"The Mad Chase" Section in Chopin

The Chopin nocturne I am working on has a section that I refer to as "The Mad Chase." This nocturne is a mix of relatively easy passages (i.e., the first sections) and several different, more challenging passages. "The Mad Chase" is one of the harder ones, mainly due to hand stretches (and chord changes) in the left hand, and, to a lesser degree, the brief counterpoint in the right hand.

It took me several weeks to start feeling confident that I even had the notes worked out. I experimented with the fingering, trying one for a few days before trying another, and then another. I'm still not confident that I've worked out the best fingering. Here is where I am as of this past weekend--I still have some work to do, but this section has come along a lot in the past few days.

Yes, there are a few missed notes, and yes, I started the big climactic section of The Mad Chase and decided not to go through with it, but ... a big milestone is that this section has started to feel more comfortable. I'm able to play it at a decent tempo, and I'm able to think about bringing the alto voice out in the RH counterpoint. I'm also able to think about just how I want the LH to sound: agressive and pursuing? thoughtful and tentative? a threatening rumble?

I think I have settled on the threatening rumble. I originally envisioned a chase going on, with the LH the murderous pursuer, and the right hand the victim who is growing increasingly panicked. The falling alto voice is a kind of indication of the fact that, no matter how fast she runs, she's not going to get away.

But now? It's more that she senses a rumbling, or maybe she hears, from far off, the sound of the black horse of death racing in her direction.

Here's how Rubinstein plays it. Here's how Horowitz plays it. I think Horowitz has more of a threatening rumble; Rubinstein's notes are more clear, less rumbly But both are beautiful!

Comments

Rethinking Bare Necessities

Today's breakthrough moment (there are actually two of them) focuses on "Bare Necessities." As you'll remember, I discovered Jonny May's arrangement back in early March and immediately decided to learn it. I printed out the music, started the course, and proceeded to learn the stride section, posting a few videos of my progress. Ha. I bet those videos make it look like I was making progress. I guess I was ... but not really. And I realized something this weekend that I hadn't before: Because I was thinking of "Bare Necessities" as a "fun" piece, I wasn't practicing it seriously or diligently. I wasn't treating it as something I wanted to master. This mindset might work with an easier piece, but this arrangement isn't easy. The result: despite a little progress at the outset, I wasn't moving forward. I was stalled. Breakthrough #1 The first breakthrough was realizing that if I truly want to learn this piece and play it well,

Maple Leaf Rag Breakthrough

Oh, Maple Leaf. Where to begin? At the Beginning I think I’ve mentioned this before, but I learned the A and B sections of Maple Leaf Rag back in the 1990s. I can’t tell you if it was early, mid- or late 90s, but it was during those 10 years after I’d graduated college, when I was playing a good bit of piano but not taking regular lessons from anyone. I don’t remember teaching it to myself at all. I just know that, at some point, the first half of Maple Leaf Rag was part of my two- or three-song repertoire of pieces I’d be able to play by memory over the next 25 years. It was always sloppy and I knew it, but people loved it, and so I played it if there was ever a piano around. Back in January, I decided to properly re-learn those two sections, and to finally learn the C and D sections of this wonderful piece. I worked on these over the next month or two, learning (and-relearning) the notes pretty quickly ... but it took time to memorize, and also to get everything to tempo surpassing a

The Rusty Lock and Key

I'm in a room. There's a door in front of me. On the other side of that door is a whole world of adventure and imagination and joy and delight, but for the moment, I'm locked in this gray little room. The door itself has a lock that is all rusted. I've tried to open it in the past, but I've never gotten very far. Sometimes I try to scrape the rust off the lock. I also have a rusty old key that I occasionally try to polish. Each time, after I've made a little progress, I'll put it into the keyhole in hopes of opening the door. It turns a half a millimeter or so, but the brief excitement at my progress dies quickly when I realize, once again, it's not going to open the lock. I set the old key aside, and from there I can forget about the door, the lock, and the world outside, for months—years, even. But then something happens—I hear birdsong, or I catch a glimpse of color—and I pick up the key and start picking away at the stubborn rust. That dark little ro

Picking Up the Pieces

Search This Blog