Category: Repertoire

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A look at transcriptions: Liszt’s Concert Paraphrase of Wagner’s Overture zu Tannhäuser

This article is cross-posted with American Pianists Association’s Beauty of Music, a regular feature on the American Pianists Association blog that covers variety of topics to help readers better understand and appreciate the music they love. Sign up for 88 Keys, the monthly newsletter of the American Pianists Association, to automatically receive each issue.

I was fortunate four years ago to be selected as the winner of the American Pianists Awards, becoming a Christel DeHaan Classical Fellow for the following four years. The competition was a year-long process, which included performances with the Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra, Indianapolis Chamber Orchestra, the Linden Quartet, and soprano Jessica Rivera. It was one of the most amazing musical experiences of my life! I also got to hang out with my fellow finalists, most of whom I was already friends with, and get to know the amazing arts community of Indianapolis.

Apropos to the concert Nikita Mndoyants will be giving for APA’s Grand Encounters, we will be talking about Liszt’s paraphrase of the overture to Wagner’s Tannhäuser. It is a piece that I have worked on as well, both in Liszt’s form, as well as in the original form when I was a violinist in the Conejo Valley Youth Orchestra. I am so grateful that we tackled this piece in youth orchestra, because I got to know this piece intellectually and emotionally before I ever set out to learn the transcription. The scrubbing and woodshedding I had to do, both on the violin and on the piano, for this piece will never be forgotten.

For your enjoyment while reading, here’s a recording from when I played this overture in a recital for the 2015 Cleveland Young Artist Competition as a guest artist.

Transcription, Arrangement, Paraphrase – what’s the difference?

Liszt used many words: phantasie, paraphrase, transcription, reminiscence, …sur de[s] [themes/motifs de] … , d’après, illustrations, etc. to describe his arrangements. I think you can tell to what degree of freedom Liszt is going to take his arrangements by the words he uses. It seems that transcriptions and paraphrases (and any which just bear the title of the original work) are his most true-to-the-source works.

Transcriptions exist not only in music, but in literature and spoken word as well. If you break down the word transcribe, it is literally “across-write” in Latin, and it implies writing or copying across different forms of media. In language, transcription is more akin to recording – you often get transcripts of speeches printed in papers or news sites. Transcription is also used in biochemistry, describing the creation of RNA from DNA. The “language” of DNA and RNA are very similar, but not quite, and so transcription seems to be a fitting word.

Picture showing DNA to mRNA transcription, which results in protein synthesis. From https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Messenger_RNA, uploaded by user Sverdrup

Arrangement is very similar to transcription – it usually means taking a piece and rewriting it for a different instrumentation. My inclination is to consider transcriptions to be more faithful and also more technically demanding than arrangements, which often tend toward simplification or for mass consumption.

Then what about paraphrases? In language, paraphrases are a rewording or approximate copy of something previously written or said. In music, paraphrases might be more flexible with material added in or taken out. Or they may have figurations that are completely changed, or in the case of the Tannhäuser Overture, meters altered. I don’t think Liszt would have really dared to do too much of that with the Beethoven Symphonies, for example.

Transcription as Translation

Another trans- word we should mention is translation. Transcription in musical terms is rather like translation, but instead of moving between languages, it is moving between instrumentation. This seems like a pretty obvious connection, but it becomes even more robust once we get beneath the surface. In any translation of text, there is always the consideration of how literal should the text be. If the translation is too literal, the translator runs the risk of losing high level meanings, such as idioms or figures of speech. On the other hand, if the translation is too free or stylized, the original meaning could be lost, as could cultural-specific ideas.

In transcription of music, these considerations are also important – there are certain passages or chords that can be played in one instrumentation that are impossible on another. The trouble is finding how to make it work on the new instrumentation in a way that is idiomatic, but at the same time retains the essence of the original (whatever the transcriber decides that may be). Furthermore, even the structure of phrases or large chunks of material may be altered to make the music more effective on the destination instrumentation.

The signature of a transcriber lies in how they deal with these challenges. Pianists and music lovers will be familiar with the different ways the details of transcription occur between arrangements by Liszt, Busoni, Godowsky, or Rachmaninoff, etc. It’s the fingerprint not only of their pen and hands, but also of their ears.

Konzertparaphrase

Either Liszt or his publisher titled this piece as a “concert paraphrase” and so we have to consider a bit what this means. Surely, compared to his “Réminscences” this piece is very faithful. However, compared to works like his arrangement of the Beethoven Symphonies, this piece might be considered ever so slightly less strict in its transcription.

I would say the baseline for this piece is a very straight-forward transcription of the orchestral version. For example, the opening wind chorale works very well as is on the piano. Even a lot of the string figurations are pretty much unaltered. But with that out of the way, we can start to see both the subtle and not-so-subtle changes that Liszt makes, and try to see why he made them.

Voice Leading on the Piano

I mentioned previously that the wind chorale in the beginning is mostly the same. The changes are minute, but interesting. Liszt adds some extra notes to make the voice leading work a bit better on the piano – the doublings in the orchestral version would cause some texture inconsistencies if transcribed exactly:

Notice in measure 5 and on, a literal transcription would result in the voice counts decreasing. Liszt was forced to add another voice in the bass.

When played by multiple instruments, doubled notes sound doubled. But on the piano, when two voices collapse to a unison, the audience rarely hears it as such, and it sounds more like a voice has dropped out. I would argue this is the reason why Liszt has made the changes above.

The opposite can also be true – sometimes Liszt will leave voices out, because in the piano transcription it will sound like there is an extra note if unison voices split up:

Here, a literal transcription would result both in an abrupt change in voice count and also an awkward chord to play, given that Liszt wants a left-hand only passage.

Another instance of changes occurring because of voice leading is during the second theme. He actually leaves out a dominant 7th chord (opting for a straight up major chord) – he probably thought it sounded better without the 7th, but it could also have been a voice leading consideration. In the orchestral version, there two contrapuntal lines that are of interest are E – E# – F# and F# – E# – E. The crossing is interesting, but in a piano transcription with limited voice independence, it seems more appropriate to focus on the one that is more interesting. Furthermore, the bass line is moving upwards F# – G# – A#, so Liszt seemed to want to focus on the contrary motion created with F# – E# – E. Again, he might have just left out the dominant chord because it wouldn’t sound good, but I think the underlying reason is the voice leading.

Some changes are more about voicing of chords, where because of the overtones of the piano, it sounds better to have a more open spacing of chords rather than closed. Take for example the left hand here compared to the original cello arpeggios. The difference is small, but the wide spacing sounds better than the closed one on the piano – the broken third in the bass can end up being very muddy.

The timbre of the hands

There is a part of every pianist that wishes their left hand were just as good as their right hand, whether that be control of sound, speed, voicing, or any technical matter. However, I think it is just as well that the hands have their separate character. Liszt thought so, too, because he uses both the visual and aural effect of putting melodies in the left hand. Take for example this second phrase of the opening:

Liszt goes through the trouble of crossing the hands so that the left hand can play the cello melody. Notice later he reverts back, but just the effect of having the melody suddenly be taken up by the left hand is a striking gesture. Not only is it visually interesting, but using the left hand ensures that the melody lies mostly between the thumb, index, and third fingers, which are the easiest fingers to use in terms of weight distribution. This allows for a warmer sound, emulating what the cellos would make.

Return of the theme after the first big tutti. When I perform it I cheat and use the right hand to help, but actually for the bass notes, so that I do not have to roll, but can also keep the left-hand character in the melody. I like the imitation between the right hand in the pickup to the 5th measure here and the left hand in the pickup to the 5th measure – both have a C# – F# leap.

After the fireworks of the first section, the chorale comes back, and Liszt again uses the left hand, this time completely solo, for the first sub-phrase of the main theme. The same effects as the above apply. This also allows the following più p to be even more special, with the addition of the right hand (and thus better control).

Aural Illusion

This isn’t going to be something about Shepard Tones, or weird tritone upwards-downwards ambiguities (which I spent too much time researching than I care to admit), but more about how our brains fill in notes that are omitted, or in different octaves. The closest visual analogy I could find is something like the Kanizsa Triangle, where our brains make a shape out of the negative space. Our brains ability to interpolate is a blessing to transcribers, because often times you just have to leave certain things out.

Kanizsa Triangle uploaded to wikimedia commons by user Fibonacci. We don’t see this as their disparate shapes, but rather as a complete composition.
Notice that the melody jumps between octaves. Left hand accompaniment has rests, but because they are filled in by the melody, the illusion is not broken.

One example is in the very first tutti section, where the right hand has to negotiate the broken descending scales. Here the melody alternates between being in both the right hand and left hand, and just in the left hand; thus, sometimes the melody fills up from the bass to the treble, and other times it only goes up to the tenor. No matter, our brains hear the melody as one line (especially if the pianist voices adequately).

Furthermore, the bass is always omitted when the melody is played, but because we still get an articulated attack, we don’t really miss the bass. As long as it is regularly occurring, our brains assume that the pattern continues.

A further striking example is in the main theme of the Allegro – Liszt doesn’t bother to put the melodic high note on the beat. He puts it on the second sixteenth note to make the tremolo pattern easier to play. You can try to come up with alternatives, but none will be as elegant as what Liszt came up with. I think this figuration works because our ears group the first two notes together, so it sounds like a broken downbeat. In fact, we roll and break chords so often in piano music that our ears probably have adjusted to that. It’s really amazing that it sounds better than trying to copy the original rhythm exactly.

Registration

One of the challenges for transcribers is what octave to put notes on the piano. Often we can just put it in the octave that the source is in, but some times that just does not sound quite right. Rather, we must put the notes in the same octave relative to the “normal” range of the instrument. Let’s say there’s a violin passage that’s quite high, like this:

Sorry the instrumentation is cut off. From top to bottom: clarinets, bassoons, first violins div. 4, second violins div. 4

If we put it directly onto the piano, it’s not going to sound as high or stratospheric as the original. In fact, we’re going to have to move it up to another octave so that it has the right sound.

Same ledger lines as the orchestral version, but there’s an 8va here!

Conversely, this passage in the violins is all the way at the bottom of the G string. Liszt opts to go all the way into the bass clef to convey the timbre of the low violin.

Octave considerations can also apply to whether to put a melody in octaves or unison. Even though two instruments (such as viola and violin) could be playing the same melody in the same octave, the effect is one of rich overtones. Liszt appropriately goes for octaves on this melody.

Making Some Noise

Liszt often gets a lot of flak for putting in runs and chromatic passages as fillers. This piece is no exception, but I do think many of them serve more of a purpose in this piece than others. The orchestral version is loud and full of energy and texture. With only two hands, ten fingers, and two feet, Liszt had to find a way to create the same kind of excitement.

In the transition between the first and second themes, Liszt changes the accompaniment figure from a sextuplet chromatic scale, to sixteenth-note chromatically ascending alternating sixths (whew). This change accomplishes a few things. First, it spans a bit more of the range; Liszt gets to cover a bit more harmonic ground and not have a huge whole between the melody and the bass. Second, it’s a bit easier to play metrically than the polyrhythm – it’s not a hard one, but it can affect stamina and pacing. Third, the rotation of the hand in the oscillating sixths allows for a bigger crescendo.

The beautiful soaring melodies after the second themes are accompanied by brilliant arpeggios. These arpeggios are not in the orchestral score, but they help to get across the effect of this nice legato melody after all of the octave chords previously. It also allows Liszt to showcase the ingenious dividing of the theme between the hands as the right hand climbs up the keyboard over and over again. In addition, the runs make it easier to fill out the harmonic content, since a pianist can’t even begin the span the actual voicing in the original.

Negotiating the melody is a challenge, both in voicing and timing.

“If it ain’t Broke…”

There’s two parts to this topic I want to cover. The first is regarding the relationship between exposition and recapitulation. In the second theme, Wagner changes the orchestration of the accompaniment quite drastically. There’s a bit more scrubbing the second time around, as well as rhythmic diversity (with triplets in the bass). Liszt saw this, thought “well it sounded so good on the piano in the exposition,” and just kept the figurations the same for the recapitulation. I won’t accuse Liszt of being lazy, because let’s face it, the pianist learning the piece is also glad that he or she doesn’t have to learn even more patterns and figurations. However, it’s interesting to think about how it could sound if some of the changes were incorporated into the transcription.

Second is the fact that there is plenty of the piece we didn’t talk about, and that’s because he really didn’t change much from the original source in those parts. The notes are good, and the phrases are good, so Liszt just has to make them fit comfortably in the hands, and he’s good to go. This even applies to that beast of an ending with the flourishing of octaves. There really is no other way that should be transcribed.

However, this is exactly why this piece is so difficult to play. The fact that it is so close to the original version, and that Liszt made very little compromises, especially in the little figurations, means that the pianist really has to be an orchestra. That means singing individual voices, having different colors, filling out the entire dynamic range, and building up the stamina to perform such a work.

Addendum

This article wouldn’t be a Sean Chen pianonotes without some re-transcription. As a reward for getting through the entire article, I’ve engraved some of the additions I made to the piece when I performed it. The best part about transcriptions is that you get to hear the piece as the transcriber heard it the original source. Here, we get a glimpse into what Liszt heard when he heard the piece performed live (I assume he did hear it). But, I’m fully of the opinion that if you hear different things, it is okay to add them or change some things in a transcription. You can probably find where these changes should go easily. Without further ado:

Right before the first tutti section.
Those tremolos in the violins are exciting. This is a simple change, but I think makes it sound better than straight eighth notes.
I added some counterpoint back in from the orchestral version. My favorite is the little turn flourish near the end.
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Doing your Due Diligence

Hey all! I wanted to do a short post today on examples of why it is important for pianists to consult many sources when they’re learning and studying a new work. We are so fortunate in this day and age to have relatively easy access to so many forms of media, whether it be open-source first edition scores, recordings, secondary sources, or even manuscripts. All from the computer of our computer desk! Yes, sometimes even after all this studying you may still not have conclusive evidence about certain things, but at least you are more informed in the choices you make regarding interpreting the text.

Throughout the years studying and listening to different people play these following works, I’ve found some interesting misreadings. These are just a few that have been fueled by what I’ve heard most recently, but there are definitely more. Misprints in editions also often occur (the Bärenreiter Brahms Horn Trio and the Universal Edition Strauss Violin Sonata have been the most egregious recent ones) and we have to be very careful when we’re learning new repertoire.

Rachmaninoff Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini Op. 43

We’ll start with a simple one. The edition I learned this piece from was the Kalmus, and I think it’s just a basic reprint of the first edition. The end of Variation 11 always confused me, because after a series of sixteenth rests, there was an eighth rest. However, if you take into account the notes that follow, the beats didn’t work out. It wasn’t until I looked at the full score where I found out that there was a missing triplet sign. Might not change much in the grand scheme of things, but it’s kind of nice knowing that the beats add up.

Prokofiev Piano Concerto No. 2, Op. 16

I haven’t gone through the whole piece in detail yet, but I noticed this interesting misreading in many people’s performances, both in recordings and live. This misreading depends on the edition you use.

This is in the 1st movement cadenza. Because some of the solo editions break the measure across the system break, the accidentals which should carry through aren’t given courtesy markings. The G’s should be sharped on the sf chord.

Rachmaninoff Concerto No. 3, Op. 30

This is in the cadenza section as well, and again it is because of a measure break. This time, rather, it is that the full score has a break in it, and so the accidentals should be assumed to reset; however, in the piano reduction score, the break is in a different location in the measure, and so it seems as if the accidentals carry through. This is one of those cases that I thought I was being very detailed by playing the A and the B naturalized, but it wasn’t until I looked at the full score did I realize that they were indeed flatted. You can also listen to Rachmaninoff play it himself, and he does the flats, and the subsequent high E is also flat (I didn’t highlight it, but it’s obvious).

Happy Pianoing!

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Beethoven Sonata Op. 27 No. 1, Quasi una Fantasia, Quasi Quit Piano

This sonata is affectionately known as “the other one,” since Op. 27 No. 2 is the “Moonlight.” I really enjoy this piece and spent a lot of time working on it. Before I got very comfortable with it, however, I used it for my Juilliard Artist Diploma audition, and I think I played it pretty mediocrely, resulting in not getting accepted (I thought my other stuff went well, but who knows). I was going through a mini crisis at that point trying to decide if I should continue onward with my studies, but fortunately I persevered. I then went on to study with Hung-Kuan Chen at Yale, who really helped me out with getting this piece down and comfortable. Out of my audition repertoire, this was probably the “easiest” on the surface, but I think it’s a much harder piece to play well and convincingly than many other pieces (the other pieces on my list were Prokofiev 8, Schumann Kreisleriana, some etudes, and Bach Keyboard Sonata in A minor).

We’re going to just talk about the first movement of Op. 27 No. 1. I’m really using this piece as an excuse to talk about certain pianistic concepts in context, so many of the ideas will be applicable to many if not all other pieces. I’ll try to be as stylistically agnostic as possible and present the various considerations we have as pianists, though some interpretation is bound to creep in since I’ve spent a lot of time on this piece. And, this list is not exhaustive; other pianists might focus on different things and reach different conclusions. Enjoy!

Legato

We have to talk about legato. I often ask students in masterclasses, “How do you create legato?” Invariably, the answers are always vague, with words like smooth, connected, and lyrical thrown around. Now, if you were playing a stringed instrument, the answer might be easier: as long as there aren’t any string crossings, you keep the bow moving in the same speed, and play the next notes. We aren’t considering phrasing or anything else here, just pure legato. Now, if there is a string crossing, what string players might do is have a bit of overlap, so that at a small instant in time, both strings are being played.

On the piano, we can’t actually hold notes. The loudest part of our notes are the attacks; at any subsequent point in time, the volume will be less. We always have to deal with decay, and just playing the notes one after another doesn’t result in a very convincing legato.

So for piano, an important key to legato is overlap of notes. This is actually a trick used in MIDI (see Fig. 1 below) when you want to create a legato sound – you actually hold the previous note slightly into the next. This creates a blend of sound, sort of like a cross-fade in audio processing. Then, as a pianist, you can use the amount of overlap, from barely any to almost all of the next note, as a tool for color and expression. You can even go the other way, and not overlap at all, in which case you get non legato or staccato or any other gradation of it.

The other component then, is the hierarchy of volumes of the notes in a legato. When just thinking of the two-note slur, we know that the second note generally has to be softer, and by quite a bit; if you play it about the same velocity as the first note, it is liable to sound like an accent. Now, in a longer legato, you can’t keep playing the next note softer, because you’ll end up at pppp after a few notes. Here’s where shaping and phrasing come into play to make sure it notes aren’t sticking out. If you are getting slightly louder throughout the legato, make sure there aren’t any unplanned decreases in velocity. If it is a general tapering, you don’t want any notes that are louder than the previous.

Fig. 1. Demonstrating Legato with MIDI

A melody played without any dynamics or overlapping.
Melody played with overlap but no dynamic nuance. Already, there is more connection between the notes, even given the mediocre piano samples.
Ahh, overlapped and phrased. Though this was quick and rough, it already sounds much better. Notice that the overlaps are different amounts. The velocity of the notes are also smooth. Not bad for MIDI.

Finally, on non legato, we have to watch out that our notes are not too short. This is a judgment call, and requires adjustment in different venues and on different pianos. However, one must always be careful that the pitch is heard. I’m not a big fan of short notes where you can’t hear the pitch.

Color

We hear this term a lot, but rarely know what the person is saying when they want “more color.” In a way, it’s not a very helpful term, but we can talk about a few things that might help with “color.”

First is voicing. Simple voicing can be thought of as just bringing out the top, or the bass, or both the top and bottom voices. But, at its most complete, voicing is the relationship between all of the notes in a chord, so when we voice chords, we can’t just look at the top and the bottom. Every note in the chord needs to be balanced so that we can achieve the sound we want. Looking for a darker color? Try voicing with more bass and tenor. Looking for more body? The middle voices can help with that. Looking for more sparkle? Don’t just think about the top note, but also try to balance the second-highest note so you could some good overtones going on.

Then, you have the right pedal. Pianists tend to go on autopilot with their right foot, but I think the pedal can be one of the most expressive tools in our arsenal. My former teacher Edward Francis used to always ask, “What part of your body plays the pedal?” The answer is “Your ear!” This facetious response points to the fact that the pedal really can’t be dictated; its use must be adjusted to the piano and the hall. Every piano has a different “curve” to its pedal, if you think about a graph where the x-axis is distance depressed, and y-axis is the sustain. In fact, different sections or strings of the piano might behave differently, and we need to adjust relatively quickly to these differences.

So, color from the viewpoint of the pedal can be using less, using more, using none at the attack of the note but then adding some as the decay kicks in, or even putting the pedal down before you play a note. Then, you have full-pedal, half-pedal, a quarter, three-quarters, or any amount. We should use the full range of pedal that the piano has to offer, not just binarily.

Now on to the una-corda (or more like due-corde in modern pianos). Again, I would advocate for using the entire spectrum of the shift pedal. Depending on the piano and how old it is, the hammers might have developed hard spots where it has been hitting the string, and the parts in between will be softer. You can hear this as you gradually shift back and forth while repeating a note. Sometimes, when we want a color change, we have to find the perfect amount of shift, because oftentimes, doing a full shift results in a very unattractive sound because of the grooves on the hammer or other mechanical issues of the piano (like hammers hitting the next note).

Subito

The last technical thing is how to deal with the subito p and f. Really, a pianist just has to become comfortable with how much space is needed before or after, and adjust it to the hall and piano. It is our job to find a way, using both pedal and timing, so that the piano is effective and that it will actually be heard after the forte section.

 

Andante.

Oh boy, this movement… So simple, yet so difficult.

Structure

This sonata is interesting in its construction, because it is almost a reverse sonata: the first movement is a rondo, second movement scherzo-trio, third movement slow, and fourth movement sonata-allegro (Daniel Shapiro has pointed out that it is sonata-rondo.) (the order of the scherzo-trio slow movements is not set in stone as sometimes Beethoven has the slow movement come first, and other times not. The outer movements however are.)

So, we have a rondo, not even a sonata-rondo: A B A C A, and since each part is repeated (or written out with variations), it is more like AA BB AA CC AA. Easy enough.

Harmony and Counterpoint

Really, the simplicity is evident. Lots of tonic and dominant, with secondary keys on super-tonic, and then the parallel major of the relative minor (C Major in this Eb piece). Within each key center, there isn’t much craziness either.

I think the counterpoint makes this piece quite difficult, as the left hand is less accompaniment-y compared to other examples; it has its own character, and even gets the melody switched onto it in some of the variations. Furthermore, there is some four-voice action in many of the phrases. I can almost imagine this being played by a string quartet.

So what’s so hard?

First, tempo. We have Andante in cut-time, which means you should feel each measure in two. The difficulty then lies in finding a suitable tempo that is not too slow (since it’s not Adagio), but slow enough that it doesn’t sound hurried.

Second, phrasing. The right hand is two quarters and a half, with the quarters being portato (slurs with staccatos). Should we interpret this as down-down-up? Up-up-down? Then we have to fit it with the larger phrase. Do we emphasize the first and third or the second and fourth measures of the phrase more? How do we really do the portato on the notes? And, all of this in pianissimo!

We haven’t even talked about the left hand. That legato line is really hard to get smooth and even, especially with the crossover. Then we have a non-legato arpeggio going down at in the last measure of the phrase.

And… that’s just the first four measures.

Here are some ideas

Regarding tempo, I think the Andante can be really thought of in the quarter-note tempo, and I like around 80 bpm, a bit faster. That seems to be within the range of a typical Andante. However, one should feel the phrasing and beats in terms of the half-bar, as the time signature suggests. I think if you instead do Andante in terms of the half-note, it will be way too fast. Conversely, if you think quarter-notes as your unit of time, your playing will become too vertical.

Of course, there will be fluctuations depending on the music. For example, in the B section, there is a slight character change, and even a chance for some nice color changes. In sections with nice slurs, you can play a bit differently, maybe with more friction (or more flow!). But overall, I think the above suggestions hold well for the piece.

Fig. 2.

Demonstration of typical strong and weak beats in various meters.

After I studied with Matti Raekallio, I was convinced that oftentimes music phrased from the start of the phrase sounds more elegant and stylistically correct, especially for pre-romantic music. That’s not to say you must always do it that way, and in fact that would be awfully formulaic and mindless. However, it’s a good guideline, because the position of beats has always been held in an important hierarchy: there are strong beats and weak beats. In 2, the first beat is strong and the second weak; in 3, the first is strong and second and third are weak UNLESS it’s a dance where the emphases might be displaced; in 4, strong-weak-strong weak, with a larger grouping of strong-weak between the first and second halves of the measure; etc. Again, this is a general guideline that is oftentimes subverted. But, it’s important to know what’s normal so that you have something against which to juxtapose the strange and abnormal.

An agogic accent is an emphasis by virtue
of being longer in duration. – wikipedia

Now, even having decided that, the right-hand phrasing is still difficult, because the half note, which is on a weak beat, is accented agogically by its length. So we have to counteract that natural accent… or do we? Maybe we do want the second beat stronger, in which case it would sound up-up-down. But, we do have to consider that the start of the measure should be strong…

Personally, I think there is a balance, and each pianist has to find for themselves how they want to phrase these measures. Even after all that deliberating and phrasing, it must be done in a subtle way as to not disturb either the dynamic or the character.

Fig. 3.

Quick and dirty MIDI rendition of the left hand in the first two measures. Notice the overlaps, velocity differences, and directions of phrasing. And all on MIDI.

The left-hand presented a huge problem for me. After hours of practicing and working with Mr. Chen, I realized that not only was my cross-over from the thumb to the third finger bad and slow, but my thumb was prone to come in early, because of how I was playing my thumb. Basically it came down to the fact that I use more finger action and less rotation on my third and second finger, but more rotation on the thumb. The contour between the black and white keys can also prove a challenge to getting it completely even. Then, I had to make sure that the amount of overlap between the legato notes stayed the same whether there was a crossover or not.

That’s my experience, and you will most likely have different problems since our hands are so different. My suggestion is to sit down and diagnose why the legato is not even: see which fingers are coming in early or late, and see if you can spot a pattern in the unevenness. Then from there, you can try to find a physical reason for the inconsistent notes, and once you pinpoint these habits and tendencies in your technique, you can begin to address them. Don’t let yourself off easy!

The Feel

Finally, for this first movement, a big challenge is what to do in the large scale. Many of us, especially if we’ve been taught a certain way, feel that music should always be going somewhere, that there should be a starting point, a direction, and an arrival. This is certainly true of a lot of music and of many phrases. But, I think this movement as a whole defies that notion. Sure there is “movement” within each section and within phrases, but there is something very static about the larger picture. Each section is self-contained, and the character within each section is mostly unchanging. Maybe we are too obsessed with always going somewhere, especially being young and impatient and uncomfortable with being still. Perhaps this music should just be, and we should just let it exist and be content with it.

I had the hardest time with this concept. I tried to show too much and do too many big-picture ideas when what I needed to do was to focus on and internalize every detail of the music. All of the musical decisions have to happen within the character and “space” of the piece, and I had to learn to feel comfortable staying in that “space.”

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Choose Your Repertoire!

For the first article ­­I want talk about repertoire and repertoire choice. It is my opinion that picking the right pieces, whatever that means for any individual pianist, is second only to playing well in maximizing a pianist’s chances to do well in a competition. In the following sections, I will lay out points that might guide a pianist towards a successful program. Though it may seem very procedural or methodical, many of these choices are done subconsciously, intuitively, or emotionally. A well-designed program not only showcases a pianist well, but allows them to perform to their potential.

Something to be remembered by

Before I get into the actual parameters we consider in choosing pieces, I want to explain why I feel so strongly about good programming.

The overt goal in a piano competition is to receive the highest score from the panel of jury. We can argue about the “best” or “most-interesting” pianist, but the only way to win is to score more points or get more votes (in whatever system) than anyone else. One of my former teachers would say, when asked by a student why they didn’t win, “because you didn’t get as many points.” Though this response is slightly facetious and heartless, the sooner we accept that fact, the sooner we can look at competitions rationally.

Couple this with my personal experience on juries that one generally remembers their most and least favorite players – the middle of the pack generally fades into a blur, especially when there are a lot of competitors. While it would be ideal if every judge could remember every performance (taking notes does help to a degree), that is just not a realistic expectation.

These two facts mean that as a competitor you want to be remembered, ideally positively, by the jury members, and hopefully they will be more likely to give you a higher score. This sounds simple, but it is worth saying. Now, that is not to say I agree with doing something for a shock-and-awe effect, or doing something crazy because you think it will grab a jury member’s attention. However, if it is coming from a musically genuine place, and happens to be memorable and unique, then I think that is both a good strategy and a very fulfilling experience for the performer and audience members.

As you watch and listen to the competition, try to be conscious of who you think will move on to the next round (not just who you like) and see if there is a correlation between that and who you remember the most (again, not necessarily someone you like). You will notice how many different ways there are to be remembered by, whether it is a physical movement, the way someone walks onto stage, the way they play their legato, or anything else.

This is all to set up the idea that a competitor’s choice of repertoire can become a point by which the competitor is remembered. This happens even before the competitor walks on stage. Perusing through the programs, I already have in my mind a few pianists that I would like to hear just based on how they programmed their recital, or a specific piece they will play. I’ve had people come up to me, years after the competition, and say, “I still remember your _____ from the 2013 competition!” Not only is that a strategy for doing well in a competition, it is a satisfying feeling anytime, knowing you are remembered!

“My piece”

When trying to decide what pieces to play in a recital or competition, most of us have a list of must-have pieces that we turn to. I’ll break these must-have pieces into three categories:

1.  Pieces we feel attached to

Most of us have pieces that we feel strongly about, especially in our interpretation. We might program these pieces to make an interpretive statement. Or maybe we just really enjoy playing these pieces on stage. Or, perhaps, we like starting a program with a certain piece, because we know it well, and it helps us get into the zone.

2.  Pieces we’ve gotten positive feedback on

Most pianists have had people tell them certain pieces were “their piece.” There are pieces or composers that I immediately associate with a colleague. And, since most pianists are not competition virgins, they already have in their head an idea of what works for them in a competition setting and what doesn’t. As we do more and more competitions, we add to and prune from that list.

3.  Pieces that we’ve always wanted to play but never got a chance to.

This is probably the riskiest, since it implies that the piece is relatively new, or that the competitor hasn’t performed it very often in competition setting. However, that is a risk that is sometimes necessary to create a program that works. Choosing to take this option requires that the competitor is confident that they are able to deliver a convincing performance of the relatively fresh piece.

I would argue that for most of us pianists, these must-haves form the cores that we build the rest of the program around. We take these pieces, and work outwards to form cohesive and interesting programs. This construction seems to be the most organic, especially in a situation where we are given (mostly) free reign in our repertoire choice. In the case of a compulsory piece, that piece also becomes one of the cores to build around.

A monolithic structure, or strength in numbers?

Sometimes you’ll see competitors who program five or six pieces in a span of thirty minutes (giving about 5 or 6 minutes for each piece), or those who program just one long piece for that same duration. On one hand, you don’t want to put all your eggs in one basket and stake whether you get past the round on just one piece. Maybe that one piece doesn’t show enough of you as a pianist, or is very challenging to pull off effectively. On the other hand, you don’t want to spread yourself too thin, either. Going from piece to piece might prevent you from establishing a “groove” and keep you from getting into a good performance zone. To a judge or an audience member, you might seem indecisive or unsure of what you want to showcase as a pianist.

Neither is better than the other, but I think there is a balance to it – a happy medium that is obviously dependent on what the pieces are. If you are playing multiple pieces by the same composer that work well together, the resulting group might act as a multi-movement work. The same could happen to pieces from different composers if they are connected thematically or tonally. Conversely, a single long work could have many sections or movements, allowing you to present a complete pianistic and musical picture.

The final consideration is if there are non-elimination rounds. For example, because there was no cut between the first two rounds in the 2013 Cliburn, I found it worth the risk to play the Beethoven Hammerklavier sonata as the sole work in the second round, balancing out a more diverse program I played in the first round.

Balance of Styles

The previous section talked mainly about the duration and “magnitude” of pieces. This section focuses on styles and distribution of piece from different periods throughout the rounds. Again, as with many things in life, an appropriate balance is key. When you become seasoned and a well-known pianist, you might be known for playing a specific style of piece or composer, such as Uchida for Mozart, Schiff for Bach, or Rubinstein for Chopin. In a competition, while we don’t necessarily need to cover the entire gamut of musical history, we do need to show breadth, flexibility, and proficiency.

When considering the variety in styles, a competitor also has to consider that most of the large concerti allowed in major competitions are early-romantic to early-20th century. If you have a desire to program anything baroque to early-classical (excepting Mozart), it will have to be a solo piece in the earlier rounds. Similarly, the chamber music selections generally span a short time period.

Expectation is another factor: a competitor who only plays a certain style of piece will have an inherent disadvantage, not because it doesn’t show enough variety, but because the audience then thinks, “Ooh, this guy must be really confident in his interpretation of ______!” Then, you must meet and exceed that! Of course, if a specific style is something you believe is your forte, then perhaps it is worth the risk.

Putting it in Context

Do you start with the baroque piece, because that’s just how you’ve always done it, or do you open with a thorny modern work, and segue almost attacca into a calm romantic work for contrast? The order of pieces matters quite a bit. It can be used effectively to capture the audience’s attention, and provide a good dramatic arch to the program. A good cadence of different lengths of pieces can also help a program flow more, and actually make it easier to perform, both mentally and physically.

You also have to consider fatigue throughout the competition. You might be able to play through both Gaspard and Petrouchka in one sitting at home, but for many of us, programming both pieces in one round in a competition setting, especially one later in the competition, is a recipe for disaster. In the later rounds, you’re going to be also working on the Mozart concerto as you’re preparing your semi-final solo music. Are you going to have the time and mental concentration to bring back the pieces?

 Playing it Safe

The final topic is on the effectiveness of a piece. There are certain pieces that are just easier to do well or win competitions with, given a general level of playing. Though people might not like to hear it, it’s just more effective to play something like Tchaikovsky First Concerto over Brahms First Concerto in a competition setting. If I were given a choice between the two, and to guess what piece would win without knowing the pianists or jury members, I would choose Tchaikovsky every time. I haven’t done this research before, but if you take a survey of the pieces that have won major competitions, I’m assuming you won’t find much variation. We know them: Tchaikovsky, Prokofievs, and Rachmaninoffs. Maybe some Beethovens. We also know the solo pieces, and you will definitely hear many of them this year: Barber Sonata, Liszt Sonata, Petrouchka, Gaspard, etc.

We like to think that we would be able to do well with any piece, but that’s just not the reality of it. It’s a combination of difficulty, overt showiness of the piano part, and ease of ensemble work and musical interpretation. Sure, it is possible with something like the Brahms, but most people would agree that certain pieces require a higher level of musical sophistication and finesse to play well, and unless you possess those skills, it really might be safer to play something from the tried-and-true list.

That doesn’t mean I’m not super excited when I see someone win a competition with a piece not from that list.

Coda

I hope this has given you some insight into how programs can be built, whether you are a piano fan trying to understand why a competitor might pick the pieces he did, or a pianist trying to get ideas for your next recital or competition program. This is certainly not an exhaustive list of parameters, and many things might be obvious, but as with most knowledge, having things explicitly laid out might give way to clearer thinking and even to more creative approaches.

Stay tuned for the next article, where we’ll be going over the commissioned piece by Hamelin!