4. Oktober 2011

Rewriting Masterworks

It is common practice amongst pianists to rewrite scores occasionally. Not every composer was every day at his best, many were not familiar with possibilities (and limitations) of the modern concert grand, and some were not especially familiar with the piano at all; therefore, the musical statement intended by the composer can at times be made more clearly by altering his actual text.

While we should probably leave major remodelling of the great composers’ works to, let us say, the chosen few (Horowitz’ versions of Liszt’s “Funérailles” or Scriabin’s “Vers la flamme” are little short of downright rearrangements), composers of the second or third rank sometimes profit markedly from rewriting. Moszkowski wrote highly effective showpieces but was disappointingly poor in rounding up with appropriate endings; Horowitz was right in changing nearly all endings in his Moszkowski repertoire. When I came across Moszkowski’s beautiful piano arrangement of Offenbach’s Barcarolle, I felt the semiquavers should flow continuously until the very end for a perfect calm-down; I am sharing the text in case someone is interested:


A rather common issue, if thornier than it would appear at first, is the influence of a narrower keyboard on composition. In numerous places, composers avoided certain notes obviously for the sole reason that they were out of the range of their keyboard. The problem with this is that in many places this restriction influences not only this particular note but also its compositorial surroundings; composers were often very skilled in turning restrictions into highly sensible and coherent structures. So if we just change the single note in question we will, in a surprisingly high percentage of cases, disarray structures in the greater context. In many instances (probably the majority), I decided after some consideration to leave the text as it was (which led me again and again to fresh admiration of how good composers were in working with, and making sense of, limited possibilities).

One exception where I found a solution which satisfied me completely is the coda of Mendelssohn’s Rondo capriccioso op 14. Measure 227 is written as follows:


There is no musical reason whatsoever to leave out the lower E in the first bass note; the pattern starting here remains exactly the same for the next eight bars, and with the preceding text, the progression of the left hand in 224, second half, with 225, first note, would even require contra E in 227 by analogy. Obviously, we want to play:


The problem, however, is that the spectacular contra E here puts the actual ending of the piece out of balance, the original text of which is:


If contra E were to be heard only once throughout the whole piece, this unique instance would have to be the final E minor chord, not a note quickly passed by in the coda. So we will have to alter the ending as well.

The obvious solutions, however, do not work well: Just lowering the left hand by an octave leaves a large gap between left and right hands, resulting in a somewhat empty sound, especially problematic with the narrow span of the right hand chord. The gap could be diminished by adding a lower E to the latter, but this changes the sound of it rather unfavourably; the narrow finger position and the fact that it consists of only three notes allow a clear and aggressive touch which seemed to me highly appropriate to achieve an authoritative sound in the comparatively low tenor register.

I ended up with the following solution:


In rapid execution, the sound will for listener’s ear and mind hardly be distinguishable from:


In this version, the right hand keeps its clarity, the gap between hands is filled, and even the original left hand notes, great and small E, are contained in the resulting sound. Adding B seemed necessary to me because a triple E would again have made a somewhat empty chord.

The first piano composer to make use of this tricky jumping device for a final chord with anacrusis was Rachmaninov, so my version is definitely not Mendelssohnian anymore; on the other hand, also our instrument is not Mendelssohnian, and when adapting earlier compositions to modern instruments we will always have to be creative. The idea that Mendelssohn, on an extended keyboard, would have changed just these two places, is probably misguided; more likely he would have written a completely different piece. In this case, the search for a Mendelssohnian solution for just two places will be futile from the first; but certainly we will not venture to rewrite the whole piece.

Also, solutions are often personal; pianists who do not feel comfortable with the jump (which has to be played crisply in tempo, without any hesitation, and with good sound for all notes) will have to find other ways.