The Last Sonatas Opp. I have written about these sonatas previously. From the memorable, lyrical opening of the Op. So, what is the perennial attraction of performing a Beethoven Sonata Cycle? Glance through concert programmes around the world and it is clear that these sonatas continue to fascinate performers and audiences alike, and no sooner has one series ended than another begins, or overlaps with another.
Playing the Sonatas in a cycle is the pianistic equivalent of reading Shakespeare, Plato, or Dante, and for the performer, it offers the chance to get right to the heart of the music, peeling back the layers on a continuous journey of discovery, always finding something new behind the familiar. One does not have favourites; just as when one has children, one should never have favourites, though certain sonatas will have a special resonance.
The sonatas are like a family, they all belong together — and they are needed, ready to be rediscovered by each new generation. You can play the sonatas for over a quarter of a century, half a century, and yet there are still many things in these wonderful works to be explored and understood, things which still have the power to surprise and fascinate.
At the same time, Paul Lewis was just finishing his own cycle at the Wigmore Hall and beyond. I heard him play Nos. Then there was Till Fellner, a young Austrian with a clean, fresh approach, whose cycle began in On CD I have Arrau, whose account is hard to match.
In concert, the sonatas are presented in halls large and small, famous and lesser known. For example, sometimes the earlier sonatas, which were written for the salon, can be lost in a venue as big as the Royal Festival Hall. Lill, I remember, brought an extraordinary closeness and intimacy, something I have never forgotten, a sense that it was an entirely shared experience; while with Barenboim it felt as if an invisible barrier had been erected between us, the audience, and him the performer I suspect he neither intended nor engineered this; rather, the over-awed audience brought it upon themselves!
Measures — high high notes. I think this sonata should be played very light, fast, and brilliant. I mean, who can play thirds, anyways — heavy?
And yes, not being too nervous about it helps a LOT. But it is easier said than done, of course. I was being interviewed together with Ola Salo some months ago, and he said something that I thought was great: that people will just be happily entertained when you mess up a little…and he compared it with Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse. We all love Donald Duck because he messes up. To just have a cool conversation. You know — I think the world of Neeme Jarvi.
Then, within seconds of watching him and his unusual style of conducting — I became entranced. He was as good and as unique as Ricardo Muti — of which I had actually never seen either — but heard on recordings. Two different styles — but uniquely appealling on different terms. Jarvi can mold the music at will within seconds.
But, he has this unusual style of capturing the beat within very rounded and fluid movmenets. I always liked that tightness — but never saw it with someone so entirely relaxed. I think he does a little wiggle now and again -and practically looked like he did a complete turn around at one point. Neeme Jarvi, imo, is a great. Just great! And, very much impressed my understanding of what conducting can be.
Ha, this sounds fun, thanks a lot for the advice! It is about messing up in the right way. Wonderful event. And all this was so charming and nice, creating a friendly and relaxed atmosphere. But if the pianist Per had played like a beginner that night, it would not have been that charming.
Ola is a guy who can stumble on stage and mess up his clothes, he can even get hoarse — the audience will love it anyway, but he must not lose the specific spark and joy that is his true characteristic as a performer. And Per may have a bad piano and make some errors when he plays, but he must never fail to give the music a good interpretation. So what we love about Donald Duck is not just his way of messing up, but also his marvellous tantrums — and the point is that he is very good at them.
If Mickey Mouse messes up and get a tantrum, on the other hand, it would be just embarrassing. I think there is a difference — I do not mean at all that one should be all relaxed and accept bad performances, but I think if you WORRY about it too much you will play less well.
The best performances I had was when I could find that perfect level of non-worry but without getting into the comfortzone when you loose focus. I grew up in Alaska, so this is a common experience. You should see their faces. What for? Pogorelich played and it was beautiful Scarlatti played to perfection — but he does put in a lot of his own personality and thoughts and interpretations.
It just sounds wierd any other way to me. Like someone cut off the notes at the top. I guess you make the best performances when you feel that the audience consists of friends.
It is a special talent that an artist either seem to have — or not have. I also suppose that a foundation for this talent is that you as an artist are not afraid of your audience, that is, that you are not afraid of messing things up from time to time. Sort of expressing a dream of MINE. That is why live performances can be so magical, even though the quality nearly always is better in a recording … but there might be a sense that the musician is creating this moment together with the audience, that we are all part of it although most of us are quiet … and in such mood you can, of course, allow yourself to be relaxed and funny, even silly, and yet totally focused.
Sorry for slipping out of context. Susan and Per, I hope we can recall the comment above when we come to Opus 10 3, because we will later, right? I play in old folks homes. The only problem is the quality of pianos there. This reminds me of a church I also played in in Santa Barbara which was actually meeting in an old mission. The piano was so broken down that it was not only out of tune, had sticky notes, but it had twelve pedals. At least at home I can practice — and yes — audiences matter.
My cat is my best audience. She is better than the children. They come in and ask me questions like I am watching TV or something. My concentration is actually best when noone is around.
In between students — I like to practice and just play for myself. Someday, though — I want to play a piano concerto for an audience of highschool kids or something and actually remember the whole thing without the score.
This is my goal. To increase my memory to where it was before the panic attacks started. Now, I really do believe that one can make mistakes and be completely alright on stage. No hyperventilation, coughing attacks, turning bright red, putting one hand up and feeling around for the score, blinding lights, mirror image of hands on the piano distracting. I am simply not scared of my audiences now. If you are yourself — nobody can be you. You have a unique way of looking at the world and it is completely correct according to the way you see it — balanced of course with a bit of rational thought.
Another stunning score that appeared inside our Beethoven issue. The composer regarded this as the best of his early sonatas. It comprises four movements, of which this is the third. Finally, this joyful movement, marked a zippy Allegro assai, should be played with humour and verve. Get the articulation spot-on and it will be dancing off the page. Find more sheet music in our sheet music store. Jul, 5. Mr Contemporary is in the house.
Jul, 6. The C major Opus 2 no. Jul, 7. Triplets liked this post. Jul, 8. Originally Posted by MarkW. Aug, 9. Go for 10 in G major. It is a short, delightful work. Aug, Bettina liked this post.
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