Episode 01: Prélude, Choral et Fugue

“It is a privilege to play things you pick yourself, pieces you long for and admire. That being said, getting to know your music, intimately, is no easy business. Above all, it requires you to get to know yourself, which is a lot easier said than done. My journey, portrayed in the videos and put into words below, is a testament to the creative musical process, which is sometimes everything else but straightforward. If you ever find yourself in a similar conundrum (and you will), do not despair, you are indeed on the right track! ”

There are many reasons to study a particular piece of music. You can get captivated by the complexities of a specific composition, or you can only be drawn to its central theme, which eventually kindles a desire to grasp the work in its entirety. You may be so enthralled by an author that you want to indulge in playing every last piece composed by him, even the ones thought insignificant or lost. Sometimes you want to conquer the challenging compositions simply because you know deep inside it will push you further. In any case, whether the initial impulse is intrinsic or external, it gradually evolves into motivation. Specifically, I'm talking about the inner fire that urges you to stride forward as if wearing blinkers, feeling both consumed and energised by your desire to understand the piece to the core.

For long, I had been contemplating the main piece of my graduation concert.

In the end, I decided to go for Sonata by Ferenc Liszt. As I saw it at that time, it was something both monumental and sensitive, grandiose and passionate, tenderly poetic and yet powerful. I delighted in the idea of glory I would no doubt experience when playing it to conclude my studies. As the thought stroke me, I immediately ran to buy the sheets and started familiarising myself with the music.

Discovering a classical piece directly from the sheet is a rather rare adventure these days. The chances are you had already heard the music many times before you set to re-discover it as an interpreter. Nevertheless, the process of meeting a tune you have never played before is not unlike planting a seed and rejoicing when it grows. But let me tell you, sometimes it just grows painstakingly slow.

So, you open the sheet music and flip through. Then, you gather the courage to open the piano lid, and you place the score on the counter with healthy confidence. The levels of your curiosity are going through the roof… And the first time you go through the whole piece is probably devastating. Some sections took you by surprise, some even uplifted you, but numerous passages frightened you, infuriated you, and even some that made you come to the inevitable conclusion – like - this piece cannot be played at all! Don't worry, this is a classic curve of any creative process, not by any means exclusive to musicians. So, what do you do?

Well,  you have made the first contact, you identified the recurring themes, the gradations and silences, you have created a mental map you will use to navigate, part by part, the next months of practice. 

After all, you've got all the tools you need at your disposal. The broad range of possibilities you can reach thanks to your ten fingers is genuinely mind-blowing. Playing several lines at the same time opens a vault of rich harmonies, the fragments of which may stay hidden from the listener but not from the musician, who needs to gradually comprehend each and every one of them.

Let's Talk about Fingering

Fingering is one of the most important things to get right from the beginning. As trivial as it may seem, do not fall prey to the temptation of getting carried away by melodies. Just do your homework! The sooner you identify which tone to play with which finger, the sooner you automate your motor activity.

Fingering should be comfortable but also consistent with the music, with the phrasing. Sometimes, especially when you speed up, the fingering that seemed comfortable a minute ago cannot catch up with the pace. You are left with a meticulous process of trial and error. And remember, as soon as it feels right, write the position of the fingers down immediately! You will appreciate it not just while studying the piece but also if you decide to play it again in the future.

Now that your fingers are out of the way, you can engage your ears and give in to your imagination. 

As every good (music) evangelist, I preach patience and restraint. Don't laugh, I mean it! You cannot break off the chain and plunge into creativity without mindfully perceiving everything you play. Ideally, like in slow motion. Just listen to each tone throughout its breadth, perceive the trembling of the string and its frequencies, experience the onset of the next sound. Don't need to be worry about making mistakes, you have precisely the amount of time you need to find the right tone. And to comprehend its relationship to the following one.

Yeah, the deep concentration tends to be exhausting but wait just a minute before you scratch your itch, your brain will reward you with certainty later on. No current joy of speed will give you the foundations you can rely on in the later stages. Believe me that a few intense minutes spent over a few tones will bring more benefit than hours of mindless, distracted practice. Think of it as of a gift to yourself. As a gift in today's frantic, attention-grabbing world. 

Find a calm space within you and don't try to cheat your way around it.

If you happen to be overcome by the desire to play to the full, go ahead. You will unmistakably uncover all the places where you need to slow down again. Let those moments be a source of fun, not hopelessness. Eventually, the piece becomes a part of you. Sooner or later, you'll start to feel like it's within arm's reach, its contours will appear in distinct outlines in your head. However, even though some pieces grow naturally within you, some bring along many pitfalls.

 After having worked on Liszt's Sonata for two months, I accidentally found a copy of sheet music in an old chest at my grandparents' place where I keep all my treasures. I took the score of Prelude, Choral and Fugue by César Franck in my hands and all I could feel were the shivers it sent down my spine. I remembered the day I made the copy, very clearly. I heard an older student play this piece in school. I was so amazed then that I ran to the library, made a copy, ran to the classroom and started to practice the composition the very same day. Unfortunately, it only took me a few days to realise it was a burden more than a blessing. I just knew I would not be able to grasp this piece as a whole. I realised that this piece deserved to be studied only by someone who understood it.

 Funny how an invisible force seems to be guiding our steps. That urge to go through my old keepsakes could not come in a better time. All of a sudden, still holding the copy in my shaky hands, I realised I lacked the maturity to understand Liszt's Sonata in order to interpret it with ease and grace. However, this time around, I felt confident approaching Franck.

 There was not much time left for the preparation, but my passion easily overwrote my fear. In less than three weeks, I was able to play Franck by heart. What is more, every minute I spent with his music were fulfilling and breath-taking. The curve of my life at that moment mimicked his music so candidly that I immediately identified with every note César Franck wrote. You would have a hard time finding more honest and profound motivation, a much stronger drive than any urge to overcome the challenge of Liszt's Sonata.

 The creation of both pieces falls within thirty years from each other. They both use former historical forms that are filled with romantic material. But it is their content that sets them apart quite dramatically.

 Franck's piece created a contrast to the contemporary music of those times. After nearly forty years of composing organ and religious music, Franck set to write the Prelude and Fugue, following the example of Johann Sebastian Bach. Yet, while at work, he began to feel the need to connect the two parts, creating a form capable of sincere expression. The result is a stunning combination of sound richness and romantic conception, in which rationality and intellect intertwine. Even though each part of the composition is stylistically different and grounded in the rules of Baroque forms, all of them stay thematically connected.

 What makes this piece a unique one for me is compelling story captured in music. In the Prelude, you experience earthly afflictions, grief and sadness, you even come face to face with feelings of losing yourself. The Choral then opens up a space in your heart for faith, stability and security, whereas the Intermediate between Choral and Fugue brings gradual determination and enlightenment – it is not possible to hide in the safe temple forever, to silence the desire to move on, because whatever happens, happens for a reason and there is no virtue in trying to avoid your fate. Meanwhile, the Fugue, threading as a road already from the very first tones, resembles a journey of life containing all human experiences with their lows and highs.

How does it end, you might wonder? You prevail. And that is absolutely amazing.

And about the Liszt's Sonata… I am not giving up. Maybe its time will come!