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The Goldberg Variations, Right Up Close and Personal

April 27th, 2008 | 1 Comment | Posted in bach, classical music, shostakovich

We just arrived back from a jaunt down to the city. The main attraction was my girlfriend’s brother’s kickarse piano recital including a Haydn sonata (which I thought had surprising amounts of dissonance, but maybe I’m just getting accustomed to that older stuff) a Shostakovich Prelude and Fugue, and the Mendelssohn Variations Sérieuses.

The main meat of the performance was the Goldberg Variations. This is one of those must-love/must-know-really-well pieces for all serious classical music people. But I don’t know it. Well, I’ve maybe heard it through once before when a friend lent me his Glenn Gould CD, but that’s about it. In general I think theme and variations form is awesome (it can beat up rondo form any day of the week), but it’s often well hard the first times through to put it together. In order to actually hear the variations you kind of need to know the unvaried theme enough to hum it (and mentally fill in the harmonics), or you tend to lose track of things in the variations.

This was definitely in effect yesterday. It wasn’t aided at all by the descriptions of the variations, which are not very descriptive. Take a peak over the extensive list of them on wikipedia. Instead of (relatively) easy to pick up on describers like “presto” they are instead mostly labeled with either “a 1 Clav” or “a 2 Clav”. This only served to confuse me more, as I knew enough score-Italian to suspect that Clav means keyboard. Are some of the variations meant to be played on two pianos?

Well, it turns out that is actually sort of correct, but in this case it’s 2 “manuals” on a harpsichord which as my limited understanding of harpsichord design tells me are multiple keyboards on the same instrument. This means that your hands are less likely to collide. However, on a piano you of course don’t have this luxury and it becomes extra-hard to perform, but he did a totally awesome job of it.

The other descriptive element which became a lot more descriptive after the fact are the labels Canone alla Seconda, alla Terza, etc. which I did manage to deduce were numbers, but did not manage to deduce meant that these were variations based on the major second interval, the interval of a third, and so on. In fact they are specifically in the form of a Canon, which is a form in which there is leading melody that gets followed by various imitating melodies.

If I had known all that I might have had a chance at spotting them as they came at me, but as it was I just basked in the music. Next time I shall be better mentally equipped to parse them all out. The concert still rocked though, despite my ignorance. He is truly an amazing pianist.

(Oh, by the way, if anyone is looking for parking recommendations to get into Manhattan with minimum fuss I can heartily recommend taking the ferry from Port Imperial at Weehawken. It’s $10 a day to park, and there are ferries to Midtown minimally every 20 minutes which take only about 5 minutes to cross. Then there are free buses when you get to 38th street.)

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Back to Bach on a full stomach

November 25th, 2007 | 2 Comments | Posted in bach, classical music

Thanksgiving has reached its triumphant conclusion. I have been over fed and over-boozed and over-emergency-hamified by my girlfriends family, and am now plummeting into a Sunday evening over which the rest of the week is looming heavily, largely. All kinds of eventful events happened in my November absence, but as I didn’t get to sleep until five this morning those’ll get saved for future typings. Until such time as they are etc etc, take a gander at this performance of the ubiquitous but ever awesome toccata and fugue in D-minor… on an accordion.

Buried Under Bach

July 31st, 2007 | 4 Comments | Posted in bach, classical music, mp3

Bachy BoyOh my gosh. Once upon a time a bunch of years ago someone gave me a great present, the goodness of which wasn’t really that obvious to me at the time. It was a set of the complete organ works of J.S. Bach. For anybody who isn’t aware, old Johann wrote a hell of a lot of organ music. 17 CD’s worth, actually (I’m pretty sure that’s how they measured musical volume back then.)

I kept leaving it behind in England whenever I went back because it would sneak out of the way until everything was all packed up and my suitcases were already twenty pounds too heavy. Then it would leap out, waving it’s inlay and demand to be remembered and loved and transported. Up until the last expedition I had not yet caved into it’s demands.

But now, the little guy is sprawled eagerly over my desk. We’re (it’s a joint venture between me and him) up to CD number 7 in the MP3 conversion extravaganza.

I guess I never quite made it into Bach. Every time his music is on it feels so overwhelmingly ornate and difficult. You might even call it baroque (sigh). And 17 CD’s is a lot of organ music. Sometimes I listen to it while mentally changing the instrument from an organ to an electric guitar - it switches over very nicely, I think modern heavy-metalists owe a big debt to mister Bach.

Objective goodness

January 23rd, 2007 | No Comments | Posted in bach, classical music

I’m now up to - well, six clearly - little composer bio op-ed type thingies. It’s difficult to write about Bach and Mozart, because while I respect their music I don’t feel it speaking to me in the same manner as Shostakovich or Prokofiev, or Klimt - Sea Serpentspretty much any of the other, later, composers. It’s generally harder for me to appreciate the stuff before 1800. The music seems less surprising to me, perhaps because I have been so exposed to that music in my life. Or, perhaps it is because the focus in that era was (as I have heard people claim) the perfection of a particular style, to write the one perfect concerto or sonata. This stands in contrast to the later goals of fully exploring the range of human emotion, or the capabilities of the orchestra, or the limits of tonality. These aims excite myself more than the clockwork perfection of Bach’s music does.

I’m being a bit contradictory, clearly, since my dissatisfaction would seem to very much not imply perfection. It does make sense though, honest! (I’m actually trying to convince you as much as me right now). It’s similar to how when seeing a painting by da Vinci I can feel and see the perfection, but it’s in a cool, detached kind of way. His rough sketches are far more attractive and satisfying to my aesthetics, but even more appealing are the stylized explorations by people like, say, Klimt (on the right). It’s the roughness which is grabbing, which really touches me and me brings me into the music and gives electric on my vertebrae.

I would never make the claim that Klimt was the better painter… but why not? Is it just because I have been conditioned by culture to think of da Vinci as the more exemplary artist? I don’t think so. Not completely. I can sense the cleverness in his work, sense some underlying mastery above and beyond others who I actually prefer. the mastery doesn’t mean I enjoy it more. Then, what value am I ascribing to him? I just don’t know… I need an aesthetics philosopher to help me out, pronto!

“A classic is a book everyone wants to have read and no-one wants to read”

- Samuel Clemens