Schoenberg, Nono, Beethoven
Maurizio Pollini looks older and frailer than his 77 years would suggest. But his fingers still move. Indeed, I had a great view of his hands at this evening’s concert, and I still cannot figure out how he produced all those notes so effortlessly.
Ludwig van Beethoven was a genius. Completely deaf, he packed his last two piano sonate (#31 and #32) full of gorgeous music. The multiple lines weaved among each other, yet each was clear despite the complexity (having Pollini to perform them certainly helped). Fundamentally, Beethoven knew he was writing music, even if he could not hear.
And so the second half of tonight’s recital in the Great Festival House, featuring these two Beethoven sonate, made it worth sitting through the first half.
The concert had opened with two sets by Arnold Schoenberg: his Three Piano Pieces for Piano and his Six Little Piano Pieces. Schoenberg’s writing was formulaic according to his own doctrines. They started off with a hint of music, and devolved. Music was not part of the calculation. Pollini’s playing was suitably acrobatic, but what was the point? At least the second set (Six Little Pieces) were short – similar to Anton von Webern’s miniatures, so they did not dwell but just basically hit the keys and moved on. But the pieces in the first set just went on too long. Where some of Schoenberg’s orchestral music can develop outwards, when using only a piano (which is not a very convincing solo instrument to begin with, and requires the talent of someone like Beethoven to do something with) there is only so far Schoenberg can go with these thoughts.
But if Beethoven focused on music he could not hear, and Schoenberg focused on theory over music, it remains unclear what Luigi Nono‘s excuse was for Serene Waves Suffered (which followed the Schoenberg at the end of the concert’s first half). This work was an insufferable gimmick, in which Pollini accompanied a recording of himself (made in the 1970s) playing more notes by Nono. There was nothing musical about any of this. Tapping keys – whether now or pre-recorded – does not itself qualify as music. Nor does it count as music theory (in the tradition of Schoenberg). It’s just a bunch of notes banged out on a definite-pitched percussion instrument. If Beethoven could produce amazing results despite being deaf, what indeed was Nono’s excuse?