Discovering Chopin
Recently, while browsing the cache of digital photos I accumulated over the years, I found a picture of the Frédéric Chopin Museum in Warsaw, which I visited in 2011. The photo was not well taken, probably a surreptitious shot as there were no other pictures of the Museum except one on the external signage. I remember making a trip to the Museum while attending a conference in Warsaw. I wasn’t particularly keen on Chopin then, but it would be inexcusable to travel so far and not step into the place of homage to one of the giants of the Romantic era. Chopin, Poland’s most famous composer was born in 1810, died relatively young at 39 and left behind more than 200 piano masterpieces for the world to enjoy. It was a modern museum with lots of multimedia exhibits and large display screens. Unfortunately, although I spent a good part of the afternoon there, I did not emerge any more enthusiastic for Chopin’ music than before.
Ironically, my interest in Chopin only sparked when I was at home a few years later soon after I stopped work. Without daily routines and grand work plans to keep me on my toes, I spent quite a bit of time browsing and discovering all kinds of music on Youtube. I was led to Chopin by the keyboard works of Bach, Mozart and Beethoven. Over the years, I have noticed that my musical taste gravitated from the novel, complex, dramatic and colourful to the simpler and clearer sounds of the piano, violin and string quartet. Perhaps as I age, my brain cannot handle too much excitement from more than a few instruments vying for attention, just as I would more likely pick a one-dish meal over all-you-can-eat buffet nowadays. Or perhaps, I am just making up lost time for a genre of classical music that did not feature much in my younger days. Also, not being a pianist, I am quite ignorant of solo piano repertoire, not to mention Chopin’s.
A genius for melody
Most people have heard Chopin’s music whether they realize it or not. I would hazard a guess that out of five piano tunes you hear in TV commercials, muzak-blaring shopping malls, easy listening radio or incidental music in movies and events, at least one is likely to be a Chopin piece. Just listen to Nocturne in E flat major, Op. 9 No, 2 (played by Olga Scheps) or Etude in E major, Op. 10 No. 3 (played by Valentina Lisitsa), and you will know what I mean. If you are a fan, as I am of “Just a Minute”, the long-running rip-roaring BBC panel game of wit and verbal dexterity, you would be familiar with the opening tune taken from Waltz in D flat major, Op. 64 No. 1 “Minute Waltz” (played by Valentina Lisitsa). Incidentally, though it was nicknamed “minute waltz”, it was not meant to be played within a minute as the choice of the signature tune suggests.
Perhaps it is because Chopin’s music is so ubiquitous and familiar that for many years, I took for granted how exquisite and innovative it is. Unlike other famous composers, Chopin wrote almost exclusively for the piano. He seemed to have no interest in other instrument or musical genres. But his single-minded obsession with one instrument had bequeathed the world with many unforgettable masterpieces that will last till the end of time.
It is easy to fall in love with Chopin’s melodies. They are not just memorably tuneful, but sophisticated, elegant, evocative, and captivating. For example, these qualities come to mind when you listen to Nocturne in B flat minor, Op. 9 No. 1 (played by Claudio Arrau). The piece starts immediately with the melodious phrase, a gently rolling figure followed by a few contrasting repeated notes. One would be happy for the fragment of melody to be repeated; instead, a rush of glittering notes and a chromatic run are squeezed into the repeating melodic line in the most exhilarating way. It is like a diva taking a flirtatious walk and unexpectedly glancing back mischievously and seductively at you! This seems to be the signature feature in many of Chopin’s work.
Some explain that Chopin’s art of writing unforgettable melodies was shaped by his love of the singing voice, particularly the bel canto style found in Bellini’s operas. Bel canto literally means beautiful singing, which is characterized by smooth flowing phrases, sweet and evenness of tone, and often accompanied by ornamentation and embellishments. Although Chopin wrote some songs (only 19 in total), mostly based on the poetry of fellow Poles, he channelled all his sensibilities and emotions for the singing voice to the piano, making it sing like a super-empowered human.
Ballade No. 1
The piece that made me sit up during my Youtube browsing binge and turned up my attention to Chopin was his Ballade No. 1 in G minor. I listened to it several times to try to understand why it has such a magnetic pull over me. If a piece of music has a life, Ballade No. 1 in G minor, Op. 23 (the link is to Krystian Zimerman’s interpretation) is the alluring Scheherazade who pulls out a chair and invites you to sit and listen to her mesmerizing stories. Not a story of exotic lands, fantastical beings or human cunning and heroism, but of musical motifs and tinkling emotions weaving together, soaring, crashing, evolving and swirling in every which way to form a tapestry of sound that is dramatic and passionate.
Like all good stories, the ballade starts with an intriguing beginning and ends with an unforgettable dramatic finish. The piece begins with a short opening of stately ascending octaves as though announcing the start of an amazing tale, followed by a hazy and uncertain phrase, like a wisp of smoke clearing the scene for the magic to come. The first melodic theme emerges and bounces gently along, tracing out a poignant, longing melody. It gathers momentum, picking up a trill here and cascading showers of notes there in typical Chopin style, eventually leading to the second theme, a sweetly haunting melody. The two themes play together in intense conversation, sometimes tumultuous, sometimes tender and race impetuously toward to the end. The ending is hesitant and reluctant, despairing that time is unable to fulfil promises and resolve emotions. A crushing downward octave run finally bring the piece to an end after a few heavy sighs of regret.
I am sure a musician would describe the ballade more accurately, perhaps referring to the thematic development of the D minor first subject and the contrasting E-flat major second, the modulation, harmonic progression, chromaticism, and other technical analysis. But the beauty and pleasure of listening to music is our individual exercise of imagination and personal interpretation on what a piece of music means to us even though we are unschooled in musical theory. I recently saw a video on Youtube of Daniel Barenboim giving a masterclass to Lang Lang in 2005. A member of the audience asked both of them during the Q&A session whether they see images while playing music. Lang Lang replied that he often does, and different composers elicit different images in his mind. Barenboim, on the other hand, said it seldom happen to him. On the contrary, music comes to his mind when he sees images!
What’s in a name?
Some music lovers expect a storyline or suggestion on what a piece of music is about, but Chopin refrained from assigning names and description to any of his. However, his publishers and other performers could not resist naming some of his pieces. For example, there is a nickname to almost all the pieces in his two sets of etudes – Waterfall, Black Keys, Sunshine, The Bees, etc. The renown Chopin pianist Alfred Cortot (1877-1962) even labelled each of the pieces in the 24 preludes with an epithet, such as “Feverish anticipation of loved ones (No. 1), “The singing of the stream” (No. 3), “On foreign soil, under a tight of stars, thinking of my beloved faraway” (No. 13), etc.
Perhaps listening to a piece of music with some worldly reference help us to anchor our experience to a particular emotional response, making it more enjoyable. On the other hand, listening to music described by just its form, key and serial number (e.g. Waltz in C sharp minor, Op. 64 No. 2 (played by Yuja Wang) may be more satisfying. It allows us to dwell on it for what it really is, a sonic pattern of moving notes, rhythm, harmony and timbre that miraculously touch our emotions directly.
The suffering romantic composer
Many listeners consider Chopin an undeniably romantic composer. However, he had never acknowledged this, for he was not a theorist keen on expounding on his place in the great artistic movement of the day. Certainly, his piano works were unique in his time. If you listen to Chopin immediately after Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven, you know that you have crossed into a new era. Romanticism in early nineteen century western music is characterized by the expression of the emotional highs and lows of the individual artiste. Composers drew inspiration from their personal life story and relationship with nature, art, literature, and the exotic instead of focusing on religious subject matter hitherto. In particular, the idea of the “suffering artiste”, i.e. personal tragedy, anguish, failed loves, melancholy and despair are the necessary conditions that inspire the creation of great works of art and music is a kind of romantic notion.
Like most Romantic artiste of the era, Chopin had his fair share of sob stories. At the age of 22, he left his beloved family to go into exile in Paris after the fall of Poland to Imperial Russia, never to return home again. However, his wish for his heart to be cut out and returned to Poland was fulfilled after his death! He was fragile in health and suffered from recurrent illness all through his life, with frequent bouts of exhaustion, breathlessness and hemoptysis (coughing out of blood). Sometimes he had to be carried out after long sessions at the piano. He had tuberculosis and yet survived and lingered on precipitously until his early death. Berlioz was said to have remarked that “Chopin was dying all his life.” A modern-day Spanish researcher who did a comprehensive analysis of writings about Chopin concluded that he was likely to have suffered from temporal lobe epilepsy which causes visual hallucinations preceded by fear, anxiety, sleeplessness and depression.
His physical frailty all through his life must have affected his personality, disposition, and relationship with people. He was not very successful in love, except for a nine-year relationship with George Sand, the famous French writer who had a penchant for wearing male attire and cigar smoking. She was the polar opposite of Chopin. Even this ended acrimoniously towards the end of his life. He was probably not very pleasant company according to accounts of his contemporaries and students. Variously described as cold, calculating, spiteful, snobbish, jealous, possessive, negative, extremely sensitive—in other words, not someone you want to sit down to have a heart-to-heart talk. Whether this inner turmoil is the price that an artiste pays for creating masterpieces is a perennial question throughout the ages.
It is difficult to reconcile the beauty of Chopin’s music with the portrait of an insufferable soul painted by his acquaintances and friends, for his music is uplifting, charming, enchanting, affectionate, beautiful and happy.
A selection
Here is a short selection of pieces (excluding those mentioned above), one from each genre. Some are familiar, whereas others need a few repeated listening to fall in love with (and it is worth it). To continue exploring and for a complete list of works, see the website of The Fryderyk Chopin Institute.
Barcarolle in F-sharp Major Op.60 (Krystian Zimerman)
Ballade No. 4 in F minor, Op.52 (Lang Lang)
Berceuse in D flat major Op. 57 (Valentina Lisitsa)
Etude in C minor, Op.10 No.12 (Evgeny Kissin)
Fantaisie Impromptu in C sharp minor, Op 66 (Anastasia Huppmann)
Impromptu in A flat major Op. 29 (Daniil Trifonov)
Mazurka in A minor, Op. 59 No. 1 (Martha Argerich)
Nocturne in B major, Op. 9 No.3 (Anna Fedorova)
Polonaise in A flat major, Op. 53 (Seong-Jin Cho)
Prelude Op. 28 No.24 (Maurizio Pollini)
Scherzo in E major, Op.54 (Garrick Ohlsson)