Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Chopin, Lizst, and the Rise of Pianism

Frederic Chopin at the piano with Georges Sand, painted by William Francis Marshall

This essay is for Dan Russell, friend, esteemed Google colleague, scholar in more topics I can wrap my head around, and a wonderful musician and composer, to boot!

Note: These essays aim to give a general overview of a particular topic - they are not in-depth explorations. Someday I'll have the excuse to write papers of that kind, but for now, I hope you find these interesting!  I enjoyed writing them.

Chopin, Lizst, and the Rise of Pianism

Out of the shadow and influence of Beethoven emerged a new generation of composers who espoused the Romantic ideals of subjectivity, individuality, and emotion, rather than the symmetry and intellectual qualities of the Classical era. This shift was a reflection of the upheaval in Western Europe with the Napoleonic wars and the subsequent struggle between a newly democratized public and the last vestiges of the previously ruling aristocracy. 

Music created in the 19th century was shaped by these themes, and composers explored their craft while adapting to a changing society that increasingly catered to a public of musical amateurs. The central status of the piano was established during this period by such eminent composers as Chopin and Liszt.

Beethoven was the key force in ushering the Western world into the Romantic era of music, with his emphasis on a deeply personal experience laden with emotion. In setting this blueprint, subsequent composers needed to find their own voices as they explored new paths - some, notably Brahms, struggled greatly, while others such as Berlioz reveled in Beethoven's legacy to fuel their own careers. 

The term 'romantic' itself saw an evolution: it originally referred to tales of heroism, such as the Arthurian legends, and during the 19th century came to describe the emotional and personal.

The backdrop for this shift was the push-pull between a public that had tasted freedom from the ruling aristocracy after the French Revolution. A series of revolutions broke out throughout Europe starting in 1830 with the "July Revolution" in France and 1848 saw a proliferation of uprisings. In the midst of this was the Industrial Revolution, which saw the automation of manual labor via advances in technology and manufacturing. Consequently, a previously vastly agrarian public was able to move to cities and pursue a wholly different life, a life that allowed for independence and upward mobility.

These developments had a profound effect in the shaping of music during the 19th century. Changes were occurring everywhere in Europe, and even as society embraced a new way of life both politically and socially, many hearkened back to the more traditional ways of life. This duality posed a challenge and a boon to composers: While they struggled with themes of old and new - science versus faith, mankind versus nature, nationalism versus integration - composers found a growing public with newfound wealth and interest in both consuming and making music. This led to the rise of the piano as the instrument of choice during the Romantic era.

Although the earliest piano was created in 1719 by Cristofori in Florence, it came into prominence much later. Improved manufacturing techniques in the 19th century made it possible for the well to do to incorporate a piano into their households, and with this arose the demand for music written for, taught to, and performed by amateurs. Thus it was in the Romantic era that pianism came to the fore.

Romantic pianism at its best was characterized by a combination of elegance, emotionalism, and a healthy dose of virtuosic display. Frederic Chopin and Franz Lizst were key in establishing a new genre of music meant for solo piano. "Incidental Piano Music" included etudes meant not only for purposes of teaching, but were so beautifully crafted they could stand alone as concert pieces. Other styles were based on dances, narratives, improvisation, or on Classical forms.

Born in 1810, Chopin lived the majority of his life in Paris but remained faithful to his native Poland. Although he was considered by contemporaries as a foremost pianist, Chopin seldom performed after his early tours in 1829 and his Paris debut in 1832. During his relationship with Georges Sand, an avant garde writer, Chopin's output was prolific. However, a trip to Majorca in 1838 worsened his tuberculosis and exacerbated his health significantly. After he and Georges parted ways he died soon thereafter, in 1849.

While he was a leading force in Romanticism, Chopin himself was highbrow in his preferences and ironically did not care much for the works of his contemporaries, nor did he like to mix with the public. His love of the piano and the distinctive sensitivity of his compositional style made him one of the foremost harmonists of the era.

Where Chopin was subtle, Lizst was flamboyant. The superstar of his day, this virtuosic pianist and composer inspired swooning audiences across Europe and had his fair share of tabloid-worthy scandals. Hungarian by birth, Lizst emigrated to Vienna, studying with such greats as Czerny and Salieri, and at 15 moved to Paris where he established himself as a composer and a concert pianist. After witnessing Paganini's feats on the violin in 1831, Lizst revitalized his career by shaping himself as a virtuoso performer. 

Unlike Chopin, Lizst was wiling to churn out music for the public but was undoubtedly the finest pianist of his day and incredibly gifted as both composer and performer. He was also a champion of budding musicians, and in 1848 he retired from performing to focus on composition and master classes. Lizst also dabbled in the religious order, even moving to Rome in 1861 to take holy orders although he was not ordained. He continued to support rising musicians until his death in 1886, of pneumonia.

The Romantic period saw societal upheavals that created a framework for music to evolve and adapt, with the piano becoming a solo voice for the expression of the beautiful, powerful, and passionate. The musical revolution Beethoven created with raw emotion and sheer force during the Classical period began to manifest itself in different ways, explored beautifully by composers struggling to find their own voices in this new era.

Hard at Work ... Writing!

This is not one of the music classes I've been taking!
I apologize for the intermittent postings and hiatus as of late.  I admit that I had too much on my plate the past quarter, but I love being busy and knowing that I'm accomplishing things - except when I feel so overwhelmed that I feel as though I haven't been able to finish anything!  I think we all know what that feels like.

One of the reasons I hadn't been posting regularly is that when I wasn't working, dancing, or trying to get my fingers to obey my will at the keyboard (and sleep?  Uh ...), I was studying for two music history classes through a wonderful music program offered online at Foothill College.

I wasn't a music major at university.  I did take a Basic Musicianship class, universally known to folks with any music background as "Clap for Credit" for an easy A, as well as an upper division class on J.S. Bach.  I also played baritone horn in the University of California Marching Band for four years, a participation without which I would have had no school spirit.

But now that I am embarking on a serious musical journey with the piano, I want to have a solid base in music history essentials.  I've now taken the Classical Era, Romantic-Impressionist-20th Century and beyond, as well as World Music.  Come fall quarter, I'll circle back to Baroque.  Dr. Robert Hartwell and Dr. Elizabeth Barkley have been my wonderful champions, and I enjoy their classes immensely.  (Dr. Hartwell was the one who encouraged me to audition for Mr. LaRatta!)

I've written a number of little essays and snippets for my music history classes, which I'll share here from time to time.  These classes and explorations are, after all, part of my journey in embracing music wholeheartedly.  I hope you'll enjoy them!

Sunday, July 1, 2012

Crystal Chandeliers and Turning Gears


It's amazing how a single, simple concept prompted by imagery can change the way I approach a phrase or an entire piece.

Beautiful Like a Chandelier
A few weeks ago, I began to launch into Chopin's Étude Op. 25, No. 1 during my lesson.  The first melody note sounded, and before I'd even gotten to the next one, my teacher Mr. LaRatta stopped me.  "Have you ever seen those crystal chandeliers?  Yes?  Good.  Have you ever run your fingers across one and noticed how it just tinkles beautifully?"

He made a motion with his hands, mimicking the cascading, seamless sound of crystals delicately hitting one another in rapid succession.  I could hear it in my head.  "That's how every single note needs to come out, clear as crystal," he continued, referring to those in-between-the-melody rapid arpeggios that give the Étude its "Aeolian Harp" nickname.

Mr. LaRatta must have seen the dawning realization on my face.  "You know what I mean?"  "Yes!" I replied excitedly.  "Okay.  Now, DO IT!!" And he glared at me from over the top of his glasses.

I began again.  "Yes, that was it, much better!  You got it?"  "Yes!"  "Okay.  Now, always do it this way, for the rest of your life!" He glared at me again, then laughed, a twinkle in his eye.  "You got it, kiddo!"

Have I mentioned how lucky I am to be Mr. LaRatta's student?

Thinking in Circles
Similarly, imagery helped me understand Chopin's Étude Op. 25, No. 2.  It's a deceptively simple concert etude that evokes the sight of a butterfly flitting amongst blossoms.  When I first started learning it, I was tripped up by the quarter note triplet pattern in the left hand topped by eighth note triplets in the right hand.  Technically it was fine, but it didn't sound or feel right.

During one lesson, Mr. LaRatta stopped me after I'd played three bars.  He asked me to picture a big gear, moving counterclockwise at a moderate speed.  Next to it was a smaller gear, turning clockwise at a faster speed.  Two different gears, turning in different directions and at different speeds - and yet they worked smoothly together, the grooves fitting perfectly with each rotation.  What a difference this gave me for the piece overall!

Moreover, the gear imagery helped me understand how I should phrase the left and right hand parts.  Gears have a momentum; they have a flow to their movement.  So why would I ever accent beat 1 on the left hand?  That'd be one wonky gear!  I found that accenting beat 2, gently, gave the left hand the contour and motion it needed.

And the right hand?  Mr. LaRatta invoked the gear imagery once again.  I pictured the smaller gear rotating clockwise, at a good clip.  "The right hand moves in circles, you see," he explained, "each circle builds off the other every phrase; it starts smaller, then swells as it comes around, and begins again."  And, suddenly, I got it.  By leading up gently to the second triplet, I could feel the gear turning, and the melody flowed more naturally.

Smaller turns, bigger turns.  Big wheel, little wheel, opposite motions; the smaller one turning faster.  Suddenly the piece was no longer a series of notes to be contended with.  It had a shape, little highs and lows, little ebbs and flows.  And finally, that beautiful, fluttery sound began to take shape.