The piano nocturne

The term “Nocturne” or “Notturno” (Italian) was first applied in the eighteenth century to pieces written for string ensemble to be performed at an evening party and then put aside. At this time, it was not necessarily a piece evocative of night-time but simply music to be played in the evening. In the early nineteenth century the name Nocturne became specifically associated with a single-movement work for solo piano and the Irish composer John Field is credited with “inventing” the Nocturne in the form we commonly understand it now: a cantabile (“singing”) melody over an arpeggiated or guitar-like bass, free in form and rather languid in character. Field composed his first Nocturne in 1812. Gentle and nostalgic, full of reverie and tenderness, the form enabled him to explore the piano’s myriad nuances and colours. He had created a pianistic form based on charm and delicacy, with elegant textures and rich sonorities.

It was Fryderyk Chopin who took the genre to new heights of structure, expression and beauty. He took Field’s template and embroidered his own unique musical personality upon it, creating piano miniatures in which the melodic lines are amplified with “fioriture” – ornaments and decorations draped across the melody like gossamer, fleeting and improvisatory in nature. In addition, the right hand’s mellifluous cantabile becomes almost elusive with the help of beautiful legato and the subtle use of the piano’s pedals. The Nocturnes remain amongst the most popular and well-loved of his entire oeuvre, and are prized by pianists everywhere as the apogee of writing for the piano.

“His music is some of the most beautiful ever written. The nature of his genius defies classification.”

Claude Debussy

“Their closer kinship of sorrow than those of Field renders them more strongly marked; their poetry is more sombre and fascinating; they ravish us more, but are less reposeful…”

Franz Liszt on Chopin’s Nocturnes

It is a mark of Chopin’s genius in this miniature form that composers continue to write piano nocturnes to this day. Notable successors include Schumann’s Nachtstϋcke (‘Night Pieces’), a quartet of disturbing character pieces in which “One sees more eyes and owls than stars” (Franz Liszt) and which reflect the dark passionate heart of Romanticism rather than its intimate lyricism. Liszt himself took up the form in his Liebestraum (‘dreams of love’). Based on poems by Ludwig Uhland and Ferdinand Freiligrath, each piece describes a different type of love: exalted, erotic and mature.

For the sensitive, romantically-inclined Gabriel Fauré, the nocturne was a form very close to his heart and his nocturnes portray a sublimated musical introspection, enchanted by the silence and solitude of night-time. His thirteen pieces in the genre vary in form and content but definitely take their cue from Chopin. Fauré’s compatriot Francis Poulenc also wrote a series of eight nocturnes which roughly span a decade (1929-1938), but unlike Chopin’s or Fauré’s, Poulenc’s nocturnes are not romantic tone-poems but characterful evocations of night-scenes and sound-images of public and private activities. No. 2, for example, depicts the charm and innocence of a girls’ dancing party, while in No. 4 night-time bells chime across the empty town.

This depiction of nocturnal activities was taken up by composers such as Bartok and Britten who both used the nocturne form to imitate of the twittering of birds and scurrying and croaking of other nocturnal creatures. Here the tranquillity and meditative quietude of Chopin’s nocturnal soundworld is exchanged for one which is rather more unsettling and suspenseful.

The American composer Samuel Barber wrote a Nocturne subtitled ‘Homage to John Field’, based on the old ideas of Field and Chopin, complete with fioriture, but written in an evolving lyrical style appropriate for its time.

Contemporary composers of the nocturne include Peter Sculthorpe (1929-2014), whose ‘Night Pieces’ are truly “miniature miniatures”, fleeting works of beguiling yet evocative simplicity. British composer Richard Causton’s ‘Night Piece’ for solo piano is a short encore work based on the clarinet solo from the slow movement of Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto. Premiered by the Polish pianist Piotr Anderszewski in 2014, it harks back to Bartok and Britten in its spare scoring and thoughtful sonorities which explore the timbre and resonance of the piano rather than its melodic capabilities, and like all piano nocturnes before it, it is a brief yet expressive work.

 

 

A Music School by Day, A Concert Hall by Night 29 July – 26 August 2017

After the successes of 2016, the programme for Dartington International Summer School & Festival 2017 is released.

Dartington is a place of shimmering beauty, and its world- famous Summer School is for everyone: for professional musicians and music students, for people who love to listen, and for people who want to debate ideas. The 2017 programme engages with music reflecting migration and exile, ancient and new; and complexities of identity, nation and revolution.

Play in a brass ensemble, and learn about Middle Eastern and Brazilian music. Experience everything from medieval and renaissance music to salsa and jazz. Listen to legendary pianist Alfred Brendel on Schubert; Stories in Transit hosted by Marina Warner; and folk sessions with Martin and Eliza Carthy. There are poetry and multimedia courses, yoga and dance, lectures and films.

Dartington hosts over ninety public concerts and events throughout August. Visit the beautiful gardens, relax with a drink or a meal, and be immersed in world-class performances, from afternoon to late night; some of the most celebrated musicians, writers and thinkers will be here. On 28th April we will present our second Party in the Town, happening all over the market town of Totnes, and collaborating with local artists and young people.

Dartington International Summer School has expanded into a fully-fledged, exuberant festival, and gets more action-packed every year.

Read the Dartington 2017 course brochure (PDF file)

Source: press release via Wildkat PR

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On practising and performing

As I prepare for a rather important concert, I’m struck yet again how as performing musicians we have to develop a split personality. This somewhat schizophrenic state (or states) of being has to do with our need to understand and appreciate the difference between practising and performing.

The most visible way in which we differentiate between practiser and performer is how we dress. We wear special clothes for concerts, often quite glamorous clothes that we would never wear in our everyday lives. These clothes do several things: they identify us and singly us out for the audience; and they serve to remind us that we have a special role to fulfill. In effect, our concert clothes become our “uniform”. In previous eras of concerts, it was very easy to identify the performer: men wore the traditional concert uniform of white tie and tails while women wore evening gowns, but today the concert dress code has become far more relaxed, to the extent that some musicians prefer to wear jeans and sneakers, perhaps thinking that this makes them more accessible to their audience by dressing in similar clothes. In fact, I am not sure audiences want performers to look like them: audiences want performers to look like performers as this enhances the sense of wonder and “other-worldness” of a live performance.

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The Russian pianist Sviatoslav Richter in the traditional male concert attire of white tie and tails

When I put on one of my concert outfits (I do not perform that frequently so I have only a couple of concert dresses, but these are worn only for concerts), I know I am stepping into a special role and with that comes a special mindset unique to the performer.

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Yuja Wang (photo: The Telegraph)

The British pianist Stephen Hough in a radio broadcast about the practice of practising points out that we “can’t wear both costumes at once” and emphasises the need to clearly differentiate between the work we do in the practise room and what we do on stage. In practise, we must be perfectionist – precise, focussed, thoughtful – while on stage we become “the bohemian artist” (Hough), living in the moment and creating music with spontaneity and imagination. To get to that point we have to put in many hours, days and months of meticulous work: it is the detailed perfectionist work that enables us to perform with freedom, and knowing we are well-prepared can result in a performance that is expressive, imaginative, emotional, and passionate. But if we take too many of the neuroses of the practise room into our performance, we may end up with a performance which can feel stilted, controlled and lacking in artistry, even if technically assured.

Of course, it is also important to practise being a performer. For those musicians who perform regularly, either solo or in ensemble, the process of preparation and act of performing becomes almost second-nature, and a busy diary ensures that programmes are stress-tested in a variety of venues before the most important concert (at, say, London’s Wigmore Hall, or Carnegie Hall in New York). For students, and for those of us who perform less frequently, we can practise engaging and utilising a performer’s mindset from the comfort of our music studios and practise rooms, or by giving house concerts or recitals in places which feel “safe” or non-threatening. We learn to play  “in the moment” and to skim over errors or slips (while making a mental note to fix these things at the next practise session). Sadly, I find many of my students obsess about “getting it right”, a habit which I suspect is encouraged by their schools and/or parents, and while I encourage them to be perfectionist and careful in their practising, when preparing for performance (whether an exam, audition or concert), an overly pedantic approach, whereby the student constantly stops to correct errors, can lead to playing which lacks fluency and interrupts the flow of the music. Learning to let go is also an important aspect of the art and craft of practising and a habit which, ultimately, should make us confident, creative performers.

Further reading

Stephen Hough on the fear of performance

Sibelius Piano Works, vol 1 – Joseph Tong

I had no idea that Jean Sibelius composed for the piano until Joseph Tong played ‘The Trees’ Op 75 at a concert for my local musical society. I was really taken with the variety and expressive and imaginative qualities of these piano miniatures and rushed home to explore some of Sibelius’ piano music myself. The next time Joseph Tong came to perform at the NPL Musical Society, he gave me a copy of his CD and I have been enjoying exploring the range and variety of Sibelius’s writing for the piano.

Although the violin was his main instrument, Sibelius was also a gifted pianist and his piano music is fresh and original, as this recording will attest. The opening ‘Kyllikki’ triptych has a broad romantic sweep, while ‘The Trees’ and ‘The Flowers’ are intimate, characteristic salon pieces, as evocative as any of Grieg’s Lyric Pieces with hints of impressionist and expressionist writing. The ‘Five Romantic Pieces’ display richer, more textural piano writing and hint at the composer’s growing penchant for orchestral melodies. The ‘Esquisses’ (1929) are the last pieces Silbelius composed for solo piano, but they were not published until 1973 and are not widely known. They represent the composer’s increasingly personal response to nature and utilise devices such as modes and a bold approach to harmony. Wistful and pensive, they hint at darker places beyond their titles.

The album closes with the composer’s own transcription of  his celebrated nationalist work ‘Finlandia’ which loses nothing and indeed gains much in its solo piano version, especially in Joseph Tong’s authoritative handling of the dramatic tremolandos and majestic sonorous chords of the opening measures and the sensitively portrayed chorale which is intimate and tender.

Joseph Tong is a champion of Sibelius’s piano music and his studies have taken him to Finland to the composer’s home in Ainola, where he played the composer’s own Steinway piano. His commitment to this music is evident in his sensitive shaping and pacing of these piano works. The piano sound on this recording is excellent, warm and clear, and there is much to enjoy on this disc. I believe a second volume is planned.

Recommended.

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Jean Sibelius Piano Works, Volume 1

Kyllikki, Op.41
Five Pieces “The Trees”, Op. 75
Five Pieces “The Flowers”, Op. 85
Five Romantic Pieces, Op. 101
Five Esquisses, Op. 114
Two Rondinos, Op. 68
Finlandia, Op. 26

Joseph Tong, piano

Quartz Music