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I have written before about how some repertoire is considered “off limits” to amateur pianists, and should remain the preserve of the professional. I think what such an attitude demonstrates is how the “core canon” of piano repertoire is held in high regard, almost to the point of zealotry, and that certain pieces should remain on their exalted pedestals, accessible only of a chosen few. My view has always been that the music is there for the many not the few, that it was written to be played, whether you are a world-famous professional musician or a “Sunday pianist” who enjoys playing in the privacy of your own home. We forget that many of the pieces which now regularly grace concert programmes around the world were intended for a more intimate salon or domestic setting – music to be played for friends and amongst friends, or at home. One piece which seems to reside on the Mount Olympus of piano repertoire is Bach’s Goldberg Variations. Revered by musicians, students, critics, teachers, academics and audiences, the Goldbergs represent music of highest order of complexity, invention, technical challenge, expression and – if one is playing the entire set – stamina One of the foremost reasons for the Goldberg Variations’ esteemed reputation is the sheer technical and artistic mastery the work demands of the pianist. Comprising an intricate series of 30 variations upon a simple bass line, this music presents a seemingly formidable challenge to even the most accomplished pianist. Each variation presents its own unique set of technical hurdles, from rapid hand crossings to intricate ornamentation and virtuosic passages. In addition, the Goldberg Variations are celebrated for their intellectual depth, requiring an understanding of counterpoint, harmony, and structure. Then there is the emotional and expressive depth of this music: each variation is infused with a distinct character and mood. From playful, witty and cheerful to melancholic and introspective, the variations traverse a wide emotional spectrum. Of course these aspects are true of many other pieces, not just those by Bach, but the piano sonatas of Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven and Schubert, for example; Chopin’s Nocturnes; Brahms’ Intermezzi, and much, much more. These are universal aspects which make music interesting and engaging, challenging and satisfying. While the amateur pianist may not be able to tackle the entire Goldberg Variations, individual variations are within reach of the intermediate to early advanced player: the Aria, and Variations 1, 2, 4, 7, 13, 18, 19, 21 and 25 – and all can be played and enjoyed as stand-alone pieces. (The Aria appears in the 2024 Trinity College London Grade 8 piano syllabus, thus bringing this wonderful music to students of all ages, and, perhaps, encouraging further exploration of Bach’s mighty achievement.)
As a starting point for tackling some of the Goldberg Variations, it is worth exploring some of Bach’s other keyboard music, both as a player and a listener. For example, the two- and three-part inventions are a useful lesson in his use of counterpoint; while the 48 Preludes and Fugues demonstrate a wide range of moods and colours. Within the suites, there are movements which recall the Aria of the Goldbergs (for example, the Sarabande from the fifth French Suite). In addition, all of Bach’s keyboard music offers insight into his invention and imagination, his harmonic language and his use of ornamentation to enhance the melodic line.
Learning the Goldberg Variations, whether in its entirety or single variations, is an absorbing, long-term endeavour for any pianist. Be patient and embrace the journey, but never ever believe that as an amateur pianist, you shouldn’t be playing this glorious music! There will be moments of frustration, but perseverance will lead to growth as a pianist, a sense of personal achievement, and a deeper understanding of Bach’s wonderful music.

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Guest post by Lewis Kingsley Peart

Paderewski was an extraordinary character. Not only was he a world-renowned concert artist, but he was also the prime minister of Poland for a brief period. He maintained a ferocious touring schedule and was adored by audiences everywhere he went. He was so admired that people in the US would gather in their thousands just to see his train go by. The fact that Irving Berlin mentions the great virtuoso in his popular 1920 song, I Love a Piano, is a further testament to his fame and success:

“And with the pedal I love to meddle

When Padarewski comes this way

I’m so delighted if I’m invited

To hear that long haired genius play …”

While Paderewski was best known for his interpretations of works by Chopin and Liszt, he also wrote some charming music of his own. The Minuet in G, Op. 14 No. 1 is a piece that became world-famous, even overshadowing his larger-scale works such as the Piano Concerto in A Minor. The Minuet in G is very much a pastiche of the classical style, full of musical jokes and witticisms to tease and delight the listener.

The few opening bars of the piece present material that is incredibly simple: a narrow-ranged melody clothed in diatonic harmony. This continues for several bars until a rising left hand line (bar 15: C – C – C# – D); it is at this point that the strap of the gown is lowered off the shoulder, the champagne is poured, and the piece broadens into an effervescent musical treat. The piece offers many opportunities for the player to display their pianistic gifts: raucous octaves that thunder into the bass register, light-as-a-feather trills, a central lyrical section, and a nimble-fingered coda to finish. There’s also plenty of opportunity for a suggestive rubato here or the bringing out of an inner line there, if you’re in the mood, which I often am!

Many pianists have recorded the Minuet in G from Rachmaninoff to Liberace. You can hear (and see!) Paderewski himself playing the work here:

Rachmaninoff’s recording is a particular favourite of mine. He turns this small musical bonbon into a beautifully crafted jewel:

I’d also like to share with you my recording from a recital I gave in London earlier this year:

 

This article first appeared on Lewis Kingsley Peart’s website

Based in both London and Manchester, Lewis Kingsley Peart enjoys a busy life as a working musician. Organising projects as both soloist and collaborator, he programmes a wide variety of music from the traditional classical canon, right through to jazz and the avant-garde. With a strong background in theatre, his appearances are never without verve. 

Lewis made his debut at St. John’s, Smith Square in March 2018 in a programme of music celebrating the 75th birthday of the American composer, Stephen Montague. In the summer of 2021, he had the privilege of working with British concert pianist and composer, Stephen Hough, on his third piano sonata, ‘Trinitas’, for the Trinity Laban New Lights Festival of Contemporary Music. Highlights of the 2022 season included a concert for the Edinburgh Fringe Festival at St. Mary’s Cathedral, and his debut recital at London’s St. Martin-in-the-Fields. Lewis looks forward to future recital engagements and is excited to make his concerto debut in 2024. 

Lewis is a Chethams School of Music alumnus and graduate of London’s Trinity Laban Conservatoire where he studied with Philip Fowke and Alisdair Hogarth. 

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This article first appeared on the InterludeHK site, part of a series exploring musicians’ connections with particular composers

Why is it that some pianists have become so closely associated with specific composers? Is it due to personal preference, that they feel a particular affinity with certain composers, or simply like their music? Or is the association one which is conferred upon them by critics, commentators and audiences? Media focus undoubtedly plays a part in this: the pianist becomes an acknowledged specialist or authority in the music of a specific composer, or composers, and their other performances/recordings may be overlooked as a consequence. Take Alfred Brendel, for example – a pianist most closely associated with the Viennese masters Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven and Schubert – yet he also made some very fine recordings of Liszt’s piano music.

This series of articles will explore pianists who have a special relationship with specific composers.

Beethoven’s 32 Piano Sonatas – scaling the pianistic Everest

Beethoven’s 32 Piano Sonatas are often referred to as the ‘New Testament’ of the pianist’s repertoire, and for many pianists they offer a remarkable, quasi-religious journey – physical, metaphorical and spiritual – through Beethoven’s creative life. This is truly “great” music, that which is endlessly fascinating and challenging, intriguing and enriching, and such is the popularity of this repertoire that you can guarantee that somewhere in the world right now there is a concert featuring these remarkable sonatas.

“There is something about the personality of Beethoven that is so overwhelming, and I think that the sonatas are the pieces that go the deepest, that show him at his most exploratory, his most inventive, and at his most spiritual.” – Jonathan Biss

Artur Schnabel

The first pianist to record the complete Beethoven piano sonatas in the 1930s, just a few years after electrical recording was invented, Schnabel set the standard by which all subsequent recordings was set, and his playing is acclaimed for its intelligence and insight, emotional depth and spiritual understanding of this music. So fine were his recordings that one critic described him as ‘the man who invented Beethoven’.

Daniel Barenboim

“I’ve known these works for many years….but whenever I go back to this music I find something new.”

Beethoven’s piano sonatas have followed Daniel Barenboim throughout his career, and such is his affection for this music he has recorded the complete piano sonatas five times, most recently during lockdown when, during this period of enforced isolation, he decided to approach the sonatas anew. His first recording was made in 1950s when he was a young man. It is perhaps an indication of the reverence with which this music is held, and its distinctive challenges, that Barenboim has made so many recordings of the sonatas. For him, this is music which has an infinite appeal, to be taken up by other pianists who follow him.

Annie Fischer

It is interesting to note that few women pianists have recorded the complete Beethoven piano sonatas, Annie Fischer being an exception. The music of Beethoven was central to Fischer’s career and her recordings are still much admired, nearly 30 years after her death. Her style is unaffected and self-effacing, letting the music, and composer, speak, and her playing displays great nobility, elegance and humanity. Her recording of the complete piano sonatas is regarded as her greatest legacy.

Igor Levit

“Beethoven’s music kind of creates this link between the player, the music, the audience. This triangle is enormously intense.” – Igor Levit in an interview with Jon Wertheim

Igor Levit released his first recording of Beethoven piano sonatas when he was just 26, an album which received huge acclaim for its intense expressivity and Levit’s mature approach balanced with a youthful ardour. He released his recording of the complete Beethoven sonatas in 2019.

In his performances of Beethoven, Levit produces a clear, lively and well-balanced sound, but he’s not afraid to roughen the edges of the music to create a more visceral impact. His concerts can be intense, almost uncompromising, but his Beethoven playing is some of the most exhilarating and adventurous to be enjoyed today.

Jonathan Biss

For American pianist Jonathan Biss, Beethoven has been a close companion throughout most of his life, and during the past 10 years he has fully immersed himself in Beethoven: he has recorded the complete piano sonatas, performed complete cycles around the world, and also teaches an in-depth online course about the sonatas which has attracted over 150,000 students globally.

“As individual works, each is endlessly compelling on its own merits; as a cycle, it moves from transcendence to transcendence, the basic concerns always the same, but the language impossibly varied”

Biss is a “thinking pianist”, with an acute intellectual curiosity and an ability to articulate the exigencies of learning, maintaining and performing this music. His Beethoven playing has long-spun melodic lines, well-balanced harmonies, taut, driving rhythms, rumbling tremolandos, dramatic fermatas, carefully-considered voicing, subito dynamic swerves, and colourful orchestration. It is not to everyone’s taste, but his performances can be vivid, edge-of-the-seat experiences which reveal how Beethoven took the genre to the furthest reaches of what was possible, compositionally and emotionally.

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Guest post by Rhonda Rizzo

When did I begin my love affair with the music of living composers? The moment I found Yvar Mikhashoff’s ‘Incitation to Desire’ CD of tango music for the piano. The smoky cover, the provocative title track – I was caught before I listened to a single piece. Ah, and what a collection! Tangos from multiple eras and in multiple styles. Tangos that spoke of something illicit, a smoky world of furtive late-night romance, smoky dance halls, and sensuality. These tangos represented a freedom I craved – freedom from the performance practice expectations of standard repertoire, and freedom from the years of insecurities and assumptions I brought to the music I’d been playing my whole life. Tangos broke the rules. I’d never danced a tango in my life, but I knew I needed to make music with the freedom I heard in these pieces.

I’d never worked on music by a living composer before I found this CD, but my love of this music was such that I set about tracking down the scores of my favourite pieces. Many of the tangos were unpublished, which meant I wrote to the composer to purchase a copy. Scott Pender’s tango, ‘Ms Jackson Dances for the World’ was one of these. After I received it, Scott and I kept corresponding. We became friends and have remained so for over a decade. And I loved his music – so much so that I eventually played, performed, and taught most of what he’s written for the piano. Ironically, although Chester Biscardi’s ‘Incitation to Desire’ was easier to find (it was published), I never felt I got inside it well enough to perform it publicly. It sat in my music collection, its provocative title and gorgeous writing teasing me with the promise of something I couldn’t quite grasp.

It took me over a decade to put ‘Incitation to Desire’ on a concert programme. I think this was because I needed to live more before I truly understood it. I needed to go tango dancing and feel the freedom and sensuality of the Argentine tango in my bones. I needed to perform and record Piazzolla tangos with my duo partner Molly Wheeler. And, on a deeper level, I needed to break a whole lot of rules. I needed to experience the judgment that comes from choosing to leave a marriage that had been on life-support for years. I needed to experience being swept off my feet by an unexpected grown-up romance that changed my entire life. In other words, I needed to know freedom before I could play it on the piano.

Because ‘Incitation to Desire’ is about sensuality and freedom. Much like the Argentine dance, it relies on the pianist’s ability to instinctively feel their way through the score. This piece begs to be played almost as an improvisation – just the same way that the Argentine tango is danced. It’s the pianist and the piano and the interplay of notes – sensuous, slinky, unapologetic. Chester Biscardi asks for a flexible interpretation of dynamics and tempi. I take this to mean that that this piece is best played from the senses, not the brain; instinct, not reason. In other words, you can’t play this music until you let yourself be seduced by it.

It was my No Dead Guys post about (and YouTube recording of) ‘Incitation to Desire’ that prompted Chester Biscardi to email and tell me how much he enjoyed my performance of it. That correspondence led to me learning ‘In Time’s Unfolding’ and ‘Companion Piece (for Morton Feldman)’, two pieces that, ironically, I still feel I had more of an innate understanding of than the tango that introduced me to Chester’s music. Best of all, Chet and I kept corresponding, and that correspondence blossomed into another friendship that I cherish.

I’ve never coached a student on ‘Incitation to Desire’; I’m not sure it can be done without introducing topics to a lesson that can get an instructor arrested. Furthermore, because it’s so improvisatory, the key to playing this piece well lies within each pianist’s personal experience. If they’ve lived it, they can play it. If not, no amount of musicianship or technique will bring this piece to life. I can, however, offer some general guidelines on how to navigate the score:

1) Don’t be in a hurry. This is slowly unfolding, sensuous music that can’t be forced by the pianist. All forward momentum must come from the sense that the power of the moment itself is what propels the music forward.

2) Don’t dig in too deeply on the scale passages. These are flourishes, the twirl of a tango skirt, a spin. They’re caresses, not demands.

3) Don’t start your accelerando too quickly at m. 29; you’ve got a very long way to do before you hit the end of it. This – like everything else in the piece – should feel inevitable and effortless.

4) Pay very close attention to the pedalling; it makes or breaks the piece.

5) If you’ve never danced the Argentine tango, watch some videos of it. This will explain the start/stop, slow/fast, gesture-driven nature of the score.

6) When you play it, drop all expectations of the piece, surrender to the music, and let it take you where it wants to go.

Sometimes the best way to find ourselves is to break a bunch of rules. Incitation to Desire gave me the permission I needed to follow my instincts rather than others’ expectations. It seduced me into a lifelong passion for the music of living composers. And even today, it reminds me to let moments and situation unfold naturally; it reminds me that the richest life (and my best playing) lies in releasing rigidity and entering the messy, beautiful, passionate dance of earthy, real life with my hands and heart wide open.

Rhonda (Ringering) Rizzo is a writer and a former performing and recording pianist. Her novel, The Waco Variations, was released in the summer of 2018, and her numerous articles have appeared in national and international music magazines, including Pianist Magazine, American Music Teacher, Clavier, Piano & Keyboard, and Flute Talk. A specialist in music that borrows from both classical and jazz traditions, Rizzo released four CDs, Made in America, Oregon Impressions: the Piano Music of Dave Deason, 2 to Tango: Music for Piano Duet, and A Spin on It.

She holds a BA from Walla Walla University and a MM from Boston University and is a passionate advocate of new music and living composers.

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Chester Biscardi, composer

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