Into the Hanging Gardens - A Pianist's Exploration of Arnold Schönberg's Opus 15
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The Pianist's Status in the Duo Ensemble
During the 20th century, the perceived status of the collaborative pianist has gradually developed from that of a secondary performer to that of an artistic co-creator. This “emancipation” that appears to be
Introduction | The Pianist's Status in the Duo Ensemble | Schönberg's and Berg's View on the Pianist's Role in Lieder | The Collaborator's "Toolbox" of Skills |
The Importance of Context: Finding My Role in the Lied Duo | Rehearsals and the Search for Ideal Collaboration | Performance |
Playing Opus 15 with Two Different Singers | References
“[…] accompanying is something which most men are incapable of; for that purpose one has to be a musician.”
(Arnold Schönberg in a letter to Marietta Werndorff, dated 16 January 1916)1
When I set out on my artistic exploration of Schönberg’s Opus 15, I did not expect my understanding of collaboration in general to change. I had the clear idea of the pianist being an equal partner to the singer, at least in the performance of Lieder. With my project, I wanted to contribute to the promotion of this line of thought2 and challenge the prejudice of collaborators being second-rate pianists.3 I was also convinced that my practice as an artist matched these ideas, that I behaved and performed as an equal partner when I worked with singers. Thus, it came as a surprise to me that my understanding of collaboration in general and my role as the singer’s partner did, in fact, get transformed during the project. This change was not a turning point in the sense of a sudden idea or realisation that resulted in an entirely new attitude towards collaboration. Instead, I gradually became aware of how different singers and different contexts influenced my playing in small details. This changed understanding developed due to my study of recordings of Opus 15, my work on the cycle with two different singers and my coaching of singing students and Lied duos. The growing numbers of collaboration partners in this project resulted in an increased awareness of how to adapt to different duo partners that led to small adjustments in my way of rehearsing and playing with them.
In the following section, I will first describe the development of the perceived status of the collaborative pianist during the 20th century and explore Schönberg’s and Berg’s view on the pianist’s role in the Lied duo. I will then elaborate on necessary skills (the “collaborator’s toolbox”) for successful collaboration, and how collaboration influences the pianist in the development of performance parameters such as timing, rubato, dynamics and tone colour, giving examples from my work during this project. (This topic is further explored in the section “Playing the Words”.) I will continue by describing how three different perspectives influenced my views on collaboration and my understanding of my role of working jointly with professional singers towards Lied performances. These three perspectives are the accompaniment of singing students, the teaching of Lied duos and doing research through artistic practice, specifically with the concept “The Voice of the Piano”. I will then elaborate on my rehearsal work with the singers, how their experience and performance practices influenced my work and how I tried to share my artistic ideas with them before I reflect on the differences between rehearsal and performance. Finally, I will elaborate on how my work with two different singers changed my understanding and playing of Schönberg’s Opus 15.
The Pianist's Status in the Duo Ensemble
During the 20th century, the perceived status of the collaborative pianist has gradually developed from that of a secondary performer to that of an artistic co-creator. This “emancipation” that appears to be connected to Gerald Moore, who first published his groundbreaking book The Unashamed Accompanist in 1943, is illustrated by the increasing amount of literature on the topic of collaboration and the growing number of pianists who are known for their work as collaborators. The term ‘collaborative pianist’ was coined by Samuel Sanders, who thought that the word ‘accompanist’ made the work of the pianist seem subordinate.4 Although the status of the collaborative pianist has risen, the prejudice that they are failed soloists still exists today.5 Collaborative pianists are in many cases highly appreciated by their musical partners, but they are often only represented as an afterthought in music reviews.6 Their work still seems to be little understood by the general public, perhaps understandably so when they collaborate with singers, who, unlike the pianist, face the audience and directly communicate the text. After the third concert of the project, a woman complimented me on my playing and asked me why I did not perform any solo works. I prefer to work with singers rather than alone for several reasons, chiefly among them the urge to feel closer to a more natural way of making music (singing), an affinity for poetic texts and the joy of collaboration. I find that the state of quasi-improvisational flow, when the “magic” of a performance happens is much harder to reach in a solo performance than when I work with a good singer. Nevertheless, I do not think of myself as a lesser pianist or artist because I prefer collaboration.
During the 20th century, there has been a development not only in the status of the collaborative pianist but also in the views on ensemble balance, both regarding volume and the distribution of power and responsibility. While Lindo in 1916 advocated the idea that the pianist should “merge his individuality into that of the artist”7 and Adami as late as in 1952 emphasised the pianist’s necessary self-effacing attitude,8 a different view on the pianist’s role is apparent in much of the later literature. In 1970, Cranmer wrote: “Most of us accompanists are too retiring and self-effacing, and these characteristics show themselves in modest and obsequious playing. The greater part of our work, however, both with singers and instrumentalists, requires us to be equal partners.”9 Adler also emphasised the importance of teamwork: “An accompanist must go along with the soloist, must be with him at all points – this is the first maxim that an accompanist learns. But the reverse is also true: the soloist must be with the accompanist.”10 In a true collaboration, both performers reach a state of shared identity, or as Moore described: “Each thinks at the performance in terms of the first person plural, each thinks not of a voice, or a piano, but of music. That is the true spirit of ensemble.”11 This kind of genuine collaboration, which seems to be difficult to reach in its highest form throughout an entire performance, was my artistic quest before I started this project and still is today. However, it is more nuanced than I anticipated.
Schönberg's and Berg's View on the Pianist's Role in Lieder
In my exploration of the pianist’s role in Opus 15 and my pursuit of interpretive guidelines, I attempted to discover more about Schönberg’s view on the performance of Lied and the status and responsibility of the pianist. What was his understanding of the pianist’s role in Opus 15 that seemed utterly incomprehensible to a critic who listened to the first public performance of the cycle in February 1912?12
It is possible to learn a lot about the performance ideals of Schönberg and his School both through recordings, Schönberg’s writings, his correspondence and accounts from involved performers. However, little can be found specifically about the performance of Lieder, and most sources focus more on the singer than on the pianist. Nevertheless, some striking remarks by both Schönberg and Berg show the importance they ascribed to the pianist for the overall shaping of a Lied performance.
In a letter Berg wrote to Schönberg in 1912, he reported about a Lied recital he attended: “worst of all, a worthy counterpart to Weigl’s completely cold accompaniment, was her rendition of Mahler’s – and your – songs. Obviously people like Weigl and consorts don’t have the slightest affinity for your art – or for art at all, otherwise it wouldn’t be possible to mutilate a song as divine as “Verlassen.” Here again, a hurried tempo entirely spoiled the mood of the song. Not to mention 2 actual mistakes Weigl made in accompanying […]”13 While clearly influenced by Berg’s dislike for the accompanist Weigl, a composer, whose songs were also performed in the concert, the letter names warmth and an affinity for the music as necessary qualities of the pianist, who also is ascribed at least a shared responsibility of choosing the appropriate tempo.
On another occasion, Berg wrote about his abilities to influence the interpretation of his songs from the piano: “Frau Herlinger sang with surprising accuracy and, since I myself accompanied on the piano (!), the songs were interpreted as I wished.”14 Although this comment might partly refer to the preparation and coaching work, it also illustrates the power Berg had in shaping the performance as the accompanist, even though he was not a particularly good pianist.15
Schönberg repeatedly recommended Edward Steuermann for the accompaniment of his songs. A letter to the singer Rose Bampton attests to the confidence he had in Steuermann: “It would be very fine, if you could record these songs, but may I suggest that you try to have my ambassador on the piano, Edward Steuermann accompany you, if he has time; or at least to rehearse them with you and Mr Itor Kahn. Steuermann knows best how to do this. He has done this many times for me and I have rehearsed it myself with him thoroughly.”16 Schönberg’s request illustrates the pianist’s important task to coach the singer and might at least partly hint at the pianist’s overall influence on the performance.
Schönberg made perhaps the most explicit statement about the difference between playing the piano and accompanying in a chauvinistically-coloured letter from 1916, which he wrote to Marietta Werndorff, the pianist who premiered both Op. 11 and Op. 15 in 1910: “You have played really excellent and (which is very high praise) accompanied perhaps even better. Piano playing is something most women can do. Actually, if one cannot do it, it is usually only a kind of oversight or forgetfulness. But most men cannot accompany, you have to be a musician for that.”17 This statement should be considered with caution as it might merely have been a comment to appease someone who was useful to him. Nevertheless, it underlines Schönberg’s understanding of the pianist’s important and influential role in the Lied duo and might give clues as to why he wrote the piano part of Opus 15 the way he did. I discovered that, while other Lieder also lose their expressivity because of too little attention to the pianist’s voice or an unequal flow of energy between the partners, these issues seem to be of particular importance in “Das Buch der hängenden Gärten”.
The Collaborator's "Toolbox" of Skills
Schönberg was not the only one to emphasise musicianship as an indispensable quality of good collaboration. Pianists like Gerald Moore, Kurt Adler and Martin Katz have written extensively about the art of accompanying and outlined necessary musical skills and personal attributes for successful collaboration. Adler states that unlike singers, who might become outstanding opera performers due to the beauty of their voice and good coaching from accompanists and conductors, “[o]nly a good musician can become a good accompanist.”18 Adler names patience and love of detail as necessary qualities for successful Lied singers. “Add to this a rich and deep inner life, […] and the ability to mold diction and voice into a thousand shapes. Still more important is a singer’s idealism.”19 I find these qualities equally necessary for successful Lied pianists. I believe that, in Lied accompaniment like in every other art form, a need for expression and a sincere affection for what one does are necessary for becoming an outstanding performer.
Collaborative pianists agree that useful skills for the pianist include good sight-reading and transposition.20 However, the ability to sight-read is usually only needed in contexts like auditions, where the pianist aims to make the performance work rather than to achieve a high-quality, in-depth interpretation. A sight-read performance is based on skill rather than a real understanding of the music, and the preoccupation with reading usually makes it difficult to listen actively to the partner and to manage more than a basic synchronisation of the parts. For this reason, I would rate the ability to learn fast higher than the ability to sight-read well. While I was surprised to realise that parts of Opus 15 were rather easy to read due to their thin textures, sight-reading did not play any role in this project. In my work with singers before this project, I have encountered very few situations in which an ad-hoc transposition was needed. Again, in these circumstances, the goal was to make it work. During my project, I encountered the issue of transposition once. However, I had a score and sufficient time to adjust to the new key. I discussed my experience with transposition in a lecture-recital I gave shortly before the third concert:
In the context of Opus 15, transposition is extraneous. According to the second singer I performed the cycle with, Opus 15 has a large pitch range compared to other Lieder, and Schönberg seems to have employed this range consciously as a means of expression. Therefore, it would be little meaningful to transpose the cycle, also because the range would push the limits one way or the other.21 It might, however, be an interesting question for future research how the collaboration with a male singer influences the pianist.22
Good collaborators possess a well-developed technique, including excellent legato playing,23 good pedalling24 and, most important, a knowledge of sound production and a variety of touch with a rich palette of dynamics and tone colours,25 which is needed for blending their voice with that of the singer and for conveying nuances of text and music. According to Adler, the collaborative pianist “must make sure that his tone lives, sings, mourns and jubilates, caresses and beguiles.”26 Besides referring to the pianist playing the words and having an equal voice in the Lied duo, the concept of my project, “The Voice of the Piano” also encompasses this search for a variety of tone, to make the piano sing and speak.
In the collaboration with singers, the pianist gets challenged in his or her search for tone colour not only by the musical work, the instrument and the acoustics of the concert hall but also by the text and the colours of the singer’s voice. I further elaborate on how the text influences different aspects of the pianist’s playing in the section “Playing the Words” and show specific examples from my work on Opus 15. Though it is difficult to divide performance parameters from each other as all of them interact in the creation of expression and it is almost impossible to separate the singer’s tone colour from the influence of the text, the following examples are chosen to shed some light on how the colour of the singer’s voice might affect the development of pianistic colours.
Occasionally, the pianist needs to directly imitate the singing tone of the voice, for example in a continuation of the singer’s line like in the postlude of Berg’s “Die Nachtigall”, where I try to continue the beautiful, intense tone of the singer and where the composer even marks in the score “schwungvoll den Gesang fortsetzend”.
Direct repetition of the singer’s material, like in the fifth song of “Das Buch der hängenden Gärten” require active listening to the singer’s phrasing, articulation, inflexion of the words and tone colour. Though my goal is not to create an exact imitation, as one would never say the same thing twice in precisely the same manner, I try to bring out the relationship between our voices in the way I shape and colour the phrase.
Arnold Schönberg: Das Buch der hängenden Gärten, Op. 15, No. V, bars 10-12
On other occasions, the pianist introduces material before the singer repeats or varies it. While we rehearsed the ninth song of Opus 15, for example, my second singer and I repeatedly listened to each other and discussed how to colour the beginning. We decided that the intensity of the previous song has not disappeared, yet there is a certain emptiness. My start should be singing yet brittle, desolate and a little harsh. The third and fourth bar, in contrast, are almost hard with an intense longing. The singer takes up the brittleness from the beginning with the feeling of a bitter taste in her mouth.
Arnold Schönberg: Das Buch der hängenden Gärten, Op. 15, No. IX, bars 1-4
Arnold Schönberg: Das Buch der hängenden Gärten, Op. 15, No. IX, bars 7-11 (voice)
At other places in the music, the singer and the pianist must agree on how to shape and colour unison phrases. In the continuation of the ninth song, the upper voice of the right hand plays in unison with the singer. Even though my instrument works differently than the singer’s voice and does not allow a crescendo on a single note or the sustaining of a tone without a decrease in volume, I try to shape the phrase the same way as the singer, being aware of her attack, timing, inflexion and colour. An internalisation of and active listening to the text is helpful in this task. Unison phrases also have to be balanced well, so that the doubling of the melody does not drown the singer’s voice and words or lead to an imbalance in the ensemble of all voices. After a while, I noticed that the middle voice at this place (c# - c – b) could be a useful counterweight. The chord on the last beat of bar 10 is perhaps most important with regard to tone colour in these three bars. The caesura marking (v) indicates its significance. The colouring of this place occupied my second singer and me since our first rehearsal weekend. The following sound example is a short excerpt from our second rehearsal of the song and illustrates how we out of a similar understanding of the place try to adapt to each other’s voices. With each rehearsal and each new listening to each other, the colours got further refined.
Arnold Schönberg: Das Buch der hängenden Gärten, Op. 15, No. IX, bars 9-11 Rehearsal excerpt: 12.04.2017, Magdeburg, with Sylvia Rena Ziegler - mezzo-soprano
The development and adjustment of colours are, of course, not limited to places with shared material or “singing” lines. From the first note of Opus 15, the development of tone colour is a shared objective. A mystical yet clear start of the piano introduction inspires the singer’s first notes that convey the speaker’s quiet awe as he takes in his surroundings. The low register and the singer’s dark vowels and soft dynamics in her first phrase require a careful handling of the accent on the e in bar 8. If it is too sharp, it destroys the atmosphere and hinders the understanding of the singer’s phrase, yet if it is too unobtrusive and shallow, it becomes meaningless.
Arnold Schönberg: Das Buch der hängenden Gärten, Op. 15, No. I, bars 7-9
In an ideal collaboration, singer and pianist inspire each other with their colours and dynamic and articulatory nuances. On occasions when the singer is less nuanced, however, the pianist should still try to bring out the various shades that convey the richness of text and music, but without disturbing the impression of accord between the two partners. Closely related to tone colour, dynamics and the blending of voices are the issues of balance and support. Gerald Moore claims that balance is the responsibility of the pianist alone.27 Although I think that in good collaborations balance is at least partly a shared responsibility, it is true that the pianist has the power to drown the singer. Therefore, the ability to judge the balance of the ensemble is an essential skill of the collaborative pianist. Musical texture, register, vowel colour and the singer’s breath capacity and dynamic range can all create challenges. Most closed vowels project more easily than open vowels.28 The singer’s middle and lower register project less well than the high register, and, particularly when the piano plays in the same register, balance can become challenging.
The phrase that starts in the ninth bar of the twelfth song is an example of a balance issue where the pianist has to be careful because of the singer’s low register. The text at this place conveys tenderness and warmth, and despite the underlying emotional turmoil, it seemed wrong to use too much chest voice. Therefore, the expressive lamenting or nestling lines in the piano must not be played too loud.
Arnold Schönberg: Das Buch der hängenden Gärten, Op. 15, No. XII, bars 9-11
As Adler remarks “[…] even the greatest artist, expects to be given support by his accompanist. Pianistic support is like feeling solid ground under his feet”. The pianist can support the singer, especially during high notes, by playing a distinct bass. In addition, the pianist should be aware of technical difficulties, for example long phrases on one breath, like in the fifth song, where an almost imperceptible accelerando and very soft dynamics might be needed to support the singer’s line and save her breath:
Arnold Schönberg: Das Buch der hängenden Gärten, Op. 15, No. V, bars 6-9
Other challenges include pitching and entrances. At the end of the eleventh song, I help the singer by voicing the chord in bar 20 slightly in favour of the b, so she can more easily find her c flat in bar 21. Despite the very soft dynamics, I try to play the sixteenth notes in the left hand clear and even and avoid accenting the first sixteenth note after the chord, so the singer will not feel a disturbance in the pulse.
Arnold Schönberg: Das Buch der hängenden Gärten, Op. 15, No. XI, bars 19-21
Preferably, the supporting of the singer does not go against the composer’s markings. Occasionally, however, if the performance shall work, yet the singer is not able to enter where she is supposed to despite repeated practice and explanation, the pianist might be required to slow down to “invite” the singer’s entrance. An example would be the transition to the final stanza of Berg’s “Die Nachtigall” that is marked accelerando into Tempo I. The two phrases of the small piano interlude start on offbeats, are supported by offbeats in the left hand and have different lengths and seem thus to confuse the singer easily. In an ideal collaboration, both partners know each other’s voices well enough to surmount such difficulties. Ideally, the singer should also support the pianist, so that a constant give and take develops.
Sensitive and active listening, both to him- or herself,29 the singer and the ensemble is an essential skill, which is required for obtaining balance, giving support, and being able to anticipate the singer’s rubato.30 The ability to judge a singer’s breath is useful for successful synchronisation.31 Tempo is rarely metronomic even when no tempo changes are indicated in the score. Anticipating what the singer does and shaping the music together in all aspects reminds me of playing polyphonic music on the piano, where one simultaneously creates and follows several voices. They have to fit together, yet each voice has its individuality. The obvious difference, which makes it at the same time easier and harder, is that this voice originates outside of me. I find it helpful to sing or speak the singer’s part when I practice on my own. In the encounter with the singer, I still make myself believe that I sing the singer’s voice in addition to playing my own part while simultaneously listening to the actual sound and adjusting the voice in my mind. Breathing with the singer and thinking the words seems to be the key. Merely following or reacting to each other is not enough as the result would be coincidental. Instead, both partners should perform with confidence and conviction, with real feeling, but not emotional. To achieve perfect ensemble, both partners have to be and react in the moment while at the same time thinking and “feeling” ahead. To me, this seems especially necessary in Lied repertoire, which is usually very condensed and full of quickly changing nuances. Besides active listening and an awareness for the flow of give and take, familiarity with the partner and his or her way of phrasing might be useful, though I at times achieve good ensemble with less familiar partners when few adjustments are necessary due to our similar understanding of the music. Perhaps even more important is a memory for tempo, an “ability to recall the rehearsed and agreed-upon tempo”.32 This is particularly challenging if one has to play the same piece of music with two different partners with little time in between. Again, in Lied repertoire, the text can be of help as the time it takes to pronounce faster passages or the emotional energy of the poem can hint at tempo limits. However, tempo is never entirely fixed and gets for example influenced by the acoustics of the room. In the third concert, we performed parts of the program in a slower tempo than in the rehearsals due to the resonance of the hall. Tempo also depends on the performers’ inner state, both of the body and the mind, and the perception of the energy and tension of the moment. A tempo that worked the previous day might not work anymore due to changes both outside and inside the performers.
Opus 15 poses particular ensemble challenges due to the many tempo modifications that require alertness from both partners, so that adjustments to each other can happen so gently that “the audience cannot hear the machinery creaking – the grinding as we change gear.”33 The synchronisation of tempo changes is the aspect of performance that reveals most easily if an ensemble is not in a state of shared minds and active listening. Both performers have to coordinate what happens at the moment yet keep in mind what has been and what is to come. Each partner has to be receptive to the other’s guidance, but also trust that the other will accept his or her leadership when necessary.
The following example of a challenging tempo change is taken from the twelfth song of Opus 15. Despite its relatively simple structure, the place is difficult to shape together, not only for my singers and me. Kerrigan agrees that bars 20 and 21 are among the most difficult to coordinate in this song34 due to the intensity of the text and the extreme tempo change from fließend to sehr ruhig. We come from a smooth, flowing yet flexible tempo. In bar 19, the singer’s leap and her illustration of “auf und unter” need some time that is compatible with my wish to articulate the right hand. Due to the singer’s long notes, I have to lead the ritardando from the first beat of bar 20, using the accents to broaden the tempo towards bar 21, which must be calm enough for the end of the song to be sung without ritardando to convey the horrible consequences of the lovers’ discovery. We have to be in complete agreement when we reach the triplet against the sixteenth notes in bar 21.
Arnold Schönberg: Das Buch der hängenden Gärten, Op. 15, No. XII, bars 19-21
In addition to all previously mentioned technical and musical skills, certain social skills are an essential part of the collaborator’s toolbox. I will elaborate on them when I describe my rehearsal experiences.
While I think that each of these skills can be necessary for successful collaboration, and I have demonstrated on examples how most of them were needed in the context of my work on Opus 15, first during the three years of this project, I fully realised that these skills and competencies have to be balanced anew in each collaboration context. With context, I mean not only different kinds of repertoire or the work with different types of instruments (or voices) but also various social settings. There is no such thing as the role of the collaborative pianist. Each setting, be it the coaching of singing students, the accompaniment of an audition, or a Liederabend with a professional singer, requires a different type of pianist with differently balanced skills.
The Importance of Context: Finding My Role in the Lied Duo
During the project, I worked as a collaborative pianist in four different contexts. Besides preparing and holding concerts with professional singers, I coached singing students, taught Lied duo and did artistic research. Reflecting on my artistic background and my work in these different contexts and how it influenced me as an artist, I became aware of automatisms that block the way to artistic freedom and flexibility.
During the first year of the project, I accompanied singing students. In the years before I started the project, this was my primary occupation at the University of Stavanger. Before the project, I also collaborated with professionals from the region in various performances, ranging from concerts for children to Opera excerpts or the occasional rare Liederabend. Many singers comment on how comfortable it is to sing with me. They feel supported and find it remarkable how well I understand their breathing and phrasing. Looking back, I realise that perfect ensemble and support of the singer were my main priorities in all the collaborative work I undertook.
With some of the core repertoire, the job as a university accompanist can quickly become routine. On the other hand, while the stress of familiarising oneself with the standard repertoire diminishes over the years, less known repertoire can be very demanding and sometimes there is little time to study new works. Orchestra reductions and accompaniments written for piano are both required repertoire. Especially bachelor students get very few accompaniment lessons each semester. As an accompanist, I had to adjust to many different students and was in the stressful situation of getting things done and being a teacher while playing the music. During lessons, the focus is mostly on the singing student and little on my own playing. In this situation, the pianist can get used to just doing what is needed to “fake” the music. In contrast to instrumentalists, singing students often start their education rather late and have thus little musical experience when they begin their university studies. Especially during their first years, they have to focus considerably on voice technique. I often have to guide younger students, controlling the performance and musical expression from the piano while at the same time being alert and ready to disguise their mistakes in a performance situation. In the long run, this can result in an unhealthy attitude towards collaboration. Even if one keeps in mind that one never stops learning, it is easy to consider oneself musically superior and get stuck in this controlling way of playing.
According to Coessens (2013), five dimensions interact in “the artist’s web of practice and skill”.35 These are the dimensions of “embodied artistic know-how, personal knowledge, the cultural-semiotic codes, social interactivity and the ecological environment […] These complexly interwoven dimensions are the fertilisers of creative outcome. Each act or event of exploration, interpretation, composition, expression and performance, covers a complex multitude of facets, ranging from more general – societal, cultural, historical – to more personal aspects – own experiences, personality, educational background, commitment, social relations”.36 Each performer has their own “artistic web” that constantly develops. As the “artistic web” changes slightly with every new experience, it is conceivable that the accompanist’s routine with core repertoire and the requirement to often play without enough practice might change his or her artistic web negatively. Being exposed to mostly very young and inexperienced musicians, the accompanist might also gradually be satisfied with a lower artistic level. Moore emphasised that the accompanist “must not catch bad habits from bad singers. […] At the performance he must be with the singer, but afterwards let him erase the memory of it from his mind so that the next time he tackles this piece of music his playing will not be tainted by this so-called interpretation.”37 It might be a rewarding topic for future artistic research to explore how pianists that are employed as accompanists at higher music education institutions could secure their artistic identity.
Every autumn during the three years of the project, I joined my supervisor in the teaching of a Lied class, which gave me valuable insights also into my own practice. Looking from the outside on the machinations of ensemble performance, I noticed how much easier it is to hear everything if one is not part of it. Hence, I realised the importance of having the energy and mental capacity to listen in a balanced way to oneself, the singer and the ensemble. Both partners have to be very familiar with all voices and must not be impeded by technical difficulties. Teaching also worked as a mirror. Not only did the observation of student’s quirks, be it unnecessary movements of the body or a stereotypical rubato, make me scrutinise my own automatisms on an even deeper level and work further on being mentally present in all aspects of my playing at all times. I also got aware of my preoccupation with specific topics and my preconceptions regarding the responsibilities of the two partners. Despite my advocating for equality, I saw the pianist as the person solely in charge of synchronisation.
It might seem a little strange to mention doing artistic research here as one of the contexts that affected me as a collaborator. After all, the whole assemblage of reflections in this exposition illustrates this as it is an attempt to communicate an artistic journey on which I embarked with the goal to create a unique, genuine, informed and meaningful performance of Opus 15 and to explore my role as a pianist in such a performance. Not only my understanding of the material but also the assumptions I had about my artistic practice changed in the course of this journey. Although artistic research goes beyond the personal artistic development of the researcher,38 it obviously can transform the artist. Nevertheless, I want to discuss two aspects of how the fact that I did artistic research influenced me in my role as an artist.
First, while the questioning of what one does and how and why one does it is a part of every artistic process, artistic research requires a more rigorous investigation and the conscious-making, articulating and documenting of it. On the one hand, this made me scrutinise my practice in a way I might not have done in a purely artistic context, allowing me to reach a deeper understanding of what I do. On the other hand, I noticed that it could also block the artistic process. Both during rehearsals and performances, I strive after a state of flow that is impossible to reach if I question everything and if each detail of each moment gains too much importance. Finding the right balance between thinking and doing was crucial in the rehearsal work with the singers as we had little time together. The need for documentation also influenced our performances. While it is not unusual to record concerts, the combination of creating a performance for an audience and making a recording at the same time can be stressful. One of the singers told me after the final concert that the huge camera in the back of the room disturbed her and hindered her from getting absorbed into the atmosphere. It was a reminder of the real world that obstructed her visualisation of the story and communication of the music to the audience present.39
As this was my project, I felt a huge responsibility for the artistic outcome. Instead of starting the collaboration on equal footing with the singer or being the one employed to assist the singer, I hired the singers and was depending on them to support me in my artistic research that focussed on the pianist’s role as emphasised in the title “The Voice of the Piano”. Most of the singers were very much aware of this. I was also the only native German speaker in most of the collaborations. I was careful to emphasise the importance of collaborative work, so our rehearsals would not turn into coaching sessions, as I realised from early on that the project affected the distribution of power between the singer and myself. However, again, there was a difference between what I said and how I played. I noticed only after a while that I also had to relearn to let go of some of the control in my playing despite the strong sense of responsibility.
According to Katz, collaborators “are fourfold custodians: We guard and maintain the composer’s wishes, the poet’s requirement as the composer saw them, our partner’s emotional and physical needs, and finally, of course, our own needs as well.”40 It is not always easy to balance these roles equally well in different contexts, and as I realised it is important to be aware of the baggage one carries. Two (seemingly opposing) forces had diminished the quality of my collaborations: On the one hand, I focussed too much on the singer’s voice at the expense of my own part and followed her sometimes just passively for the sake of synchronisation. At other times, I tended to lead and guide the singer too much through my playing. Although both of these attitudes are required on occasion, they have to be employed in a flexible and balanced way. Compared to my own practice, I spent very little time with the singers, and due to the geographical distance to most of them, we often rehearsed intensely on two or three consecutive days and would not meet each other again for several weeks. Having developed my own ideas in the practice room, I had to find the right balance with each singer. Although the project benefitted from the partnership with many different singers, there would have been advantages to working on a joint artistic research project with one singer. The distribution of power and responsibility would probably have been easier to handle. Instead of hiring several singers, who have many other things to do, it might have been beneficial to work with a partner that has an equal interest in all aspects of the project.
Each skill from the collaborator’s toolbox has to be used with an understanding of the situation. One must continually re-examine one’s playing, asking oneself anew in every collaboration if the give and take really flows. Although I was occupied with the equal role of both performers from the beginning of the project, I had to realise and understand with my whole being that ensemble playing is about more than adaptability. Good collaboration requires an improvisational state of mind.41 An excellent collaborative performance demands confidence and conviction yet at the same time an openness to vulnerability, the will to let go and accept that one’s own ideas and boundaries might be stretched by the other.
Rehearsals and the Search for Ideal Collaboration
During the project, I worked with seven different singers, with whom I had more than one hundred rehearsal sessions lasting a total of approximately 130 hours. For the three first concerts, I decided on the repertoire according to the context I wanted Opus 15 to present in and taking into consideration the length and practicability of the program before I found singers. Before the final concert, I dealt with program concerns and the availability of collaboration partners simultaneously. Most of the repertoire is technically and musically challenging for the singer, and some of it requires a specific voice type. While I had worked with two of the singers previously to the project, in the other cases, I had to rely on more distant acquaintances and contacts’ contacts to find suitable collaboration partners with the required voice, skills and experience.
Shortly after my very first rehearsal with a singer in this project, I read the rehearsal diary in Kerrigan’s book on Opus 15 from the singer’s perspective42 for the first time. Her description of the power struggle between singer and pianist, that included insults such as “Nervensäge!”43 seemed absurd to me. After all, I had just come back from a successful rehearsal weekend with a complete stranger. I considered that if one had the necessary social skills, chiefly among them patience and a willingness to compromise, it should be possible to work with almost any professional. I felt well-prepared for various collaborations through my experiences with students and professionals before the project and agreed heartily with Katz’s observation about the multiple social roles of the successful collaborator44 and Moore’s advice that “[t]he wise accompanist will treat old or young, famous or unknown, with equal consideration.”45 Towards the end of my project, I discovered that my optimism had been naïve and that a satisfying collaboration with this repertoire requires understanding and musical empathy from both partners.
I realised that the combination of a sense of enormous responsibility for the artistic outcome and an insensitive partner who is too occupied with him- or herself to consider the ensemble would lead to a disappointing collaboration experience. One of the singers came badly prepared to our first rehearsal even though we had little time together due to her other engagements. We spent the early rehearsals solely with learning the notes and correcting the pronunciation as she had severely underestimated the difficulty of the repertoire. Although a different degree of familiarity with the musical work changes the power balance in the rehearsal work, it does not necessarily impede good collaboration. I have no problem practising notes and intonation with a singer for several rehearsals. I also helped one of the other singers learning her voice, but as we had more time and I had anticipated her need, the shared experience of learning benefitted the ensemble, and we both gained security and trust in each other and a deep understanding with just how her voice fitted into the whole work. However, the singer with whom I had little time before the concert did not appear to be very interested in how our parts fit together. She tapped a beat with her foot that seemed to have nothing to do with what I was playing, and I had to ask her repeatedly to listen to me at least at the places where she had long notes and the accompaniment determined tempo changes. I learned that she had practised a lot with a recording of the work from which she had gotten fixed ideas about tempo and tempo changes. As it can be difficult for singers to hear anything else when they sing high notes, I let her either sing alone or hum along while I played my voice so that we would understand each other’s tempo. After practising this way repeatedly, we managed to make it work, though we still did not feel it together. She had little experience with this repertoire, so I was leading the rehearsals like coaching sessions while simultaneously trying not to treat her like a student. Although I was the one to suggest improvements most of the time, I let her steer the order in which we practised the songs and the amount of time we spent on each of them so that she could ration her energy. As the focus was almost entirely on her during our rehearsals, I was careful to encourage her and not to make her insecure, always trying to phrase my comments positively, so our new working relationship would not become strained. I was acutely aware of my dependence on the singer and did not want a bad atmosphere to make the collaboration even worse.
Another issue that disturbed the ensemble work was the singer’s pronunciation. I am used to hearing different singers shape diction in different ways and to working on pronunciation issues during rehearsals. By the time we reach the performance, we have usually dealt with the most significant issues, and I am accustomed to small idiosyncrasies. However, with this singer, the work on pronunciation was particularly challenging, as her vowels often changed throughout a tone. I am used to reacting to small colour changes in the singer’s voice that convey to me her phrasing, poetic intention or even the fact that she has little breath left. I found it challenging to continuously work on pronunciation issues during the rehearsals and not to react to them during the concert. I had to close my ears to that aspect of the performance which made it more challenging to anticipate other aspects of her singing. Pronunciation is related to vocal technique: the singer strives for a beautiful, carrying voice without losing good diction. It is first and foremost the vowels that change their character in singing compared to speech, especially on high notes.46 For me, vocal technique is part of the singer’s territory, something I try not to interfere with. I describe what I hear or what I would like to hear and leave it to the singer to find out how to do it.
Although we were busy with pitching, pronunciation and synchronisation, I tried to share my ideas about the poetry from the beginning. As the singer seemed very interested at first, I gave her my translations and reflections on the poems in written form at the end of our first session. I thought, this way, the rehearsal would not turn into a lecture, and we could discuss the poetry in detail during the next rehearsals. When the singer had gotten more secure in her notes, I guided her attention more towards the texts but had difficulties discussing them with her. She did not seem used to working with Lied and sang everything very dramatic with few nuances. At the same time, she did not seem to want to let the partly dark poetry close to her and rather than getting closer towards a shared interpretation, we seemed to drift further apart in our understanding of the work. I realised I had to change my approach. Still careful not to make her insecure or blame her, I told her honestly about my desperation at the state of our ensemble and underlined the importance of a good performance. We then sat down to talk through each song. I told her and demonstrated on the piano how I would shape each phrase, made her aware once again of important tempo changes that had to be coordinated, tried to describe the mood of the poetry as I perceived it and pointed out important words and how I would shape them if I were the singer. Then, when we went through the songs again, I tried to play with a more relaxed attitude, to anticipate without panicking, to be prepared for insecurities without overcontrolling, as I had realised that the demands of following her had resulted in a stressed and tense way of playing. I accepted that not all issues could be resolved before the performance, and she tried to accommodate my wishes. In my experience, in situations with interpretive disagreements ideally, both partners find a compromise, let it “mature” for a while, and see if they still feel comfortable with it when they try again. Due to the limited time we had and our very different range of experience, we had to resolve our differences in a very unbalanced working relationship in a way neither of us was entirely happy with.
With all other singers, I achieved a more balanced collaboration. Although not all them were familiar with this specific repertoire from before, they all had experience in singing German Lieder. I rehearsed slightly differently with each singer. In many cases, we started with the text and talked through the pronunciation and the meaning of the poetry first, or we just began to get to know each other musically. When I came to the rehearsals, I had often practised a lot on my own before. As a result, I knew both the singer’s and my part very well but had a slightly rigid way of thinking. Although this was my project, I found it most comfortable to work with those singers that contributed a lot with ideas, not only regarding their own voice and needs but also regarding my part and the ensemble, as they helped me find my way back to the flexible attitude that is necessary for good ensemble work and create a feeling of shared responsibility for our work.
The first rehearsals with a new singer or music that neither of us had worked on before were usually focused on tempo, balance and synchronisation issues as well as the discovery of wrong pitches or rhythms. At this stage, the music was not quite “in the body”, and each of us was busy trying to adjust to the other. During the early rehearsals, I often focussed on the singer’s intonation, rhythm and pronunciation. For the singers that were less familiar with this kind of repertoire, pitching could be difficult at places. While in some cases the added piano voice made it easier to hear harmonic connections, in other instances added dissonances made it more difficult for the singer to find her tones. To better understand how the different voices fit together rhythmically and harmonically, we often deconstructed the piano part, practising slowly and with only a skeleton of notes, to which I then added the other voices, one at a time. This kind of work required patience from both partners, but the mutual learning experience also created a bond and an intimate understanding of the other’s tone production, which was valuable in the later work on timing and colours. Paying close attention to the singer’s intonation required a specific way of listening, which on the one hand helped me train my ears to the harmonic language but also took my focus and energy away from my own playing and the ensemble. After a while, I realised that I would have to listen more flexible, at least in the rehearsals closer to the concert, to find a state of less rigid playing and thinking. Between the rehearsals with the singer, I relied a lot on recordings from our previous meetings. They helped me remember the tempi we agreed on and get a feeling for the singer’s phrasing. However, I noticed that relying too much on these recordings took away some of the freedom that is needed for good collaboration. Rather than copying our previous work, I had to internalise it so that I could be present in the moment.
I liked to rehearse with the singers facing me, so that, even though I looked at the score and the keys, I saw them at least in my peripheral vision and could communicate with them easily both through body language and verbally. Although I used few gestures deliberately with the goal to coordinate the ensemble, apart from giving a cue when I started a song right before the singer, and although it was not possible for me to watch the singer at all times, this way, she and I could follow each other’s body movements, at least to a degree, and thus read each other’s expressive intentions. The observation of each other’s breathing, both visual and aural, also played an essential role in the coordination of the ensemble. Before the concerts, we practised with the singer facing out towards where the audience would sit but turned in such a way that she would still be able to see me if necessary. Besides changing our impression of balance, this made the perception of gestural communication more difficult, but as we had gained familiarity with each other’s way of making music through the rehearsal process and were aware of those places that needed extra attention we needed less visual cues.
I also shared my ideas with the singer directly through the music, either by demonstrating them on the piano during the rehearsal or by inviting the singer through the way I played with her. A subtle increase in intensity would encourage the singer to do the same, or a more unyielding way of playing would make the singer aware of how I perceived a phrase or a tempo change. This manner of playing had to be used in a very flexible way though, so I would not guide and manipulate the singer through a whole song without allowing her room as well.
In my experience, in good collaborations, a considerable part of the rehearsal work is done none-verbally. The creation of a rich and nuanced performance happens in no small degree on the practical musical level. We used verbal language either to communicate our ideas about the music and poetry on another, often more analytical level, to solve problems or musical disagreements, or to share and reinforce experiences and point out intriguing and beautiful places in the music so we could gain a sense of togetherness and shared ownership. Depending on the context, different kinds of language, analytical or metaphorical, were useful. A calm, attentive attitude from both partners helped us share our views even when we did not speak the same native language.
Although I had many good working relationships with singers prior to this project, I hardly ever reached what I perceived as ideal collaboration, the feeling that one is entirely in accord. During my studies in Germany, I worked with two musicians with whom I quickly seemed to reach such a state of shared identity in music making, one of them a pianist, the other a singer. Later, I thought that the reason for this impression of togetherness was my inexperience and that such a state is Utopian or can at best be reached in rare moments. In our work on the project’s repertoire, it also seemed challenging to gain the necessary freedom to achieve this kind of collaboration due to the complexity of the music and the challenges it poses for both the singer and the pianist. After the dress rehearsal for the first concert, one of the singers, who even had previous experience with this repertoire, complimented my performance and commented that she really heard me play the words when I played with the other singer. She had not noticed it when she sang herself with me as she was too occupied with other aspects of the performance.47
Each of the singers seemed to resonate with a slightly different part of me and inspired me differently, be it through their analytical approach, the warmth and honesty of their expression or the beauty of their voice. Towards the end of my project, I found a singer with whom collaboration seemed to work on its own with an almost telepathic connection between us. Our understanding of each other’s thoughts and way of making music was so deep that she could guess from the way I was playing a particular place that I was wondering if her intonation was correct.
Although familiarity with each other helped, we needed surprisingly little time to sense our musical affinity. We were still aware of each other’s quirks and also had to solve musical disagreements, especially regarding tempo, but found it easy to adapt to each other. It was probably an advantage that both of us had performed the work with other partners before as that gave us an intimate knowledge of each other’s part that made it easier to listen actively and reach a state of flow from early on. We had similar views on the poetry, but each of us brought additional ideas into the collaboration. I still think that this kind of musical empathy between two collaborators is rare, but I found that I also could reach a closer accord with the other singers over time. In my experience, the familiarity of a long-term collaboration, both partner’s individual preparation, experience, appreciation and ability for nuance, trust and openness to be affected by the other, and sufficient rehearsal time and time between rehearsals are necessary to attain high quality in performance.
Many collaborators hint in their writings at the differences between rehearsal and performance. According to Adler, “the music to be performed must be so securely rehearsed that rigidity of execution can be broken in performance by a continuous give and take, an improvisatory creativeness that will spell success. Such improvisation within clearly defined bounds will express itself in details of blending and balance, and in imitation of each other’s tonal quality, phrasing, articulation, tempo, dynamics.”48 Moore also touches on the topic of improvisation in performance: “Each inspires the other, each eggs the other on. They will do things at performance which did not happen at rehearsal; an extra intensity of feeling will come into their work.”49
With most of the singers I performed for the first time, and I did therefore not know how they would react to the performance situation. I was often nervous before the concerts, but, depending on the singer, I would try not to show my nervousness before we went out on the stage, so it would not affect her. The moment I touched the keys, it got easier. Although I had tried the piano before, at least in a short sound check, the acoustics were different because of the presence of the audience. Nevertheless, the keys were something I knew, even when they belonged to an instrument I was less familiar with. When the singer entered, I would usually feel at ease, and all thoughts of my nervousness would have disappeared as I could focus on our collaboration that felt familiar due to rehearsal time we had spent.
In our previous rehearsal work, we had created a bond with the music and each other. We had resolved musical disagreements and uncertainties, had learned how to avoid disasters and had created a shared interpretive frame. Towards the end, we had made the rehearsals more and more concert-like with fewer stops, going through the music as if an audience was present, testing our stamina and our concept of the entire work. Already during these last rehearsals, my way of listening had changed as I had tried to be in the moment and to let go of some of the control. Instead of listening for mistakes and observing consciously with the goal to find ways to improve, I had tried to achieve a more open kind of listening, nevertheless focussing on every note and every connection between the notes. Although there still is a definite shift between rehearsal and performance, I feel that I can come closer to a performance state in a rehearsal with a good singer than when I practice solo works on my own. It might have to do with the singer being both musical partner and audience with whom I listen to the music. Because of the singer, there also is a constant unpredictability that keeps the music “alive”. I cannot be as easily distracted and play automatically as our collaboration requires my full attention.
Nevertheless, the performance situation is different. Hopefully, there is a larger audience with whom we want to share this experience of a musical work that we know intimately and now, when it “counts”, try to discover anew together. To break the distance to them can be challenging as both the texts and the music of Opus 15 are not easily accessible. It is difficult to observe what happens during a performance as I am completely involved in the music, and there is no time to analyse and process everything on a conscious level. Often, my perception of time and tempo seems to change. Each moment seems to last longer, yet at the same time, the whole performance seems to pass very quickly. Silence seems to gain more weight. There is no room for doubt and no time to think what we rehearsed the previous day. The rehearsal work has to be internalised. During the performance, each detail seems to be more in focus, and the “wire” between ears, mind and hands seems to be shorter. I listen and sense and shape. I have a different kind of energy that makes me feel even closer to the music, occasionally so much that I have to regain some distance, so I can listen in an involved yet to a certain degree still objective way and make sure I find the calmness to enjoy the quieter parts. Kerrigan described the necessity for this “combination of distance and involvement” as being very much a part of Schoenberg’s compositional style.50 I believe that this balancing is necessary for all successful performance. Nevertheless, Schönberg’s Opus 15 has a different “performative feel” compared to for example a Schubert cycle due to the complexity of the ensemble coordination and the expressive extremes that often shift suddenly without preparation or “filling material”. The “performative feel” also changes with every concert. Even when I perform it twice with the same singer, each situation is new. The rest of the concert program influences the tension of the moment.
The enormous expressive range of Opus 15 is not only challenging but also offers exciting and enjoyable possibilities for improvisatory creativeness. During the performance, our goal is not to “re-perform” an interpretation that we fixed to the tiniest detail in the rehearsals. Such a performance would be automatized and lifeless. Ideally, we reach a state of ease and freedom of expression, where the give and take flows and where there is room to inspire and even surprise each other with unplanned creative decisions. In a rehearsal, we might even disagree with this choice, but now we just create the music together. Text and music are with me at every moment. I recreate them, try to feel and hear them with fresh ears. I find that aspects of colour and timing often change the most during a performance. There is perhaps a danger of getting too free, enjoying too much and getting lost in the moment instead of finding the delicate line between expressivity and exaggeration. However, through the process of rehearsing, we have gotten used to the music’s expressivity, and it is essential to find a fresh way of listening. Depending on the security of the collaboration, it is important to take risks and not over-control the ensemble. Due to the extreme expressivity of Opus 15, I feel the need to allow myself and the singer to feel uncomfortable rather than making everything safe and smooth.
It is not always possible to reach a state of expressive, quasi-improvisational freedom. Sometimes, collaboration can turn into a struggle, and being attuned to the other can make it worse. Due to the connection to the singer, I can hear if she is nervous or has technical difficulties and it can be difficult not to get affected. I can affect the singer in a similar way. Tempo and timing are often different when the singer is sick, as she has less breath capacity and a slower tone production. Accidents can happen and can create insecurity in the ensemble, especially if they are not recognised as such by the partner as in the case of rhythmical inaccuracies. The different perception of detail in a performance situation can also exaggerate musical disagreements. During the second concert, for example, I experienced that one of the singers sang everything seemingly much slower and another one much faster than what we had agreed on in the rehearsal, yet when I listened to the recording of the concert these changes seemed tiny. What I perceive as challenging might be intriguing to the audience. It also seems to be easier to overcome struggles in an ensemble than alone, as there is a supportive partner that either gives the other the space to recover or inspires him or her and thus guides the attention back to the moment. Between the songs, non-verbal communication can assess the other’s status and convey support and reassurance.
Even if we have managed to create “magic” in a performance, there will never be a final version. Even though, there is no time for conscious learning, I take something with me from each performance back into the rehearsal room or towards the next concert, be it a feeling for how a singer’s timing changes in the performance situation, an even more profound understanding and sense of ownership of the music or a new ease and freedom.
Playing Opus 15 with Two Different Singers
As “Das Buch der hängenden Gärten” is complex, difficult to pitch and technically challenging for the singer and has a wide vocal range that makes it only suitable either for a mezzo-soprano with a good upper register or a soprano with a good lower range, it was not easy to find a collaboration partner for my project. Luckily, I got recommended a soprano with a particular interest in this repertoire, who also had studied Opus 15 once before. I contacted her and was happy that she agreed to work with me. On 20 February 2015, I flew to Vardø in the outmost northeast of Norway to rehearse Arnold Schönberg’s cycle for the first time with a singer. I was aware of the fact that she, in contrast to myself, had worked with this music before, so I had made sure to be well-prepared for our first meeting. I had, of course, practised my part, but I had also tried to learn her voice. I had marked in the score the places where voice and piano should be together, analysed the polyrhythms in the ensemble, spoken the text while I played and tried to get used to the pitches by recording the singer’s part and playing along with the recording. I was still less familiar with the music than the singer, although she had only sung it once some time ago, but my thorough preparation gave us a sound working basis. Nevertheless, a lot of patience was required to find into the music together and coordinate the ensemble. Before the first concert, we practised Opus 15 in sixteen rehearsals on four long weekends. The singer also sang other parts of the concert program, but due to not only the length but also the complexity of the cycle, we spent the most time on Opus 15.
In our early rehearsals, we identified ensemble challenges, worked on balance and coordination and agreed on tempo, phrasing, dynamics and articulation. In that context, I also shared my ideas on the poetry with the singer, but that early in the process, we were mostly concerned with making it work together. I also found mistakes and weak points in my playing that occurred while being “with or against” the singer that I needed to work on alone. It was challenging to find enough energy and focus to phrase a line or shape a sound in a certain way instead of just reacting to impulses. We were also soon aware of the special difficulties the eighth and fifteenth song pose for the ensemble due to tempo changes and complicated rhythms that had to be practised individually again now that both performers knew each other’s voices better. Despite these challenges, we had a good working relationship and a good musical cooperation as both of us strived to listen actively to the other. After a couple of rehearsals, we were slowly able to listen to and shape nuances and our searching way of playing and singing transformed into a more musical flow. When the cycle was new to me, I felt I needed a lot of rehearsal time with the singer. However, I had to consider the strain on her voice, especially when the music was not quite “in the body” yet. We usually practised between 60 and 90 minutes, so it was essential to be efficient during the rehearsals. I found it beneficial to record them, so I could listen to our work during the lengthy periods when I was on my own.
From the first rehearsal, I was impressed with how few problems the singer had with this difficult repertoire. Especially pitching seemed to be very easy for her. She told me that she did not have absolute pitch but that it came naturally to her to find a particular pitch in a cluster of tones. Due to this ability and her methodical way of learning, the collaboration with her was very valuable for getting to know the cycle. In hindsight, I think that both of us were still very busy and a little overwhelmed by the music during our first concert. Balance remained challenging at places due to her rather soft voice and her sometimes unclear pronunciation, and I was still getting accustomed to voicing the slightly unfamiliar harmonies. Around the first concert, I also realised that it is easy to get too intellectual. It is important to “think things through” for oneself and in the ensemble, but in performance, the most important thing is to communicate the text with all its images and the music to the audience. This music is not dry and intellectual at all, but very expressive. Already before the first concert, I had learned that she sees colours, while I try to tell a story. I wondered if these different approaches might cause difficulties for the communication of the music and the coordination of the ensemble as they influence the way each of us perceives musical tension.
When I listened to the recording of the first concert, I realised that I might have followed her phrasing too much instead of bringing out my own voices. Towards the second concert, we worked on flexibility, trying to make the difficult places more organic and to convey all images. This time, it seemed easier. We could feel that we had done it before. The experience we had from our previous rehearsals and the first performance had given us more mental capacity to interlink each other’s voices without relying on a strict metronomic tempo and to listen more to how the sound develops. I felt more at ease and able to over-control less. This time, we used only about a fourth of the rehearsal time we had spent on the preparation of the first concert. Between the two concerts, I had gotten other artistic impulses, both from the recordings I had listened to and the work on the other repertoire for the second concert, and I convinced her to rethink our tempi, especially in the eighth and fourteenth song. Even though I still found Schönberg’s metronome marking of the eighth song exaggerated, I wanted to reach a more extreme expression. It was challenging for her to find a way of singing that would allow her to get the intense lines up to a faster tempo. I realised that I played too thick and heavy with too much pedal and that a more transparent way of playing might help us find the necessary elasticity.
Although it might have been interesting to do the entire project with one singer, I was curious how the work with another singer would affect my view on Opus 15, and due to other commitments, my first singer was not able to sing the third concert with me. I again relied on contacts to help me find another suitable singer for this challenging repertoire. It turned out that we had met before as participants of a masterclass, though we had never played together. On 9 April 2017, more than two years after my very first rehearsal of Opus 15, I practised for the first time with my second singer. She had also previously performed the cycle with another pianist. Because of our previous individual work, both of us knew very well how the voices fit together, though we had slightly different ideas about tempo in many of the songs and had to get used to a different timing and phrasing. It was not difficult to find compromises though: I realised how the work with the first singer had influenced the shaping of my phrases at some places and she occasionally asked me to play certain parts on my own, concluding that she had more or less time than she thought. I expected some breaths she did not need, while she added others that I had not expected. Despite these adjustments, we felt very safe with each other and seemed to find a natural way of singing and playing together. Compared to the preparations for my first performance of Opus 15, we only needed a little more than half the time.
From the beginning, we had an excellent working atmosphere. We repeatedly spoke about our love for the music and our appreciation of the poetry, which we both found a little strange yet very fascinating. For each song, we discussed the poems and our related ideas for the music in depth. Although I felt I could share my thoughts with the first singer as well, it seemed to be easier to communicate small nuances with the second singer, perhaps because we had the same native language. It also seemed easier to follow her shaping of the words. She was clearer in her articulation of the words than my other singer, so she often needed more time to pronounce.
We encouraged each other to see new aspects of the cycle and discussed parts that we found difficult to understand. For example, she helped me see my left-hand accent in the following excerpt as something new to be discovered, something independent from her voice rather than something that disturbs her unstressed second syllable in the word “künden”.
Through our work together, we discovered our individual roles in the ensemble, noticing that it can create exciting effects if voice and piano do different things, as long as both partners are aware of the other. In the following excerpt from the first song, for example, her decrescendo against my crescendo works well if she stays concrete enough despite the softer dynamic while I play intense yet with an awareness of her voice.
We also discussed our expectations for the concert situation and realised that we both wished for an expressive and free performance with an openness to taking risks without being careless. Despite the flexibility in the ensemble, we felt that both of us were attentive to the other.
It is difficult to judge how much the collaboration with the new singer influenced my view on and playing of Opus 15 as the initial situations were different. When I started to rehearse with the second singer, I already understood the cycle on a deeper level and felt both my own part and how the voices fit together in my body. Thus, it was easier to let go of some of the control. The transformation from a more intellectual, distanced attitude to a more expressive way of playing had already started before the second concert, but with the new singer, it developed even further. With the first singer, I often played carefully and softly, while I felt I could do more with the second singer without disturbing the balance as she had a bigger dynamic range and a more declamatory way of singing. Her vocal flexibility allowed her to achieve more extreme tempi and her darker voice inspired me to play warmer. The latter might partly have to do with a personal preference for mezzo-sopranos. Although the collaboration was not risk-free, as the singer occasionally achieved expressivity at the expense of good intonation and her decision to sing the work by heart in our first performance together was slightly unsettling, it felt very safe. Her flexible way of shaping the words, her singing by heart, the rare musical empathy we had in the ensemble and my less controlling attitude all contributed to us being able to exploit the expressive possibilities of the cycle to a higher degree than in my first collaboration.
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