I will rehearse the finale of the Ravel Trio with AW and JP tomorrow afternoon.
Years ago, when I heard this movement for the first time from a recording, I found it disgusting and incomprehensible. I regarded those loud triad chords from the piano as grotesque and unnecessary. I thought, what's the point of pushing the piano to such an extreme? And those trills in the strings - was Ravel thinking of replicating the Devil's Trill?
Of course, I now think very differently. But the finale is still the most elusive of the four movements in the Trio, and to my mind, also the least rich. There are long stretches of music in the movement (e.g., the section starting from the violin's statement of the theme till the point when the piano starts shouting out those chords) in which the piano accompaniment supplies nothing more than a noisy background to a main melody played by the strings (and it's actually pretty challenging to make those many notes sound like noises). Most of the movement is textured as an opposition between a very thick piano part and the strings playing in unison. The coda is essentially the same pattern of chords repeated several times. The entire finale cannot but give one an impression that Ravel was rushing through it -- and yes, he needed to finish it before being enlisted to the French army.
The pentatonic main theme of the movement does have its own special charm. Delicate, playful, and transparent, it almost sounds like a tune produced by a Chinese music box. The opening is actually my favourite spot of the entire movement.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Saturday, August 08, 2009
Schubert: Auflösung (Dissolution), D. 807
What a song! This lied must be counted as one of the most exceptional pieces by Schubert. The composer seems to have gone far beyond his time for the sake of musically defining a very special sentiment - that feeling of having a lot of energy lying dormant within oneself, but at the same time, being unable to release it. That energy is powerful enough to incapacitate one's action or thoughts. Tormenting as this state of being is, one may also feel heavenly from the rapturous emotions brought about by this saved up power:
From every recess of my soulThe opening of this piece settles on the tonic for quite a few measures. Our natural expectation that the chord must change, at some time, imparts to the listener an anxious feeling that something dramatic is about to happen (the same method of psychological manipulation would later be employed by Wagner in the Prelude to Das Rheingold). The rapid ascending arpeggios floating on top of a pedal-point sustained by repeated low octaves in the piano part are so amazing, and almost expressionistic - they are ecstatic, exciting, but under moderation. The harmony changes at a very slow pace until the words
Gentle powers well up
And envelop me
With celestial song.
Dissolve, world (Geh unter, Welt)at which the chords change twice as fast all of a sudden. By this point, the inner energy circulating within one is intense enough to render any sensory perception impossible. One is, by the end of the lied, totally burnt out, albeit in a blissful state, as expressed by the last repeated cry: Geh unter, Welt, Geh unter, Welt, Geh unter, Welt!
Friday, August 07, 2009
Debussy: Nuit d'Étoiles
To help myself to understand the Ravel Trio better, I have been listening to more French music these days.
With a cooler temperature and gentle breezes, tonight was the perfect time to replay Nuit d'Étoiles [Starry Night], a setting by the 20-year-old Debussy on a little poem by Théodore de Banville. There is nothing deep in this chanson - no mysterious colors in his use of harmonies, nothing special in its overall structure, and nothing particularly dramatic. The accompaniment tends to be quite mechanical - the figures are repetitious, and yet not creating a special color or effect. Transition between sections (esp. that between the third stanza and the last statement of the refrain) are awkward. The alignment between the melodic lines and the lyrics is also uninspiring (e.g., how can the line "je rêve aux amours défunts" [I dream of a love long past] be paired with high notes and ascending leaps?).
And yet, despite these compositional flaws, I like this piece a lot. The melodic line itself is charming and beautiful in a simple and but romantic way -- something that perhaps only a 20-year old man could be inspired to write down. There is such a perfect Belle Époque feel to it that as I listened to it, I could not but imagine this chanson as an improvised accompaniment to some early 20th-century black-and-white silent movie. This is nostalgic music, and almost too pleasantly nostalgic. As the beautiful line was being composed, the composer of course didn't know that the Belle Époque was to be gone very soon.
With a cooler temperature and gentle breezes, tonight was the perfect time to replay Nuit d'Étoiles [Starry Night], a setting by the 20-year-old Debussy on a little poem by Théodore de Banville. There is nothing deep in this chanson - no mysterious colors in his use of harmonies, nothing special in its overall structure, and nothing particularly dramatic. The accompaniment tends to be quite mechanical - the figures are repetitious, and yet not creating a special color or effect. Transition between sections (esp. that between the third stanza and the last statement of the refrain) are awkward. The alignment between the melodic lines and the lyrics is also uninspiring (e.g., how can the line "je rêve aux amours défunts" [I dream of a love long past] be paired with high notes and ascending leaps?).
And yet, despite these compositional flaws, I like this piece a lot. The melodic line itself is charming and beautiful in a simple and but romantic way -- something that perhaps only a 20-year old man could be inspired to write down. There is such a perfect Belle Époque feel to it that as I listened to it, I could not but imagine this chanson as an improvised accompaniment to some early 20th-century black-and-white silent movie. This is nostalgic music, and almost too pleasantly nostalgic. As the beautiful line was being composed, the composer of course didn't know that the Belle Époque was to be gone very soon.
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
Finding the right pictures for the Schubert B-flat and Ravel Piano Trios
I had another long but very rewarding rehearsal today with AW and JP. Pieces for the night included the 3rd movement of Schubert's B-flat Trio, and the first movement of Ravel's Trio (again!).
To me, the third movement of the Schubert B-flat is the most elusive of the four movements, and, from the performance perspective, the most difficult to bring out. The tempo - set by the pianist, ie, me, alas - needs to be just right. Too fast, it becomes a frantic drinking song; too slow, the charm and lightness of those staccato notes are lost. It's so easy for this movement to end up sounding squared - the rhythmic motives are repetitious, and there isn't much variation in note values throughout. It's also not easy to conjure up a "mood" or a picture for this Scherzo and Trio. I see the Scherzo as a light, almost dainty, and somewhat elegant minuet, and the Trio as a kind casual salon music with a tinge of sadness. AW sees lots more personal sentiments/emotions/sadness in the Trio (perhaps because she has the most melodic part to play?); she even feels that the Trio is little meditative (which I sort of agree). JP, not inclined to associate this music with definite pictures, regards the whole movement as music beautiful in its "simplicity". There are so many interpretive possibilities for this movement.
One important thing I learned today concerning the Trio of this movement is, because the entire Trio is constructed as a quasi-canon between the violin and cello, there is little room for the pianist to take time even at the sensitive or expressive spots (or else the cellist would have the most difficult time keeping the line).
We also spent sometime duscussing a workable "mood" for the first movement of the Ravel. To me, this movement, and French music of late 19th / early 20th century in general, has an impersonal quality in the sense that the music is more about depicting impressions or sensations of, say, a traveler, rather than expressing the composer's inner sentiments, angst, or deep emotions. The following is, I think, a wonderfully appropriate (and useful) picture for the movement's second theme that we came up with: a calm lake by a green mountain, the surface of which is occasionally decorated with ripples from little water droplets (musically depicted by that D note played by the piano with cello pizz., on the 3rd beat).
To me, the third movement of the Schubert B-flat is the most elusive of the four movements, and, from the performance perspective, the most difficult to bring out. The tempo - set by the pianist, ie, me, alas - needs to be just right. Too fast, it becomes a frantic drinking song; too slow, the charm and lightness of those staccato notes are lost. It's so easy for this movement to end up sounding squared - the rhythmic motives are repetitious, and there isn't much variation in note values throughout. It's also not easy to conjure up a "mood" or a picture for this Scherzo and Trio. I see the Scherzo as a light, almost dainty, and somewhat elegant minuet, and the Trio as a kind casual salon music with a tinge of sadness. AW sees lots more personal sentiments/emotions/sadness in the Trio (perhaps because she has the most melodic part to play?); she even feels that the Trio is little meditative (which I sort of agree). JP, not inclined to associate this music with definite pictures, regards the whole movement as music beautiful in its "simplicity". There are so many interpretive possibilities for this movement.
One important thing I learned today concerning the Trio of this movement is, because the entire Trio is constructed as a quasi-canon between the violin and cello, there is little room for the pianist to take time even at the sensitive or expressive spots (or else the cellist would have the most difficult time keeping the line).
We also spent sometime duscussing a workable "mood" for the first movement of the Ravel. To me, this movement, and French music of late 19th / early 20th century in general, has an impersonal quality in the sense that the music is more about depicting impressions or sensations of, say, a traveler, rather than expressing the composer's inner sentiments, angst, or deep emotions. The following is, I think, a wonderfully appropriate (and useful) picture for the movement's second theme that we came up with: a calm lake by a green mountain, the surface of which is occasionally decorated with ripples from little water droplets (musically depicted by that D note played by the piano with cello pizz., on the 3rd beat).
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