which I can only find samples of on Amazon) is excellent. Listen to the sample of the final movement...!!!<br />
<br />Dorothea Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558111757085336283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-247551951594704941.post-57427511508815116122013-05-30T00:43:00.000-07:002014-08-26T00:12:19.822-07:00A follow-up on the Chord Progression of ResignationA couple of months ago I wrote <a href="http://dorotheabaker.blogspot.com.au/2013/04/the-chord-progression-of-resignation.html">this blog post</a> about how harmonic structure relates to the emotional impact of music. It was something I'd been considering for a long time, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to discuss something so personal; I don't like talking about the emotional aspect of music, preferring to let it speak for itself (as, in my opinion, it should.)<br />
<br />
In the end, I decided to go ahead and write about my discoveries, but keep most of what I said strictly within the realm of musical analysis. For example, I abstained from saying anything personal about the musical examples I linked to: I didn't say anything about how much I liked them, what I thought was special about them, or how they affected me emotionally. I just wrote one or two paragraphs detailing the harmonic structure of each example. Sometimes it was hard to refrain from gushing about pieces of music which I considered phenomenal works of art and incredibly creative and original in their use of harmony, but I stuck to my word and kept everything detached and impersonal.<br />
<br />
However, since publishing that post I've discovered so much more music that uses the Chord Progression of Resignation that it's got to the point where I feel more needs to be said about exactly WHY I chose the music I did to illustrate the chord progression in question.<br />
<br />
See, here's the thing: the Chord Progression of Resignation is a very, <i>very </i>common progression. When I first started listening out for it, I thought it was some extremely rare and outstanding harmonic structure which was to be found only in Ravel, Rachmaninov and certain kinds of progressive metal. This delusion didn't last long. Having trained my ears to recognise it, I was soon hearing the progression in even the most banal pop songs pumped out of bass-heavy speakers in clothes stores. And I found that, in the wrong context, the chord progression I initially thought encapsulated infinity (or something silly like that) could actually become <i>boring.</i> <br />
<br />
It's not merely the ubiquitousness of the Chord Progression of Resignation that's made me think more needs to be said on the subject. It's also the fact that this progression is by no means the ONLY progression that makes me feel...well, the way the Chord Progression of Resignation makes me feel.<br />
When I was in the process of writing my previous blog post, I actually started off listing about 5 different chord progressions which I thought were significant (although the Chord Progression of Resignation was still the MOST significant.) In the end, I had so many musical examples of that progression, and so few of the others, that I decided to devote the entire blog post to the one progression.<br />
<br />
The truth is, although I still believe there is something distinctly special about the sequence of chords Im, III, IVm, VI, some pieces of music use them far more creatively and effectively than others, and the result is much more confronting (I feel that's an appropriate word for the effect I'm talking about) than, say, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gey_wfeaHYU">this</a>, or <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A52NdLMqtj8">0:47 in this</a>. I can think of way worse examples - in spite of myself I do actually get chills when I hear these songs - but they just don't compare to something like <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0OMB00RWj6Y">8:09 in this</a> - <i>which</i> <i>isn't even, strictly speaking, the Chord Progression of Resignation! </i>(VI, Vm, III, IVm, so while it still qualifies as a variant, it's a bit of stretch.)<i> </i><br />
The thing that's unusual about this usage of the progession is that it <i>never resolves to the tonic, </i>so you're left waiting for something that's never going to happen. Often such non-resolution is used to modulate into another key, but in this instance, the melody (which is almost an echo of the bass line a 5th higher) keeps the tonic firmly in sight, so there's no chance of mistaking the progression for III, IIm, VII, Im.<br />
Unfortunately I can't include this song in my list of examples, since VI, Vm, IVm (which is what the progression really boils down to, since the III is little more than a passing note) is not close enough to the fundamental Chord Progression of Resignation to be classified as such.<br />
<br />
One of the examples I recently added to my original blog post is from John Adams' opera Nixon in China. In the opening, the bass instruments in the orchestra set up the fundamental chord progression, starting with Im, VI, and then unfolding to encompass III as well. Meanwhile, the violins are playing natural minor scales in very clear 4/4 time, completely disregarding the off-beat entries of the rest of the orchestra. Due to the way the harmonic transitions are layered, it almost sounds as if everyone is playing in different time signatures. I don't have the score so I can't really analyse this piece, but I <i>can </i>tell that the enormous emotional tension of this opening is due largely to the way in which the different layers of the orchestra interact. Even after the chord progression shifts to something less portentous, the darkness and intensity established in the first section remains.<br />
<br />
I think I've made my point now. The Chord Progression of Resignation is special, but just <i>how special</i> is highly dependant on how it's integrated with the music as a whole. This is what I've had to keep in mind when choosing what pieces of music to provide as examples. In the end, it boils down to what pieces I feel really deserve the title of 'art'.* A number of songs - including the first one I linked to above - have nearly made it into the list, but at the last minute I realised that in comparison to the other examples, there was a degree of complexity, or deliberate simplicity, or some indefinable stroke of genius lacking. Perhaps, if I persevere, I'll eventuallly be able to define exactly what that indefinable stroke of genius is - possibly a particular number of nonchord tones, or the way a melody interacts with the underlying harmony...<br />
<br />
*The 2 compositions of my own which are on the list are not there
for that reason; one of them I don't even like. I linked to them because I'd used the progression quite extensively before even identifying its existence, and thought that was interesting.Dorothea Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558111757085336283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-247551951594704941.post-18810272482700379662013-04-04T23:05:00.000-07:002013-12-15T05:52:57.761-08:00The Chord Progression of ResignationI've often found myself wondering whether something as abstract as the emotional impact of a work of art can be broken down to some sort of scientific formula. I don't normally like to discuss the emotional aspects of music (or any art form for that matter), but I found myself speculating: could there be a purely technical unifying factor in all the pieces of music that make me feel a certain way? <br />
<br />
In order to try and answer this question, I decided to analyse one of my own compositions - the <a href="http://soundcloud.com/dorotheabaker/piano-trio-in-e-minor-4th" target="_blank">4th movement of my Piano Trio</a>. I've always felt that the section which begins at 3:28 minutes is unequivocally representative of resignation. For reasons I will address later, I wanted to find out what made this particular section of music 'tick' .<br />
<br />
I discovered that the last 60 seconds of the piece consisted entirely of a repetition of the chords Im, III, IVm, VI - a progression I have since christened the 'Chord Progression of Resignation'. However, perhaps the name is a little misleading, since to me, this
sequence of chords signifies something far greater and more
profound than a single feeling - it is everything, the universe,
infinity.<br />
<br />
There are countless pieces of music - or tiny sections of pieces - that have always given me the same distinctive feeling as that
final section of the Piano Trio. The impact of these musical fragments is so recognisable that I've sometimes felt a
connection between certain works (even those completely dissimilar in style) because of it. What I wanted to know was whether the chord progression I had discovered in the Piano Trio had any relevance to this phenomenon.<br />
<br />
Rather than go through all the music I'd ever listened to searching for more occurrences of the Chord Progression of Resignation, I decided to hunt out and analyse pieces solely on the basis that they all gave me the same undefinable but instantly recognisable 'feeling' - in other words, I was using an emotional characteristic to identify a purely technical one. <br />
Rather to my astonishment, all the pieces I chose (I've provided links to some of these below, along with an analysis of the harmonic structure of each) had one thing in common: the Chord Progression of Resignation.<br />
<br />
The four chords that make up the Chord Progression of Resignation are only the skeleton around which the harmony is
built; there are endless variants and elaborations which can be created
from this basic chord structure. For example, it's quite rare to find any of the chords used without an added 7th or 9th, and often the III chord is left out. One of the resulting variants -
Im, VI, IVm - is the reason for my obsession with both Ravel and
Rachmaninov, and the similarity I feel exists between them. I have found
endless variants of this progression
in pieces by both composers. There is a beautiful symmetry to the way
the roots of the chords in this variant actually form an upside-down
tonic triad.<br />
<br />
I have grouped the musical examples below according to how they are related harmonically. (I apologise in advance to those who don't appreciate progressive metal/rock, one of the few musical genres in which the Chord Progression of Resignation is used extensively.) <i>Edit: As I discover more examples to add here, I'm putting these at
the bottom of the list and they are therefore not grouped by harmonic relationship.</i><br />
<br />
<b>1.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KKEbkowaVyw" target="_blank">Sydonia - Life in a cup</a> This song consists almost entirely of just the four chords Im, III, IVm, VI, and is probably the best example of the Chord Progression of Resignation I can think of, because it's so simple.<br />
<br />
<b>2.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=afUIzKhPhto" target="_blank">Elitist - Square and compass</a> This song uses the variant Im, IVm7, VI7 throughout (most notably in the first 30 seconds and from 2:44 onwards). <i>Edit: since publishing this post, I've realised that the album this song comes from, </i>Reshape Reason, <i>uses the chord progession of resignation as an over-arching theme, with it occuring in </i>Unto the Sun, Time Stands Still, Equinox, Trace the Sky <i>and (more subtly) </i>Life Lost, Transmutation <i>and </i>Sacred Geometry. <i>That's almost the entire album!</i><br />
<b>3.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ne5lBPqc-3Y" target="_blank">Ravel: Prelude (see 2:23)</a> The progression at 2:23 consists of just the two chords Im and IVm9. Usually I'd say that a progression needs to make use of at least 3 of the 4 chords described earlier in order to be classified as the Chord Progression of Resignation; this example is an exception.<br />
<br />
<b>4.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xW12b3YiN4o">Anno Domini - Downfall (see 0:32)</a>
From 0:32 onwards this song consists entirely of the variant IVm7, VI7,
Im7 (the 4th chord in the progression, VII, can be ignored) <br />
<b>5.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_hZaEcgWon4" target="_blank">Rachmaninov - Etude op 39 no. 8 (see 0:16)</a> If one takes into consideration the modulation into the
dominant key that occurs here, this progression is Im, VI7, IVm7. Note that the order of the chords is a reversal of that in Ex. 5.<br />
<b>6.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=88b3llbo20c" target="_blank">Ravel - Toccata (see 11:11)</a> This progression is a variant of the one in Ex. 6: Im7, VIm, Im7, IVm7.<br />
<b>7.</b> <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hGzbjNo5Gvc">Anup Sastry - Crystal</a> From 4:47 onwards, this song consists entirely of the chord progression Im, VI, IVm (probably with added 7ths and 9ths, but due to the complexity of the texture I haven't tried to identify them.)<br />
<b>8.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xxoroLqkDfk">Cult of Luna - Dark city, dead man (see 10:00)</a> This song uses the chord progression Im, VI, IVm, III (credit goes to Liam Cooke for finding this one)<br />
<br />
<b>9.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DKY047DdTVM" target="_blank">Rachmaninov - Etude op. 33 no. 7 (see 0:37)</a> This etude is in G minor and uses the progression VI7 up to Im.<br />
<b>10.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nu8ZHE_Is7A" target="_blank">Rachmaninov - Prelude Op. 32 no. 5 (see 0:48)</a> This etude is in G <i>major</i> and uses the progression I down to VIm7. Compare this piece with the one above and note what happens to the chords: the major and minor are reversed. Im becomes I and VI7 becomes VIm7!<br />
<br />
<b>11.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DXXmjR0aCug&list=PL8793E2EE6DFEEFAF">John Adams - Nixon in China: Opening (see 4:30)</a> The start of this uses various layers of dissonance over the progression Im, III, VI.<br />
<b>12.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TxqEDRT-NtA">Lamb of God - King Me (see 4:55)</a> The use of the Chord Progression of Resignation here is slightly unusual. It starts normally - Im, VI, IVm - but then switches to the variant Im, III, <i>augmented IVm </i>(which is the same as diminished V.)<br />
<b>13.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CkcyYuSpK7k">Sikth - As the earth spins round (see 4:27)</a> Here the progression is only <i>just </i>held together by the bass, since it's competing with a ton of dissonance. It's Im, III, IV, with multiple passing notes including a VII chord between Im and III. <br />
<b>14.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KzGKsXPBILw">Rammstein - Du Hast (see 3:03)</a> Im, IVm, VI with V added on the end and some passing notes.<br />
<b>15.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FrOSjvNthsA">Buxtehude - Ad Latus from Membra Jesu Nostri (see 23:55)</a> Im, VIm, III, IVm with a passing V between the first two chords. (There is another piece which uses this exact same progression but unfortunately there is no recording of it on the internet, otherwise I'd link to it.)<br />
<b>16.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YPRTIonMVQY">Stellardrone - Light Years </a>VI, IVm, Im (<i>if you listen to more of Stellardrone's music you'll find the chord prog of resignation features prominently in much of it.)</i><br />
<b>17.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nUSnfrPcexQ">Widek - Cosmic Ocean</a> VI, IVm, Im<br />
<b>18.</b> <a href="http://soundcloud.com/novasolus/bat-paradise">Nova Solus - VC4 remix</a> VI, III, Im, IVm + passing V and dim. II - same progression as <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0OMB00RWj6Y">8:09 in this</a> but with more emphasis on IV and I, qualifying it for inclusion in this list.<br />
<b>19.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u6OlftugZl0">Rachmaninov - Moment Musicaux No.1</a> (see 5:29) Im, III, IVm, VI<br />
<b>20.</b> <a href="http://sonic.eleventigers.net/track/stableface">Eleven Tigers - Stableface (entire song)</a> Im, III, IVm, VI<br />
<b>21.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yQw3DvqEbxI">Rachmaninov - Moment Musicaux No. 4</a> (see 2:26) Im, VI, IVm, [V]<br />
<b>22.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aAuGT8o3AvI">Leo Ornstein - Piano Sonata no.4, mvt 2 (see 0:48)</a> IVm, VI, Im<br />
<b>23.</b> <a href="https://soundcloud.com/dorotheabaker/claudio-merulo-1853-1604" target="_blank">Claudio Merulo - Adoramus Te</a> At the start the progression is Im, VI, IVm (and back to Im)<br />
<b>24.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PEQKwJred40" target="_blank">Purity Ring - Lofticries</a> Im, [VII], IVm, III, Im and near the end IV, VI, I<br />
<b>25.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LJazVkQQr9s" target="_blank">Cult of Luna - Light Chaser</a> This is one of those examples that only uses 2 chords from the progression. The 2 chords in this instance are IVm down to Im, preceded by a V chord (the presence of the dominant in an otherwise pure chord prog of resignation is extremely common).<br />
<b>26.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ERQDxLsfrjw" target="_blank">Porcupine Tree - Trains</a> I've wanted to include this song on the list ever since I first heard it, but it stubbornly evaded analysis. Only recently, while looking for examples of the minor 7th chord, was I finally able to obtain the necessary proof. To start with the chord progression is VII, VI, VII, Im, but at 0:38 it
briefly changes to VI, IVm, Im, and then at 0:58 to Im, III, IVm. These
are both variants of the chord progression of resignation, and even the
initial chord pattern could (at a bit of stretch) be considered a
2-chord variant.<br />
<b>27.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y8RrnSiLnFA" target="_blank">My Dying Bride - A Doomed Lover</a> (see 4:36) An example of frequent interspersion of the V chord: Im, VI, [V], IVm, VI, [V], III, Im<br />
<b>28.</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j4p1BBmnVHA" target="_blank">Olafur Arnalds - Gleypa okkur </a>(see 2:38) III, Im, [Vm], IV<br />
<br />
Hopefully the discoveries I've addressed in this blog will help me to become a better composer and further my understanding of harmony. However, I personally think that music is fascinating enough for the analysis to be an end in itself, and I'm publishing this blog post in the hope that some music geek might find it as interesting as I do.Dorothea Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558111757085336283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-247551951594704941.post-33792533111686271452013-02-17T20:53:00.003-08:002013-11-01T05:06:58.727-07:00Concert review: Alexander Gavrylyuk 16/2/13Last Saturday I went to a recital by Alexander Gavrylyuk at the Melbourne Recital Centre. It's the third time I've seen him perform, which is testimony to my high opinion of his playing.<br />
<br />
I remember that the first time I heard him, I came away with the impression that he was a <i>perfect </i>pianist, and the second recital I went to (some years later) only served to confirm this view. However, at the time of these recitals, my knowledge of piano repetoire and of pianistic technique in general was limited. I can't even remember most of what he played! I do recall, however, hearing him perform the Moonlight Sonata and being amazed at his interpretation of the first movement, which was unlike anything I'd ever heard before. I'm used to hearing this movement played very limply and weakly, which I hate. Gavyrlyuk played it with such emotional intensity and depth that for the first time I found myself actually understanding the music.<br />
<br />
It's very different to be hearing Gavrylyuk now, when my own experience of the piano and piano repetoire is so much broader (and growing every day). Naturally, it's easier for me to find faults in people's playing - if you can call them 'faults' - since I've now heard many more pianists than I had back then, and have established what I like and don't like with regards to interpretation and technique. However, my opinion of Gavrylyuk's playing hasn't changed much.<br />
<br />
The program started with Bach's Italian Concerto. Before going to the concert I had listened to excerpts of Gavrylyuk playing this piece on Youtube, recorded nearly ten years ago. I have to admit I was not impressed - I found his interpretation excessively heavy and rather lifeless. However, in 8 years I believe he has matured a lot - his performance on Saturday night was beautiful, much lighter and more elegant than the recording on Youtube.<br />
His interpretation was not quite to my taste, since I like my Bach Glenn-Gould style: dry and 'crunchy', without any pedal, and hard-edged rather than pretty. Gavrylyuk played it with an (albeit very skillful) use of the pedal and very sweetly. It was certainly a 'pretty' performance.<br />
<br />
The second piece before interval was Schumann's Fantasie. This is a piece I like, although I don't know it very well, having probably only listened to the entire thing once or twice. I'm well aware of the enourmous technical difficulties it poses, and these didn't seem to trouble Gavrylyuk at all. However, I'm used to hearing Evgeny Kissin's tumultuous, stormy interpretation, and Gavrylyuk played it so differently that I almost didn't recognise it.<br />
He is a small, compact man, rather mouse-like in appearence, but he is somehow capable of making the piano sound like an earthquake. I would have liked to hear a bit of that earthquake-iness at the start of the Schumann, but in fact all I heard was the first note in the bass followed by a very gentle crescendo into the arpeggios, which got completely lost in the acoustic of the auditorium (about which I will say more later.) All in all it was a bit of a let-down, despite the sections of exciting technical fireworks.<br />
<br />
However, what was to follow after interval well and truly made up for the disappointment, and even inclined me to think that Gavrylyuk had not been giving his all in the first half of the recital just in order to have the stamina for the second half.<br />
<br />
I first heard Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition played by Nikolai Demidenko when he gave a recital in Brisbane in 2011. It was a great recital, but unfortunately I was coming down with a cold and was so exhausted I had trouble focussing on the music. I woke up for 'Baba Yaga', since it sounded like heavy metal. That's all I really remember.<br />
<br />
Demidenko is an interesting pianist, but I find his tone tends to be quite harsh. One of Alexander Gavyrlyuk's strongest points is his tone, which is always incredibly warm and beautiful, even at maximum volume. He got an excellent opportunity to display this technique when he performed the Pictures on Saturday night.<br />
<br />
When Gavrylyuk came out on stage after interval, he barely waited for people to finish sitting down before plunging straight into the opening 'Promenade'. It annoys me how pianists always play this opening so stridently and harshly. Gavrylyuk, by contrast, played it very beautifully, shaping each note with the pedal. His playing had the intensity and focus I had come to expect from him. and which I felt was somewhat lacking in the first half of the program.<br />
Gavrylyuk's interpretation of Baba Yaga wasn't what I was expecting. I've heard so many poor interpretations of this movement - lacking in rhythm, bite, volume, you name it. Gavrylyuk played it better than any I've heard so far - even better than Demidenko. The volume he achieved in the loud sections of the work, especially near the end, was terrifying; one half expected the auditorium to collapse from the sheer massiveness of the sound, and yet the tone was not percussive at all, just rich and pure.<br />
<br />
I don't think I'd ever really understood what a masterpiece Pictures at an Exhibition is until I heard Gavrylyuk's interpretation, which somehow just made perfect sense to me. For the first time I felt like all the movements of the work hung together and were interconnected, and his playing held my attention for the entire work (which is quite a feat, in my opinion.)<br />
<br />
Gavrylyuk got a well-deserved standing ovation, and played three encores - THREE, after Pictures at an Exhibition and the Schumann Fantasie! - one of which was quite long and virtuosic: Horowitz's <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MwPBGOt5Gx4">variations</a> on the Mendelssohn Wedding March. This showpiece was framed by a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RqIwcq74MCg">Rachmaninov Prelude</a> and the Vocalise. All were perfect, and Gavrylyuk played them with the same intensity he displayed in the Mussorgsky. The high standard of his playing in the second half of the recital is what made me think that he was saving himself for that. I also feel that Gavrylyuk has a particular affinity with Russian composers.<br />
<br />
My main reservation about the recital was not do to with Gavrylyuk's playing, but to do with the Melbourne Recital Centre acoustic. The Elisabeth Murdoch hall, where all the major recitals take place, has an INCREDIBLY reverberant acoustic. (What's more, the slightest noise is clearly audible throughout the auditorium. Someone moves their program, you can hear it. Someone whispers, you can hear it. Someone scratches their neck, you can hear it. I'm not kidding. And as for when a phone goes off in the middle of the concert, as it did on Saturday...)<br />
<br />
For small ensembles, this acoustic is excellent. When I saw the King's Singers there, it was perfect. Likewise for the Takacs Quartet. However, the reverb (which is probably several seconds long although I haven't counted), doesn't work at all for piano recitals. I first noticed this when I went to see Bezhod Abduraimov. There was a most curious doubling effect created by the reverb, almost a delayed echo. You'd hear a note played, and then immediately afterwards you'd hear it again, bouncing off the walls. It was very disconcerting.<br />
<br />
I was in a good position to observe Gavyrlyuk's feet during the recital on Saturday, and it was only by this that I could tell his pedalling technique was highly refined. The reverb was so extreme that you couldn't <i>hear </i>most of the subtleties of pedalling he used, except when the music was slow, which wasn't often! I don't know why I never noticed this unfortunate quality of the acoustic until recently.<br />
<br />
To finish I'd like to link to some of Gavrylyuk's recordings, so <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aOceOnRrJqc">here is an excerpt</a> of him playing one of my favorite concertos (you can find the other movements in the related videos)<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=whwbV8RQPmA">This is pretty cool also </a>Dorothea Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558111757085336283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-247551951594704941.post-6600299954633455352013-02-08T04:03:00.000-08:002013-11-01T05:06:58.766-07:00CD review: Pollini - Chopin Etudes (1960 recording)Maurizio Pollini is a pianist I greatly admire - so much so that I wouldn't hesitate to compare him with 2 other pianists I consider to be 'in the same mold', technique-wise and possibly even interpretation-wise: Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli, and the one and only Rachmaninov.<br />
All have an outstanding leggiero technique, never fall back on the pedal to conceal inadequacies (since they have none), and have a deep understanding of the music which they manage to convey without projecting too much of their ego onto the music, resulting in a quite objective yet incredibly moving interpretation.<br />
<br />
Anyway, enough adulation. Around the end of last year, I found out about a newish CD - it was actually released in 2011 - which I had somehow not heard about yet. The CD is of a very young Pollini playing the complete Chopin Etudes, recorded in 1960 but unreleased until a few years ago. You can listen to samples (and buy it) <a href="http://www.prestoclassical.co.uk/r/Testament/SBT1473">here</a><br />
<br />
Until I discovered this recording, my favorite interpretation of the Chopin etudes was Ashkenazy's. In fact, Ashkenazy was the first person I ever heard get ALL the notes right in the Op. 10 No. 1 (I've since discovered other pianists who have achieved this astonishing feat).<br />
However, as soon as I heard the 18-year-old Pollini's interpretation - even though I could only hear 20 second samples of each track - I knew his version was going to replace Ashkenazy's in my affection.<br />
I ordered the CD more or less straight away, but due to some problems wth the delivery, I didn't recieve until a few days ago, nearly 3 months after I bought it! In a way, though, the wait made it even more special when I finally got to listen to the whole thing.<br />
<br />
Before I even start on Pollini's playing, I want to say a little about the audio production. One of the things I've always disliked about Ashkenazy's recordings of <i>anything, </i>no matter how good the playing, is the tone: very clangy and bright, with hardly any warmth. I like a warm, mellow piano sound, and I like close mic'ing. Pollini's 1960 recording has both in abundance, along with just a smidgin of ambience and reverb. The result is possibly the most beautiful recording quality I've ever heard. The piano is crystal clear, and very exposed as a result, but the playing is so flawless that this just goes to show off Pollini's incredible technique. <br />
<br />
Now for the playing. Needless to say, technically it is note perfect: so is Ashkenazy's, of course. Where Pollini differs from Ashkenazy is in the emotional aspect. Whereas Ashkenazy plays the etudes in accordance with what their name implies - technical studies - Pollini brings out the musical masterpiece in every one of them, which to me is far more what these pieces are about. What makes Chopin's etudes so brilliant and innovative is that in them, technical exercises are turned into miniature works of art - something which had never been done before, and which has set a precedent for many composers since.<br />
<br />
Nowhere is the artistic value of the etudes more clear on Pollini's recording than in Op. 10 nos. 3, 6, and 9. In these pieces, one can hear Pollini's deep sensitivity, which is always in perfect balance so that it never becomes sentimentality. <br />On the technical side of things, a particularly good example is....well, everything. However, I am going to single out Op. 25 No. 11 (my favorite etude EVER) because of the astonishing leggiero and pedalling that it displays. Both of these technical aspects are also showcased in Op. 10 No. 4, 5 and 8.<br />
<br />
I feel like Pollini's technique in these etudes fully deserves comparison with Rachmaninov's. It's not very often you hear technique like that anymore: where the pianist is so in control of the pedal that one can't tell that it's being used, nothing is blurred, every note can be heard with crystal clarity and is given equal importance. To me, these are characteristics of both Rachmaninov's and, on this recording at least, Pollini's playing. I really believe if we could hear Rachmaninov's playing recorded with modern technology, it would sound very much like Pollini on this CD.<br />
(...In fact, one CAN hear Rachmaninov playing with modern recording technology: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ZbRxcsqcKs">judge for yourself</a>. and in case you're not convinced, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZJApm-EY2MM">here</a> is another example which probably provides a better comparison to the production on Pollini's recording.)<br />
<br />
I could go on and on about this CD, but everything I'd say can be summed up in two words. IT'S PERFECT. I highly reccommend it!<br />
<br />
P.S. I managed to find Pollini's more recent recording of the Chopin etudes on Youtube, and I really dislike it (not least because of the production, although I don't like the interpretation, which is vastly different, either.)Dorothea Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558111757085336283noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-247551951594704941.post-82164145643848191252013-02-04T17:39:00.000-08:002013-11-01T05:06:58.798-07:00I wouldn't change a note...This probably sounds harsh, but it's not very often that I find myself able to say about a piece of music, 'I wouldn't change a note of that'.<br />
<br />
I've recently come to realise the reason for this is that there are particular compositional elements in music which are significant for me - particular harmonies, chord progressions, and rhythms: however, in most 'well-balanced' compositions, these elements will not be used extensively, since unless the music is minimalist, excessive use of one particular element would be against the rules of 'correct' composing. (This is why I'm interested in minimalism: it gives me
'permission' to write an entire piece consisting <i>solely </i>of just a few musical elements.)<br />
<br />
My favorite composers all have one thing in common: a large proportion of their
output contains sections (the key word here is 'sections') that make use
of these compositional elements which I've identified as being special to me. However, it is extremely unusual for an entire work or movement of work to make exclusive use of these elements, and the sections that do are usually very brief - anything
from a page or two to only a few bars long!<br />
<br />
The point of this post is to share some of those rare pieces that <i>are </i>perfect to me, so perfect I wouldn't change anything about them. This list is very incomplete; I may add to it over time, but for now it's restricted to music that a) I can find on youtube and b) is "classical".<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zi7K7a15uQo">Ravel: Daphnis & Chloe - Lever du jour (arranged for 2 pianos)</a></b><br />
This
is an unusual Youtube discovery. I love the original version
of Daphnis & Chloe, but I have always prefered piano texture to
orchestral texture, and just by chance I came across this
incredible arrangement for two pianos of my favorite movement, <i>Lever du jour.</i> It's one of the most amazing things I've ever heard; the pianists and arranger are geniuses.<br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NmWgIidnXX4">Steve Reich: Electric counterpoint - 3rd movement </a></b><br />
<b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IX5ja1yuFfk">Music for 18 musicians</a></b><br />
<b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RaYvMwQd3cs">Six marimbas </a></b><br />
<b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CrIZBnUda_Q">Music for large ensemble</a></b><br />
As one of my favorite composers of all time, Steve Reich is right up there with Ravel, and a big inspiration to me. His music always amazes me because he uses musical elements I consider perfect, and uses them <i>exclusively. </i>The 3rd movement of Electric Counterpoint is a particularly good example since it consists of two of my all-time favorite chord progressions. It's kind of creepy, actually, because it's like Reich and I share an identical aesthetic understanding.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wcq-B2opVDk"><b>Messiaen - Regard de l'Esprit de joie</b></a><br />
I
first heard this piece from the Vingt Regards played by Konrad
Olszewski during the 2012 Sydney International Piano Competition, and it
rendered me speechless. I still have no words to describe it,
although 'utter perfection' comes close.<br />
It's extremely
unfortunate that the recording of Konrad's performance in SIPCA is no
longer on the web, since I haven't yet been able to find an
interpretation of this piece which I like as much as his. Pierre-Laurent Aimard will have to do...<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HbXT0TWq3kQ"><b>Ginastera: Piano Sonata No. 1 - 4th movement</b></a><br />
I
discovered this extraordinary piece completely by accident when
browsing Youtube one day. The first time I heard it, I just sat there
gaping from beginning to end. While the whole sonata is a masterpiece,
and I particularly love bits of the first movement, this movement is the
only one about which I can say 'I wouldn't change a note'.<br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4vQhb3J0tzU">Leo Ornstein: Piano Sonata No. 8 - movement 2c </a></b><br />
How can I even begin to describe how perfect this is? Just listen, and hopefully you will get it too. (Ornstein is brilliant, by the way.)<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_hZaEcgWon4"><br /></a>
<b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_hZaEcgWon4">Rachmaninov: Etude-tableau Op. 39 no. 8</a></b><br />
Since Rachmaninov is one of my favorite composers, it's fitting that something by him should make it into this list. I tried to learn this etude a while ago, but had to stop when I started to get RSI! One day... <br />
<b></b><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZFtsgftpUJM"><b>Bach: D minor concerto - 3rd movement</b></a><br />
To even suggest that one might want to change something about a piece of Bach seems preposterous to me, but I love this movement of this particular concerto so much that I thought it deserved a mention. I've learnt the first 2 movements and am half-dreading, half-looking forward to learning the final one, as it's the most atrociously difficult movement to play, but also my favorite.<br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IjMtX1GLkTc">Rautavaara: Piano concerto no 1 - 1st movement </a></b>Dorothea Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558111757085336283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-247551951594704941.post-77133445921853437102012-12-07T04:50:00.000-08:002013-11-01T05:06:58.781-07:00Illegal fingerings.As a piano student, fingerings are possibly one of the things I've struggled most with. When I first started having lessons, the simple fingering patterns for playing scales in both hands completely confused my brain. I got used to it pretty quickly, and it soon became intuitive. Nevertheless, fingerings remain the problem I most often need to consult my piano teacher about, and they are a source of minor disagreement between us.<br />
<br />
I started having lessons relatively late, at the grand old age of 11. Before that, I had taught myself to play, and learnt or attempted to learn some quite complicated pieces. As a result of having no guidance I developed a few 'bad' habits in my technique. Some of these habits disappeared once I started having lessons, but one persisted for some time (and continues to persist even now, in a way). This was my unconventional choice of fingerings - not in scales but in actual pieces (I usually stuck to the textbook version of things for scales.)<br />
<br />
<br />
I firmly believe that since everyone's physical shape is different, there can be no RIGHT fingering for a certain passage. I rarely find the 'official' fingerings printed in scores, if there are
any, satisfactory without at least some tweaking for my individual
comfort. What feels quite natural to someone with large hands and long fingers, for instance, might be impossible for someone with smaller hands, and that person might find it easier to use a fingering which the person with larger hands finds very clumsy and awkward.<br />
<br />
However, there seem to be certain conventions in modern piano playing
that state that some fingerings, in some situations, are
simply...forbidden. Illegal. 'You can't do that. It's not an approved
fingering.' That's the feeling I get, anyway.<br />
<br />
In any case, my teacher and I usually disagree about what fingering
is the 'most natural'. The fact is, there is no absolute 'most natural'
fingering because what is natural for one person's hand shape can be
extremely uncomfortable for another's. This is actually the scenario that crops up quite often with my teacher these days: he has huge hands (able to span an eleventh) while I can only span a tenth, which is quite a big difference even if it only amounts to one note on the keyboard.<br />
<br />
<br />
However, one of the reasons I like to consult my teacher about fingerings is that often he DOES come up with a much simpler and more natural solution, which, for some reason, I would NEVER have thought of myself. I have a strange tendency to devise fingerings which are unnecessarily complicated. Often I will write a
fingering onto a score which felt quite natural at the time, only to go
back to it later and wonder 'why on earth did I do that?!' The fingering I find 'most natural' at a particular time for a particular passage I've learnt may feel completely wrong in a years time when I go back to that piece and try to play it again. This is especially the case in Bach.<br />
<br />
Bach is not pianistic music. It was written in a time when pianos as we know them today didn't exist, and where keyboard technique was far removed from the flowing, velvety legato that came into existence in the Romantic era. The fingerings in Bach are atrociously awkward, and more or less defy everything that the Approved Textbook of Fingerings tries to tell you (I just made that up, by the way...)<br />
<br />
Very early on in my piano education, I half-learnt the first movement of Bach's 2nd partita. Despite having very little knowledge of the conventions of piano technique at that point, I actually learnt to play it at a considerable speed SOLELY because I used 'illegal' fingerings. At that point, I hadn't learnt any of the conventions of fingering, so it didn't feel unnatural or even awkward to break the rules. But today, as a pianist who plays Chopin and Rachmaninov and can hardly approach a black note without using the 4th finger on it, when I return to that partita it just feels...wrong. I can't play it at all anymore. The fingerings are too unnatural compared to the 19th-century Romantic technique that has become intuitive to me.<br />
That's not to say that I have COMPLETELY dropped my unconventional fingerings - quite the contrary. I'm now learning Bach's D Minor Concerto, and while my fingerings might not be as outrageous as they were when I learnt the partita all those years ago, they still spark a lot of controversy during lessons!<br />
<br />
I would be really interested to know what other pianists/ piano teachers thing about 'illegal' fingerings. Are there any fingerings you wouldn't let a student use, and if so, how can you justify it, since you can't BE them and experience what it's like to play a particular passage with their fingers?Dorothea Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558111757085336283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-247551951594704941.post-551263359547906702012-10-20T03:32:00.003-07:002013-11-01T05:06:58.754-07:00musings on the technique of great composer-pianistsI often think that one can tell a lot about the technique of a pianist (who also happens to be a composer) by the music they've written for the instrument.<br />
On second thought, though, this isn't actually true. A good example is Ravel, who wrote some of the most atrociously difficult piano music in the repetoire, yet by all accounts wasn't an outstanding pianist himself, although he must have been a decent one to be able to play pieces like <i>Gaspard de la nuit </i>and <i>Jeux d'eau</i>.<br />
<br />
However, if there is one pianist whose piano music <i>is</i> an indicator of their own piano technique, it would have to be Rachmaninov. It's easier to judge how Rachmaninov's technique relates to his piano writing than it is for many other composer-pianists, since he fortunately left behind what is a fairly extensive collection of recordings for someone who was alive when recording was only a recent invention.<br />
<br />
There are a couple of things one immediately notices about Rach's pianism.<br />
Firstly, he appears to have had an extraordinary technique. He was voted '<a href="http://www.limelightmagazine.com.au/Article/306444,the-10-greatest-pianists-of-all-time.aspx/0" target="_blank">greatest pianist of all time</a>' in Limelight and I think this is entirely justified, judging from the recordings I've heard. His playing had an incredible clarity and precision, combined with a gorgeous tone. Technical difficulties which would cause many other pianists to sacrifice tone, balance or clarity for accuracy didn't bother Rachmaninov at all. On top of that, his interpretation was very tasteful and simple, and he never over-used the pedal (as many pianists - even brilliant ones - seem to do these days.) This cleanness and understatement was quite unusual for his time, and I suppose his technique could be considered the forerunner of 'modern' piano technique (as exemplified by pianists like Pollini and Brendel.)<br />
<br />
Secondly, Rach famously had very big hands (apparently he could span a 13th), and his piano music often
incorporates impossibly large stretches which would have been quite easy
for him and for anyone else with big hands, but can pose serious
problems for other pianists! As I've discovered, however, the effect of Rach's technique on his writing for piano goes far beyond huge stretches.<br />
<br />
For the past few days I've been working on a section of the 2nd concerto (specifically, the first movement, pages 19-20 in the Schirmer edition.) Rachmaninov never skimps on virtuosity in the left hand as well as the right, and beautifully written though it is, I've been struggling particularly with the second half of page 19 (for some reason, I don't have any trouble with page 20.)<br />
I've found that in order to make the very dense and complex textures of this writing actually sound good, it's necessary to have a virtuosic command of the pedal, a very refined spacial awareness of where every key on the piano lies, and a lot of strength and dexterity. These qualities seem like something Rachmaninov would have had in great quantity.<br />
<br />
After working on pages 19 and 20 of the concerto this evening, as usual I finished my practice by playing Chopin's Etude op. 25 no. 12.<br />
Since this etude is the perfect way to instantly put a piano OUT of tune, I've actually stopped playing it at the end of practice sessions since getting my piano tuned a few weeks ago. Playing this etude is the way I build and maintain the muscle in my arms, and I notice very quickly if I don't play it for a while, so the last time I attempted it (a few days ago), it was a bit of a disaster.<br />
<br />
When I tried again today, however, something had changed. I found myself hitting a lot more of the right notes than before, and had a much stronger sense of spacial awareness and coordination.<br />
I feel quite certain that the intensive practice I did earlier on Rach 2 has improved aspects of my technique I wasn't even aware were lacking. Maybe the reason is that through his piano works, Rachmaninov has passed on his own technique to anyone prepared to spend the time and effort required to develop that technique?Dorothea Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558111757085336283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-247551951594704941.post-22231612452906832582012-08-30T06:25:00.006-07:002013-11-01T05:06:58.715-07:00Post-practice reflections: Speed versus musicalityIn the past couple of days, I've been seriously considering what I want the final tempo of the 2nd movement of Rachmaninov's second piano concerto to be. The middle movement of Rach 2 has several quite drastic tempo changes. To me, these are extremely important. When I started learning the fastest, and possibly most technically challenging, section of this movement (right in the middle, leading up to the cadenza - marked 'Piu Mosso'), I had set a target speed on my metronome which, at the time, I thought the fastest REALISTIC speed I could achieve.<br />
<br />
As it turned out, by the time I'd worked that section up to my target speed of crotchet = 70 bpm, I felt as if I could easily do it a bit faster. So I set a new target speed: 80 bpm.<br />
<br />
I'd already made the decision that I wanted to take this movement very slowly, even in the faster sections. I wanted all the notes to be clearly audible, all the wonderful and bizarre chromatic harmonies to stand out. But once I'd perfected the 80 bpm speed, I suddenly realised that when I stopped playing with the metronome, the technical aspect was so effortless that I instantly sped up.<br />
<br />
On all the recordings I've listened to the 'Piu Mosso' section is played incredibly lightly, nimbly, and the final part of it sounds almost more like a trill than proper passagework. When left to my own devices, free of the constraining metronome, I
couldn't help but imitate this speediness now that I had the technique
to.<br />
Of course, different pianists DO take it at different tempos. I even went to the trouble of working out the tempos of my 3 favorite recordings: Rachmaninov took the fast section at a whopping 125 bpm, Yefim Bronfman at 115 bpm, and Van Cliburn (whom I admire specially for his slower interpretation) at 100 bpm.<br />
Yet all of these pianist play the fast section much faster than I was aspiring to. <br />
<br />
In my practice session tonight, I tried a number of different metronome speeds, ranging from my original target of 80 bpm to Van Cliburn's nimbler 100 bpm. I couldn't make up my mind which tempo was best. On the one hand, I wanted all the notes to be audible, and not to simply sound like a blur. On the other hand, it felt so much better to play fast, and this was my natural tendency as soon as I turned off the metronome. So I did a little experiment.<br />
<br />
I played from a few bars before the start of the fast section at a tempo I found comfortable and thought sounded nice. When I reached the fast section, I let myself settle into the tempo that felt natural, and which I always reverted to when I wasn't consciously aiming for a particular speed.<br />
Then I stopped and turned on the metronome, adjusting the tempo until it matched what I'd just been playing. It was 90 bpm - halfway between my target and Van Cliburn's tempo.<br />
<br />
The issue of tempo choice is more complicated than just choosing an appropriate tempo for the fast section, however. There are, as I have already mentioned, several other tempo changes in this movement, and how they all relate to each other is vitally important. If I decided to change my target speed for one section, I have to adjust all the others to fit in with it - it's like a sort of tempo 'ratio'.<br />
<br />
For now, I've decided that 90 bpm is my tempo of choice for the 'Piu Mosso' section, but the process has made me realise that I have to be careful about sacrificing my musical intentions for the sake of virtuosity. I'm not really interested in technique for the sake of technique. One needs technique to execute one's interpretation of a piece, but if the interpretation doesn't demand virtuosity, one has to know when to hold back. <br />
<br />
P.S. On the spur of the moment I decided to video myself during my practice session this evening, which means I can now actually hear how the different tempos I was trying out affect the sound of the music and my degree of accuracy and so forth. I've never done this before, and it was very interesting. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jQgI7awhW1Q" target="_blank">Here's a link to the video</a><br />
<br />Dorothea Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558111757085336283noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-247551951594704941.post-9691471328026043912012-08-25T01:18:00.000-07:002013-11-01T05:06:58.805-07:00Composer series: Alberto GinasteraSeveral years ago, my piano teacher sent me an email with a link to <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZlR0xCIF7sQ" target="_blank">this recording</a>, saying "You should do this for your next competition!" (He was referring to the local eistedfford.)<br />
At first, I thought he was joking. <i>Me</i>, learn this diabolical-sounding piece in time for the eistedfford? It seemed impossible.<br />
When I had my next lesson, my teacher brought along a copy of the score. It looked as diabolical as it sounded: the right and left hand staves were in different keys, and the rhythms were completely incomprehensible. However, I managed to read it, really liked it, and decided to try learning it.<br />
Not only did I learn (and memorise) it, but I have since performed it several times (including in the eistedfford!)<br />
So began my interest in the composer Alberto Ginastera, of whom I knew nothing at the time.<br />
I can't really say very much about Ginastera, as the amount of repetoire by him that I'm familiar with is still relatively small. Instead, I'm just going to post links to my favorite pieces by him, and write a bit about each piece. I'll probably add to this list as I find new favorites :)<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C1PsLjSfMoE" target="_blank"><b>Danzas Argentinas (of course!)</b></a> I now have the complete score of these little pieces, and have played through them (as well as hearing my teacher play them). One day I would very much like to learn all of them. The 2nd one reminds me of a well-known nursery rhyme or folk tune gone wrong... (interestingly, Ginastera used this same theme in one of his 'Piezas Infantiles')<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I2jMLiKETeo" target="_blank"><b>Piezas Infantiles</b></a> I looked up these pieces after reading about them, since I was curious to hear how Ginastera composed in his youth. They are absolutely gorgeous, and already show distinctive Ginastera trademarks.<br />
<br />
<b>Piano Sonata No. 1</b><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nb8t8421M2k" target="_blank">1st movement</a> <br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=103tFFIjfo0" target="_blank">4th movement</a> <br />
<br />
Unfortunately there isn't a complete version of this on youtube that I like (I have <a href="http://www.prestoclassical.co.uk/r/BIS/BISCD671" target="_blank">Debora Halasz's recording</a> of this, in my opinion it is the definitive one.) I discovered the last movement of this piece completely by accident while browsing youtube, and was absolutely blown away by it. I'd never heard anything like it (at least not in the realm of classical music), and I <i>still</i> haven't heard anything like it! The other movements are amazing as well.<br />
I must confess I was heavily influenced (almost to the point of plagiarism) by the 5/8 descending fifths pattern in the first movement when writing a short piece for piano and percussion, earlier this year. It was just too good not to, erm, be influenced by!<br />
Of course I bought the score for this fiendishly difficult sonata, in the hope that one day I'll manage to learn it... :S<br />
<br />
<b>Piano Concerto No. 1</b><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oqFtStKlWAk" target="_blank">1st movement</a><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LMVAQWTYw2A" target="_blank">4th movement</a><br />
I discovered this concerto through <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emerson,_Lake_%26_Palmer" target="_blank">Emerson Lake & Palmer</a>, who made <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=66dbaa0JXco" target="_blank">a wonderful version</a> of the last movement of it (which, incidentally, Ginastera himself thoroughly approved of.)<br />
I dream of learning this concerto one day, but it will probably only ever be a dream.<br />
Unfortunately I can't find the middle movements of this work on Youtube - at least, not played by João Carlos Martins.Dorothea Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558111757085336283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-247551951594704941.post-35989291937291794402012-08-15T02:23:00.001-07:002013-11-01T05:06:58.731-07:00On memorising thingsAs a musician for whom memorising music is important, I'm fascinated by memory. As I've also realised, however, memorising isn't just for music.<br />
<br />
Although my visual memory isn't very good, I have a highly developed
memory for touch. I use this (muscle memory) to memorise music, but it can also take on a different and rather bizarre form. I often form a memory of
a particular sensation, such as the pain of a badly bruised toe or the
ache from the prick of a needle, and this can be randomly
triggered so I actually experience that sensation again, long after it
originally ocurred. I can't make this happen at will and I can't figure
out what causes it, but it's quite fascinating.<br />
<br />
A short while ago I decided to learn Russian, because I love Russian literature, music and so forth and thought it would interesting to learn the language too. I've previously dabbled in Latin and Greek (a long time ago!) and, more recently, French. What I've discovered is that there are lots of parallels between music and language. <br />
Learning the Russian Cyrillic script (which consists of 33 letters!) is rather like learning to read written music; learning grammar is like learning theory - harmony, counterpoint and structure; and learning vocabulary is basically memorising. However, I'm a lot better at memorising music than I am at memorising words, and the reason is that there is a physical, spacial dimension to learning a piece of music.<br />
<br />
I know that different pianists have very different techniques of memorising, and I can really only speak for myself when I say that I rely almost entirely on muscle memory. That is, I form a memory of the spatial relationships between intervals, the way the keyboard feels under my hands, how much I have to stretch my fingers or reach with my arms to hit the right notes, and so forth. Of course I also make conscious decisions - 'here I have to play this note and that will lead me on to this section' - that sort of thing, but these are only momentary, and help me get through 'change-over points' in the musical structure. Once I've memorised a piece, I don't have to think about it - it just plays itself, allowing me to put as much feeling and expression into it as I like. In fact, as soon as I start thinking about what I'm doing, I'm likely to forget. My fingers know where to go, and thinking is a distraction.<br />
<br />
I've heard a lot of people say that muscle memory is unreliable, and shouldn't be used for long pieces. Some people seem to be able to visualise the score in their head, but I have a very poor visual memory and although I could easily sing any of the pieces I'm learning at the moment, knowing what a piece sounds like does not equate to knowing where to put your fingers.<br />
I can't consciously memorise an extensive section of music, either: I do, however, do this for very small sections that I'm having trouble remembering because they signal an important harmonic change in an otherwise uniform pattern that could be repeated endlessly without ever moving on. I have been known to start 'looping' a section of music like this (a notable example being Chopin's Etude Op. 25 No. 12, which can pretty much go on forever if you keep taking the 'wrong turn'!)<br />
<br />
I often find it helpful to say to myself 'I have to play a B flat here' or 'This progression is a series of arpeggiated diminished 7th chords' to memorise an elusive passage. Once I've got it right enough times, I develop a spacial memory of it anyway and no longer need to give myself clues.<br />
<br />
Memorising Russian vocabulary is a completely different matter! Although I've switched my Facebook and Twitter accounts to Russian and stuck a picture of a Cyrillic computer keyboard to my laptop, I'm not really using Russian on a regular basis so I have to make an effort to ensure I can remember the words I've already learnt. A technique I've found useful is to think of an English word or set of words that sounds a bit like a Russian word I'm trying to memorise (the results are often hilarious.) Unfortunately this doesn't guarantee I'll remember what the word is meant to mean!<br />
<br />
I'd be interested to know what techniques other people use to memorise things, whether it be music, a language, or something else entirely! And I'm particularly interested in what pianists think about muscle memory and whether it's a good thing or not.Dorothea Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558111757085336283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-247551951594704941.post-87144382332629712852012-07-10T06:08:00.001-07:002013-11-01T05:06:58.801-07:00Composer series: RachmaninoffI have the Sydney International Piano Competition to thank for my obsession with Maurice Ravel. It was during the 2008 competition that I first heard a piece of Ravel which left a huge and lasting impression on me, and I've written a blog post about my discovery of that composer which you can find <a href="http://dorotheasmusicalthoughts.blogspot.com.au/2012/03/composer-series-ravel.html" target="_blank">here.</a><span id="goog_675808193"></span><span id="goog_675808194"></span><br />
At the time of writing, I'm thoroughly immersed in the <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/classic/sipca/" target="_blank">2012 SIPCA</a> and once again this year's competition is gradually causing me to fall in love with another great composer whom a few years ago I knew very little about - Sergei Rachmaninoff.<br />
<br />
Towards the end of 2011, I happened to hear Rachmaninoff's 2nd piano concerto, in quite an unusual context (I heard it in an art gallery as part of an installation.) Up until that point, I'd never particularly liked the piano concerto genre. Orchestral sound was, and still is, one of my least favorite musical textures, and to me a piano concerto was far too orchestral to be pleasant to listen to. But when I heard Rach 2 for the first time, I guess something about it must have resonated with me, because I became very interested in it. <br />
I visited that art gallery while on a road trip to visit my grandfather in Brisbane, and while I was staying with him I found a CD of Rachmaninoff's 2nd piano concerto and played it. By this time, I'd decided quite firmly that I wanted to learn that concerto - I even told Grandad so! I can't remember what it was about Rach 2 that made such an impression on me at the time, but later when I was back in Melbourne I bought the 2-piano score.<br />
So began my interest in Rachmaninoff.<br />
<br />
This increased when I heard his famous C-sharp minor prelude on ABC Classic FM. They were promoting a CD of Ashkenazy playing the complete Rach preludes. Ashkenazy is one of my heroes, and I instantly fell in love with the music - in fact, I was quite astonished by it. I must have heard that famous prelude before as it seemed familiar, but perhaps I'd never really listened to it properly. I immediately decided to order the CD (I discovered when it arrived that the booklet contained some lovely pictures of a very young Ashkenazy!)<br />
<br />
When I listened to the complete preludes, I was struck by their originality. No other composer sounds like Rachmaninoff, just like no other composer sounds like Prokofiev. I'd never heard anything like it, and it touched me in much the same way Ravel does - like I was hearing music that expressed exactly what was in my soul. Even the harmonies and textures that Rachmaninoff uses sometimes remind me of Ravel. And I'm intrigued by Rachmaninoff's very distinctive way of using chromaticism to create subtle, sometimes barely perceptible harmonic changes that somehow tug at your heart and make you feel like you're either falling into an endless abyss or floating up to heaven, depending on whether the modulation is descending or ascending.<br />
<br />
Over these past few days I've heard a lot of Rachmaninoff in the Sydney International Piano competition, and all of it has left such an impression on me that since yesterday I've downloaded and printed out the entire <i>Etudes-Tableaux</i>, op. 33 and op. 39, and the entire <i>Moments Musicaux</i>! I followed the score when one competitor played the entire <i>Etudes-Tableaux</i> op. 33, which was very informative. I've also tried sight-reading some of the <i>Etudes</i> and most of the <i>Moments Musicaux</i>, which was great fun.<br />
<br />
I feel like every piece of Rachmaninoff I've heard played by the competitors in these past few days is haunting me, just like Ravel's <i>Une Barque Sur L'ocean</i> haunted me after I first heard it in SIPCA four years ago. Listening to this competition is a wonderful, immersive experience during which a young musician like me can disover extraordinary new repertoire, and I'm looking forward to Round 4 when the competitors will play chamber music. I'm especially eager to hear the Ravel piano trio (which I can still remember Tatiana Kolesova playing, beautifully, in 2008) and Shostakovich's trio.<br />
<br />
To finish, here are some of my favorite pieces of Rachmaninoff to date (including Rach 2, which I am now learning the middle movement of). This list will undoubtedly grow, as I'm still discovering Rachmaninoff's music. At the moment it's all piano music as you can probably tell! However, I'm currently waiting for a CD of the complete Rach symphonies to arrive in the mail...<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=huu-nir6RNw&list=PL41ACB0AABC80A256&index=70&feature=plpp_video" target="_blank">2nd Piano Concerto</a><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=whUhTYya8YU&feature=relmfu" target="_blank">Etude-Tableaux Op. 39 No. 1</a><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mAV3Zj5Qngo&list=PL41ACB0AABC80A256&index=21&feature=plpp_video" target="_blank">Etude-Tableaux Op. 39 No. 5 </a><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_hZaEcgWon4&feature=relmfu" target="_blank">Etude-Tableaux Op. 39 No. 8 </a><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GR2h7Oya9Wo&feature=relmfu" target="_blank">Etude-Tableaux Op. 33 No. 2 </a><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sr6dkqS8HnM&feature=relmfu" target="_blank">Etude-Tableaux Op. 33 No. 3</a><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jx0_ZoRugHY&feature=relmfu" target="_blank">Etude-Tableaux Op. 33 No. 5 </a><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DKY047DdTVM" target="_blank">Etude-Tableaux Op. 33 No. 8 </a><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u6OlftugZl0" target="_blank">Moment Musicaux No. 1</a><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TjcFATilKhk" target="_blank">Moment Musicaux No. 2 </a><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=szogSY-IE60" target="_blank">Moment Musicaux No. 3</a><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XU8VgS-2hpk" target="_blank">Prelude in B Minor Op. 32 No. 10</a><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1JLIBJdTxyI" target="_blank">Prelude in G minor Op. 32 No. 12</a><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ygeQQy9APo&feature=related" target="_blank">Vocalise</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jy-MqX_lswo&playnext=1&list=PL943CBD685274A233&feature=results_video" target="_blank">Symphonic Dances - 1 </a><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dbbtmskCRUY" target="_blank">The Isle of the Dead </a><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KL5aiUKPt3Q" target="_blank">Rhapsody on a theme of Paganini</a><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z2j16H-kgOY" target="_blank">Symphony No. 1 - 4th mvt</a><br />
<br />Dorothea Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558111757085336283noreply@blogger.com0