Thursday, February 25, 2010

Maria Szymanowska: Nocturne and Études

The Romantic period saw the rise of the composer/virtuoso performer, but there were so many that most inevitably fell into obscurity, including Maria Szymanowska (1789-1831), a Polish musician. Szymanowska traveled extensively across Europe and was highly praised for her stunning performances of her own compositions and of others. However, although she was a brilliant performer, her compositions did not stand the test of time. She primarily composed for piano and about 100 of her piano pieces remain today. In those works, her technical virtuosity is readily apparent.

Szymanowska's Études in F and C are intense technical studies for the right hand. The Étude in F focuses on arpeggios in the right hand and rolled 10th intervals in the left as well as sudden dynamic changes, tone colors, and sequencing. The Étude in C focuses on balance and separation of the melody from the harmony in the right hand, while maintaining steadiness of the fast notes. As the piece grows more complex, eventually the left hand doubles the fast notes of the harmony. Like the Étude in F, Szymanowska's Étude in C also utilizes sequencing to move through different tonalities, as well as sudden dynamic contrasts. The Étude in E is much different than the previous two; rather than fixate predominantly on the right hand, the left hand is equally difficult and involved. The Étude in E also sounds starkly different than the other two études. It is fast and driven by syncopation - almost what we would consider jazz-like in harmony and rhythm. And unlike the other two études, it modulates by sequencing to F and then back to E, an almost prophetic Romantic modulation. The piece is charismatic and oddly modern. Aside from some of the more unusual harmonies, I feel like I could hear Schroeder wailing away at this piece while Snoopy dances around the piano. The abrupt ending is strange and out of place, however. It's almost as if Szymanowska is presenting a musical joke, but she doesn't quite pull it off like Haydn. But in all, the pieces are études through and through, each honing specific technical difficulties for pianists.

The Nocturne in Bb Major is resolutely in the nocturne's style: the left hand outlines chords and the right hand contains the lyrical melody. It is obvious why her critics, audience, and peers praised Szymanowska for her cantabile style of composing and playing - it is easy to imagine a vocalist singing the line. Interestingly, the nocturne could also fall under the term "rondo," as the piece has sections of ABACA and a coda of sorts, with variations on the A theme as it progressively gets more difficult and involved with both hands. The B section is in the parallel minor (Bb minor) and the C section is in the parallel minor's relative major (Db Major), but the A theme is always in the original key. This nocturne is a good example of a pre-Romantic piece; like Beethoven, Szymanowska greatly expands the range of the piano, using both low and high extremes. It is also a good example of a pre-cursor to a composer like Chopin, who also used and expanded Szymanowska's distinctly "Polish" chromaticisms.

The Études, but the Nocturne in particular, fall in the gray area between Classical and Romantic music. The tonality and styles contain elements of the Classical period, but elements of the Romantic style creep into the piece through its chromaticism, virtuosity, expansion of the melody and range, and the simple fact that these are solo piano pieces intended to be performed by virtuosi, not necessarily by amateurs. Syzmanowska was ahead of her time, leaning toward Romantic music but still somewhat stuck in the confines of Classicism.

I loved the pieces. I am almost ashamed that I am a pianist and dedicated to female composers and did not know of Szymanowska. In fact, I promptly checked out scores of her piano music after I was finished listening and sight-read them. They are not terribly difficult to read through, but to perform them and perform them well would absolutely require a high level of technique, a sensitive ear, and a delicate touch.

Why then, is she not included in the canon? Although I enjoyed the pieces, there are several reasons she is not widely known. First of all, Szymanowska was primarily a performer, not a composer. She gained her reputation through touring and playing for royalty, not being commissioned to compose. Secondly, she did not have a huge output of music and primarily wrote for solo piano. Although they were published and even to a degree renowned in her lifetime (due to her fame as a virtuoso performer), composing was not her objective. Finally, and this is my pure speculation and opinion, she was overshadowed compositionally by John Field and, later, Chopin. It is almost known for certain that Chopin and Szymanowska were acquaintances, and it has been implied that because Szymanowska was 21 years his senior, Chopin looked up to her and even revered her - much like a teenager would look up to a rockstar in our culture. Thus, it is understandable and even expected that Chopin would attempt to emulate Szymanowska in style, genre, and tonality. The problem lies in the fact that he did it so much better and prolifically that Szymanowska has been fast forgotten. Composing in the same medium and style as others who have a larger output and go to even more extremes lends to an understandable fall to the wayside. This is not to say, however, that I agree with the fact that Szymanowska is not well-known. I am actually undecided on whether or not
I think she should be included in the canon, but I find her music beautiful and well worth listening to multiple times.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Anna Amalia: Four Regimental Marches

It is no secret that women and minorities are frequently overlooked in the broad history of Western music. I find it particularly frustrating that women and minorities were (and are) not given the same opportunities that wealthy white men could afford. So, it is no surprise that out of the choices we were given for our listening journals, I chose a female composer.

Through some extensive research, I learned that Anna Amalia was a princess and her father despised music but loved unnecessary shows of military force. Only after his death could she pursue music, which was "her secret consolation against his cruelty to her."1 She studied music theory and composition with Johann Philipp Kirnberger, who studied with J.S. Bach.

The pieces are four marches Amalia composed, each dedicated to a different military general or count. As a whole, they are influenced by the Rococo style, but not within strict boundaries. The style of a march does not quite give itself to a lovely melody like one would expect of the Rococo style, but the impression of the pieces is well within the Rococo framework. All four pieces are in some variation of the binary form (AABB, ABAB, AABA) with the opening theme well present throughout the entire piece. They all also hint at the sonata-allegro form in terms of tonality, beginning in a tonic key, moving to the dominant, transitioning through a short modulatory development period, and moving back to the tonic. (Count Lottum, General von Saldern, and General von Moellendorf begin in C, modulate to G, then back to C; General Buelow begins in F, modulates to C, and back to F though I am not sure why it is the only piece in F. My speculation is that Amalia sets him apart because the general himself loved music.) All four pieces are short and in moderate tempos, the harmonic structure is very simple, and there is no counterpoint. There are no string instruments in the ensemble; rather, there is a small group of wind instruments and a small group of brass instruments (one player per instrument), some percussion instruments, and slight variations on what instruments are included from piece to piece.

Count Lottum (1767) begins the collection, which does not match march expectations at all. It is very much a "Rococo march," as it is light-hearted, has a small sound due to the small orchestra, and it sounds more intimate than what we would expect of a march. It is more of a small processional. Amalia includes a timpani but does not include a snare, which is only used for the pieces dedicated to generals. General Buelow (1767) does feature a snare, but Amalia also groups the wind and brass instruments against each other in more of a call and response fashion. General von Saldern (1768) solidifies this feature, and the wind instruments and brass instruments switch off for the duration of the piece, entirely separated from each other. It is almost as if Amalia gives metaphysical characteristics to both of the groups of instruments, separating war and art as far as she can. General von Moellendorf, composed ten years later than the previous pieces, sounds the most important of the four. I am not sure whether or not that is true, or if it just sounds that way because her compositional style is more advanced. She introduces cymbals to this character, but more significantly, achieves dynamic contrast through her orchestration and, most likely, dynamic markings as well. Moellendorf is the only piece of the four that has distinct shifts between loud and soft. Amalia also utilizes sequencing in the piece, which she did not in the previous three.

It was interesting to listen to these pieces for several reasons. First of all, although the pieces are called "marches," they are a different style of march that I had not heard before and it is always great to have expectations thwarted. I also found it fascinating that Amalia chose to compose "regimental marches" long after her father was dead, considering the fact that he was, literally and figuratively, a militant force in her life, and she sought refuge in music to escape him. Listening to these pieces was also a tiny window into what music instruction and composition might have been like for female aristocracy.

That being said, the force behind the music is far more compelling than the music itself. None of the four left me with any melody to hum as I walked away (and I listened to them many times), or, frankly, any incentive to listen to Amalia's other compositions. I did not dislike the pieces so much as I found them lackluster and run-of-the-mill musically. They left me with the impression that these had been composed many times before, and written in a much more interesting way by someone else. The music does not leave much room for interpretation, and I am not surprised they are not performed or recorded often. I am not disappointed to have heard the four regimental marches, however. The pieces and their background did give me some insight to the time and geography in which they were composed.


1 "Princess Anna Amalia of Prussia," Wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Princess_Anna_Amalia_of_Prussia (accessed January 20, 2010).