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发表于 2023-7-26 20:32:30
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本帖最后由 Reader86 于 2023-8-12 11:16 PM 编辑
Elly Ney plays Beethoven Sonata No. 23 in F minor Op. 57 "Appassionata"
714 views 7 months ago
I. Allegro assai 00:00 快板
II. Andante con moto 10:04 行板，行进
III. Allegro ma non troppo 16:49 开朗但不过分
rec. 1956
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FKvYMFk33uE
title - Beethoven's Piano Sonata # 23
Ludwig van Beethoven's Piano Sonata in f-minor, Op. 57 (the "Appassionata") is a deeply personal vehicle through which Beethoven revolutionized the solo sonata on his own instrument. In this article, we explore its remarkable, innovative structure, consider the many performance issues it presents, and then survey a half-dozen pioneering recordings and some modern recordings including efforts to invoke the sound of Beethoven's own era. Finally, we acknowledge some sources for further information.
Beethoven's quartets, symphonies and piano sonatas all embrace the full scope of his amazing aesthetic journey from conventional classicism to previously uncharted Classical Classics realms of imagination that still challenge and inspire composers, performers and listeners alike. Yet, his piano sonatas are the most intimate of these, as Beethoven wrote them for his own instrument, and thus they preserve an aural image of the ideal he sought as a performer. Until deafness forced a change in his career, Beethoven was known as one of the finest pianists of his time - and the best improviser of all, a key skill to flex the prowess of a composer's imagination. As solo works, the sonatas require no colleagues to dilute the personal communication between artist and audience. Thus, when we hear a Beethoven piano sonata, we come closer to the man and the artist than with any other genre of his music.
Title -- the AppassionataAmong Beethoven's 32 published piano sonatas, one of the most compelling and significant is # 23 in f minor, Op. 57, the so-called "Appassionata," as it was a product of the same intensely visionary creative period as the "Eroica" symphony, "Kreutzer" violin sonata and Fidelio opera, and did just as much to revolutionize its genre. According to Czerny （车尔尼）, Beethoven considered it to be his greatest sonata prior to his massive 1819 "Hammerklavier" Sonata # 29, Op. 106. (Incidentally, the "Appassionata" name, while certainly appropriate, was conferred posthumously by a publisher.)
The Appassionata begins with an arpeggiated tonic chord, as did Beethoven's very first piano sonata, but there all resemblance to its polite predecessor stops. Here, Beethoven doubles the theme at a two-octave gap and descends to the lowest note of his five-octave instrument before he gallops up the keyboard, gets hung up on a trill, repeats the entire phrase a half-tone higher (and thus asserts an interval that will play a key role), introduces an insistent but ominous "fate" phrase that would later dominate his Fifth Symphony, angrily descends from the top back down to the very bowels of the keyboard, and then rips the remaining shreds of his sonic fabric with sharp alternating chords that interrupt a repetition of the theme, with only half-tone fragments remaining over rapid triplet accompaniment. And that's just the first 20 seconds, although it effectively presents the elements and sets the stormy tone of the entire first movement. The sheer concision of the opening is astounding.
The first movement proceeds to present one of Beethoven's inspired innovations - to use a secondary, more lyrical theme that is more a variant of the first one than the sharply differentiated contrast used in all sonata movements up to that time. The tight resemblance of the two themes adds an extraordinary sense of unity to the thrashing changes of mood, a unity confirmed as the two themes meld at the end. That thematic unity, in turn enabled a further unique touch - omitting the exposition repeat, a standard and mandatory structural requirement of the time. The sense of unprecedented fervor is abetted by the extreme contrast of dynamics, suddenly leaping from pp to ff, and by the time signature of 12/8 marked allegro assai, which belies the initial rocking lyricism to suggest the tension and sheer drama that is to come. The end of the first movement extends the feeling of instability and constant expectation by braking to a complete halt on repetitions of the "fate" motif, plunging into a manic jumble of the opening elements, and then subsiding on the sonic extreme of that bottom f note, repeated ever more softly to linger on Beethoven's first use of the extremely rare dynamic indication of ppp, thus indicating that the ending was to be really hushed.
As in his Kreutzer sonata, Beethoven follows the unprecedented drama of the opening with a respite - a seemingly thoroughly conservative set of andante variations on a simple, restful subject, although it barely qualifies as a genuine melody. Yet, there is a clear method to Beethoven's seemingly random slide back into tradition - the theme ties into the first movement based on its half-step progression, the bass tail mimics the rhythm of the opening, and the variations themselves - first alternating bass and treble notes in a tight canon and then adding rapid bass and treble running accompaniments - evoke the structural elements upon which the massive structure of the first movement had been built. Unlike most variation movements, the harmonic and expressive range is severely curbed - Tovey terms it "sublime inaction" and Lionel Salter "strange tranquility." But the true brilliance of the middle movement comes at its end, as Beethoven sets us up for a huge upset of the expectations he has cunningly aroused.
The final variation is a return to the humble opening, adding only a hint of impatience by omitting the repeats of each phrase, complete with soothing harmonization, and leading to a full final d-flat major cadence. But instead of the final note toward which the entire movement has been inexorably pointing, instead we get a soft, rolled diminished seventh chord, loudly repeated, that thoroughly destroys the tonality, followed by an insistent fanfare on a repeated sour chord, which then plunges into the finale, an aggressive, moto perpetuo that renews the snarling energy of the opening, but now propelled with unrelenting drive and spiked with eruptions of sharp, nervous counter-notes. It is worth recalling how Beethoven conceived this theme. According to his friend Ferdinand Ries, Beethoven conceived the finale while they took a long walk together, during which he hummed and howled inchoate runs of notes, and then upon returning home he rushed to the keyboard and improvised for a solid hour to shape the theme. While this method would prove frustrating to later scholars trying to trace Beethoven's creative process, Barry Cooper observed that it was more efficient than trying to work out variants on paper, as Beethoven often did in his musical sketchbooks.
Beethoven's formal innovations are not yet over - for the first time in any sonata movement, not only does he omit the exposition repeat but insists on a repeat of the entire development and recapitulation sections, as if to proclaim to the world that henceforth it is the most creative and free-ranging segment of the time-honored form with which he will concern himself. Rudolph Beti feels that this novel structure was compelled by a need dictated by the overall architecture, which demands that any significant element be repeated in the course of a composition; here, Beethoven deferred the first appearance of the second theme of the finale until the development section, which thus had to be repeated. However, that theory ignores one further surprise - Beethoven's introduction of yet another wholly new theme in the last half-minute. Indeed, after this thoroughly exhausting movement, Beethoven makes ever crueler demands on would-be intrepid performers with a coda that pounds away with isolated syncopated sfortzando phrases over a manically rapid running accompaniment at a presto pace, winding up again with f-minor triads in the depth of the keyboard, thus finally reaffirming the tonality of the outset and at last giving us the full final cadence denied us in the prior movements.
Beethoven dedicated nearly all his compositions to noble patrons, but the Appassionata may have been special in that regard. Its actual dedication is to Count Franz von Brunswick. Eric Blom notes that Beethoven was in love at the time with both of the Count's two sisters - Therese von Brunswick, a placid maiden whose appeal was entirely spiritual, and Josephine von Deym, a spirited widow whose attraction was mostly physical. Blom speculates that the raging mood of the Appassionata reflects the duality of these inclinations that plagued Beethoven, and that the dedication to their brother was a discreet way of honoring his feelings. (When asked to explain the significance of his sonata, Beethoven reportedly advised: "Read Shakespeare's Tempest," but no commentator has deciphered what he meant - indeed, while we tend to read a world of significance into every utterance of a genius, perhaps it was just off-hand pique.)
Title -- Performance Issues Beethoven may have loved the piano as the means to express his most personal musical thoughts, but he had far lesser feelings toward the instruments themselves. The reason is apparent from the mere appearance of the spindly piano on which he wrote the Appassionata, as it could not possibly have produced the impassioned expression that pervades that work. Indeed, as early as 1796, Beethoven disparaged the pianos of his time as so undeveloped that "often one thinks that one is merely listening to a harp." It is believed that Beethoven never bought a piano, although he owned or borrowed over a dozen at various times. Rather, manufacturers offered him gifts or loans of their latest models for the prestige of association with the great pianist-composer. As recounted by William S. Newman, Beethoven "needed an instrument capable of withstanding his animal energies" and was never satisfied with any piano. He claimed to prefer Viennese models with their relatively light action and clear tones, although he later gravitated toward the English Broadwood with its heavier construction and wider dynamic range, which he was given in 1818 and which he may have had in mind for his final four sonatas. Shortly before writing the Appassionata, he had accepted the gift of an Erard piano from its Parisian manufacturer, but although he kept it until 1825 he wrote in 1810 that it was "quite useless."
Newman asserts that Beethoven was frustrated by the five-octave range of his instruments and had to make some thematic compromises to fit his conceptions within their span. With the Appassionata, Beethoven clearly hit the bottom of the keyboard of the time, and his many repeated FF notes suggests that he might have delved even lower had that been feasible. Indeed, it is possible that the key of f minor was chosen in order to exploit the lowest fundamental note possible on Beethoven's piano. (As Denis Matthews notes, Beethoven's Sonata # 21, Op. 53 ( "Waldstein"), written at the same time, exploits the upper regions of the keyboard, and thus complements the Appassionata.)
How did Beethoven play his own Appassionata? There seems to be no direct evidence, and, indeed, the work was never performed in public during Beethoven's lifetime - hardly surprising, as an early critic had found it "incomprehensibly abrupt and dark - much of it is enormously difficult without there being some exceptional beauty to compensate for it." What little we can glean from contemporaneous written descriptions is confusingly abstract and often contradictory. Thus, Beethoven's pupil Carl Czerny stated: "His bearing while performing was ideally restful, noble and beautiful, without the slightest grimace." Others tended to admire his legato effects and exquisitely even scalar runs. Yet, Czerny also stated: "His playing, like his compositions, was far ahead of his time - The pianofortes of the period could not endure his gigantic style of performance." Sascha Gorodnitzki plays the Appassionata and Waldstein sonatas (Capital LP cover)Beethoven's first biographer, Anton Schindler, said: "His playing was free of all constraint with respect to the beat, for the spirit of his music required freedom." Ernst Pauer, editor of an early edition of Beethoven's piano works, added: "He was not particular in polishing and refining his performances." Ferdinand Ries, who was a piano student of Beethoven from 1801-4, seems to take a middle course, recalling that during this phase of Beethoven's career: "Generally he played his compositions very impetuously but for the most part stayed strictly in time, only infrequently pushing the tempo a little. Occasionally he would retard during a crescendo which created a very beautiful and most remarkable effect." Schindler clarifies that this seeming anomaly arose from stressing the rhythm strictly while treating the melody more expressively (a foretaste of the rubato style later to be perfected by Chopin). The result: "His playing thus acquired a highly personal character, very different from the even, flat performances that never rise to tonal eloquence." Harold Schonberg suggests that as a composer Beethoven had little concern for keyboard mechanics; rather, he replaced taste with expression by playing with unprecedented power, personality and emotional appeal. Schonberg further notes that Beethoven's teachers were not professional pianists and so he was largely self-taught; as a result his piano works were not pianistic in the sense of fitting well on the keyboard, and to Beethoven the idea was always far more important than the practical consideration of its execution.
A further challenge to modern performance lies in Czerny's suggestion that the scores themselves are only an incomplete indication of Beethoven's realization of his works, as he never had the time or patience to practice, so the result of playing his compositions depended upon "accident or his mood [plus he] made much more frequent use of pedals than is indicated in his works." Solomon plays the Appassionata and Tempest sonatas (RCA LP cover)(Yet, Ries wrote that Beethoven "seldom introduced notes or ornaments not set down in the composition.") Newman points out that even the autograph scores present vast difficulties to interpreters, since Beethoven used signs for articulation - the primary means by which a pianist creates expression from an instrument having no means to vary timbre but only control over duration and intensity - such as irregular slurs and beams are used inconsistently and even illogically, and several different staccato and accent signs can look confusingly similar in Beethoven's slapdash penmanship.
In light of all this, perhaps the very notion of defining a "Beethoven style" is misguided. Beethoven himself wrote in 1826: "We can have no further tempi ordinari since one must respond to the call of unconstrained genius." Arthur Rubinstein plays the Appassionata and Pathetique sonatas (LP cover)Pauer recalled that Beethoven chided other virtuosi of his time as "gymnasts" and expressed the opinion that "the increasing mechanism of piano playing would in the end destroy all truth of expression in music." Thus, perhaps the only unequivocal view was expressed by Czerny: "Beethoven's compositions must be played differently from - anyone else's. It is not easy to express this difference in words."
Yet, despite the lack of definitive or even reliable guidance, performers must try to evoke the composer's intention and feeling when approaching Beethoven's piano sonatas. One of the most touching, but perhaps revealing, descriptions of Beethoven's playing is quoted by Schonberg from Sir John Russell toward the very end of the composer's life, when he was stone deaf and his "playing" had become an abstraction - yet perhaps this is the most important description we have, as it portrays Beethoven's purest ideal as a performer, at last unfettered from the constraints of the actual instruments of his time:
The moment he is seated at the piano he is evidently unconscious that there is anything else in existence. ... The muscles of his face swell and its veins stand out; the wild eye rolls doubly wild; the mouth quivers; and Beethoven looks like a wizard overpowered by the demons he has called up. ... When playing softly, he does not bring out a single note. He hears it himself in his "mind's ear," while his eye, and the almost imperceptible motion of his fingers, shows that he is following out the strain in his own soul through all its dying gradations.
That strikes me as the most meaningful guide to a great performance of the Appassionata.
http://classicalnotes.net/classics3/appassionata.html |
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楼主: Reader86
