I rarely put my iPod on shuffle in any public setting for fear of the musical eclecticist in me disturbing the desired atmosphere. When I'm listening by myself though it's a neat experience. A mix of dissimilar genres can give you fresh variety, something welcomed especially while performing any task with tedium. Earlier this week I found myself doing one of those chores: organizing my laundry into piles on the floor. As always, I did so to a thoroughly-shuffled stream of music. I was energized by Deep Focus, sang along to some Incubus (hint: track 3). And then suddenly the mood changed: on came the final scene from Puccini’s La Boheme. I quickly sat on my bed and concentrated on the music. 
... Mimi, the deathly ill soprano, quietly passes away in bed. Her lover, Rodolfo, runs to her side calling her name, weeping. ...
I was flooded with mirrored anguish over the loss of a loved one. The brevity of that experience meant I required more musical closure. I knew what I wanted, too: The Undertone, first of John Ireland’s Piano Preludes. It was nestled among several other beautiful solo piano works.
With simple melodic beauty, Ireland begins this work with a slowly descending right hand, developing a clear sense of longing for something missed dearly. Then yearning boils to dissonance - tonal conflicts born from the heart’s overwhelming desire for the impossible. But warmth exists in Ireland’s piano works: that of pensive memories. In the final minute of The Undertone it’s as if remembrance penetrates the sorrow! After a few fleeting runs in the high register you almost feel like cracking a smile in the corner of your closed lips. You want it to end like a fairy tale. You crave happiness! Aha!, you’re longing again and Ireland knows it. Finally, down we go with the opening melodic line in the final phrase -- down several octaves now -- to the quiet of the final chord. In the ensuing silence I heard the distant tears of Rodolfo.
Ireland himself did not have much luck in his love life and perhaps he was channelling this misfortune in his music. Melancholy, however, was by no means his sole emoting speciality. On that same Naxos Music CD (linked here) are the fourth prelude Fire of Spring and another work titled Equinox (the later which I hold as close to me as the one in my lietmotif announcement post ) both have a fascination with playful Ravel-like musical properties. Ravel, among Bartók and
Stravinsky, influenced John Ireland immensely. The other works feature more of the classicistic and impressionistic sides of this talented composer. It's an absolute treat for the ears!
Before we close, here are the questions I have for you:
What piece of music made you shed tear? What mood was it? Think back to what was going on in your mind at that moment. Let’s see if anyone can admit it and, if so, I’ll give you mine. That’s a promise! I may even turn your suggestions into a theme!
Happy Listening!
_
Phil
One of the reasons I’m drawn to symphonic works is for the sheer number of voices an orchestra has at its disposal. My thought process is: just as a painter with more colours could paint a more complete image, I assume that more instruments would help a composer produce a fuller piece. Perhaps this is true in an antiquated view of art, but we’re in postmodern times: any form of musical expression is just as valid as the next. So in that case, what if we could only paint with limited colours? What if that canvas was small?
I like to think Federico Mompou is an artist perfect for the musical interpretation of this situation. Piano miniatures and lyric songs being the bulk of his compositions, Mompou was a master of condensation. It’s his compositional style, ranging from impressionistic to modest and minimal, that keeps you involved. He employs very simple, even puerile melodies, many of which are tinged with sadness, melancholy, and a nostalgic echo of Mompou’s beloved home in Catalonia.
During his childhood, Mompou’s family owned and operated a bell foundry. The bells had a lasting effect on his creative energies, the sounds of which are imitated in many of his works. Even the first track, El Plany del captaire, begins and ends with a distant grandfather clock sound, repeated twice more as a bridge between variations of the melodic theme. Dissonance is not overwhelmingly common and never claws at your ears. It rather sits with transient purpose in the ostinato figures.
In the Naxos label Vol. 6 of his piano music, to be released on June 28th, we find treasures recently discovered in Biblioteca de Catalunya’s Mompou Collection and at Mompou’s home. I cannot pick a favourite; that’s impossible! One work, however, does stand out to me: Il.lusio, the second of two petits preludis. Here I’m reminded of the soundtrack to the movie “In Bruges”, the theme of which (linked here) would be my best pick of a representative track for the mood Mompou writes in. (As a side note, I recommend this movie to everyone. It’s a beautifully-executed dark and tragic comedy and I must say the music of Carter Burwell completes the production’s artistic synergy.)
To conclude, Mompou’s is the type of expression best listened to with imagination and in a responsive state of mind. Just as acuity from literature cannot be achieved by partially-engaged reading, perceptivity of music is only truly acquired by engrossed listening. But it’s worth it! Every piece on this disc left me in a state of understanding. Not omniscience but as if the moral of a story was unwrapped before me and rushed down my arms as goosebumbs. “Ah”, I say with a smile, “so that’s what he meant.”
Beauty in simplicity was a motif in this discussion. What other solo piano works does this theme remind you of? Are these pieces best listened to in a meditative state or do you prefer other genres? Let me know what you think!
Happy Listening!
_
Phil
Sometimes it only takes one.
I spent this week rummaging through piano works that spanned four centuries. When I stumbled upon one of Ravel’s Miroirs, Une barque sur l'océan, I knew the direction of my expedition instantly. I had to find more piano works like this.
Rolling waves beautifully sketched by oscillating scales, right-hand trills as white peaks breaking after dancing as atop the turbulent sea, Ravel depicts every image so clearly it’s as if I’m hearing the hues of sunrise shimmer off the calm ocean front.
Sometimes it only takes one piece of music to captivate. It happened to me! Now you can thank Ravel for these next two works and their theme: Solo Piano Music of the 20th Century. And so goes my auditory affair with the piano.
Happy Listening!
_
Phil
