The Banishment of the Poetess
One of the most clichéd tenets in the music performing arts is, that we should perform in the way as if we are the composer who weave everything together. I have heard this maxim for almost one million times. I am not sure about the source of this belief. I vaguely remember that Plato talks about the interconnection between the composers, the performers, and the audience in the Ion. The rhapsodist performs the works of the poet, and the audience interprets the rhapsody. The birth of a work thus originates from the poet, but not finished by the poet. The rest of the progress needs the collaborative engagement of the person who delivers the work and the audience who receives the work.
The thought chain of musical arts involves a similar sequence: composer composes the work - performer performs the work - the audience receives the work. At each stage, the interpretation is assumed to be differentiated from the others, even though, practically, every party relies on a consistent score. Unfortunately, most of performers are not composers, the same as that most critics are not performers. Nor do performers have access to the process of a composition, especially for non-contemporary music. A piano teacher, who I met at a festival in Shanghai, used to confess that her conservatory training teaches her how to be the copywriter of piano. Pianists have to face this unique challenge of being merely an athlete. Otherwise, we won’t qualify as the composer of the work, and we would simply be the droll typewriter. What is so different between typing a computer keyboard and typing an actual piano keyboard, if we are simply attacking the keys? Recently I am working on Schubert’s E-flat trio with two friends. The slow movement of the trio has the least notes, meaning that there is little chance of showmanship. Instead, the movement focuses heavily on the execution of dynamics (say, 6 layers of volume) and the colors of harmony. How we transport our interpretation and how we groom the keyboard are more than important than any other music. We have to feel the music.
I am fortunate to have bumped into great music from time to time and to advance understandings toward music. In a performance of Brahms’ B-flat concerto, I am shown what it means for the performers to be the secondary composer. For people who are bothered by the inventiveness of Currentzis’ conducting, his collaboration of Brahms 2nd piano concerto with Alexandre Kantorow could be a recording that reaffirms their suspicion. Kantorow, born within a musical family in France, won the first prize Tchaikovsky competition in 2019 — a well-deserved recognition that everybody agrees with.
I would love to still have such bright and lively eyes when I am 50. I don’t want to end up like the characters in 鲁迅’s tragic stories. I would also love to have a photographer partner!!
Again, it takes three to finish a breathtaking performance. Brahms B-flat concerto distinguishes itself in particular through the uplifting finale. Unlike the d-minor concerto, which starts ominously and takes turns and then ends triumphantly, the B-flat concerto has less momentum. The B-flat is tender, generous, and widening from the very first note. There are some slight turmoils in the middle of the 1st mvt and in the 2nd mvt. The slow movement is famous for the loving dialogue between the cello and the piano. The finale is a quirky and lighthearted anticlimax. Hélène Grimaud said in an interview that she also found the finale of the B-flat concerto a bit unusual for a composer like Brahms. An overachiever, Brahms is famous for trying extra hard, such as constant revisions of compositions and routine practice drills for writing counterpoints. The finale of the B-flat concerto thus in a way tremendously disengages with the typical style of Brahms. Almost everyone is surprised that he chooses to end an epic concerto in such a happy way.
Inside music, Currentzis always works with unusually talented soloists, such as violinist Patricia Koptchinskaja and soprano Anna Prohaska. This time with pianist Alexandre Kantorow, Currentzis manages to deliver another miracle. I wasn’t aware of the source of the theme in the slow movement until I watched the maestro’s music-making process. By the way, I have watched every single rehearsal of the Currentzis Lab. I tried to watch Currentzis’ interviews so as to understand his philosophy for understanding music. Unfortunately, I barely know Modern Greek, despite my training in Attic Greek. Nor do I speak Russian, although I have started learning Russian since then. I am surprised at the level of similarity between Russian and Attic Greek. Similar to the Wanderer theme in Schubert, Brahms wrote a Lied called Immer leiser wird mein Schlummer that has everything of the slow movement in the concerto. Except that the Lied inverts the key to c-sharp minor. Brahms is pretty honest about his feeling in this Lied, and I’m not surprised that a masochist like him would feel that way:
Brahms seriously expresses being depressed about sleeping alone in the night. That being said, he wants to sleep with someone but he doesn’t have anyone.
The transcription for cello and piano is in c-minor.
Immer leiser wird mein Schlummer,
Nur wie Schleier liegt mein Kummer
Zitternd über mir.
Oft im Traume hör' ich dich
Rufen drauß vor meiner Tür:
Niemand wacht und öffnet dir,
Ich erwach' und weine bitterlich.
Ja, ich werde sterben müssen,
Eine Andre wirst du küssen,
Wenn ich bleich und kalt.
Eh' die Maienlüfte wehn,
Eh' die Drossel singt im Wald:
Willst du mich noch einmal sehn,
Komm, o komme bald!
In the concerto, the theme modulates to B-flat. The tone also transforms from desperation to reconciliation (iff music is such a magic cure).
My sleep grows ever quieter,
Only my grief, like a veil,
Lies trembling over me.
I often hear you in my dreams
Calling outside my door,
No one keeps watch and lets you in,
I awake and weep bitterly.
Yes, I shall have to die,
You will kiss another
When I am pale and cold.
Before May breezes blow,
Before the thrush sings in the wood;
If you would see me once again,
Come soon, come soon!
Kantorow gave three encores — testament of this brilliant collaboration between the conductor and the soloist!!
Grazie geniuses. The world is better with creatures like you.