I will never forget the first time that I heard Schubert's magnificent Sonata in B-flat Major, D. 960. It was Friday, January 11, 2002 at Convocation Hall on the campus of the University of Alberta. I attended a solo piano recital by Claude Frank, professor of piano at Yale University. My dear friend Allison and I trudged through banks of snow on that dark, quiet January evening. If you are not from the Canadian prairies, permit me to state that winter evenings on the prairies are magical. There is a transcendent silence, tranquility, and sense of peace that lingers in the frosty air. I am not sure whether or not the frigid temperatures keep people indoors which results in the streets being fairly quiet places. Nonetheless, this was the context in which I first heard this glorious music.
Claude Frank's recital was, in fact, the first full-length piano recital that I attended. I was in my first year of university and had fallen back in love with classical music after taking an introductory music history course. From the very first notes of the Molto Moderato movement that Claude Frank played of Schubert's last piano sonata, I was completely swept into the narrative that the composer weaves with his music. I can honestly say I had never heard such music as this. There was such profundity. Such an array of human emotion was expressed. The opening of the first movement is surreal. It is quiet, gentle, reflective, and yet there is breathtaking beauty - not unlike a prairie winter evening. In the first movement alone, Schubert's use of harmony, dynamics, and texture takes us through what seems to be an entire lifetime. This is so ironic considering that he was only thirty-one years old when he died in 1828. Nonetheless, one can hardly miss that this is the testament of a dying man - a man looking back and reflecting upon his life. At nineteen years old, I understood that this is what he was trying to accomplish but I hardly had the life experience in order to relate to what Schubert was trying to communicate.
From that evening, Schubert's last sonata had reserved a special part of my heart. Nine years later, in Montreal, a dear friend played this piece privately for me in preparation for a recital he would be giving. Halfway through the second movement, I could feel tears slowly work their way down my cheeks. Did I now, nine years later, understand what Schubert was trying to communicate? Was I moved because of the nostalgia that surrounded this piece? Were there tears in my eyes because my friend had so effectively communicated the feelings that Schubert's notes had intended?
Since my friend performed that for me two summers ago, that piece, believe it or not, means even more to me than it ever did. When I hear it, I think of this friend. Moreover, I think of the friends with whom I have shared musical memories over the years. I heard this piece recently performed by Paul Lewis at the Chan Centre for the Performing Arts at UBC. (Sidenote: Apparently, university campuses seem to be the best places to perform Schubert's last major work as these are the only places in which I've heard this work programmed!) To be honest, I was dreading hearing that piece because all of the memories it would conjure up. Nonetheless, I felt redeemed after Paul Lewis finished the fourth movement.
To this day, when I hear this piece, I am filled with utter sadness. I do not listen to it often due to the extremely powerful effect that it has on me. Today, however, at my piano lesson, my teacher suggested something to me. I am learning Schubert's Moment Musical, op. 94, no. 2 in E-flat Major. My teacher, in order to demonstrate a concept about the rhythm, asked me if I knew the second movement of the Schubert's last sonata. I smiled and quietly replied, looking down, that yes, it was in fact my favourite piece. She began to play the second movement for me to demonstrate the aspect of rhythm we had previously discussed.
I began to understand the piece I was playing better. My teacher also mentioned that at the end of the Moment Musical no. 2 that the A-flat Major chord is an octave higher than where it was when we begin the piece. In her words, "we have ascended." Although in both pieces of music, we are truly exposed to human suffering, loss, and grief, we come out in a higher place. Schubert leads us to the most heartbreaking places of our human existence and I can genuinely say I am glad for the life experience that has allowed me to identify with these pieces of music. The nineteen year old girl who heard this music in 2002 had no idea what she would experience between then and now. Upon reflection, many of these experiences were extremely difficult teachers. Nonetheless, my response has been to allow these experiences to let me appreciate music more deeply. I am grateful that my life's story has made this music mean more to me.
I am, however, most glad that Schubert allows us to ascend. We are not completely left without hope. It is as if Schubert is saying to us that it is acceptable to experience all of life's emotions. His music validates what it means to be human.
No comments:
Post a Comment