Each week I'll listen to a classical piece I've never heard before, and then I'll report out my thoughts. First up, for the week of 11/22/20, I'll listen to Béla Bartók's Piano Concerto No. 1. UPDATE: I've now listened to the piece a few times, once without the score (below left) and other times with an abbreviated score (below right), and I have rated the concerto a gold light saber. Continue scrolling to see my comments. As you can see from my rating above, I enjoyed Bartok’s concerto. However, I’m not sure the piece will be to everyone’s liking – especially to those new to classical music – as the composition is not a lyrical piece where one can easily hum a melody from the work. Instead, the most precise term I can use to describe Bartok's concerto is “percussive,” as Bartok emphasized the percussive nature of the piano with a relentless striking and pounding of the keys. Like most concertos, Bartok’s piece is in three movements, and in usual fashion, the first is fast, the second is slow, and the third is faster than the first. Bartok’s three movements are marked as follows:
I've played some short piano pieces by Bartok in the past, and they were not the usual fare, so to speak. They were a bit -- quirky? I remember one piece had no specific key signature – well, no sharps or flats were noted – but as the treble clef played in the key of “C,” the bass – with Bartok's use of various flats – was in another key. Plus, Bartok shifted rests and beats on the bass line, so that at times, it seemed as though each line had different time signatures. Bartok’s concerto had similar characteristics but to a much greater degree. Plus, there was significant use of dissonance through the use of note clusters – groups of notes that in standard lines of music “don’t mesh.” Think of color schemes that don’t blend; however, somehow Bartok made the discord work. Below left: Note clusters of two adjacent notes. Below right: Note clusters of three or four adjacent notes. The concerto opens somewhat dramatically with timpani and some very low notes on the piano, followed by a bold line of brass (outlined in red, below right) which repeats at times throughout the movement. It is, perhaps, the closest thing to a “lyrical line” in the movement. Below left: One repeat of the brass line on the piano (at 4:04 in the YouTube version with the abbreviated score). Below right: Another example occurs (at 4:43). At times there was a definite march-like beat. You can actually tap your foot. At other times, Bartok shifted time signatures and beats and rests so that the piano, orchestra and solo instruments seem to slip out of coordination. Think of a group of shaky waiters trying to balance stacks of plates and drinks on several trays while listing to the right or left, adding or skipping a step in an attempt to maintain balance. Bartok has everyone like those waiters, careening about simultaneously as the movement advances very quickly and erratically. To be honest, it is quite impressive how the conductor, the orchestra, and the pianist keep it all together.
The second movement, which I loved, is a much slower and measured piece. Its relentless throbbing suggested bewilderment at times, perhaps confusion, but nothing disillusioned or bleak. Instead, to me, it seemed more contemplative and introspective, a construct of metacognitive dissonance. At one point, the piano accompanies the orchestra with a hypnotic pulse where the right hand plays on beats two and three (below left with the red arrows) and the left hand plays on beats three and one (below left with the purple arrows). The inherent tension and dissonance swells with impelling force not by way of a quickened tempo but through crescendo and an escalation of more intense note clusters on the piano (below right). The third movement begins immediately after the second with an all out assault on the notes on the piano. The attack, though, does not convey that things will gyrate out of control due to mounting intensity. Instead, the advance suggests a charge of purpose and force.
The final movement is layered with parallels to the first – its rhythms, its motifs, its brisk chromatic runs, its ebb and flow of tension. Again, the movement is characterized by ferocity, but not despair. The piece culminates with rhythm against rhythm, structure against frenzy, and piano against orchestra. The energy and emotion of the final movement builds and recedes, shifts and accelerates, and swells and surges like a pulsating murmuration of birds swooping and swirling in the sky. Be sure to pay attention, though, because the piece rushes to an abrupt end. The first time I listened to this concerto, I was not watching the score -- I was just listening -- and the end caught me quite off guard. It was as if Bartok was speaking, and he just stopped mid
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A New Hope:As the header above says, each week I will listen to a piece of classical music that I've never heard before, and then I will report out what I thought about it. Archives
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