Piano Sonata Number 21 in C Major, Opus 53 (L'Aurore) (Beethoven)

Saturday, June 18, 2016
Levine School of Music - Strathmore Campus
Bethesda, MD
Difficulty score: 6/9

So I gave my first full-length piano recital in eight years this past June (I had wanted to do it sooner, but trying to finish up graduate school, moving to DC and settling in, and placing a greater emphasis on running these past few years prevented me from doing so).  I realized I had neglected to bore everyone about how during this recital, I finally got to perform this piece that I had wanted to learn and perform since I was twelve years old.  I figured now was a good time to do so, while I'm planning another full-length piano recital for June 2017.

This piece, also known as the "Waldstein" or "L'Aurore" Sonata (I prefer the latter as it is more poetic, even though the "L'Aurore" nickname is not frequently used in the United States), is one of Beethoven's most substantial, popular, and most historically significant piano sonatas.  Beethoven had  composed and published 32 piano sonatas in his lifetime.  This one, composed in 1804, is Number 21 in that cycle and an archetypal example of Beethoven's "middle period" compositions, in which Beethoven started implementing changes in his writing style and amplifying his works to much larger scales.

In the Classical Era, a piano sonata was a large-scale work for piano solo, typically consisting of three or four movements: a fast-paced opening, a contrasting slow movement, (optionally) a dance movement in the form of a minuet, and a moderately to fast-paced finale.  Superficially, the basic structure of this piece adheres to that format: a fast-paced opening movement (0:00 to 11:21 in the video above), followed by an intervening slow movement (11:22 to 14:50) that serves as an introduction to the leisurely rondo closing out the entire sonata (14:51 to 25:20).  But in many ways, this piano sonata was quite different from anything anyone else had ever composed before.  The chord progressions and modulations in the first movement, although they might not seem particularly strange to our ears in 2017, were very novel in the early nineteenth century.  The long pedals in the third movement (the pedal is held down sometimes for as many as ten or more measures), as well as virtuosic figurations such as the lengthy trills (24:25 to 24:59) and the octave glissandos (i.e. gliding the hand across the keyboard; 24:16 to 24:23) creates sounds and pianistic effects that were quite new in 1804.

I first came across this piano sonata some time in 1994 after I borrowed my piano teacher's copy of the complete Beethoven Piano Sonatas so that I could photocopy the "Moonlight" Sonata and begin learning the notes.  I flipped through the entire book to take a look at the other piano sonatas, and this one caught my eye.  The reason was pretty dumb; I was simply fascinated by its page count.  At nearly fifty pages, this piano sonata was much longer than any piece I had encountered in my then limited exposure to the repertoire.  In terms of page count among Beethoven's piano sonata, the "L'Aurore" is also second only to the twenty-ninth in the cycle, the "Hammerklavier."

However, I could not sift through the score of the "L'Aurore."  Editions of the complete Beethoven piano sonatas typically need to be split into two volumes simply because the total page count often reaches seven hundred pages or more, which would result in a book that is too bulky for use at the piano.  The "Moonlight" is often in the first volume whereas the "L'Aurore" is typically in the second.   Shortly afterwards, I borrowed a recording of the "L'Aurore" from the local library, wondering what a fifty-page piece would sound like, and how long it would be in terms of playing time.  Back then, I did not have the patience to listen to all twenty-five minutes of the sonata, but I did listen to the first movement.  I listened to it over and over again, captivated by the soft repeated chords in the opening, the transformation of these repeated chords into a tremolo during its restatement a few measures later, the chorale-like secondary theme, and the rapid broken-chord and scalar passages.  I even tried to learn as much of the first movement as I could by ear.

Not long afterwards, my father purchased a recording of this piano sonata for me.  I started listening to the second and third movements.  I needed a while to warm up to the second movement, a very slow and harmonically unsettling arioso serving as an introduction to the third and final movement, a spacious rondo (a piece of the form A-B-A-C-A-B-A, namely where a refrain is repeated amidst contrasting episodes) that enthralled me upon my first listen as much as the first movement.  I then asked my piano teacher if I could borrow her copy of the Beethoven piano sonatas again; but this time, I requested the second volume so I could tinker with the "L'Aurore".  Understandably, she seemed a little reluctant; after all, this piano sonata is one of the more technically and musically difficult ones of the thirty-two.  She gave in, and I was able to work on learning the notes for a little while before she took the score away, deciding that this piece was indeed too difficult for me.

Three years later, I ordered a copy of the score of the "L'Aurore," attempting once more to learn the notes.  I got much further than I did last time, but since my technique was nowhere near the level needed to successfully execute this piece, I developed many bad habits.  I switched teachers that year, and after my new one gave me a bracing reality check about my current technical and musical abilities, I listened to her, put the "L'Aurore" back on the shelf, and focused my attention on less ambitious pieces more appropriate for my level at the time.  I finished learning all of the notes to the first movement when I was seventeen, and finished learning the notes to the second and third movements five years later right after my graduation from the University of Rochester, after my teacher there suggested I start working on this piano sonata.  I had planned to perform this piece in a piano recital I had intended to give in 2009 that I needed to cancel as I needed to focus on finishing my dissertation and secure a job for after my thesis defense.

Initially, I had intended to perform another Beethoven piano sonata during this recital, but after some consideration, I decided now was a good time to perform "L'Aurore"; I had brought this up to performance standards before, after all, and the notes came back to me surprisingly quickly; after less than two weeks of work on the "L'Aurore," I was able to play the first movement at tempo.  Plus, I felt this piece would be more friendly toward an audience that was able to appreciate piano music but did not know much about it.  But I'm happy to say that I can cross performing this piece off my bucket list.

Considerations for Learning and Performing this Piece

• I gave this piece an overall difficulty rating of 6 out of 9.  This rating is primarily because of the scale of this sonata and the technical figurations; this is one of the virtuosic middle-period Beethoven sonatas, even though it is not the most difficult piece Beethoven wrote.
• Practice slowly, of course, and figure out how to convincingly integrate the many virtuosic passages into one cohesive whole.
• Focus on clarity of the notes and keeping a constant tempo throughout each of the movements; this is still a Classical Era piece, after all.
• In the last movement, the opening section (14:51 to 16:10) recurs several times essentially verbatim.  Figure out a different way to execute this theme each time it appears to change things up and to prevent the piece from getting too repetitive.  During the first occurrence, I like to milk every note to really emphasize the spaciousness of the theme.  During the second occurrence (17:20 to 18:43), I play more flatly.  During the third and last occurrence (21:29 to 22:07), I play the theme more grandiosely to emphasize its glorious return after a lengthy and tempestuous middle section.

Etude 7 Pour Les Degres Chromatiques (Debussy)

Saturday, January 16, 2016
Levine School of Music - Strathmore Campus
Bethesda, MD
Difficulty score: 4/10 (4 for technical difficulty, 0 for interpretive and musical difficulty, 0 for scale)

This piece is the seventh in a set of twelve etudes that Debussy composed in 1915.  These twelve pieces are technical exercises, each of which focuses on specific technical issues.  For example, this particular etude deals with rapid chromatic scales, which in turn forces the pianist to work on playing evenly and smoothly and to develop agility and independence of his fingers.

But also, like many of the etudes written during the nineteenth century such as those by Chopin and Liszt, all twelve of these etudes are technical exercises disguised as concert pieces, unlike the etudes of composers such as Czerny that simply consist of dry rote repetitions of the technical issue.  The Debussy etudes are pieces that are meant to be performed in concert (and enjoyed by listeners) in which the technical issue is the building block of the writing; for example, in this particular etude, Debussy capitalizes upon the rapid chromatic scales to create a ghostly and mysterious atmosphere.  Embedding the technical issue into a concert piece like this forces the pianist to not only be able to execute the chromatic scales accurately and quickly, but also to do it with musicality.  This is infinitely more useful than simple rote repetitions of the technical issue.  After all, technique never just occurs in isolation; during a performance, a pianist needs to navigate a variety of technical difficulties and do it musically.

This was actually my first Debussy etude.  I don't know why I waited so long to attempt one of these.  Perhaps it was because these weren't exactly the flashy virtuoso pieces like the Chopin and Liszt etudes were that I was attracted to when I was younger.  Perhaps it was because I needed some time to warm up to the harmonies that Debussy liked to use late in his life.  I would actually say that many pianists may feel the same way; these etudes are often ignored by most pianists in favor of those of other composers.  But regardless, these etudes are full of exotic and beautiful sounds and textures.  They are also a good alternative to Chopin for refining various aspects of your technique; these twelve etudes cover a broad range of technical issues, from the rapid chromatic scales in this etude to the parallel thirds, fourths, and sixths in the second, third, and fourth etudes of the set, to the large leaps and thick chords in the fifth and twelfth etudes of the set and the arpeggios (broken chords) and extensions of the hand in the eleventh.  I do plan on learning more of these in the future.

Considerations for Learning and Performing this Piece:

• The very first thing anyone thinking about learning this piece should do is sit down and write out a good fingering for all of the chromatic figurations (that is, if your edition does not contain fingering; my Schirmer edition did not, and I'm not sure which editions do or do not).  Sloppy or poorly planned fingerings are a recipe for screw-ups later on.
• Don't use the traditional 1313123... fingering for chromatic scales.  Figure out a fingering that minimizes the number of times you need to cross the longer fingers over the thumb or tuck the thumb under the longer fingers.  This way, you will be able to execute these chromatic scales and figurations faster and with less effort, which will really help at the speed at which this piece is supposed to be performed.
• Keep the tempo under control.  In some passages, it is very easy to speed up without realizing it, which will bring trouble in some of the trickier passages (e.g. that horrid left-hand broken sixths passage at 1:38 in the video).
• Don't overthink things during the performance.  I found overthinking leads to memory lapses in this piece.  This is one of those pieces that plays itself once the notes are learned; simply letting your fingers do the work and obeying the dynamic and tempo markings is sufficient for an effective performance.

Gargoyles, Opus 29 (Liebermann)

Gargoyles is a set of four short, contrasting character pieces written by American pianist, conductor, and composer Lowell Liebermann.  Gargoyles was composed in 1989, when the composer was 28 years old, and is actually the first twentieth-century piece post-dating Impressionism that I have done in a long time.  Numerous sources indicate that the four movements of Gargoyles were meant to evoke imagery associated with the carved stone figures, but none of the movements refer to a specific gargoyle.

What exactly each of the movements depict is largely left to the listener's imagination.  For example, the first movement (0:00 to 2:02) conjures up images of more demonic-looking gargoyles; marked Presto (fast), this movement is a scherzo whose mischievous and sarcastic character is achieved through the irregularity and unpredictability of the music.  The movement is full of dramatic and sometimes schizophrenic dynamic changes, including the sudden loud dissonant chordal outbursts throughout the middle section and the long crescendos.  Liebermann also employs hemiola to add rhythmic unpredictability, switching from the standard 3 + 3 partition of the 6/8 time signature to a 2 + 2 + 2 division.  The polyrhythms in the beginning and at the end also contribute to the irregularity of the rhythm.  The unresolved dissonances everywhere and the lack of familiar major and minor chords also gives this movement its demonic character; out of the four movements, this one is the most dissonant.

Meanwhile, the second movement (2:08 to 4:41), marked Adagio semplice (slow and simply played), is a pensive aria that could depict a weathered, time-worn gargoyle, like one fixed to the ruins of a church.  Here, Lieberman uses stagnant harmonies, sparse textures, and dynamic markings that never rise above mezzo-piano to achieve an atmosphere of desolation and loneliness.  The beginning and end of the movement feature a chromatic melody in the right hand, played in bare octaves, over a plodding accompaniment in the left, whereas the contrasting middle section features a chorale over slow repeated notes.  The music is also entirely restricted to the higher registers of the piano, giving the movement not only a lonely character, but a haunted feel as well.

The third movement (4:50 to 7:24), marked Allegro moderato (moderately fast), is a reverie that seems to evoke imagery of water; after all, many gargoyles serve not only as decorations, but also water spouts to drain rainwater from the roofs and walls of buildings.  The water-like feel of the music is achieved through a continuous harp-like arpeggio accompaniment, which, throughout most of the piece, is to be shared between the two hands, which makes for a challenge in maintaining evenness.  Most of this movement consists of a simple theme in F-sharp major with some chromatic inflections in the soprano over this arpeggio accompaniment, with the addition of a bass melody that imitates the soprano toward the end.

Finally, Liebermann returns to a depiction of the demonic in the last movement (7:32 to 10:31), marked Presto furioso (fast and furious).  This movement, which most pianists would agree is the most technically demanding of the four by far, takes the form of a very energetic dance.  The unrelenting triplet rhythm, abundance of accented notes, extended passages in the lower registers of the piano, and the dense chordal passages gives this movement a savage character also.
  

Gargoyles is perhaps the most frequently performed work for solo piano piece of Liebermann's, and has been becoming a favorite among pianists and audiences; threads on piano-related message boards requesting recommendations for modern piano pieces often get Gargoyles as an answer.  Its outwardly virtuosic writing certainly could be a reason for its popularity; technical challenges in Gargoyles include rapid scales, arpeggios, broken octaves, dense chords, and leaps, which not only give the pianist an opportunity to show off a diverse set of techniques, but also are almost certain to excite audiences.  But more notably, Gargoyles is a twentieth-century piano piece with Romantic Era characteristics.  The twentieth-century characteristics of Gargoyles, particularly its use of atonality in the first, second, and fourth movements (none of these movements can be reliably said to have a central key) and its avoidance of more traditional harmonic progressions of the Classical and Romantic Eras, including unresolved dissonances in the first movement and the use of exotic scales in the first and fourth movements introduce some variety and novelty, but the resemblance of Gargoyles to character pieces and etudes of the nineteenth century prevent the piece from becoming so foreign that it would be unenjoyable to most pianists and audience members.

Each of the four movements of Gargoyles have structures similar to those of piano pieces from the Romantic Era.  The first, second, and fourth movement are all in ternary (ABA) form, namely an exposition of the main theme (A), followed by a central section in which either a contrasting theme is presented or the main theme is developed (B), and then a reprise of the main theme (A) with a coda.  The third movement is in rondo (ABACA) form, consisting of three statements of the main theme (A) with two intervening interludes (B and C).  As a result, these pieces are easier to follow than most others composed around the same time, which often tended to be more loosely structured.  Dissonances, although prevalent in all four movements, serve functions such as for shock purposes in the first movements and to build tension in the second, third, and fourth movements, similar to those they serve in the pieces of eighteenth and nineteenth-century composers.  In the third and fourth movements, dissonances even resolve into familiar major and minor chords.  Thus, these dissonances, although sometimes jarring and even harsh at times, are placed in contexts where they make sense to most listeners, which would tend to make the audience more receptive to these harmonies.

The video above is of my performance of the complete set at the Washington Music Teacher's Association (WMTA) Annual Adult Recital on January 17, 2015 (thanks to Thorne for taking the video.)  Somehow, I managed to accurately execute the runs in the first movement cold; I did not get much of a chance to warm up prior to the recital, and I was fifth in the lineup, which meant I had to wait another forty minutes or so before I finally performed (do not try this at home, kids.  Always precede a performance of this piece with a proper warm-up or a performance of a more sedate piece.  I'm just a little crazy and have a tendency to do dumb things like this.)

Overall difficulty assessment: Difficult.

First movement (Presto):

• Technical difficulty assessment: Difficult.  Technical problems include rapid scale passages, alternating martellato chords, and irregular polyrhythms.
• Musical and interpretive difficulty assessment: Straightforward.  This is not a subtle movement.  Playing the notes and following the dynamic markings will result in an effective performance, but pianists should be sure to play the soft passages very softly and hammer the louder chords to make the contrasts more stark and the crescendos more dramatic.

Second movement (Adagio semplice):

• Technical difficulty assessment: Easy.  This movement contains no substantial technical difficulties.
• Musical and interpretive difficulty assessment: Tricky.  Attention to phrasing and dynamic detail and a sensitive touch is needed to create the atmosphere that Liebermann wants from this movement.  Any carelessness in phrasing, touch, and dynamics will be exposed due to the sparse textures and lack of technical fireworks.

Third movement (Allegro moderato):

• Technical difficulty assessment: Difficult.  Technical problems include maintaining evenness in the arpeggiated accompaniment shared by both hands, balance of sound between the melody and the accompaniment, and voicing of the canon in the recapitulation.
• Musical and interpretive difficulty assessment: Tricky.  In addition to difficulties in voicing and balance of sound, the pianist must put some thought into how to prevent this movement from becoming monotonous.

Fourth movement (Presto furioso):

• Technical difficulty assessment: Very difficult.  This movement contains alternating martellato chords, leaps, dense chordal passages, and rapid repeated octaves, all of which are to be executed at a very fast tempo.  This movement also requires endurance.
• Musical and interpretive difficulty assessment: Straightforward.  Like the first movement, this is not a subtle piece of music.  Here also, playing the notes and following the dynamic markings will capture the spirit of this movement and result in an effective performance, but performers should be sure to really capitalize on the softer passages for make the contrast with the louder passages more pronounced and the crescendos more dramatic.

Performance Notes: Transcendental Etude No. 11 in D-flat Major (Liszt)

This is a video of me performing Liszt's Transcendental Etude in D-flat Major at Levine, the eleventh in the set of twelve Transcendental Etudes.  The Transcendental Etudes are studies, each of which focuses on a set of specific technical issues.  For example, the fifth in the set focuses on double notes and evenness, the twelfth focuses on tremolos, namely rapid oscillations between two notes or two clusters of notes, and the eleventh one,  which I perform in the video above, focuses on chords and leaps across the keyboard.  The technical issue of interest is heavily incorporated into the writing of the etude; for example, in the twelfth etude, the melody is stated over constant tremolos, whereas in the etude in the video above, the music is full of chords and passages where the pianist would need to rapidly displace his hands across half the length of the keyboard.  The intuition behind this is that through learning and performing the etude, the pianist perfects the execution of the technical difficulty of interest through sheer repetition.

But also, these etudes are studies disguised as concert pieces, as opposed to dry technical exercises by composers such as Czerny and Cramer that do not pretend to be anything but.  The technical challenges in each of these etudes are written in such a way that they add texture and color and therefore become integral to the music.  In the etude above, for example, the leaps in the central section (5:27 through 6:26 in the video) allow the pianist to seem like he is simultaneously playing in different registers, creating the impression of layers of sound; this, together with the large chords, gives a massive, orchestral feel to the piece.  Thus, successful performances of pieces like these not only require the technique, but a degree of musicality as well.

During my Spring 2013 jury, after a performance of "Alborada del Gracioso" from Ravel's Miroirs, one of the teachers evaluating me suggested that I do some Liszt in order to work on creating a fuller, more orchestral sound on the piano; he felt the large chords in "Alborada" were a little thin-sounding.  I brought this suggestion back to my teacher, and she gave this particular piece among a list of suggestions.  Given that I needed to work on getting a richer, more sonorous sound out of the piano and on wide leaps across the keyboard, I selected this piece, thinking it would be perfect for me.  Plus, out of all of the Transcendental Etudes, as well as the piano repertoire in general, this has been among my favorites ever since I listened to it for the first time when I was seventeen years old; it was something about the exotic harmonies and modulations, the way that the three main themes (0:47 through 1:10, 2:40 through 3:25, and 3:40 through 4:40 in the video) are interwoven, and the way it satisfyingly builds to its climax (6:27 in the video) and then fades away.

I was able to learn the notes and bring this piece up to performance standards in about four months.  This etude was not nearly as technically difficult as I thought it would be.  It was not exactly something that I could sight-read at tempo, but it certainly was not one of the more difficult of the Transcendental Etudes; the consensus among most pianists indicate that honor goes to either the fourth or fifth of the set.  Working on this piece was extremely useful for me; chords have never been my strong suit, as I often have been unable to play chords with the full sound they need, and I would often tire in dense chordal passages.  I can tell in more recent repertoire that having learned and performed this piece has helped; I noticed that I have been able to execute thick chords with better sound, and I do not tire as easily when I need to play a sequence of them.

Learning the Piece

I found it helpful, both for learning the notes to the piece and for mapping out the trajectory of the music, to divide the etude into seven sections:

Measures 1 through 37 (0:00 through 2:39): A slow, tonally ambiguous introduction where an introductory theme is developed, amidst fragments of the primary theme, which will make its first full appearance in the second section.

Measures 38 through 57 (2:40 through 3:36): A flowing section marked "poco piu mosso" (a little faster) that serves as the first full exposition of the primary theme.  The theme is stated in right hand chords over a rising and falling figuration in the left hand outlining open fifths.  Liszt instructs that the theme is to enter pianissimo, with the soft pedal depressed; the melodic line reaches higher and higher as Liszt instructs the pianist to release the soft pedal and the music builds to a fortissimo high point that abruptly fades to bare B octaves.

Measures 58 through 79 (3:37 through 4:50): An calm arioso that serves as the first full exposition of the secondary theme.  A rhythmically free statement of this theme occurs in the right hand over large rolled chords to be taken up by both hands, imitating the sound of a vocalist singing over an instrumental accompaniment.  Liszt indicated that this accompaniment is to sound harp-like and this section to be played "Piu lento con intimo sentimento" (slower, with intimacy and sentimentality).  The section ends in a recitative that resolves to an E major chord that ushers in the following section.

Measures 80 through 97 (4:51 through 5:26): a transformation of the primary theme.  This time, it is stated in the right hand as thicker chords with a heavier accompaniment consisting of repeated triplet chords and broken octaves (4:51 through 5:13).  Liszt marks this section "molto animato" (very animated) and gives the directions to play "trionfante" (triumphantly) and fortissimo.  The melodic line is gradually deconstructed into chromatic broken octaves, providing a transition to

Measures 98 through 119 (5:27 through 6:26): the most technically difficult section of the entire etude.  This section is a transformation of the secondary theme, at full volume and in a higher register than the first full statement in the third section, over a dense repeated chord accompaniment.

Measures 120 through 129 (6:27 through 6:45): a reprise of the fourth section, which leads to

Measures 130 through the end (6:46 through the end): a slow, quiet ending beginning with an interlude consisting of a fragment of the secondary theme over similar rising and falling figurations in the left hand as the ones in the second section and ending with a restatement of the introductory theme over large rolled chords that fades away to three simple D-flat major chords.

These seven sections are different enough in terms of technique required and character that I ended up trying to learn and polish one section at a time.

The first several measures of the introductory theme (top), primary theme (middle), and secondary theme (bottom).  As can be seen, much of the writing in this etude consists of large chords.  Source: imslp.org

As mentioned before, this etude is a study in chords, and unsurprisingly, every one of these sections contains an abundance of them, including large rolled chords spanning two octaves or more as in the introduction (0:00 through 2:39), central arioso (3:37 through 4:50), and ending (6:46 through the end), and unbroken chords.  Like with just about every other piece in the piano repertoire, learning the notes should start with slow practice at half tempo.  But while learning this etude, perfecting the attack of the chords is also extremely important.  All of the notes in each unbroken chord must sound simultaneously, particularly in the softer passages during the introduction and the first appearance of the primary theme (2:40 through 3:25), where any chord where the notes do not sound completely together are especially noticeable.  During each chord, the keys need to be depressed fully with firm fingers as well in order to give the chords fullness and sonority, even in these softer sections.  Also, these chords must be played with the weight of the entire arm rather than just the forearms and wrists; achieving as full or rich of a sound with the latter is very difficult.  Plus, doing the latter will quickly lead to fatigue in the denser chordal passages in measures 80 through 129 (4:51 through 6:45).

After learning the notes and perfecting the attack of these chords, the next step is to determine which notes are the important ones to emphasize and which are there for texture and coloration.  This is crucial for maintaining clarity in the dense passages of this etude.  In my performances of this etude, I sought to emphasize any statement or fragment of the introductory, primary, or secondary themes; most often, these ended up being the topmost notes of a sequence of chords, but on some occasions, such statements occurred in the tenor (0:47 through 1:09) or in the bass (1:30 through 1:40).  I also sought to make sure individual notes within such statements were connected to one another.  I would usually make sure each note within the theme were sustained enough so that their sound would last until the next note, while also being careful not to elicit a harsh tone.  

Meanwhile, for the rolled chords in measures 24 through 29 (1:41 through 2:07), 59 through 76 (3:40 through 4:40), and 143 through 153 (7:23 through 8:18), care must be taken to avoid what my teacher calls a "hit and run", namely when the pianist is so concerned about getting ready to play the next notes that he ends up glossing over the current ones.  Every note in each of these broken chords needs to have a robust sound, and this is  achieved by not only depressing the keys fully, but also using the arms to guide the fingers in each rolled chord rather than simply stretching the fingers from note to note.  In the introduction and ending, the topmost notes of these rolled chords also spell out the introductory theme; the top note in each rolled chord needs to be voiced over all the others, and they, like with the unbroken chords, need to be connected.  For the rolled chords, I also made sure the topmost notes were sustained enough to last until the next note in the theme.  

In measures 98 through 119 (5:27 through 6:26), on top of the chords from the preceding sections, Liszt introduces the second technical focus of this etude: leaps.  A full fortissimo statement of the secondary theme occurs here as right hand chords in the higher registers of the keyboard; in between each note of the theme, the right hand plays a repeated chord accompaniment one octave lower, requiring the pianist to rapidly displace his right hand to cover both the theme and the accompaniment.  Meanwhile, the left hand mirrors these leaps in contrary motion.

The leaps in the central section of the etude.  The notes with the upward stems in the right hand comprise the secondary theme, whereas the notes with the downward stems comprise the repeated chord accompaniment.  Source: imslp.org.

Perfecting these leaps also requires slow practice, but after weeks of repeating the same passage over and over again at half tempo, a pianist learning this piece will be able to almost intuitively sense exactly where he needs to strike.  These leaps require an attack from above the keyboard, where the pianist is to use the full weight of his entire arms to drop down upon the notes, as opposed to preparing the placement of his hands and then using his forearms and wrists to execute the chords; the faster tempo of this section allows no time for the latter, and the former guarantees a fuller sound without inducing the fatigue that the latter does.  Plus, the notes of the theme needs to have a sufficiently robust sound to allow them to sustain over the heavy chords in the accompaniment; thus, care must be taken not to "hit and run" the notes of the theme, especially given the strong temptation to do so with the very busy right hand.  Glossing over the notes of the theme in this manner will produce a much weaker sound and will most likely cause the melodic line to become buried in the thick textures.

Bringing the Piece Up to Performance Standards

After learning the notes and perfecting the attack of the many chords in this piece, the next step is to incorporate some musicality so that this piece sounds more like a concert piece and less like a technical study; again, this etude is meant to be a technical study disguised as a concert piece.  Liszt gave this etude, along with nine others in the set, programmatic titles; he had a very strong vision of the imagery that the music in this etude would conjure.  Pianists performing this etude should aim to invoke "Harmonies du Soir", or evening harmonies with their playing.  When I perform this, I try to invoke a musical depiction of a tempo run along the monuments here in Washington, DC on an evening in November.

An effective performance of this piece requires a firm understanding of the broad structure of this piece, specifically identifying the direction of the music within each individual section and of the entire piece.  Measures 1 through 37 (0:00 through 2:39) is an introduction that sets the context of the entire etude with hints of the themes to come.  I consider the piece to have two climaxes: the true climax during the third and final appearance of the primary theme in measures 120 through 129 (6:27 through 6:45), and a false climax during the first appearance of this theme in measures 38 through 57 (2:40 through 3:36), where the music builds to the high point (3:12) and then abruptly fades away.  The arioso in measures 58 through 79 (3:37 through 4:50) is a calm interlude, and measures 80 through 119 (4:51 through 6:26) is one long buildup to the true climax.  The last section, measures 130 on (6:46 on) closes out the piece.

The overall structure, along with Liszt's dynamics and tempo indications and the textures and harmonies, are useful for determining the character and color of each of these different sections.  For example, the primary theme enters in full three times during this etude, and as mentioned before, I consider the last of these three statements as the climax of the entire etude.  Thus, I make each appearance of this theme more intense than the last.  Whereas I try to achieve an airy feel in the first statement in measures 38 through 57 (2:40 through 3:36) by being a little more liberal with the rhythm, holding down the damper pedal through each phrase, and fully releasing each right hand chord before playing the next one due to the pianissimo marking, the open fifths outlined in the left hand, and the instructions to hold down the soft pedal, I play the second statement in measures 80 through 90 (4:51 through 5:13) more majestically and in strict rhythm, and the final statement in measures 120 through 129 (6:27 through 6:45) more ecstatically and pay less attention to the rhythm.  Meanwhile, the constantly shifting tonality and the unusual harmonic progressions in the introduction (0:00 through 2:39), and Liszt's request to play much of this part piano or pianissimo all indicate that this section is to sound hazy and dreamlike.   

Within each section, we need to consider how to shape the statements of the three main themes so that they have a clear trajectory.  For the introductory and primary themes, I typically shape each phrase within these themes according to their melodic contours, treating the highest note in each phrase as the destination; I incorporate a long crescendo through the notes preceding this high point and a diminuendo through the notes following.  For the secondary theme, I usually give the notes more equal emphasis with a more marcato (strongly articulated) attack.  Equally as important is how phrases within the themes relate to one another, and this is also crucial in giving a clear direction for the entire section.  For example, if a phrase is repeated one whole step higher, such as in measures 38 through 40 (2:40 through 2:49) and measures 42 through 44 (2:51 through 3:00), I give the repeat statement more intensity than the first.

In addition to changes in the loudness of the notes of each phrase, taking time, letting up the intensity, and playing with rhythm in well-chosen places are also very helpful in shaping the melodic lines.  For example, at the high point of the first entry of the primary theme (3:12 through 3:17), I elongate the right hand chords a little, making this feel like somewhat of an arrival.  I do something similar during statements of the introductory theme in the introduction and ending (1:41 through 2:07 and 7:23 through 8:18).  Some well-placed delays in the music can also enhance some important notes, making them ring a little more.  In measures 98 through 119 (5:27 through 6:26), I do not play strictly in time; after each note in the theme, I take a little time before beginning the following triplet repeated chords.  Doing this helps the theme resonate a little more in this passage.  I also delay a little before unusual chord progressions such as in measure 72 (4:25), drawing attention to the unexpected harmonies.  Dropping the intensity at appropriate locations within the heavy chordal passages can also help make the climaxes even more powerful; I bring down the volume to a mezzo forte in measures 112 and 113 (6:05 through 6:10) right before the transition to the final reemergence of the primary theme in measure 120 (6:27).  Doing this allows an even more noticeable crescendo toward the climax than had I played this entire section at full volume.

Critique of this Performance

The technique felt sound during the performance; most of my issues were minor musicality issues.  I felt the introduction could have been more hazy, and I could have provided even more dynamic contrast between the introduction and the first emergence of the primary theme in measures 1 through 39 (0:00 through 3:25) and the louder chordal passages.  I could have taken even more opportunities to breathe and play with rhythm in the central section, to really give this statement of the secondary theme here some power.

Overall, I was pleased with this performance.  This certainly will not be the last time I perform this etude in public; I enjoy performing this piece, and, like many of Liszt's other etudes, it is usually well-received by the audience.