PART I
The "minorness" of Rachmaninoff's
aesthetics and where (not) to
look for its origins
1. Structural principle and gesture
2. Old and New in Rachmaninoff's
Manuscript
3. Hypertrophy-but not in interpretation
4. Appassionato vs sostenuto
5. Feel-and what to do with it
6. How the “very old composer”
Rachmaninov teaches new things
PART II
Approaching the second
half of the motto
look at the old as the
new and the new as the old
6. How the “very old composer” Rachmaninov teaches new things
I would like to dwell on one of the most important moments forming Rachmaninoff's manuscript - his interpretative handling of musical time. It can be said that it is extremely modern and absolutely timeless. In the sense of subjectivism, it is the most striking and the most contested feature of his performance art, but I am convinced that it is precisely this feature that constitutes an important clue to the search for convincing interpretative approaches. The immense sense of rhythm also extends to his compositions; as Kogan says, Rachmaninoff is one of the most rhythmic composers ever, apart from him perhaps only in Beethoven and Prokofiev does the element of rhythm play such a large, decisive role. Performers, besides being overwhelmed by romantic emotion, take very little notice of it. The specific rhythmic pulse of his compositions, however, is far from the lifeless metricity and formal evenness that can often be heard in his works such as the Prelude in g minor op. 23 or the Etude-Tableaux in b minor, Op. 39.
Many - and not only his – “rhythmic” pieces such as his Humoresque or Polichinelle, Beethoven-Rubinstein's Turkish March, Préambule or the March of the Davids from Schumann's Carnival, Golliwogs CakeWalk from Debussy's Children's Corner, etc., which often sound very banal and ordinary under other hands, and also to many pieces in which the performers struggle with a certain “instructiveness” of passages and arpeggios, such as Beethoven's 32 Variations in c minor, or some of the variations from the Rhapsody on a Theme by Paganini... Rachmaninoff was able to breathe a lively, elastic energy. He can use the rhythmic ostentation that often turns against pianists in these works to just the right advantage. He does this above all by modifying the length of the chords, some of which he shortens unnoticeably, others he adds tenuto or accent, by playing with dashes, slight digressions, subtle delays of main beats, he creates a tremendous tension, suggestiveness, a full-bloodedness that gives new life to many, even somewhat profane or “worn-out” compositions. Rachmaninoff's Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, for example, is very typical in this sense. Because of the harmonic simplicity of the theme, many sections move only in basic harmonic functions, and under the hands of pianists this piece often turns into a showcase of instructive exercises.
Under Rachmaninoff's hands the music seems to be constantly stretched on a spring, swaying and expanding like a living organism. His rhythm is very closely linked to dynamic nuance. He plays with rhythm by underlining the sonority of this or that note or chord, while extending some lengths in the bar to compensate for the shortening of others. This includes his rhythmic “magic” in stylized dances or other dance pieces such as Chopin's waltzes, Grieg's waltzes, various minuets, the Valse noble, the Valse allemande from Schumann's Carnival and many others.
And what is very important, even in compositions where the rhythmic component does not at first sight play a primary role, for example in his Prelude in F major, Op. 32, he is able to add another layer, another dimension to the music by subtly emphasizing and modelling the repeating rhythmic shape in the middle voice. Literally, one could say that he also creates a kind of rhythmic polyphony in the works, where the individual voices are differentiated not only in their sonority but also in their rhythmic charge, thus creating a new image and a new character.
The peculiar and organic rhythmicity has a particularly meaning-making impact: by means of tempo and rhythm, above all by “tuning” them, Rachmaninoff achieves the separation and contrast of individual ideas, individualizes them, heightens their tension, unexpectedness, and content significance.
As if in the intent of Stanislavsky's method of restraining emotion, he begins to build a gradation and at a certain point he breaks it, in an attempt to hold back the spinning wheel or accelerating whirlpool, while at the same time he develops a twofold thrust, thus causing a huge effect. What's fascinating here is not just the detail itself, but especially the context and the way it bridges further. It's ejection back into momentum and force that happens not even after the restraint, but as if already right along with it, right on top of it.
And just as he likes to break or suspend the rhythm in terms of the architecture of the composition, by handling the tempo and rhythm, he, on the contrary, integrates and envelops the form, connects the individual sections, knits them together, lets them flow out of each other and into each other. Often a single line of the whole development grows out of the initial tempo of the main theme. The movement that Rachmaninoff establishes runs periodically through the whole piece, returning to the pulse from the beginning of the piece to unify the structurally distinct sections of the piece. All the sections are characterised by precise rhythmic correspondence and so, despite their contrasting nature, are logical and inseparable from each other. It is therefore not a good solution to imitate Rachmaninoff's tempi only in selected sections of the works, wherever we please. The same applies to his slowing-down 'mannerisms'. Imitating them without Rachmaninoff's ability to put them into context and bridge them can create a real mannerism, empty and false.
I would like to mention one more feature that demonstrates Rachmaninoff's modern and timeless insight into works of all styles and centuries, and that is the extremely restrained use of the sustain pedal. One of the greatest transgressions, even against Rachmaninoff's texture, is precisely the obscuring and destroying of the inner richness of the voices by the sustain pedal over large areas. In fact, Rachmaninoff often moves over a larger surface in one key, but within that key he changes characters, uses dashes and chromaticisms to break it up and create multiple bands. If the performer does not respect this, and overuses the sustain pedal, very bad music indeed is produced.
As long as whole areas are kept under sustain pedal, as is often the case, they become a ponderous, droning flood of harmonic elements with no other meaning than the feeling that there are too many notes.
Whether it is Chopin's waltzes, Mendelssohn's etudes, or his own preludes and etudes, Rachmaninoff uses the pedal everywhere in an extremely restrained manner. Characteristic, for example, is his sparse use of the pedal in the schlager Prelude in g minor, Op. 23, which allows the rhythmic charge and psychological pressure of the outer movements of the piece to shine through in a different, attractive light. All the details, rhythmic games, the intrigues of the texture, all its enlivening elements come out. In Schumann's Carnival, as performed by Rachmaninoff, there are perhaps more areas without pedal than with pedal, which is by no means a common performance practice in this piece. We can argue about the degree of 'arbitrariness', but the truth is that in such a performance the characters and contrasts come alive in a marvellous way, the articulation, the rhythmic and articulatory liveliness, even the motivic richness is emphasised - and all at once the redoubtable Schumann is a concise and modern composer! Rachmaninoff approaches even the most virtuosic works in this way, where he lets everything ring out in the utter purity, the crystalline clarity of every note. He does not resort to deception, he does not use delays and stops in virtuosic, polyphonic or otherwise complex textures as is often heard in other pianists, nor does he use the sustain pedal as a crutch to virtuosity.
His interpretations are similar to a living organism, in which everything is in
interrelation and functions. Taken in isolation from their context, some features of
Rachmaninoff's playing are highly individual and often different from experienced
performance practice but taken as a whole they come together in perfect harmony. It is therefore necessary to perceive Rachmaninoff's interpretation in its entirety. To focus on details without context and to label them as transgressions, e.g.: this passage in Chopin's Ballade No. 3 is too slow... the tempo of the conclusion of Carnival is too fast... etc., as one sometimes hears, shows a lack of understanding of the living organism of Rachmaninoff's playing, a loss of artistic clairvoyance.
In my study, I have pointed out several moments that encourage approaching
Rachmaninoff's manuscript with revision and without convention. He as a performer is the best proof of this. His rule-breaking is often called too much subjectivism. However, if a master strives for expressiveness, he does not think about correctness. Nor does he think about generally accepted stylishness. This supposed interpretive subjectivism in the area of rubato, rhythm or diction is in fact precisely what this study seeks to point out. Bach, Chopin or Schumann, and finally his own compositions, are timeless and eminently contemporary works under his hands. Rachmaninoff's interpretation is the best proof of the necessity of looking at works of all styles and centuries as unencumbered and pure.
Commentary on the attached audio file
The recordings I am attaching to this project are not a showcase of my interpretative artistry, nor do they belong to my best-of collection. Their purpose is to bring closer and illuminate certain moments that I analyze within the project.
The Rachmaninovian enigma and the pressing questions surrounding the usual and ubiquitous vulgarization of his music have occupied my thoughts since the end of my studies twenty years ago. Although these live concert recordings are early attempts in seeking an approach to his aesthetics, they will hopefully serve the purpose of this research by offering a glimpse into the directions my reflections have taken. Naturally, they do not align with my current vision. After a twenty-year hiatus, I return to this subject once again, and I hope that, through the "devastating" life compromises that the artist must make with both himself and his environment.I will be able to continue crystallizing not only the verbal but also the interpretative line of this theme.
