As a musical instrument the flute or the clarinet can be used in conjunction with other instruments to create harmony or counterpoint. The same is true of the human voice. It can sing, for sure!
But as a solo instrument, there are limits. The flute can be the primary instruments in a large orchestral work, as seen here – Johann Sebastian Bach’s Orchestral Suite No. 2 in B minor, BWV 1067 has a famous flute solo in its final “Badinerie”:
Or the clarinet as seen here in Mozart Clarinet Concerto in A major, K. 622, with its beautiful middle “Adagio” movement:
But they are still one voice in a larger musical conversation containing many voices. Even in jazz, the more improvisational voices play the one with the others. Charlie Parker’s saxophone was never a solo voice. Same with Louis Armstrong and the trumpet.
With the guitar and the violin, it is different. Such musicians can by themselves play chords by using different fingers in combination with the strings on their instruments. In doing so, they can mimic different voices and bring a complexity to the sound coming from their instruments that the flutists and clarinetists cannot. That is why solo guitar or violin has a vast repertoire, and the flute and the clarinet don’t.
Classical guitarists like Julian Bream, among many others, have made entire careers on their solo ventures. Rock guitarists like Eric Clapton or Eddie van Halen also shown most brightly in their guitar solos, often overshadowing their bandmates. Violinists like Hillary Hahn or Joshua Bell are similarly meant to be in front of the orchestra as virtuosos, not ensconced inside it anonymously. There are no superstar bassoonists.
The cello is simply a more somber, sonorous version of the guitar and violin. Whether it is the sonorous spirituality of Pablo Casals, the neurotic edgy Jacqueline Du Pre, or the big-hearted Yo Yo Ma, there is a soulful and rich texture to the cello. The instrument can sustain an entire musical venture. One does not find the same to be true with the French horn.
But this melodic sophistication is taken to its apogee with the piano, in my opinion. Using ten fingers a pianist can gain a melodic complexity unmatched by even the violin. Legion are the piano concertos where the piano is lead instrument in a larger symphonic venture – like the violin on cello concerto. But there are as many piano sonatas which stand fully on their own two feet without any other accompanying instruments. Beethoven’s piano sonatas, for example. Or most of Frederick Chopin’s repertoire – a pianist’s piano music par excellence.
For some reason I have been listening to the music of Felix Mendelssohn. In particular, I have come back to one of my favorites pieces of all: Mendelssohn’s Variations Sérieuses, Op. 54. Johan Sebastian Bach is the most famous of the theme and variation keyboardists of all time, and there was a period in the early 1990s when I fed long and well on the First and Second Book of “Well Tempered Clavier,” before moving on to his English and French Suites. My God, I spent untold hours fully digesting those long works! Maybe three of four years of listening to and studying them? That was the labor of a young man. I would struggle to find the time or energy to do that now. Furthermore, I saw The Goldberg Variations performed live in Santa Monica, CA the night I met my wife back in April of 1999. It has been a favorite of my father’s, going back to Glenn Gould’s very different interpretations of 1955 and 1981.
My father and I have bonded over the idiosyncratic weirdness of Gould’s Bach for decades, especially with respect to his 1955 breakout performance of the Goldberg Variations in showy youth, contrasting sharply with the mature contemplation of the 1981 recording not long before Gould’s death; there is a lot to take in there. The two recordings are often studied side by side as musical “bookends” of Gould’s career, and many pianists and listeners feel you need to hear both to understand his artistry. The recordings almost speak to each other — one the exuberant beginning, the other the summation and farewell. I have even heard Gould’s 1981 recording described as his “musical last will and testament,” although it is impossible to know how much this is true.
But let’s get back to the Variations Sérieuses. Later composers before Mendelssohn had paid homage to contrapuntal Bach with their own efforts: Handel and Beethoven, even as melody had taken over from counterpoint as the Baroque world gave way to the Classical. The Variations Sérieuses were written when the Romantic had already taken over from the Classical, but Mendelssohn had a soft spot for ol’ fashioned JS Bach of the previous century. Here Mendelssohn pays homage to the old master; I suspect Back would have been pleased.
It was around 1993 when I first remember falling in love with Mendelssohn’s Variations Sérieuses. This summer I have fallen in love with the Variations Sérieuses again. I have listened to it often. I am unusually picky with respect to who I like interpreting this piece, and none is better than Murray Perahia playing it. I cannot find a live version of him playing it, but this one by Yoav Levanon is tolerable:
Perahia was the first I heard play the Variations Sérieuses, and to my mind he is still the best. I return to that 1984 recording across the decades.
Amazing that ten fingers can produce so much magic on the keyboard. Look at the above video!
Such is the power and majesty of the grand piano!
Oh, how Bach would have loved the modern piano. And the concert grand pianos of Mendelssohn’s time have not been measurably improved since then. The harpsichord is a pale and unsatisfactory substitute, in my opinion.
Or maybe I should just stop writing, trying to use words (exposition) to explicate sound (music). Just listen to the music!
