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Rachel Danielle Menscher - Master’s Degree Piano Recital Program Notes Southern Methodist University - Meadows School of the Arts - Saturday, November 14th, 2015

__________________________________________________________________________________________ The five pieces on this program represent five distinct moments in the history of Western art music. There is something uniquely fascinating about presenting a recital with a scope this broad. For one, it takes the listener on a journey through stylistic changes from the Baroque to the Contemporary. But it also offers the opportunity to trace the evolution of keyboard playing from the turn of the 18th century to the turn of the 21st. While the pieces reflect different historical moments, compositional techniques, and demands on the player, they are nevertheless linked by a common aesthetic interest: the creation of contrasts. Though each composer worked in different times and places and employed widely varying forms, styles, and harmonic languages, each used these tools to create unique kinds of dramatic musical contrasts. The fantasia, which started as an improvisation exercise on keyboard instruments that pre-date the modern piano, is one of the oldest forms in Western music.1 It is clear that Johann Sebastian Bach used this form in his Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue, BWV 903 to showcase his own skills of improvisation, and musicians ever since have argued over the “proper” way to interpret his score, which was not published for a half century after the composer’s death. The interpretation presented on this program combines the editions of Hans von Bülow (published c. 1890) and Ferruccio Busoni (published 1902) with the oral history of piano pedagogues Walter Gieseking and Cecile Genhart (via my professor, Alfred Mouledous). Bach begins the fascination with musical contrast by uniting the fantasia, one of the most imaginative forms in classical music with the fugue, one of the strictest. A fugue by definition is a contrapuntal composition in which a melody (the subject) is introduced by one voice and imitated by others, gradually weaving an increasingly complex web of subjects, countersubjects, and non-melodic episodes. However, within both the fantasia and the fugue, there is evidence that Bach is not only highlighting the contrasting characters of these two forms, but also tying them together. For example, the motivic development and chord texture at the end of the fantasia quickly deconstructs the thick improvisatory texture, and provides a calmer, more orderly presentation of the harmonies leading to a tonic chord in D Minor at the final cadence. Furthermore, Bach links the two otherwise distinct sections by writing a fugue subject that is just as chromatic as the improvisatory material in the fantasy, relying almost entirely on a series of rising and falling half and whole steps. Finally, the last full iteration of the fugue subject reaches a climatic peak that takes on an improvisational quality, almost as if the composer used the subject as the foundation on which to stack a complex display of musical imagination. This is achieved by a texture with figuration so ornate that the underlying structure is somewhat lost in the sheer sweep of passagework. The final cadence of the fugue is a debated topic, with editions and scholars presenting evidence for the piece to end in D Minor or D Major.2 My own interpretation follows the von Bülow edition ending with an uplifting major key tonic. BWV 903 can clearly be understood as a study in contrasts between the freedom of the fantasia and the structures of the fugue. Ludwig van Beethoven was also interested in exploring numerous forms in one work, though he is most well known for expanding or reconceiving the forms and genres he inherited from his predecessors, especially the sonata. This genre had become extremely prevalent throughout the Classical era, and it was usually cast in a three-movement fast-slow-fast tempo pattern. In his Piano Sonata in A-flat Major, Op. 26 (the first movement of which is heard on this program), Beethoven disrupts this standard plan not only by adding a fourth movement, but also by rearranging the typical order and forms of the movements. The first movement of a typical sonata was set in Sonata-Allegro form, in which two or more themes were presented in the exposition, transposed and expanded in the development, and then repeated in a return to the original key as part of the recapitulation. Beethoven, however, presents the first movement of Op. 26 as a theme and variations, usually reserved for central slow movements. His revolutionary changes do not end here: the second movement of Op. 1Maurice Hinson, “Fantasy,” in The Pianist’s Dictionary (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2004), 52. 2 Christoph Wolff, “At the New Church in Arnstadt” in Johann Sebastian Bach: The Learned Musician (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2000), 92-93.

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26 is a scherzo and trio (typically the third movement of Classical string quartets or symphonies), the third is an iconic funeral march, and the closing movement is an etude-like rondo.3 This unconventional structure breaks the Classical standard by starting with the relatively slow theme and variations, and then proceeding with the fast-slow-fast pattern for movements II, III, and IV. An interesting historical anecdote that accompanies this piece is that the third movement (funeral march) is the only movement in all of Beethoven’s sonatas that he himself arranged for orchestra, and it was in fact, played at his own funeral in 1827.4 In the context of this recital, Beethoven provides perhaps the clearest example of “gesture vocabulary.” His contrasts of melody, harmony and rhythm throughout the theme and variations define the music. This of course, makes sense: when a theme is repeated over and over again, one must find ways to differentiate between each version. Beethoven, however, mastered this skill far beyond most of his compositional peers. When audiences think of the opening motives from his Fifth Symphony, or the “Waldstein” Sonata, it becomes obvious that one of the reasons (apart from his tragic and storied personal life) that Beethoven is so iconic is because of the “catchiness” of his music. It is set apart, not by easily sung melodies, or traditional harmonic progressions, but by the contrasts and combinations of melodic, harmonic, and rhythmic gestures. The first movement variations of Op. 26 are no different, as each variation develops the same theme, but varies the texture for new levels of gestural exploration and development. The lyrical texture change in the final variation may remind audiences of later works by Chopin or Debussy, and provides an excellent example of how Beethoven thwarted audience expectations by suddenly altering texture and style within the presentation and repetition of thematic material. Op. 26, which was written between 1800 and 1801, also demonstrates how even in the early part of his career (he finished his First Symphony around the same time), Beethoven was enamored by the possibility of breaking traditional structures, and excluded the standard sonata-allegro form from this particular piano sonata. This creativity inspired composers and musicians for generations to come, including Chopin, who modeled his own Piano Sonata in B-flat Minor after Op. 26.5 In a way, the variations from Op. 26 are just one example in a long list of Beethoven’s triumphs in exploring the theme and variations form. This model provided the possibility for motivic development (as seen in the variations of his Piano Trio, Op. 44, “Eroica Variations,” Op. 35, and eventually the “Diabelli Variations” and Ninth Symphony, among other works), which was a central focus of his transitional period during this time, as he set out in a self-proclaimed “new manner” that took contrasts and thematic development to the extreme. Beethoven’s impact on later composers was so great that his legacy pervades the rest of the program. Felix Mendelssohn’s Serious Variations, Op. 54, were completed in 1841 as part of a campaign to raise funds for the erection of a statue of Beethoven in his hometown of Bonn, Germany (a project that also involved Chopin, Liszt, and Schumann in the production of a “Beethoven Album,” the proceeds of which funded the statue). Op. 54 is, by far, the most important of Mendelssohn’s sets of variations, and it was written on the same technical level as those by Beethoven and Brahms.6 There is also a connection between this work, and Bach’s Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue, in that both pieces are in the melancholy key of D Minor. Mendelssohn is famous for “rediscovering” Bach, to the extent that the latter composer’s works were once again performed, and finally popularized almost a century after his death. Op. 54 is structured as a theme with (seventeen) variations, and it showcases a wide variety of contrasting pianistic techniques and textures, from lyrical chord motion to fugue, and from persistent arpeggiated figures to dense inner voicing within multiple layers of harmony. The journey through the variations provides a glimpse of the inner workings of Mendelssohn’s mind, and how creatively he reworked the same theme over and over again to fashion new and contrasting settings. Careful analysis of the theme highlights the detailed precision required to play this piece. Written in 2/4, the theme (and each subsequent variation) starts on an upbeat, which usually implies that the more important “key note” will occur

3 James Friskin and Irwin Freundlich, “Pianoforte Music from Haydn to the Early Twentieth Century,” in Music for the Piano (New York: Dover Publications Inc., 1974), 85. 4 Elliot Forbes, ed., Thayer’s Life of Beethoven (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1992), 302. 5 Friskin, “Haydn to the Early Twentieth Century,” 112-13. 6 Friskin, “Haydn to the Early Twentieth Century,” 145.

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on the downbeat, and that there should be a slight rhythmic emphasis to establish and maintain the metric pulse. However, this expectation is thwarted and downplayed by Mendelssohn’s inclusion of an accent on beat two. The two-beat phrases that make up this thematic material thus have to include this accent (on the wrong or “weak” beat), while also establishing the rhythmic hierarchy of strong beat one, weaker beat two, and the performer is tasked with the feat of conveying a long line that makes sense, but nonetheless naturally allows the end of each two-beat phrase to fade. The theme itself is obviously not as clear as it sounds, and it presents a multitude of questions before the performer can even play one note. Played in their entirety, the Serious Variations demonstrate the many moods and characters that are held in a piano’s range and provide the performer the opportunity to showcase both expressive lyricism and sparkling virtuosity. The Romantic sensibility at this time lauded “programmatic” works that reflected their descriptive titles. The Serious Variations are only “serious” in the wide range of technical skill that they require from the player, and the initial tone set by the minor key, but not in their overall mood, since each variation provides a definitive contrast in tone and texture when compared to the surrounding sections. However, performers over the years have displayed vastly different interpretations of this work, and it quickly becomes evident upon listening to a few examples that personal preference and style have great opportunity to affect the interpretation of this set. One such example is a comparison between the 1970 recording (re-released in 2014) of Alicia de Larrocha7 and the 1946 recording of Vladimir Horowitz.8 De Larrocha demonstrates her glittering clarity and perfectionism (with contrapuntal precision developed from the works of J.S. Bach) within the packaging of deep lyrical expression and sparkling melodic tone. Horowitz on the other hand, is much less precise in his execution of rapid passagework, and more straightforward in his presentation of minimal dynamics, relying on more extreme tempo changes between the variations to achieve an equally moving and convincingly Romantic expression of Mendelssohn’s work. Interpretations are affected by many factors, and musical expression is only enhanced by the myriad of possibilities in performance practice. As the 19th century came to a close, composers experimented with everything from expression to exoticism. One of these many turn-of-the-century styles, Impressionism, was particularly popular among French composers and reflected the French aesthetic ideas following the visual arts and works of Monet and Degas. Artists and musicians who employed this style (even though many of them despised the label “Impressionist”) focused on suggestion and atmosphere in their works, conveying the moods and emotions of a subject rather than the subject itself. The methods of achieving this goal were diverse, but the works of Claude Debussy epitomize the movement. In his La fille aux cheveux de lin, the eighth piece in his first book of preludes, the composer presents brief musical simplicity, but nonetheless evokes immense emotion and feeling in just a few measures. Completed between 1909 and 1910, the title is derived from a poem of the same name by Leconte de Lisle, and loosely translates as “The Girl with the Flaxen Hair.”9 This has become one of the most widely recorded and popularized of Debussy’s works. The simple texture is derived from a pentatonic melody that consists mainly of arpeggiated triadic chords broken into successive 3rds and 2nds, a harmony that displays persistent parallel 4ths and 5ths, and a rhythmic pattern largely built upon repeated motives of 16th and 8th notes, briefly interspersed with dotted rhythms or triplets. These melodic, harmonic, and rhythmic phenomena are features of musical “exoticism” derived from Debussy’s encounters with the whole tone and pentatonic music of East Asia. At the same time, Debussy combines and contrasts these non-Western folk traditions with a strong sense of tonal center. There is no doubt that the tones Gb and Db firmly establish the tonic and dominant function of Gb Major, and clearly demonstrate traditional Western tonal practices, such as the plagal cadence in mm. 2-3. The juxtaposition between Western and East Asian influences contributes to Debussy’s unique tonal language, and his popularity with musicians and citizens from a wide-array of backgrounds. Nonetheless, the

7 Alicia de Larrocha, “Alicia de Larrocha plays Mendelssohn,” last modified December 7, 2012, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EihgQaqe8zo. Accessed on 27 September 2015. 8 Vladimir Horowitz, “Horowitz: Mendelssohn Variations Serieuses,” last modified December 18, 2008, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kfFtN6zRBJQ. Accessed on 27 September 2015. 9 Maurice Hinson, “Fille aux cheveux de lin, La (The Girl with the Flaxen Hair),” in The Pianist’s Dictionary (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2004), 54.

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sounds of simplicity in this prelude should not be considered easy to produce. This piece requires very careful mastery of both the placement of sound within time and the control of sound volume. It highlights the fact that musical creativity and meaning do not rely on spectacular displays of bravura, but on the connection between performer and audience, as portrayed through tone color. The program concludes with a work written in the last decade of the 20th century, by a composer who is still active today. Carl Vine (b. 1954) was born in Perth, Australia and has built much of his career as a freelance composer in Sydney. His catalogue spans numerous genres, including symphonies, concertos, film, television, theatre, electronic music, and numerous chamber works.10 Although he is considered a “contemporary classical music” composer, he has also had critical acclaim for his arrangement of the Australian National Anthem, and for original music written for the closing ceremony of the 1996 Atlanta Summer Olympics. He is one of Australia’s best known and most often performed composers, and his works for piano have become widely known around the world. The Five Bagatelles for Piano (1994) demonstrate both his fluency with writing for the instrument, and his diversity in contrasting and connecting a variety of styles and textures within one work. A bagatelle is typically a short piece of music, which has been combined in a set since the time of François Couperin (1717). Among the most famous sets of bagatelles are Beethoven’s Op. 33, Op. 119, and Op. 126, Schubert’s Op. 9, and Bartók’s Op. 6.11 Vine continues this tradition of grouping with a set of five brief pieces, which run the gamut of musical flavors. The set displays an arch form, in which Nos. 1+5 are similarly slow, dark, and melancholy, Nos. 2+4 are fast-paced, quirky, and rhythmic, and No. 3 sits right in the middle as an in-depth portrayal of complex chords and harmonies. An essential element to understanding each of these pieces is the retrogressive nature of form and pitch content used throughout. Vine subverts expectations as a contemporary composer by starting his piece not in ambiguity, but in clarity, then develops and confuses this language throughout the set, before returning to clarity (at least in terms of texture and melody) in the last bagatelle. The pitch content of this work combines several contemporary approaches. The first bagatelle is built around an eight-pitch cell (heard in the opening measures) that returns throughout the piece, and is combined with the other four notes of the aggregate, alluding to techniques of 12-tone composition. In addition to this cellular and aggregate based approach, D is asserted as a tonal center through duration, formal placement, repetition, doubling, register, and metric placement throughout the piece. One of the most challenging elements in Vine’s music is his insistence on strict tempo observance. Metronome markings are not a suggestion, but a rule. Complex rhythms such 10 notes in the span of 8, or polyrhythms (such as two against three and four against five) as well as dotted rhythms against triplets require the pianist to carefully count and measure each section of the music, while also considering the eventual performance tempo and pattern of accents (which often present an entirely new rhythmic pattern on top of polyrhythms). This complexity comes to a grinding halt in the last bagatelle, Threnody (for all of the innocent victims), which was written for the Australian National AIDS Trust annual fund-raising dinner in 1994.12 As a set, this work closes the recital by reviewing the many contrasting styles and aesthetics that can be showcased at the piano. It is astounding that such great diversity of musical inspiration and sonorous qualities can be heard in a relatively short amount of time. This piece also serves as a thoughtful reflection of the previous hour’s worth of music, and describes the dedication of musicians who must often compare and contrast different styles and textures of playing, and allow this vast knowledge to better inform interpretation.

10 Carl Vine, “Biographical Notes,” last modified 2015, http://www.carlvine.com/. Accessed on 27 September 2015. 11 Maurice Hinson, “Bagatelle,” in The Pianist’s Dictionary (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2004), 12. 12 Carl Vine, “Five Bagatelles (1994), in Faber Music, last modified 2015, http://www.fabermusic.com/repertoire/five-bagatelles-2579. Accessed on 27 September 2015.