August 5

Special Event: A Recital by Lang Lang piano

A Recital by Lang Lang, piano

By Matthew Mugmon

Taken together, the piano works of Gabriel Fauré, Robert Schumann, and Frederic Chopin create an interconnected network that traverses the Romantic period—a specialty of the internationally celebrated Chinese pianist Lang Lang, who has been captivating audiences for more than thirty years with his dazzling performances. His pianistic predecessors Chopin and Schumann were born just a few months apart in 1810. The two became friends and colleagues and held each other in extremely high esteem; Chopin dedicated his Second Ballade in F major to Schumann, who himself frequently heaped praise on Chopin’s music. For his part, Fauré—whose life overlapped only briefly with Chopin’s (Fauré was four when Chopin died in 1849) and Schumann’s (Fauré was eleven at the time of Schumann’s death)—was an excellent pianist and a great admirer of both Schumann and Chopin. Fauré’s works are frequently compared with those of Chopin, who, like Fauré, made Paris his home; the Fauré expert Jean-Michel Nectoux has noted that in his early works Fauré adapted Chopin’s “pliable, decorative melodic line” on top of arpeggiated figures in the left hand. But Fauré was particularly close to the work of Schumann, whose grave Fauré visited in Bonn in 1879 and whose piano music he later edited for the music publisher Durand in Paris.

Fauré composed his now celebrated Pavane in F-sharp minor, Opus 50 (he himself modestly called it “elegant, assuredly, but not particularly important”) in 1887 for orchestra. After he had written it, words by Robert de Montesquiou for a chorus were added to the composition. Fauré subsequently wrote to the Countess Élisabeth Greffuhle that the addition would make the piece “fit to be both danced and sung.” As a pavane, the piece—in both its piano and orchestral versions—is slow and somewhat solemn. After a basic accompaniment is established, an arresting melody is introduced that is explored throughout the piece, leading to a quiet ending. Among the composers who followed in this Pavane’s footsteps was Maurice Ravel, who studied with Fauré at the Paris Conservatoire. Ravel’s Pavane pour une infante défunte is similar in both its gentle melody and its sense of ironic distance from the original dance form.

Fauré was of course well-acquainted with Schumann’s Kreisleriana, as he served as the editor for Durand’s 1917 edition of it. This eight-movement work is an important musical document of the Romantic period in that it was inspired by the writings of that era’s literary pioneer, E.T.A. Hoffman. In 1839 Schumann wrote that among a group of recent compositions, Kreisleriana was his “favorite,” adding, “The title conveys nothing to any but Germans. Kreisler is one of E.T.A. Hoffmann’s creations, an eccentric, wild, and witty conductor.” Indeed, the fictional character Johannes Kreisler was a recurring figure in the writings of Hoffmann, one whose characteristics turn up frequently in Kreisleriana. Schumann also had Clara Wieck, whom he would marry in 1840, in mind when he composed the work. As the late Schumann expert John Daverio has noted, Schumann—who experienced emotional anguish and instability around his relationship with Clara and had to contend with the disapproval of Clara’s father Friedrich Wieck—saw that Clara was gaining recognition as a pianist and began Kreisleriana “in part to prove himself” to both Clara and Friedrich. Schumann intended to dedicate the piece to Clara, but changed his mind after Friedrich’s “enraged” reaction, as Schumann put it, “to all my pieces.”

In the brief opening movement of Kreisleriana, a light middle section offsets the more aggressive opening and close, and the second movement is essentially a lengthy rondo whose refrain is a tender arching melody with energetic contrasting sections, each labeled intermezzo; the second of these intermezzos recalls the opening of the whole composition in its fast right-hand figures and resolute accompaniment. A mysterious and spirited third movement features more archlike melodic figures in its quiet, extended middle section. The slow, even despondent opening and closing passages of the fourth movement bookend a short yet hope-filled middle section. The fifth movement is spirited yet restrained, except for a climactic passage that seems to soar almost heroically before matters settle into the movement’s initial skittishness. An especially striking passage toward the end of the slow sixth movement is an extended moment in which a long pedal point on a low F delays and ultimately enhances the tender conclusion. Schumann follows this moment of tranquility with the fast, storm-like opening of the seventh movement, which itself gives way to the movement’s stately second half. Schumann saves his most haunting material for the finale, a rondo like the second movement. In this eighth movement, staccatos suggest quick footsteps, and sustained low notes, not always quite aligned with the melody, lightly add a sense of mystery to the opening. A contrasting section flows a bit more, but the initial staccato material echoes and then returns fully only to be swept away by an insistent episode—though the mysterious material has the last word, with a fadeout in the low registers.

While the dedication of Kreisleriana did not go to Clara, it did go to another pianist and composer Schumann admired: Chopin, who is best known for his piano works—including genres Fauré would later explore, such as nocturnes and mazurkas. The latter are Polish folk dances in triple meter that are easily identified by the dotted rhythm that generally marks the start of each melodic segment. Chopin arrived in Vienna at the end of 1830 for what was to be the start of a tour, but he remained in Vienna for several months before ultimately landing in Paris in 1831; Chopin’s characteristic flowing melodic style, with its rhythmic nuances, is clearly evident in the third mazurka, in F minor, of his Opus 7 set, which he composed in Vienna as one of his first works in the genre. Notable in this work, part of a collection of five mazurkas, are the tentative, enigmatic opening bars that set up the main theme.

Chopin composed his four Opus 17 mazurkas in Paris not long after his arrival in the city that would become his home. The opening section of the first in the group, in B-flat major, is resolute (marked, indeed, “Vivo e resoluto”), while playful touches, such as a surprising pause toward the end, characterize the middle section. The second mazurka, in E minor, is almost mournful with its frequent use of sighing gestures. In the fourth mazurka of the set, in A minor, a relatively static central portion places the magnificent harmonic and melodic color of the opening section in relief. Also from that period are Chopin’s four Opus 24 mazurkas; the second, in C major, is a playful romp with striking harmonic transitions between the major sections, and the fourth, in B-flat minor, plays extensively with dynamic contrasts, and with chromaticism and harmonic ambiguity—especially in the remarkable coda.

Chopin composed the mazurkas of Opus 30 in the late 1830s, around the same time he began his romantic relationship with the writer George Sand. In the third mazurka of Opus 30, in D-flat major, whose stunning introduction builds from a single repeated note, Chopin makes the most of brilliant dynamic and harmonic clashes. The final mazurka in the set, in C-sharp minor, also starts with a brief introduction, which this time leads to repeated rolled chords in the left hand before the accompaniment takes on the more usual configuration of a bass note and two chords, and a final fadeout expands on the gloomy introduction. Next, Chopin wrote the mazurkas of Opus 33 in 1838, the same year that Schumann composed Kreisleriana. In C major, the third Mazurka is almost hymn-like in its first section. Features of the fourth mazurka, in B minor, with its surprising ending, range from its resplendent exclamations to a quiet left-hand solo, while the Mazurka in D major is exuberant through and through. The Opus 59 Mazurkas are from 1845, the year of Fauré’s birth, and the sparkling third member of the set rounds out the Mazurkas with its own hymn-like conclusion.

Not to take anything away from their significance, but these mazurkas are in some ways appetizers for the main Chopin course on this program: the Polonaise in F-sharp minor, Opus 44 (1841). Like the mazurka, the polonaise is a dance in triple meter with a distinctive rhythmic pattern. But in Chopin’s hands, this particular dance became a vehicle for the grandiose and virtuosic. This piece’s final gesture—the sudden loud F-sharp minor chord after a fadeout (this sort of contrast was one of Chopin’s favorite effects)—sums up Chopin’s flair for the theatrical and offers a fitting end to a sweeping program. — © Matthew Mugmon

Lang Lang is a leading figure in classical music today. A pianist, educator, and philanthropist, he has become one of the world’s most influential and committed ambassadors for the arts in the twenty-first century. Equally happy playing for billions of viewers at the 2008 Olympic Opening Ceremony in Beijing or for just a few hundred children in the public schools, he is a master of communicating through music. For over a decade Lang Lang has contributed to musical education worldwide. In 2008 he founded the Lang Lang International Music Foundation, which aims to cultivate tomorrow’s top pianists, champion music education at the forefront of technology, and build a young audience through live music experiences. In 2013 Lang Lang was designated a Messenger of Peace focusing on global education by the Secretary General of the United Nations. Lang Lang started playing the piano at age three, and gave his first public recital before the age of five. He was seventeen when his big break came, substituting for André Watts at the Gala of the Century, where he played Tchaikovsky’s First Piano Concerto with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra under the baton of Christoph Eschenbach. He became an overnight sensation, and the invitations started to pour in.