If I had bonsai plants, I’d be clipping them right now.
Instead, I’m sitting at the piano. Reengaging with the only instrument I ever studied, I’m going through all manner of repertoire to prepare to write a piano concerto – and, let’s face it, to help me cope.
A peaceful endeavor with long-term payoff, such as gardening or basket-weaving – or, in my case, relearning Bach and Messiaen preludes – is a good balm for today’s challenges. Covid has upended lives in many ways, with performing artists facing an especially unforgiving environment, and we all could use some mindfulness.
Playing piano is good for that: what started as research has become therapy. I’m wondering why it’s taken me this long to take a serious look at piano music – it helps my composing in all sorts of ways.
Writing a concerto for the absolute mindfreak Daniil Trifonov, I’m reminded of the vow I made when writing for the superb mezzo-soprano Sasha Cooke: let the soloist shine. That means transparent orchestration to allow all the wonderful subtleties to be heard.
Daniil has an unmatched tone and lyricism. Grammy-winning releases such as Transcendental showcase the marvelous colors he coaxes from the instrument. Technical pyrotechnics are in copious supply as well, but Daniil always complements virtuosity with a deeply poignant sense of phrase. If you close your eyes, you wouldn’t think you were hearing such a young man.
I want to hear all those subtleties, and honestly new piano concerti offer precious little in the way of transparency. There’s no shortage of pieces with everyone playing all the time, the pianist hammering octaves over blizzards of orchestral figuration. I’ll have that too, but maybe not until the last movement.
Pieces such as Grieg’s Hommage à Chopin, Messiaen’s Preludes, or Adès’s Traced Overheard create ear-tingling textures that are as rich as a symphony. Then there’s Bach, with his multi-voice chorales and fugues containing multitudes. Just voicing the various lines properly requires Jedi mind-tricks. Grieg is especially good at whipping up tapestries of seemingly impossible figuration that actually sit quiet easily under the fingers.
I’m developing my own 4-voice chorale that starts simply but becomes more and more ornamented, requiring a quiet virtuosity to manage all the florid grace notes between voices. In order to stay focused on the subtleties of the soloist, I haven’t even allowed myself to add any orchestral accompaniment thus far – that’ll come later (and lightly).
I’ve also been listening to quite a bit of contemporary work, from Keith Jarrett’s Munich (wow that finale) to Timo Andres’s album I/Still/Play. He’s the leading American composer-pianist and explores the work of many composers on the release. Equally impressive piano music can be found in the jazz-classical realm, such as Patrick Zimmerli’s Modern Music or Francesco Tristano’s Ground Bass (he’s done much since that, but it’s a remarkably catchy piece of pointillism).
Getting back to the piano has been good for me as a musician and a human, though I’m still losing my mind at the dearth of live music. We’ll get there – hopefully soon – but in the meantime, I’ll be tending to my piano.