Post by Billy R on Aug 29, 2009 22:25:14 GMT 1
Stephen Hough is a concert pianist by night, but his daytime interests include theology, art, hats, puddings ... and writing about them. (www.stephenhough.com)
Tomorrow evening (Aug 28th 2009), at the BBC Proms with the BBC Symphony and David Robertson, I play the final installment in my series of the complete works for piano and orchestra of Tchaikovsky - the wonderful, neglected, elegant, exuberant Concert Fantasy or Fantasia. Actually I debated whether it should really be listed in French as it is in the original Russian edition: Fantaisie de Concert (its form taking precedence over its function), especially as ‘fantasy’ in the title is about more than the structural shape of its musical journey. My computer’s built-in dictionary suggests the following definition for the word: “The faculty or activity of imagining things, especially things that are impossible …” - yes, the writer of those words had seen the first movement cadenza of the piece in question. There is some astonishing virtuosity in the Fantaisie de Concert, but there is also great humour - in particular, two crazy moments.
tambourine
I am sorry if I’ve spoiled the surprise of one of these moments by the title of this post and by the photo above, but, after the soulful solo cello and piano melody and its orchestral development at the beginning of the second movement (‘Contrasts’), at the very point of climax, a tambourine enters, shaking and dancing with syncopated thrusts. I don’t know of a more astonishing moment in any piano and orchestra piece than this. It is silenced for a couple of bars with more orchestral dolour, but then it re-enters and remains as a flamboyant guest until the end of the piece. Perhaps it is meant to evoke sleigh-bells on a bitter, Russian winter’s morn? But it’s not the only mad moment in this ‘fantastic’ work. After the opening few minutes, with the flutes of champagne, the chiming bells, and the modal, singing melodies, there is a pause. Then the piano enters alone, ruminating on a new theme based on a descending triad. This turns out to be the beginning of a cadenza of almost ludicrous length – totally out of proportion and beyond any expectation which the opening of the work might have suggested. The pianist doesn’t even have the courtesy to comment on the material which the orchestra had thus far supplied, but rather sweeps all aside and simply shows off for close to ten minutes. After the keyboard has been left in tatters, and after a winding-down conclusion of slightly fake profundity (the pianist playing slower and slower, until grinding to a complete stop), the orchestra simply starts the piece all over again from the beginning, as if shrugging its shoulders and getting on with business as usual. “Well, I don’t know what that was about, but we have a concert to play, so let’s now get back to the task in hand”. Humorous, but also heartwarming: an intimate glimpse of Tchaikovsky the man - with a great big smile on his face.
Tomorrow evening (Aug 28th 2009), at the BBC Proms with the BBC Symphony and David Robertson, I play the final installment in my series of the complete works for piano and orchestra of Tchaikovsky - the wonderful, neglected, elegant, exuberant Concert Fantasy or Fantasia. Actually I debated whether it should really be listed in French as it is in the original Russian edition: Fantaisie de Concert (its form taking precedence over its function), especially as ‘fantasy’ in the title is about more than the structural shape of its musical journey. My computer’s built-in dictionary suggests the following definition for the word: “The faculty or activity of imagining things, especially things that are impossible …” - yes, the writer of those words had seen the first movement cadenza of the piece in question. There is some astonishing virtuosity in the Fantaisie de Concert, but there is also great humour - in particular, two crazy moments.
tambourine
I am sorry if I’ve spoiled the surprise of one of these moments by the title of this post and by the photo above, but, after the soulful solo cello and piano melody and its orchestral development at the beginning of the second movement (‘Contrasts’), at the very point of climax, a tambourine enters, shaking and dancing with syncopated thrusts. I don’t know of a more astonishing moment in any piano and orchestra piece than this. It is silenced for a couple of bars with more orchestral dolour, but then it re-enters and remains as a flamboyant guest until the end of the piece. Perhaps it is meant to evoke sleigh-bells on a bitter, Russian winter’s morn? But it’s not the only mad moment in this ‘fantastic’ work. After the opening few minutes, with the flutes of champagne, the chiming bells, and the modal, singing melodies, there is a pause. Then the piano enters alone, ruminating on a new theme based on a descending triad. This turns out to be the beginning of a cadenza of almost ludicrous length – totally out of proportion and beyond any expectation which the opening of the work might have suggested. The pianist doesn’t even have the courtesy to comment on the material which the orchestra had thus far supplied, but rather sweeps all aside and simply shows off for close to ten minutes. After the keyboard has been left in tatters, and after a winding-down conclusion of slightly fake profundity (the pianist playing slower and slower, until grinding to a complete stop), the orchestra simply starts the piece all over again from the beginning, as if shrugging its shoulders and getting on with business as usual. “Well, I don’t know what that was about, but we have a concert to play, so let’s now get back to the task in hand”. Humorous, but also heartwarming: an intimate glimpse of Tchaikovsky the man - with a great big smile on his face.