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Malcolm Bilson J.S. Bach master classes for Bach-Archiv, Leipzig, November 2005 and ‘Knowing the Score' Malcolm Bilson, one of the forefront pioneers of early pianoforte performance practice, has a lot to share with his audiences and students, owing to his expertise and talent for communication. In his master classes and lectures he questions one's fidelity to musical text provokingly. ‘Do we read the music as the composer meant it to be read?' is the fundamental question that Bilson explores in a wide variety of repertoire in his DVD lecture, and indeed it was the central issue he dealt with at the master class. Bilson advocates the return of the ‘speaking' performance practice of the Baroque and Classical periods stressing music's rhetoric origins, as opposed to a ‘singing', all legato practice that has formed over the 20 th Century. Bilson sees the main problem of the contemporary performance practice in the fact that we do not speak the same ‘language' for which the music was written, and therefore, we may not truly bring it to life. Even though we might use the Urtext Editions, we do not know what a crotchet in Bach's time would mean and therefore we play its full length, having no idea of the variety of execution possibilities. The notation is extremely limited and can hardly show for example the lifted third and fourth beats of a Gavotte. Bilson's key aim is to demonstrate how knowing these conventions allows artistic freedom within them. He takes his inspiration from all the available sources from 16 th to 19 th centuries and, of course, his vast practical knowledge and experience of more that thirty years on historical and contemporary keyboard instruments. On the DVD lecture, Bilson quotes CPE Bach from his ‘Essay on the True Art of playing Keyboard Instruments' – ‘what comprises a good performance? The ability through singing or playing to make the ear conscious of the true content and affect of a composition. Any passage can be so radically changed by modifying its performance that it will be scarcely recognisable.' (p.148). Bilson claims that the aesthetics of performance practice in roughly a hundred years have changed, and that therefore modified the perception of the musical text. Hence, by reading the text differently, we ‘modify its performance' and thus, ‘radically' change the music to suit the modern ear in such a manner, that it is very likely that the composers of eighteenth century would ‘scarcely recognise' their own works. Steinway piano builders revolutionised the then fortepiano around 1860 by crossing the strings, enlarging the hammers and dampers, and the size of the piano itself. All of these helped to produce a longer lasting and fuller tone that answered musicians' longing - to make a keyboard instrument sing like a voice. At the lecture, Bilson demonstrates the differences in tone lengths and volumes of a Steinway model D and a copy of an 1800 Walter und Sohn 5 1/2 octave Viennese instrument, built in the Czech Republic in 2002. The Steinway produces a tone that audibly increases in volume some time after its start and, in contrast, the Walter's loudest part of a tone is its initial strike, after which it rapidly decays. Bilson's idea was to show that, for example Mozart, Haydn and Beethoven composed for the latter type of instrument, most likely with a shallow, but very sensitive, Viennese action. Thus, their phrasing, articulation, dynamics, voice leading etc. was based on the short living sound, requiring a performer to make much more use of gestures, silences and articulation to complement specificities of the instrument. However, with invention of the new cross-strung Steinway, performance practice had to change to a more legato and dynamically dependent one that suits so well the late 19 th Century music. Composers did write for the instruments they knew. Bilson drew a vivid parallel with a painter, who only can use the brushes he has, no matter how inspired he may be. Of course one can invent new ‘brushes', being directed by the hunger for new possibilities, and we know that Beethoven especially was involved with piano makers on such matters. However, he still did not witness a Steinway come into the scene with its fundamentally different sound qualities. Bilson stressed that he would never insist on using only historical instruments for music written up to twentieth century and altogether the pianos are merely ‘machines'. On the contrary, the initial ‘language' is the main issue, which can be and should be ‘translated' into the modern piano practice. The music is in such a close relation to the instruments that by being ignorant to the issues of the latter, one disregards the very essence of the former. Apart from the old treatises that may be dismissed by performers as reading for academics, and the old fortepianos, that may sound uncomfortable to common modern ears, we have the Urtext editions that are trusted to be the true representations of composer's intentions. However, even in the case of Beethoven, whose scores are usually notated in detail, one is led by the existing, modern traditions in interpreting them. Bilson demonstrates this by many examples of Mozart and Beethoven, including editions and recordings by leading twentieth century pianists. In one example he talks about phrasing by using articulation, the micro-silences that he suggests to be ‘more expressive than sound'. These however, were over-pedalled in all of the heard recordings, possibly in aid of a continuous line. Even though such ‘gestures' may be indicated in the score, their meaning to us is different. As discussed above, not ‘singing', but ‘speaking' instruments required a rhetorically ‘speaking' approach, and the use of physical gestures that enables one to truly understand and experience the music, can actually be ‘translated' into the modern piano practice. At the master class Bilson quoted Charles Rosen - “nobody enjoys Bach better than the performer”, referring to the physically enjoyable process of executing counterpoint. However, Bilson does not only discuss the earlier repertoire, he talks about Schubert, Chopin, Prokofiev and Bartok; how they notated their music and how they performed it or wished it to be performed. In the Schubert and Chopin examples he talks about the use of tempo rubato, in its true sense. The freely flowing voice line, quite separately from the piano's, was beautifully demonstrated by a recording of Elizabeth Schumann. In contrast, a recording of Elizabeth Schwarzkopf of the same Schubert's ‘Das Lied im Grunen' was perfectly on time and together with Edwin Fischer at the piano. This again demonstrated that we tend to lose wonderful traditions, oral traditions that cannot be indicated by the limited notation. It was Richard Taruskin who recommended to Bilson the following example. Taruskin went to his piano lesson in his young years, and being inspired by Prokofiev's own recording of his Gavotte, played it with some sense of rubato. He was told off by the following reasoning - “do not play what Prokofiev played, play what is in the score!” Surely Prokofiev knew what he was playing and the music is certainly very effective in his execution. Furthermore, he used the same principles described by C.P.E. Bach and many others, namely, stressing the Gavotte rhythm - lifted 3,4 beats and the following gruppetti are played faster. Nevertheless, this could not be otherwise indicated by the composer but by simple crotchets and quavers. Bilson also presented a Bartok recording in which the composer played his Evening in the Country rubato even where he indicates non rubato! From these few selected examples we see that the musical notation is limited enough, but yet contains a great variety of interpretations in different surrounding circumstances. Learning about the long-gone traditions, the historical instruments and treatise would help us truly understand and communicate what is contained in the score. Bilson's own performances of Schubert Moments Musicaux nos. 2 and 3 and Haydn Fantasia in C (on an 1830 Andre Stein fortepiano and a replica of 1795 Anton Walter fortepiano respectively) are included in the DVD package. These delightful recordings vividly demonstrate his standpoint - music comes alive once we ‘speak' it, using the right language. As Sir John Eliot Gardiner rightly said, Bilson's ‘passion is an inspiration to us all' . All of the above is only an outline of a much richer content of the DVD, and certainly the more informative and involving process of the master classes. In the latter, a fascinating discussion with British pianist David Owen Norris about the collection of fortepianos in Bilson's music room is also included, together with a bibliography, discography and biographies. At the J.S. Bach master classes in Leipzig , Bilson spoke a lot about the use of articulation as a primary expressive tool in Baroque music, one that is all too often overlooked in today's performance practice. The use of rhythmical pulsation and dance pacing in the "48" Book II, as well as in the French Suites, were also important issues. Bilson encouraged performers to carefully judge directions of phrases and therefore inequality of consecutive notes and leaps in their intensity, and understand composer's use of registers and dynamics. The master classes were stimulating to all the participants, helped by a sensitive and flexible approach on Bilson's part. He urged pianists to listen more closely to their own musicality and express their personalities through the language of the music they play. They were incredibly enjoyable classes that went for nine hours a day, after which the participants still would not let Bilson go!
This recital augmented perfectly the DVD reviewed above. Malcolm Bilson encouraged his audience to come close to the beautiful McNulty/Walter instrument on stage. In his relaxed introductions he reminded us that in their times Mozart's sonatas (and Beethoven's too) were only played in domestic settings. From the front row the tone was powerful and vivid, varying according to exactly where one sat. To the left, slightly behind the player and able to watch his hands, the bass predominated; moved to in front of the middle of the instrument, the treble became more resonant - and one could watch Bilson's sparing use of the knee-pedal. (Years before, I had found it hard at St John's to adjust to the fortepiano's comparative quietness in Mozart concertos played (and recorded) by Bilson with Sir John Eliot Gardiner and the English Baroque Soloists.) Dussek's Fantasy was free and flamboyant; Mozart's (more often played preceding its published companion sonata K457) began with no less than seventeen repetitions of its opening phrase. But Mozart, besides being a great composer was a good one! The phrase descends progressively down to "worse, 'paprika'd" keys, before reaching G - "safe again". Bilson explained how this planned and intended effect is lost with equal-temperament tuning. * He chose to finish his hugely enjoyable and illuminating recital with the Bb K333, as being one of the most extrovert of the sonatas, complete with a cadenza towards the end. Peter Grahame Woolf * Malcolm Bilson has kindly written to tell us what tuning he used at the concert – "it is Neidhardt from 1724 and is not so far from Valotti or Young (a bit stronger, perhaps). Best wishes, Malcolm Bilson" |
