Music
Schumann’s Träumerei
Robert Schumann said: People compose for many reasons: to become immortal; because the pianoforte happens to be open; because they want to become a millionaire; because of the praise of friends; because they have looked into a pair of beautiful eyes; for no reason whatsoever.
Vladimir Horowitz said: I am a general. My soldiers are the keys and I have to command them.
Below is the sheet music for Träumerei. This is what these pianists see. The notes are the same. The music is the same, and yet, the permutations in these pianists’ translations alter the shape of the music, its development, the song is changed in such a fundamental way it becomes barely recognizable. And so I ask: What is composition and what is translation and is there really any difference? Also: What of Schumann’s intention in composing this piece? What’s lost and what’s gained?
I create because I hate my intended audience (of zero, of ten, of a hundred, of a thousand) and I want to punish them by giving them exactly the opposite of what it is that they think they want.
This post makes me realize how important the ability of a reader is to the whole “art is 50% a conversation” saying. Schumann was obviously a great composer, but a lackluster and artless pianist can render even great composition as rubbish.
It’d be interesting to explore that metaphor in a writer/reader sense. How much importance should the artfullness of a reader play in the success of a text?
P.S. Victor Borge was the man.
[…] Hoang just posted on HTMLGiant a series of pianists playing Schumann’s “Träumerei,” along with a page of the piece, highlighting how each pianist translates what is essentially the […]
i love this topic, thanks for posting lily. weird that i was watching this documentary from bbc last night, there are 9 parts/videos at this guy’s channel.. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XiMY2HtxPPI
your question i feel like is at the root of what makes solo piano work so fascinating, and why ive been trying to get back into playing lately.
a part i thought interesting about that video was in part vii, stephen hough’s interpretation of rachmaninoff’s 2nd concerto based on studying rach’s playing style, whihc made me think if we are privy to actually see/hear the composer play their own piece, that would sort of become the definitive version, or the version that everyone should be starting with or something, and then building interpretations on top of that. i remember even watching a philip glass concert where he was playing his own work, and being surprised at how fast and like full of rubato he was playing something that on the page is basically the same notes over and over. i dont know if its like nerves of playing in a concert or does he think this is how it ought to be played? but i think not being able to hear like beethoven play his own work gives it that much more mystery and allows more and more interpretations. but then the romantic period is so much more open to interpretation anyway, so there’s this era of work between like 1850 and 1900 where the romantic period is happening but also the ability to record music is just barely happening and doesn’t really progress until early 1900s. its a unique time in history that provides an essential kind of mystery and opens up that dynamic essence within the relationship between composer and pianist.
then there’s the other business of arrangements, where i guess is the point where interpretation overwhelms composer-intention…
This is maybe my most-watched youtube clip. It never gets old. I love his expression at the end of the piece. He’s kind of like, “There you go. That’s all you’ll ever need.”
Talking about the first clip.
I don’t think the second or third clip can even be compared to the Horowitz. He blows them out of the water.
yes. absolutely.
c.e.: I think I wanted to ask that question but failed in doing so as articulately as you do. (This post was originally much longer, it focused more on that relationship between text/reader and score/musician.) But to read anything at all is an act of translation. That is, we bring as much to the text as a musician brings to a piece of music. Ultimately, we’re talking about black symbols on a white page, right? The way it’s interpreted changes everything. Thanks for your prodding questions. I’m going to think on this some more.
O jesus, don’t even get me started on arrangements! And cadenzas! I would probably ramble-rant for weeks. But yes: I absolutely love watching the composer play his/her music. Have you heard Sarasate play Ziguenerweisen?
i have not, but i will go find it.
ahh, but i love cadenzas. i always think like they are like little gifts that the composer gives the artist, like here you go, lets see what you do with this. plus i love the idea of a silent orchestra suddenly becoming part of the audience.
I create because I hate my intended audience (of zero, of ten, of a hundred, of a thousand) and I want to punish them by giving them exactly the opposite of what it is that they think they want.
This post makes me realize how important the ability of a reader is to the whole “art is 50% a conversation” saying. Schumann was obviously a great composer, but a lackluster and artless pianist can render even great composition as rubbish.
It’d be interesting to explore that metaphor in a writer/reader sense. How much importance should the artfullness of a reader play in the success of a text?
P.S. Victor Borge was the man.
i love this topic, thanks for posting lily. weird that i was watching this documentary from bbc last night, there are 9 parts/videos at this guy’s channel.. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XiMY2HtxPPI
your question i feel like is at the root of what makes solo piano work so fascinating, and why ive been trying to get back into playing lately.
a part i thought interesting about that video was in part vii, stephen hough’s interpretation of rachmaninoff’s 2nd concerto based on studying rach’s playing style, whihc made me think if we are privy to actually see/hear the composer play their own piece, that would sort of become the definitive version, or the version that everyone should be starting with or something, and then building interpretations on top of that. i remember even watching a philip glass concert where he was playing his own work, and being surprised at how fast and like full of rubato he was playing something that on the page is basically the same notes over and over. i dont know if its like nerves of playing in a concert or does he think this is how it ought to be played? but i think not being able to hear like beethoven play his own work gives it that much more mystery and allows more and more interpretations. but then the romantic period is so much more open to interpretation anyway, so there’s this era of work between like 1850 and 1900 where the romantic period is happening but also the ability to record music is just barely happening and doesn’t really progress until early 1900s. its a unique time in history that provides an essential kind of mystery and opens up that dynamic essence within the relationship between composer and pianist.
then there’s the other business of arrangements, where i guess is the point where interpretation overwhelms composer-intention…
This is maybe my most-watched youtube clip. It never gets old. I love his expression at the end of the piece. He’s kind of like, “There you go. That’s all you’ll ever need.”
Talking about the first clip.
I don’t think the second or third clip can even be compared to the Horowitz. He blows them out of the water.
And sometimes not even the black symbols on the white page. When I was a kid taking piano lessons, my piano teacher could NOT drum it into my head that you play the notes on the page; I seemed to think they were just there as as a loose framework, a sort of guide to build my own music from. (When I finally discovered jazz piano i was like, oh, thank god. Imprecision and improv, finally.)
That
yes. absolutely.
Oops, what I meant to say was:
That is to say, I wonder sometimes if some readers aren’t the same way with my words. Their eyes roll over the words and build their own story, their own meanings, on top of what I’ve created. The same notes , almost, but not quite.
c.e.: I think I wanted to ask that question but failed in doing so as articulately as you do. (This post was originally much longer, it focused more on that relationship between text/reader and score/musician.) But to read anything at all is an act of translation. That is, we bring as much to the text as a musician brings to a piece of music. Ultimately, we’re talking about black symbols on a white page, right? The way it’s interpreted changes everything. Thanks for your prodding questions. I’m going to think on this some more.
O jesus, don’t even get me started on arrangements! And cadenzas! I would probably ramble-rant for weeks. But yes: I absolutely love watching the composer play his/her music. Have you heard Sarasate play Ziguenerweisen?
Not to suggest that jazz is sloppy, of course, or that it doesn’t take a thorough grounding in technical skill and practice. Which is why I have never been a stellar pianist in either genre.
i have not, but i will go find it.
ahh, but i love cadenzas. i always think like they are like little gifts that the composer gives the artist, like here you go, lets see what you do with this. plus i love the idea of a silent orchestra suddenly becoming part of the audience.
I would say the key word for this is performance, rather than translation. And I see the two as being vastly different.
I’ve read different translations of Ibsen and they’ve been vastly different. And I’ve seen different performances of Hedda of the same translation, and have likewise been vastly different.
And, for instance I watched the Spanish film [rec] dubbed with subtitles on and the words on the screen never matched the words I heard.
To speak to the issue of conversation between author/reader, I would really think more to performance. When I read a page of something, I’m performing it in my mind (and sometimes aloud).
Granted, I went to an MFA program where ‘translation’ was the mode of workshop responses, so I may be biased against that
word. But I just think performance suits the situation.
It feels active, alive.
But I may just be quibbling.
And VB is such a fond memory from my youth! Seeing him live back in the 80s made the then ten year old go crazy.
Thanks for the reminder!
And sometimes not even the black symbols on the white page. When I was a kid taking piano lessons, my piano teacher could NOT drum it into my head that you play the notes on the page; I seemed to think they were just there as as a loose framework, a sort of guide to build my own music from. (When I finally discovered jazz piano i was like, oh, thank god. Imprecision and improv, finally.)
That
Oops, what I meant to say was:
That is to say, I wonder sometimes if some readers aren’t the same way with my words. Their eyes roll over the words and build their own story, their own meanings, on top of what I’ve created. The same notes , almost, but not quite.
Not to suggest that jazz is sloppy, of course, or that it doesn’t take a thorough grounding in technical skill and practice. Which is why I have never been a stellar pianist in either genre.
Sorry to pose the questions and abandon the responses. Long week. But yes, I’d be interested in your further thoughts, Lily.
And Amber, I know exactly what you mean. My music teacher was really huge on musicianship as translation of music rather than straight virtuosity–taking a piece and making it yours, the possibility of interpreting it completely different ways each time you play it. I see where that thinking works throughout my appreciating and creating of art whether reading, writing, playing or listening to music, etc.
I feel like music, too, adds yet another layer of translation to it all as well. Whereas writer/reader leaves off at the reader level (unless of course the reader is performing/reading the work out loud to an audience, but generally it’s not so much the case), music has three levels of composer/player/audience. At what level does a listener’s ability to translate artfully come into play? Is there anything “lost in translation” at any of these levels? Gained? Of course that’s completely relative, but also interesting to think about.
Sorry to pose the questions and abandon the responses. Long week. But yes, I’d be interested in your further thoughts, Lily.
And Amber, I know exactly what you mean. My music teacher was really huge on musicianship as translation of music rather than straight virtuosity–taking a piece and making it yours, the possibility of interpreting it completely different ways each time you play it. I see where that thinking works throughout my appreciating and creating of art whether reading, writing, playing or listening to music, etc.
I feel like music, too, adds yet another layer of translation to it all as well. Whereas writer/reader leaves off at the reader level (unless of course the reader is performing/reading the work out loud to an audience, but generally it’s not so much the case), music has three levels of composer/player/audience. At what level does a listener’s ability to translate artfully come into play? Is there anything “lost in translation” at any of these levels? Gained? Of course that’s completely relative, but also interesting to think about.
I’ve heard there is a new arrangement of Traumerei for 2 horns and strings, does anyone know where the sheet music can be found…?