Sciarrino, harmonics, Paganini, Mendelssohn, and the otherworldly

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Last week, I participated in this conference about the music of Salvatore Sciarrino, at the Orpheus Institute in Ghent, Belgium. Organized by violinist Marco Fusi, the conference was titled “Come vengono prodotti gli incantesimi?” after a piece by Sciarrino. It featured sixteen presenters – devoted and passionate performers of this music and insightful thinkers – most of whom I met there for the first time. I enjoyed how many perspectives on this music were explored and the very interesting and warm exchange of ideas and questions. Thanks to New School University for the grant supporting my travel for this event.

My paper/presentation is about violin (stringed-instrument) harmonics in Sciarrino’s music, about the idea of the otherworldly and venturing to the beyond, and his music’s connection to Mendelssohn and Paganini. I first played Sciarrino’s Six Caprices for solo violin over twenty years ago. In 2017, I was asked by the West Cork Chamber Music Festival to perform all six. In 2020 during the Covid pandemic, I made videos of them and wrote briefly about harmonics and about a Mendelssohnian inspiration. From that work, I had ideas about the pieces stirring in my mind and, thanks to Marco Fusi and this conference, I was glad to take this opportunity to give them form and to talk about my thoughts and approach.  I much enjoyed doing some research, rethinking it, and writing my paper, and what I came up with further supported my feeling about this music.

Below is the text of my talk. I also showed these videos and played some short live demonstrations, which I include here as video clips.

Notes and noises, chance and choices.. Violin harmonics in Sciarrino’s music

The subject of my talk today is, essentially, violin harmonics (or stringed-instrument harmonics) in Salvatore Sciarrino’s music, the interpretation and playing of them, and their relation of pitch and non-pitch, and choice and chance. This conference’s title – “How are spells produced?” – concisely addresses the otherworldly qualities of Sciarrino’s music and the practical questions of playing it.  Later in this presentation, I will discuss technical questions, demonstrate examples, and look at two of the various works of his that I’ve played – the Sei Capricci and Omaggio a Burri. While getting to that, I’d like to discuss connections between Sciarrino’s harmonics and a couple more philosophical threads in his work, which I feel have a bearing on interpreting these compositions. One is the idea of the “otherworldly”- a parallel world or a world beyond. The other is Sciarrino’s dialogues with the music of Mendelssohn and Paganini. 

Listeners to Sciarrino’s music often describe it as “ghostly”,“magical”, “spell-binding”, or “mysterious”.  Since his early works in the 1960s and 70s, Sciarrino’s work has been very much about perception, our perception of sound and space. Much of his music operates at the edge of audibility, expanding our awareness and heightening our sensitivity to its detailed range of quiet dynamics, its silences, and its breathy, airy, sighing, rustling, and scurrying sounds. This extremely vivid world of sound and silence naturally conjures a feeling of mystery and the unknown, as it provokes startled questions within us as we listen. Where are those sounds coming from? What’s going to happen next?  His musical syntax and timing also make his music feel especially unpredictable. The occasional loud outbursts can be shocking.

A frequent gesture in his works is a wave-like phrase that emerges from and returns to “niente” – to nothing. Sciarrino’s philosophy of silence draws us into an alternate, flip-side world. Instead of silences being respites or pauses in a world of sound, in Sciarrino’s world the natural fundamental condition is silence. Sounds then appear out of the silence and make their presence felt, like sea creatures lifting their heads into the air, breaking the surface of the ocean. The ocean of course remains one of the great mysteries of our planet, still vastly unexplored.

Sciarrino has developed new techniques, and explored less common ones, on many instruments. On the violin, one of the devices he has used most is harmonics. Harmonics are a physical phenomenon of high overtone pitches produced by lightly touching a string at one of the nodes that divides the string length in proportion to its fundamental. Whether the fundamental is an open string or a note stopped with a finger, the system of partials functions the same.

In a rehearsal documentary from 2023, Sciarrino said:

“We talk about what we perceive as a limit and that becomes instead the opening of the border. I mean, the boundary is something that opens, not something that closes. What we perceive from the inside as an end, it’s actually the beginning of the earth, the beginning of the world and this is, in my opinion, a very important perspective also for understanding today’s phenomena that otherwise plague us. They are incomprehensible or disturb us because they seem to change the order of the world. No! They are the real order of the world.” [1]

Harmonics are an absolutely integral physical feature of the instrument itself. They are, in essential ways, the “real order” of the violin. However, the full system of harmonics, including practical knowledge of where the nodes are on the string and what pitches they will produce, is not taught in any methodical way by most violin teachers. I believe the reason is that the violin has been traditionally so valued as a cantabile instrument, cherished for its melodic qualities. Young violinists usually encounter a harmonic as a single effect in a piece: a flamboyant flourish at the end of a phrase or a feathery note in a slow passage. Once the player has learned to produce that effect, they’re left to figure out other harmonics on their own. In response to this, a few years ago I made some charts about harmonics, which I posted on my social media and website.

The first page shows harmonics by the interval between fundamental and node (3rd, 4th, 5th harmonics etc), focusing mainly on those most often used and that resonate most easily. The next charts show equivalent harmonic fingerings, and the entire series of partials, including the far less commonly used ones, moving both up and down the string (here the D string).

The harmonics system is the alternative reality of the violin, less known and understood than its usual solid-toned world. Harmonics World is not a world of chaos, it functions according to its own laws and logic, much as there are rules and formulas to the magic and books of spells in many fantasy tales, such as those of Harry Potter, the Lord of the Rings, Narnia, Alice in Wonderland, and so on. 

Visually, a page of harmonics even looks like the immaterial spirits of music, with its empty diamond note-heads. Lucia D’Errico writes “memory is explored [in] the cultural memory of sounds..Using traditional instruments.. Sciarrino explores their sonic peripheries.” [2]

Sciarrino calls himself an autodidact and seems to have studied in a very independent way from a young age. Much of what he apparently chose to study was the core classical repertoire: Mozart, Mendelssohn, Beethoven, Brahms. Throughout his music since, there have been many pieces in dialogue with past composers, such as Mozart, Stradella, Gesualdo, and Scarlatti. These can be arrangements, or what he calls “elaborations”, or fragments.

Asked about this, he said: “There are moments of strong hybridization between them. They are not quotations, they are part of me… These people are not figures, they are friends.” [1]

Sciarrino’s Sei Capricci from 1976 were composed for Salvatore Accardo and they reference the 24 Caprices by Niccolo Paganini. Paganini was an awe-inspiring virtuoso, who amazed his audiences to the extent they claimed he had made a pact with the Devil. In choosing Paganini’s Caprices as inspiration, Sciarrino was looking to a model of virtuosity that would feature Accardo, but he was likely attracted also to the sense of the otherworldly about Paganini, the mystery around him and the sense of a different, magical world, of which his playing provided a glimpse.

Paganini was known for the dazzling tricks in his playing, such as left-hand pizzicato, high passagework, and staccato and jeté bowing. It’s significant, though, that harmonics are not an especially frequent effect in Paganini’s music. There are actually no harmonics notated in his 24 Caprices, and not that many in his other compositions. The most substantial instance is the melody played as double-stopped harmonics in the 3rd movement of his first Violin Concerto. 

It’s important to remember, along with Paganini’s daredevil image, that he was friends with Rossini and his music came out of the bel canto opera, with the dolce cantabile of its melodies and theatrical rhetoric of the aria. I believe that some of Paganini’s virtuosic techniques truly mimic the operatic singer: the chromatic glissando and the on-the-string slurred staccato have much the same articulated effect as fast coloratura passages.

 

I’ll talk about each of Sciarrino’s Six Caprices, but to focus on his Caprice No. 1 for a moment: This Caprice opens the set with its most obvious reference – its jeté arpeggios clearly mirror those in Paganini’s Caprice No. 1. 

Paganini Caprice #1

In Sciarrino’s caprice, Paganini’s world is flipped into an alternative state: the solid notes in the Paganini are transformed into harmonics, and the consistent up-down direction of Paganini’s jeté arpeggios turns erratically topsy-turvy, sometimes going up-down and sometimes down-up. 

Meanwhile, Sciarrino still throws in a solid note here and there. By doing that, I feel he is maintaining a polarity between the more flesh-and-blood world of the Paganini and the ghostly one of his harmonics, showing that these two planes co-exist. Therefore, I feel it’s important for the performer to differentiate those sounds clearly, and to move between them with naturalness.

This is from a series of videos I made in 2020, of the Six Caprices.

 

Paganini’s importance as an inspiration to Sciarrino is clear, but I believe the influence of Paganini was also filtered through that of Felix Mendelssohn. Paganini published his Caprices in 1820, when Mendelssohn was 11 years old. Mendelssohn was an extremely prodigious talent. Like Paganini, he himself had a quality of the otherworldly, of the magical and awe-inspiring. But, whereas Paganini’s persona provoked some feelings of danger or suspicion, Mendelssohn’s mainly suggests radiance, naturalness, and a kind of sincere passion. 

His Violin Concerto in E minor, written in 1844, has many sparkling moments, but a special passage – famous now but probably very beguiling when first heard – is at the end of the first movement cadenza, when the solo violin plays jeté arpeggios that turn into an accompaniment to the orchestra’s melody. This moment recalls Paganini’s Caprice No. 1.

Mendelssohn’s significance to Sciarrino is evident in another work that he wrote for Accardo, in 1985: the concerto titled Allegoria della Notte. This startling piece toggles between Sciarrino’s music and sections from Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto. The fragments from Mendelssohn are altered by Sciarrino but are still very recognizable. At the end of the cadenza, high harmonic arpeggios usher in the return of the orchestra, evoking the parallel moment in the Mendelssohn.

Mainly through the dramatic splicing of the contrasting materials, Sciarrino’s concept of parallel worlds becomes very explicit in this piece. His program note says:
“Imagine listening to Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto. Amidst the flashes of consciousness (or the intermittencies of memory) emanates another music, literally generated from the echo of a lyrical impulse. Extending indefinitely, this echo makes perceptible another, parallel space: the uninhabited other side of the Mendelssohn planet.” This is the very beginning of Sciarrino’s concerto, played by Accardo. 

 

I’ve focused on Paganini and Mendelssohn because I feel that the conversation – and shared qualities – among Sciarrino, these past composer “friends”, and his living friend Accardo, form an important context for these pieces. In Sciarrino’s musical echoes of Mendelssohn and Paganini, the sound of resonating notes is a remnant and link to a cultural past, and in his use of harmonics, there is, along with an otherworldliness, a quality of radiance and sweetness, a memory of song and dance and human warmth.

Sciarrino makes use of many types of harmonics. Besides the more common ones, he often uses harmonics on the E string, with the stopped finger on a note that’s already quite high. The resulting pitches are so high, people often aren’t accustomed even to hear them as pitches. [very high harmonics, on C#] He sometimes also has notes fingered extremely high on the string, fingers placed beyond the fingerboard, near the bow in what I call “rosin territory”. [demo beyond fingerboard] The effect is again a sense of traveling to the beyond. These notes reach the edge of physical possibility and start to disappear into the mysterious realm of the inaudible.

Harmonics are affected by the same triumvirate of bowing variables that affect all bowed notes – speed, pressure, and placement on the string. Add accurate left-finger placement to that and you have the necessary factors for good-sounding pitch, factors that have higher stakes with harmonics. Along with the logical, mathematical system of partials, the flip-side of harmonics is that they are delicate, vulnerable, and especially dependent on factors that can affect the vibration of the string. There is always some element of exciting virtuosic risk. 

This comes into play especially with the harmonics that don’t speak as immediately, like 3rd harmonics, or when harmonics are played in succession at speeds that don’t give time for the partial to be activated. Bow strokes such as jeté or “spazzolare” can add a degree of chance because of how they interact with the string. With his interest in peripheries and thresholds of perception, Sciarrino welcomes the elements of chance by using harmonics so prevalently. Chance can be an aesthetic factor at the thresholds in the spectrum of sound from silence to breath to noise to pitch. 

Sciarrino’s Caprice No. 2 consists of double-stop harmonics with tremolos, which clearly recall the double-stop tremolos in Paganini’s Caprice No. 6.  Paganini’s caprice has one long, sustained melody supported by continuous tremolos on the other string. Paganini Caprice #6

 In Sciarrino’s world, the sustained line is fragmented into wave-like phrases, glimmering notes becoming discernible and returning again and again to silence.

The tremolo moves continually from one string to another. A particular technical aspect is the releasing of the lower finger of the tremolo so that it can produce another harmonic, rather than keeping it pressed down like the low note of a trill. This way, Sciarrino is able to involve a greater number of pitches in these gestures. Again I feel that endeavoring to produce the pitches of these harmonics is meaningful, because it connects the piece to a memory of the dolce cantabile, and it also ties together moments of this caprice with a feeling of peaceful return.

Caprice No. 3 involves a bow technique that he calls “spazzolare” or brushing, a diagonal sort of motion across the strings like a car’s windshield wiper.  Sciarrino spazzolare

Here the bow stroke introduces a strong aleatoric element and inevitably obfuscates the pitches. If fingered accurately, the harmonic pitches will tend to pop out of the busy texture at unpredictable moments. (I quite like this performance, but I now play this caprice with a wider brushing motion.)

The Paganini corollary isn’t obvious, but it could be his Caprice No. 2 or No. 11. If the wide, vertical string-changing bow movements in the Paganini are turned horizontal, they perhaps become the “spazzolare” wiping of the bow in the Sciarrino. Paganini Caprice #11

Sciarrino’s Caprice No. 4 features a gesture of jeté harmonics in, mostly, sextuplets. These recall the groups of four upbeat 32nd-notes in Paganini’s Caprice No. 9
Paganini Caprice #9

and similarly the last movement of Paganini’s first Violin Concerto.
Paganini Violin Concerto #1 3rd mvt

In those pieces, the groups of four have a strong rhythmic identity and melodic contour. I feel in the Sciarrino, the sextuplets are similarly motivic and should be heard clearly as sextuplets.

In Caprice No. 5, the primary effect is unisons played as harmonics with different fingerings. These produce slight timbral differences, and when alternated quickly, the notes start to merge, rather like when fast-moving blades of a fan blur together. While he calls this caprice “un suspiro” or breath, the effect of the unisons is quite melodic, since there’s time to hear the pitches.

This caprice is similar to Paganini’s No. 12 which has a bariolage bowing across two strings. Paganini Caprice #12

Caprice No. 6 is a compendium of ideas from the previous caprices, and a greater feeling of looseness comes into it.  There are longer jeté’s of harmonics that feel more indeterminate and gestural. There are simultaneous harmonic trills on two strings, which are simpler to play than the trills in Caprice No. 2. And a “danzando” middle section is a cheerful Mendelssohnian scherzo in natural harmonics.

 

Not all compositions in Sciarrino’s large catalogue approach harmonics the same way. Allegoria della Notte and his Piano Trio No. 2 use fewer harmonic overtones and put more emphasis on fingerings in the extreme high register. His recent Sei Nuovi Capricci e un Saluto for violin uses harmonics, but nearly as often, solidly-fingered notes. However, in other pieces, harmonics are modified to bring out more noise than pitch. 

His Omaggio a Burri for flute, clarinet, and violin is a memorial piece to the painter and sculptor Alberto Burri, who died that year, in 1995. Burri was very occupied with physical texture. His artworks explored paint, tar, sand, wood, stone, plastics, metals, and coarse fabrics like jute and burlap. He used fire to make charred surfaces and affixed jutting objects to his paintings.

Sciarrino’s interests have also meant investigating the physical surfaces of instruments and the sounds resulting from interaction with their textures. Harmonics are, by definition, played on the surface of the string. At the beginning of Omaggio a Burri, Sciarrino writes for the violin “as soft as possible, only rustling, no sound”. Though notated as a 5th-harmonic on D, the intention is clearly just the friction of hair rubbing against the dampened string.

 

This friction is similar to the toneless friction of air fluttering across a surface. When the flute erupts with loud multiphonics, the violin joins with harmonics that merge with the flute’s tone. Later, the violin plays a quiet harmonic sigh, marked “flute-like, blown”. Essentially, in this piece Sciarrino uses the surfaces of the violin to turn it into a sort of wind instrument.  The violinist even plucks a pizzicato harmonic, marked “dry noise”, to make a dull thud that sounds like a flute tongue-ram.

With his fascination with perception and thresholds, Sciarrino leads us to venture into other worlds, or to listen intently from afar and contemplate what’s over there in the beyond. In that recent documentary, he said:

“Freedom is the ability to choose. In my opinion, there is no freedom if you don’t have the opportunity to choose… If you choose between “this” and “this”, then you are free. I mean, you need to make reality concrete because, in my opinion, freedom is taking one thing and leaving another.”

Sciarrino recognizes that knowing the reality of the world one is in, means knowing that there is another real world somewhere else.

 

 

[1] Opoficio Sonoro. “Promenade Sciarrino” April 4, 2023. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r9W2D-HQ84I

[2] Lucia D’Errico. Powers of Divergence: An Experimental Approach to Music Performance. (Leuven University Press, 2018)

2023-24

I haven’t posted on this blog since over a year ago but I’m very proud of how all the concerts and projects went.

In June I played a duo concert at Soapbox Gallery in Brooklyn with Ethan Iverson. The pieces were George Walker Sonata No. 1, Peter Lieberson Elegy, and Louise Talma’s Sonata, plus Ethan’s own Piano Sonata. We got a great review in the New York Times.

Back at PS21 Chatham I played a program of Lili Boulanger, Igor Stravinsky, Rebecca Saunders, Claude Vivier, Leo Ornstein, and Kaija Saariaho, with Adrian Sandí on clarinet and Eric Huebner on piano.

Solo recital at the Walden School in New Hampshire – music by JS Bach, Stewart Goodyear, Caroline Mallonee, Dave Soldier, Lei Liang, Scott Wollschleger

Did a flamenco show with Pedro Cortes, Jose Moreno, and Dave Soldier at the Garage series at Chatham.

Cutting Edge Concerts at Symphony Space: I played solo pieces written for me by Jeffrey Mumford and Ileana Perez Velasquez. Thanks to series director and composer Victoria Bond!  Great to receive this review !

 

Morton Feldman concert with Conor Hanick at the New York Studio School, where he was the dean from 1969-71. We played Extensions 1, Vertical Thoughts 2, Projection 1, Piano Piece 1963, and Spring of Chosroes. Received this lovely review.

 

I did a six-concert solo recital tour in Germany, including at the Schloss Köthen where Johann Sebastian Bach composed his partitas and sonatas for solo violin. On these concerts, I played Bach’s D minor Partita and pieces by Reiko Füting, Tongyu Lu, Biber, and Ysaÿe.

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In Magdeburg, I played the 2nd half of the concert with pianist Kristin Henneberg, collaborating in music by Füting, Stravinsky, and Clara Schumann. I also did a recital in Hamburg, featuring Manfred Stahnke’s Capra 4, Bach’s D minor Partita, and pieces by Jeffrey Mumford, Kaija Saariaho, and Reiko Füting:

 

On Nov 2nd I played at San Francisco Performances with pianist Blair McMillen, in the stunning Herbst Theater. We played sonatas by Janacek, Beethoven, and Prokofiev, and Ross Lee Finney’s Fiddle-doodle-ad suite. We also played a movement from Anthony Cheung’s duo Elective Memory as an encore. A great review.

 

After that I gave a solo recital and a masterclass for excellent students at Princeton University. Thanks very much to Donna Weng Friedman for the invitation!

Then it was on to my very exciting debut at the Musikverein in Vienna, playing the Violin Concerto No. 2 by Georg Friedrich Haas. Thanks to the Musikverein, the wonderful Vienna Radio Symphony and conductor Markus Poschner for a terrific experience and their warm collaboration which made me so comfortable. The performance was broadcast live on Ö1 radio and I hope it will be rebroadcast because I’m very proud of it. Walter Weidringer wrote in Die Presse: “Miranda Cuckson is a poetic soloist with a strong personality, yet unpretentious.”

I also gave a masterclass for the Orchestra’s Academy program:

I joined David Sanford’s superb big band for a recording of his piece Reprise.

I also recorded Scott Wollschleger’s new violin piece Secret Machine No. 7 that we collaborated on, and which appears on his next album! There will be a release show at Roulette on June 27, please come!

In February I played a recital on the wonderful Florida State New Music Festival. The pieces and performers were terrific and I really enjoyed meeting and seeing everyone there. I also had the pleasure to be interviewed for the HER-o podcast by violinist Darrian Lee.

I also recently played quintets at River Arts in Westchester, with Philip Setzer, Kenji Bunch, Dan Panner, and Peter Seidenberg. We played pieces by Kenji Bunch and Jessie Montgomery and quintets by Mozart.

VILÁG album

 

“Világ” is a Hungarian word meaning “world” or “illumination”.
It also resembles the word “village” in English.
In Sanskrit, “vilag” means “to cling to”; in Hindi, “separated”.

I’m very happy to share my new, double-length album Világ, featuring the Sonata for solo violin by Béla Bartók along with compositions written for me by Aida Shirazi and Stewart Goodyear, plus works by Manfred Stahnke and Franco Donatoni.

Download
CD and vinyl LP
Streaming
Liner notes 

“Illuminating, not only for its compositional diversity but for Cuckson’s extraordinary playing. In featuring violin alone, her virtuosity, dexterity, and command of intonation and phrasing are on full display, and the performances mesmerize…Whether pitched at a barely audible hush or delivered with an exuberant flourish, Cuckson’s playing is always compelling and never less than transfixing. Anyone who might think nearly 100 minutes of unaccompanied violin might be less than engaging will be otherwise enlightened by Világ. If anything, hearing her performing alone allows for an enhanced appreciation of her singular artistry.” (textura)

“The violin has a rustic side, an ancient call for fiddlers to set the villagers dancing. Miranda Cuckson has always impressed with an effortless command of the hardest modern music. I first heard her on the 2014 album Melting the Darkness, which opens with the dumbfounding “Mikka S” by Iannis Xenakis. It’s an incredibly difficult piece, but Cuckson sounds like she’s crooning a blues lullaby.
Bartók was famous for using folk sources….In conjunction with the idea of “village,” this thread leads to a fresh insight: Cuckson is really a folk musician. Yes, the most advanced kind of folk musician.” (Ethan Iverson, Transitional Technology)

“The protean violinist Miranda Cuckson negotiates with brilliance the technical perils of pieces by Bartók, Shiraz, Goodyear, Stahnke, and Donatoni- imbuing each with impassioned musicality.. The American violinist plays..with an equal balance of temperament and mental acuity, her performance resulting in an intriguing recording of 20th and 21st centuries music. Intelligently annotated and carefully engineered, the URLICHT recording will be welcome addition to the libraries of collectors of off-the-beaten-path music for the violin.” (Rafael de Acha, All About the Arts)

 


playing harmonics

Student and professional violinists often ask about harmonics.
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Mostly, people need more familiarity and knowledge of all the standard harmonics (touch-4, touch-3, touch-5, fingered in the high register, etc) and what pitches they produce.
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Also, some composers nowadays are using less common harmonics (for example, at the 7th or the lowered minor-3rd) which, while naturally-occurring on the instrument, are more difficult to locate on the string than the more common ones. People are exploring the different timbres and tuning colors that result from these harmonics. To me, that’s what’s interesting about them, along with the polyphonies that are possible (with double-harmonics or a solid tone with a harmonic).
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Recently I was asked again about harmonics and whether there’s a chart or worksheet. I decided to make one – here it is!
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Harmonics p1
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Emphasis is on the touch intervals and what notes they make. The goal is to know, given a specific pitch, how to play that pitch using touch-4, touch-3, touch-5, and high-register harmonics (and -8 or -6 if relevant). Pages 2 and 3 have some examples of harmonics that sound the same pitches.
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At top of page 3 are naturally-occurring harmonics, going up the fingerboard and going down.
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Touch-8, -5, and -4 harmonics are the easiest to do and speak most reliably. Touch-Maj3 and -Maj6 are next in terms of reliability, then touch-min3 and -min7 and -tritone. The rest of the harmonics sound more delicate and are trickier to produce, especially in first position.
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These charts show the natural harmonics, with an open string (D in this case) as the base note. Touch harmonics can also be produced on a fingered base note (artificial harmonics). Getting them to sound may depend on how high a position it is on the fingerboard (but bow placement/pressure can also help).
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With a little searching online, I found two other charts, differently formatted. One is by Anne Leilehua Lanzilotti, the other by Paul Zukovsky. Also just brought to my attention: a remarkable 50-page treatise “I suoni armonici: classificazione e nuove tecniche” on violin harmonics by Enzo Porta, published by Ricordi in 1985, and Michelangelo Abbado’s “Tecnica dei suoni armonici per violino” published in 1934, also by Ricordi.
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On microtonal playing

I made this video for the Festival of Microtonal Music during a rehearsal break for the Ojai Festival (after having had a brief case of Covid).

I experience the expressiveness of music intuitively and always by ear primarily. I have relative pitch and that’s generally the most useful aural skill for hearing intonation and aural color and context. Perfect pitch is a more abstract ability but it can be useful in the moment, when there’s a complex harmony or cluster and a need to identify the individual notes immediately.

For the most part, I think really precise microtones are important when 1) there’s a long sustained harmony or you’re using the overtone series, so the exact frequencies are really discernible and meaningful, and 2) if the piece returns to the same pitches and intervals repeatedly so you need to be consistent. But in some pieces, especially in melodic or fast passages, the point is not what each interval itself is, but more expressivity through a greater variety of intervals and their relativity. As Georg Friedrich Haas told me, make sure a 6th-tone sounds a little smaller than a quarter-tone!

As I mention in the video, I did ear-training as a kid, first at home but mostly at Juilliard Pre-college, where I started at 9. I was placed in level 2 of ear-training, skipping the first year. I struggled at first but I was encouraged by my teacher Sandra Shuler to persevere and after a few months I got good at it. I continued with ear-training every year and when I started college, I wasn’t required to take it any more. But Rebecca Scott, who’d been my ear-training teacher in Pre-college the past few years, persuaded me to take the advanced class, which was required of conductors. I’ve realized since then how much I use all I learned.

Caló

CalolCover11 wMiranda

Caló is the language of the Spanish Romani or gitano people. This has been an ongoing years-long project with Dave Soldier, me, and Pedro Cortes, who grew up among generations of flamenco artists. He produced the recordings and plays some percussion on the piece. Musician/dancer Jose Moreno is on palmas and cajon. Dave (aka David Sulzer) is a neuroscientist in his “day job”, but he was a professional musician for years and has always been active on the music scene as a composer and performer. Thanks to him and these wonderful flamenco artists for a great collaboration! This is a collection of flamenco numbers, a kaleidoscopic assortment in a range of tempos and moods.

I’ve loved flamenco since I went to a show by Maria Benitez’s company in New Mexico years ago. This project has been fun and also fascinating because, while the violin or a similar bowed string instrument is a major element of many folk traditions, flamenco mainly features guitars, voice, and percussion (including palmas, or clapping). The guitarists play with a lot of gutsiness and percussive effects and flamenco singing is powerful and raw even when the emotion is tender and sweet. Figuring out how to play this music on violin (with Dave who is also a violinist) was a lot of fun. The cantabile music is natural to bowed strings, but playing the fast chordal music with the rhythmic definition needed is an exciting challenge. I love this music’s fierce passion and pulsing rhythms, and taking subtle freedoms within and around it.

Traditionally in flamenco, the guitarists are men, but the dancers, singers, and percussionists comprise both women and men, and the women’s roles are equally ones of tremendous strength, skill, proud dignity, and intense emotions. Flamenco is also music of today that continues to evolve.

 

virtuosity

Virtuosity can be a important part of being a musician.

The arts (music, visual art, dance, literature, film etc) should be available to all people, art and music classes should be in all schools, and every person should have opportunities to create and enjoy art. Never mind wondering if it’s good or well-made. Art keeps us connected to our imaginations, emotions, individuality, and sense of possibility.

I strongly support people who feel they can make good music even if they’re not very virtuosic at an instrument, or if they’re disabled. It can be brilliant, moving, excellent, and as communicative as any other.

Some people’s feeling about virtuosic playing has to do with anti-elitism and financial accessibility to training. But the fact is lots of people pursue advanced skill because it’s just very gratifying. Whether you’re an athlete, builder/craftsperson, or artist, you give it hours and years of your life because it’s satisfying for you. Satisfying in improving, in reaching a goal of being able to do something, in the beauty of the thing you did.

If you’re thrilled by the virtuosity of any classical musician, you have to recognize its purpose in any art. Skills make a range of things possible expressively and artistically.

In contemporary music, virtuosity comes into play, for example in Salvatore Sciarrino’s music. I feel it’s worthwhile in his pieces to try to play the natural harmonics, the gradations in dynamics, and the number of jeté notes, because the music then has a radiant sparkling beauty, a beguiling mix of notes plus noise, and motifs that are meaningful. Some gestures involve chance, and noise is part of “extended-technique” music. But the way Sciarrino shaped his phrases and rhythms suggests they aren’t only effects. Of course harmonics and bow techniques require skill, but mainly I try to communicate what I feel is the delightful spirit of the music.

There are many kinds of virtuosity in music, including those involving sensitivity, slowness, quietness, and very subtle detail. A most clichéd kind of virtuosity is speed. I find various expressive uses for velocity in a performance: 1) to evoke high intensity and the feeling of excitement (not just excitement about the virtuosity, but the emotion of excitement) 2)  to evoke the speed in the world around us, ie. a waterfall, a strong wind, a galloping animal, an airplane taking off, 3) speed+clarity can be a sensory experience of tremendous aural beauty, 3) it’s sometimes effective to play a passage quickly rather than emphasize every moment, because you can make things connect for the listener and make phrases from one thing to another.

Robert Mann memorial at Juilliard

 

On April 29, The Juilliard School held a memorial for my teacher Robert Mann – founding violinist of the Juilliard String Quartet, American artist, composer, teacher, writer, husband, father. I studied with him for my Masters and Doctorate degrees at Juilliard. After that, I still occasionally went to play for him at his apartment. I also had the great joy to play Mozart, Beethoven, and Schubert with him at his family’s annual Christmas parties.

In my life I consider it one of my hugest blessings to have had an array and sequence of extraordinary teachers. These included Shirley Givens, Dorothy DeLay, Felix Galimir, Fred Sherry, and the members of the Juilliard String Quartet. In my early childhood, I was taught a while by the wonderful violist Rosemary Glyde. My musician parents, Robert and May, have given me continual support, dialogue, and sophisticated feedback. Composer Mario Davidovsky was essentially a teacher to me, engaging me in rich conversations about music, culture, and the world. And I’ve learned from so many other remarkable musicians and people I’ve worked with. However, of all these influences, Robert Mann is the teacher who was my most life-altering inspiration and showed me how to be true to both the music and myself. He was a musician of the highest level, with insight, imagination, nuance, depth, passion, and intelligence. It was a great honor of my life to work closely with him.

His mantra when he founded the Juilliard Quartet was, “Our goal is to play new music as if it had been composed long ago, and to play a classical piece written hundreds of years ago as if it had just been written.” [from his autobiography, A Passionate Journey]

I was very honored and moved to be asked by Juilliard and his family to perform at the memorial, and to play “Rhapsodic Musings”, which Elliott Carter wrote for him in 2001. I remember his happy excitement when he told me, one day at my lesson, that Carter had given him this piece as a birthday present. R.M. stands for Rhapsodic Musings, for Robert Mann, and for the notes Re Mi, which figure strongly in the work. The piece is an amazing, delightful character study of Bobby, his characteristic gestures and personal qualities, both fiery and tender, and a wonderfully concise example of Carter’s brilliant and lyrical music-making.

Haas Violin Concerto

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with Sylvain Cambreling

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with Tokyo Symphony Orchestra and Ilan Volkov

I just returned from Japan, where I gave the world premiere of a concerto by Austrian composer Georg Friedrich Haas. Georg is one of the great musicians of our time and a warm person and friend. The emotion in his music has meant so much to me since meeting him eight years ago as an ensemble player and playing his music for him – his violin piece “de terrae fine”, the US premiere of “In Vain”, and other works. I’ve since performed “de terrae fine” many times.

At the release concert for my album including “de terrae fine”, I was beyond thrilled when he told me he wanted to write a concerto for me. I’m so moved and honored to have this work. Our premiere in Tokyo’s Suntory Hall received a very enthusiastic response. Prior to the concert, I wrote:

“Georg Friedrich Haas’ music has revealed new dimensions of musical meaning and an astonishing richness of expression conveyed in the exquisite distances between notes, in powerfully pulsating harmonies, and in the accumulation and contrast of surprising sound-colors. While the innovative compositional aspects are fascinating, what has excited me most about his work is its profoundly visceral impact and the deep psychological and emotional sources that he connects to with his music.”

The concerto is microtonal, using quarter, sixth and eighth tones. It’s in nine continuous sections: Praeludium-Kadenz-Resonanz und Feedback-Dreistimmige Invention-Sgraffito-Sotto voce-Interludium-just intonation-Aria. In some parts it evokes the Violin Concerto by Alban Berg, who dedicated his piece “to the memory of an angel”.

Shortly after we first met, Georg and I discussed our Austrian family histories. Much of his violin concerto has a programmatic significance regarding the life of my grandfather, Erich Engel. “Engel” means angel in German. My music-loving grandfather was Jewish and he had to flee from Vienna during WWII, first to England and then, after the war, emigrating to Australia with my English grandmother and their two children. 

The violin concerto was co-commissioned by the Suntory Festival and the premiere was with the Tokyo Symphony Orchestra conducted by Ilan Volkov.  I also played “de terrae fine” on a concert of Georg’s chamber music. The next performances will be July 2018 with the Staatsorchester Stuttgart and Sylvain Cambreling and December 2018 with the Orquestra Sinfónica do Porto Casa da Música and Baldur Brönnimann.

Just to address a topic that’s been much publicized: Georg and his wife Mollena partake in a BDSM lifestyle. I do not. They are kind, warm, mutually caring, and very intelligent people, whom I love and respect. I relate to the emotions in Georg’s music, which are essential ones we all share.

 

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composers Toshio Hosokawa and Georg Friedrich Haas in pre-concert talk

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performing “de terrae fine” for solo violin by GF Haas

Perlman and Milstein

I’m delighted and honored to be mentioned in wonderful company in this article in the Los Angeles Times. The article is about Itzhak Perlman, a huge talent with a rapport with a global audience (pre-internet!) In my NewMusicBox interview, I mentioned Perlman as one of my heroes. I’m very fond of his Glazunov, Lalo, Bruch Scottish Fantasy, the film of his Beethoven concerto with Giulini, and his playing on “Schindler’s List”. I went to many recitals he gave at Lincoln Center and Carnegie Hall.

I studied for eight years with Dorothy DeLay, who was his teacher at Juilliard. She talked about things she learned teaching him, aspects of his playing, favorite jokes of his. I was always moved by her steadfast belief in his ability, even when he was just starting out, to tour as a successful performer despite his handicap. In 2005, my subsequent teacher Robert Mann was honored by the American Composers Orchestra at their benefit gala. I was asked to perform a piece composed by him and Perlman presented him with the ACO award.

People these days usually know who Itzhak Perlman is, but they sometimes don’t know the generation before: Milstein, Szigeti, Szeryng, Elman, Grumiaux. I played for Nathan Milstein when I was 13. The previous year I won the Juilliard Pre-College concerto competition and performed the Paganini Violin Concerto No. 1 with the orchestra. Someone there gave Milstein a recording of the concert, which led to his inviting me to participate in his annual week of masterclasses in Zürich, Switzerland. Corey Cerovsek and I were there along with about a dozen college students. Over the week, I played movements of the Tchaikovsky concerto, Beethoven Op. 30 No. 3 sonata, Wieniawski D major Polonaise, and Sarasate Zigeunerweisen.

I remember him joyfully playing Bach sitting at a table…at pauses or while speaking, he kept bunching lengths of a beautiful, dark silk, patterned scarf and stuffing it between his chin and the violin, with the rest of the scarf cascading down his front.  In the excitement of playing, he kept knocking the scroll of his Stradivarius violin against the table, at which we would all jump and glance at each other. He played a relatively small repertoire all his life, but he played those pieces so beautifully, his unique sound a combination of warmth and tenderness on the one hand, and directness, nobility and backbone on the other. He found endless things to experiment with, fingerings and bowing to change, notes and lines to bring out.

West Cork Festival in Ireland

I was very happy to be invited by the West Cork Chamber Music Festival to come perform this July. It was a great joy to visit, to make new friends and colleagues, and connect with a wonderful audience.

I played on concerts throughout the week and went to as many of the festival’s events as I had time for. I also did a video interview and gave a masterclass, coaching a promising Irish group on the Prokofiev String Quartet No. 1.

I was especially gratified by such an excited response to my performances of two works the festival asked me to play: the Six Caprices by Salvatore Sciarrino and a new piece by Irish composer Sam Perkin, commissioned by the festival. I played these on the first two concerts and the rest of the week afterward, I kept meeting people who’d been there. Some of my most satisfying interactions have been performing new/recent music for audiences who weren’t necessarily looking to hear new pieces or musical languages. For me, it just confirms my purpose to communicate on my instrument – to all kinds of people – how very enjoyable, beautiful, interesting, and multi-dimensional new music can be. 

It was fun to play Sextets by Penderecki and Brahms with such terrific musicians. I had not played much of Penderecki’s music before and, in addition to the Sextet, I played his Sonata No. 2 with pianist Joonas Ahonen. Joonas and I had a great time together and we worked to make dramatic shape of this hefty piece during our rehearsal process. After our performance, we were greeted most enthusiastically by a musicologist who has worked on Penderecki’s music.

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Hersch violin and piano music

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I have performed eleven works by Michael Hersch so far. He has a grippingly expressive musical language and poignant sense of harmony. The solo violin piece titled “the weather and landscape are on our side” – written for me – conveys hefty emotional substance through particularly delicate and subtle means. There are a few loud outbursts, but it is mostly very eerie and sometimes whispers on the edge of silence. In this piece, he used certain non-pitched string techniques for the first time and, also for the first time, has the violinist briefly sing while playing, rather similarly to the Luigi Nono piece I play, La lontananza nostalgica utopica futura. Michael’s piece also involves playing extremely high pitches and close intervals, very quietly.

His piano music stems from his remarkable and idiosyncratic ability as a pianist. Michael performs infrequently, but his playing is displayed on the documentary film “The Sudden Pianist”. His piano writing exploits the inherently massive power of the instrument and makes innovative use of the pedals, along with a wide variety of articulations. The built-in time/space (silences and phrase lengths) in his music allows for chords to shoot into the air and literally hang there vibrating for long seconds, so that we listen as the pitches within harmonies move around kaleidoscopically and slowly dissolve at various rates. The dimensions of the instrument’s sound-producing capacity and the variety he draws from within that sound suit his wish to write large-scale works that take advantage of its extremes.

He has also written a great deal of solo and chamber music for strings. These pieces often feature frenzied chordal and double-stop playing, use of the bright open strings, and tumultuous fast movements like in his piano works. There is a particular emphasis on harmony, on sustained chorale-like polyphony and the throbbing vibration of notes against each other. He stipulates a sound that is non-vibrato or using vibrato sparingly. In quiet music, subtly adjusted degrees of pressure or lightness can be used to produce varied gradations of dynamics below the basic piano/pianissimo threshold. With this approach, the player can dissipate the core of the tone so that it tends toward the fragile and intimate. There is only so long a resonance or loud an attack that any stringed instrument will produce, but the variety and range of nuances of bow friction can be infinite.

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about new Melting the Darkness


A few people have asked me about my process and intentions with the pieces on my album “Melting the Darkness” (available from the Store page, release by Urlicht on Nov. 11). So I thought I’d take a quick moment to write some more about these things.

Unlike most of my albums, which were each recorded in one chunk of a couple consecutive days, this was recorded over three years. That’s because a couple of the pieces were being written and because I was seeking opportunities to perform the pieces before recording. Robert Rowe, like my father Robert, has a daughter named Miranda, and he titled his piece after a line from Shakespeare’s “The Tempest”, Act V scene i: “Melting the darkness”.  I decided to use it as the title of the album because the phrase “melting the darkness” seemed to draw a thread among the works, of light and human warmth asserting itself.

The pieces on the album were originally going to be two projects, one microtonal and one electroacoustic, but I decided to put these seven pieces together since I felt the various strands of exploration bring it together effectively. The emotional heart of the album is Georg Friedrich Haas’ “de terrae fine”, an almost 20-minute, highly microtonal work of great emotional intensity and sustained quiet tension which builds to a wild, furious release. Oscar Bianchi’s sparkling “Semplice” provides a scherzando, spritely contrast after this, with microtones coming into play only in the middle section. Chris Burns’ piece is part of an ongoing adventure – he wrote it in response to our collaboration on Luigi Nono’s “La lontananza nostalgica utopia futura” for violin and electronics, a piece we both love and have performed around the country a number of times.

In the Burns and the three pieces preceding it, the violin sound was mic-ed up close and the sound was left much as is, so that the details of the physical action and the intimate quiet sounds – the friction noise of the bow, the creaking of the fingerboard under my fingers in the Xenakis – are intact and clearly audible. The Xenakis is the only piece here by a deceased composer. I began the album with it because I love it, it’s short and strong, and because its sliding double-stops that buzz with microtonal beating (as in Scelsi’s music) anticipate the microtonal experiments of today.

The three electroacoustic pieces were sound-mixed by the composers themselves. Ileana Perez-Velasquez’s is an older work of hers, which I was asked to play on a concert some years ago and enthusiastically included in my performing repertoire. There is some reverb on the recording but the violin sound is much as in live acoustic performance and is recognizably my own. I hear the work as a swirling jungle of animal, insect and water sounds, with the violin singing freely and rather folk-like.

In contrast to this evocation of howling emotion and the natural world, the Sigman and Rowe pieces inhabit a machine-made environment. The two pieces were obviously processed in the studio and the sound world is, at times, quite synthesized. I was intrigued to contribute my violin playing to such experiments – and to master the purposely uncoordinated extended-technique challenges of the Sigman – to see what the composers would create using my sound-making on an old wooden instrument as a component of their imaginings. This is the opposite of playing Ralph Shapey’s music for instance: Shapey, as a violinist, was focused on expanding the possibilities of traditional violin playing and the music demands the traditional qualities of warm cantabile tone, refined intonation, defined rhythmic articulation from the bow, and so on. I enjoy working between these poles of interest in the use of the instrument and combining it with other sounds.

Regarding recordings: I love to perform, with all the fun of personal interaction, ephemerality, and risks that it entails. When recording, I’m always aware and playing for the audience that’s going to hear it. During the process of recording, I enjoy the focus on the sound itself and the chance to try many ways of playing a passage or a piece. Of course most recordings are edited these days. I love the sculpting of an interpretation from various possibilities I’ve recorded in the studio. Because I’ve recorded a lot, there are people who think I’m about the modern cliché of perfection, but my editing process is not fussy. I became a musician for the music, not for some kind of glossy perfection. I do work hard on my violin-playing craft and there are big sections in my recordings (the Shapey Sonata No. 1 for solo violin is one example) that are one take. I don’t like to brag but it’s frustrating when people assume you edited it all so you must not be able to play like that  🙂

Hope you’ll enjoy checking out the music on the new album. Wishing everyone a wonderful season!