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'The Day Has Still to Come When Mozart on a Steinway Will Be Regarded . . . as Necessarily a Kind of Transcription' Author(s): Christopher Kite Source: Early Music, Vol. 13, No. 1, The Early Piano II (Feb., 1985), pp. 54-56Published by: Oxford University PressStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/3127405Accessed: 10-10-2015 23:09 UTC

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different instruments of the same basic type, one can begin to discover their significance for different composers. This is of fundamental importance for the development of a performing style which is consonant with both music and instrument.

The effect of the sustaining mechanism on different pianos is no less diverse. Anyone who has played a Stein will realize that the elaborate pedal technique of modern piano performance (almost analagous to the blanket vibrato of modern string playing) is utterly inappropriate, even if such a technique were possible using a knee lever. The effect of the dampers is so sharp that raising them not only sustains individual notes but dramatically alters the timbre, particularly on the earlier instruments. The sustaining mechanism can therefore be used to emphasize certain points in a phrase or succession of harmonies rather as a string player can use vibrato for expressive purposes. The mechanism may also be used for special effects, as in the repeated horn calls of Haydn's C major Fantasia H XVII:4. The picturesque allusion is greatly enhanced by an echo produced by raising the dampers through- out the passage. This piece offers an example of writing specifically related to the resonance of the earlier type of instrument. Haydn's instruction, 'Tenuto in tanto finch6 non si sente piui il suono', if followed

on a Graf-let alone a modern piano-would require an intolerable wait before the next note.

In about 1805, the advanced Viennese piano makers abandoned knee levers in favour of pedals. (See David Rowland's article, p.4.) This reflected a change in the function of the sustaining mechanism, which now facilitated a more rapid and integrated style of pedal- ling. Nevertheless, pedal markings remained relatively scarce until the 1830s and the traditional use of sustaining as a special effect continued, as can for example be seen in the last movement of Beethoven's 'Waldstein' Sonata op.53 (1803-4)) and the A flat major Sonata op.110 (1821-2).

The musician who wishes to shed light on music written during the long period of the early piano's evolution needs to play not one but many instruments, to develop not one technique but many. This is not authenticity run riot but a confrontation with historical reality. The modern piano may conveniently serve our eclectic musical tastes. But in Classical and early Romantic music it necessitates a compromise which, once discerned and deeply felt, can become unaccept- able. When fine early pianos of all types are more widely available we may begin to enjoy that eclecti- cism without compromise.

'The day has still to come when Mozart on a Steinway will be regarded... as necessarily a kind of

transcription' Christopher Kite

There is, of course, no such thing as 'the fortepiano', only various types of early instrument often differing greatly from one another. The half-century from 1780 to 1830 was a period of unprecedented change and experimentation in the design and construction of keyboard instruments which has never been equalled. In particular the gulf between Viennese and English instruments runs very deep. It stemmed from a funda- mental difference of approach: Stein aimed to produce a more powerful clavichord, while Broadwood regarded the piano as a more expressive harpsichord. The stress in the Viennese piano is taken by the baseboard and a system of buttresses, rather as in Italian harpsichords;

this construction enables the instrument as a whole to be lightly built and instantly resonant. The heavier English grand has a sturdy frame to take the pull of the strings, along the lines of the 18th-century harpsichord from which it derives; this makes the tuning more vulnerable to changes of temperature and humidity and more time-consuming to correct. The two actions are quite distinct: Viennese instruments have a much shallower touch and any sense of precariousness is only reinforced by the design of the keyboard with its startlihgly short naturals. It is often stated that the touch of English instruments is heavier, but I find their greater depth more noticeable. The most significant

54 EARLY MUSIC FEBRUARY 1985

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.......... .........

Christopher Kite

difference of all, however, lies in the damping: the cut- off in Viennese pianos is instantaneous, while English makers preferred 'inefficient' dampers, presumably by way of compensation for the inherent tonal dryness of their instruments. This fact is of the utmost importance in tracing stylistic developments in piano music, for the one encourages absolute precision of articulation and the literal observance of staccato marks and short slurs, while the other led to what is best described as the legato cantabile approach. It is exactly this volte- face over touch which distinguishes the 19th century from the 18th, and which was most conveniently noted in print by Clementi in his Introduction to the Art of Playing on the Piano Forte (London, 1801): 'The best

general rule, is to keep down the keys of the instrument the FULL LENGTH of every note ... When the composer leaves the LEGATO and STACCATO to the performer's taste, the best rule is to adhere chiefly to the LEGATO; reserving the STACCATO to give SPIRIT occasionally to certain passages, and to set off the HIGHER BEAUTIES of the LEGATO' (pp.8-9). No wonder, then, that Czerny could describe Mozart's playing as 'choppy and old- fashioned'!

I agree, therefore, that the player is confronted by the unavoidable need to possess or have access to a whole range of instruments in his attempts to re- discover appropriately varied styles of performance. A further problem is that of compass. Having remained fairly stable at five octaves (F'-f"') for most of the 18th century, the compass of keyboards entered a period of

flu~x and changed with quite bewildering frequency. Every player of early pianos is aware of the need to check that the instrument being used for a particular

piece has enough notes to accommodate it. But to invest in, say, a six-octave piano and have done with it would be a solution as unsatisfactory as it is obvious: compass is only one of many variable factors, and instruments of from five to six octaves, quite apart from whether they are English or Viennese, display distinct characteristics of touch and timbre, character- istics that are at their most pronounced in the extreme treble or bass. Composers customarily exploited the extremes of the keyboard, and there is both musical and psychological satisfaction to be gained from playing an instrument that has the same limitations of compass as the composer's. Surprisingly, much early piano music in the Viennese tradition does not in fact exceed the five-octave compass: this is true for the complete piano works of Mozart and Haydn (apart from the latter's C major 'English' Sonata H XVI:50 written for Dussek's piano) and for all Beethoven up to the 'Waldstein' Sonata. Beethoven was uncharacter- istically conservative in the matter of compass, and so one problem is whether or not to make adjustments when additional notes are available.

The fortepianist needs a flexible technique that can combine elements of both piano and harpsichord touch in an ever-varying mixture determined by the size and type of early piano. Unlike the harpsichord jack (or for that matter the clavichord tangent), a free- flying hammer action gives the player no reassuring point of direct contact with the string through the key. As Scipione Maffei remarked in 1711 when discussing Cristofori's invention, 'It requires a person who, under- standing its capabilities, shall have made a particular study of its effects, so as to regulate the measure of force required on the keys and the effects of decreasing it'. The player must learn not only to contrast forte and piano but also to control tonal gradation within the phrase, and to master playing at different dynamic levels with the two hands and within each hand itself, separately balancing the individual notes of chords. Advanced technical skills such as rapid 3rds, 6ths, octaves and repeated notes, tremolos and glissandos (both unison and octave) must be much further developed; a genuine staccato-as distinct from non- legato-touch of both hand and finger needs to be carefully cultivated.

All this is part and parcel of the modern pianist's technique, of course. But if he is to master the early piano, he has to dispense with the habit of using arm weight as a matter of course, and learn to play much closer to the key, with greater precision and evenness;

EARLY MUSIC FEBRUARY 1985 55

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fastidiousness and finesse are more valuable assets than power and 'sweep'. The degree of legato that is required of the basic touch varies, as mentioned above, and is a concomitant of sensitive matching of instrument and repertory. But undoubtedly the secret of playing particularly the early piano lies in relaxation, and the calmness, ease, perfection of muscular control and elimination of unnecessary movement that are its outward manifestations. Without question the harder one tries the less one succeeds; early pianos are unforgiving by nature, and the slightest stiffness or overplaying can all too easily produce a wooden, forced tone that is both thin and uningratiating. Glinka's description of Field makes the point very well (if in a somewhat poetic manner): 'It seemed to me that he did not actually strike the keys, but that his fingers simply fell as if they were raindrops, scattering like pearls on velvet'.

Perhaps the greatest technical-and indeed musical -problem resides in the apposite use of the various sustaining devices found on early pianos. The first English squares had handstops to raise the dampers, and the early Viennese grands a knee lever (mentioned with enthusiasm by Mozart in a letter of October 1777 describing Stein's pianos). Neither of these devices encourage the sort of continual and routine operation which is so tempting with the later foot pedal. Not that the pedal is always very conveniently situated: on early English grands it is uncomfortably far to the right (the linkage is fed through the front leg of the trestle stand), and on squares infuriatingly offset to the left; both positions affect the player's whole attitude and balance at the keyboard. The difficulty over how much the pedal should be used is that while, along with other aspects of historical performance practice, it is a matter of scholarship, it is one that is also an essential element in the art of coaxing sound from the instru- ment. Without throwing caution completely'to the winds I would certainly suggest that excessive dryness is a greater evil than the occasional blur, and that the currently received pedalling habits for playing this repertory on early instruments produce a dessicated and unsympathetic effect. English pianos with their inefficient damping particularly encourage the player to indulge in a hazy harmonic shimmer, as for example in the experimental 'open pedal' effects in Haydn's 'English' Sonata. The crystal clarity of the Viennese piano must not, of course, be wilfully obscured, but it is nevertheless a documented fact that Beethover was famous for his 'harmonious' style of pedalling (though

some contemporaries thought this merely produced a confused noise). A complete lack of first-hand ex- perience of early pianos in a properly playable condi- tion is revealed in much that has been written about his specially marked long pedal effects. For the notes simply do not die away as quickly as is often suggested, and although the instruments have a more translucent timbre than their modern counterparts the tone is remarkably blurred and of a kind we normally dub 'impressionistic'. Extremely skilful textural balancing by the player is vital if the composer's instructions are to be followed to the letter.

The underlying philosophy of the early music movement has now succeeded in making significant inroads into the pianist's domain, but the day has still to come when Mozart on a Steinway will be regarded, though perhaps artistically viable on its own terms, as necessarily a kind of transcription, like Bach on the piano. Early piano enthusiasts are still a rare enough breed: even international competitions have so far numbered their entrants only in single figures. Resist- ance to the early piano as anything more than an academic curiosity is regrettably to some extent justi- field by premature performances on inappropriate instruments. It is the player's responsibility not to tolerate such conditions, and to insist on the same high standards of preparation which are routinely demanded-though, to be fair, not always met-of the modern concert grand. Only then can one expect the sound of early pianos to be taken seriously as the performer's preferred medium for conveying the com- poser's intentions.

EARLY MUSIC MAY 1985

J. S. BACH TERCENTENARY

Christoph Wolff - Robert Marshall Hans-Joachim Schulze - Mary Cyr Robert Marshall - George Stauffer

Laurence Dreyfus - Robert Hill Russell Stinson - Stephen Crist

56 EARLY MUSIC FEBRUARY 1985

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