pianolegend91
Oct 9, 2008
Undergraduate / "I have played piano" - Chopin's Second Ballade [6]
It's been my effort in writing this essay to avoid any clichés, and so far I've had positive input, but I would like to hear a few more opinions. This is my seventh minor revision. I'd also like a little help in making my first paragraph a little less boring. It's the only part of the essay that seems a little weak to me. Extra spacing in between paragraphs to make it easier to read.
I have played piano since the age of five. I started in California, taking lessons under the Suzuki Method for several years. I moved to Massachusetts at the age of thirteen, where I found Niva Fried, the most influential teacher of my life. She has made me a better musician, given me technique that I could have only dreamed of, and ultimately molded me into a better person through her rigorous, yet encouraging, teaching. The favorite piece I've learned under her guidance, and the experience of playing it, is revealed below.
Andantino, sotto voce. Words that may sound like lyrics to an Italian operetta, the phrase denotes the tempo and manner in which Chopin's Second Ballade should be played. Of course, there is much more to music than understanding a bit of Italian. I know that I must begin playing quietly, as if whispering, and in a moderate tempo. Nevertheless, the notes aren't going to play themselves, and that is where my interpretation begins. The first page of Chopin's Second Ballade, if played well, sounds incredibly fluid and placid, and can almost put a listener to sleep. It begins with a repeating C octave, which builds into an increasingly complex structure based around the initially set quarter note-eighth note pattern. The dynamics and notes rise and fall within a small range, but the volume never exceeds a mezzo piano. As the piece returns to a new, single repeating note, one may be inclined to think that the piece is going to keep on with its calming melody. I struggle to keep my intentions a secret. Then the unthinkable happens.
Presto con fuoco. As waves crashing in the sea, a thunderous flourish descends three octaves in the span of a measure, struggling to rise again to its initial potential. It descends and rises yet again, turning into a confused, descending a-minor arpeggio (and making for quite a workout). Regaining its direction, the energetic, undulating flourish repeats transposed a whole-step down, and a strong bass accompanies it into the next section. Chords in the right hand progress upward, while the left hand repeats an ever-slightly changing rising and falling flurry of notes. The treble chords and single-note bass peak with a fortissimo, and the melody descends in octave chords. The left hand continues with a repeating, linearly ascending progression, which calmly transfers into a right hand melody. Winding down, the passage ends in a pianissimo.
Andantino. Seemingly starting anew, the original longing melody echoes quietly for six measures, dying away into momentary silence. The theme set by several sections on the first page repeats itself for another line, and then violates expectation. Variations of an e-minor chord in the right hand, coupled with a yearning, confused theme in the left hand evolve into a troubled, melancholy melody. Stretto, piu mosso. Releasing inhibition but still expressing an inner sorrow, rising uneven chords and a strong bass build up strength up to a peak fortissimo, descending into an apparently happier B-Major chord. The theme continues somewhat blissfully for a line, only to grow somber once again. Transposed uneven chords in the right hand rise to their peak once more, and a crashing descent of melodic chords is followed by a short, deep, chromatic descent in the left hand.
Presto con fuoco. Fervently, a variant of the initially established flourish reappears. The wave reverts to its original, descending arpeggio, and emerges as a tremolo in the right hand. Sempre forte, marcato. The left hand asserts a bold theme, and changes into a trill to accompany the right hand's tremolo. Descending trills stoutly emerge into the most fantastic and difficult part of the Ballade. I struggle to contain my adrenaline.
Coda. A strong and even left hand acts as the conductor to an inconceivably complex flourish of overlapping notes in the right hand. Rising and falling but never quite making a decision, the right hand continues to discern a desperate melody from the tirade. Chords and octaves ascend brilliantly, peaking at a fortississimo. Rhythmically descending, a progression of treble chords and notes accompanies steadily ascending octaves in the bass. The right hand builds into split chords swelling up and down two octaves and emphasizing a single note, and descends into another progression of rhythmically descending chord and note progressions. The swelling chords repeat once again, and a sharp forte ends the technically strenuous passage on a single emphasized treble note. Silence. My hands tremble.
Andantino. The longing, whispering repeated note reemerges, giving up and losing all hope. The now familiar theme pathetically looks to resolve, ending abruptly on a chord almost trembling with emotion. Transposing to a fifth, the piece hangs on a single arpeggiated chord. Resolving, Chopin's Ballade dies away, the chord resembling a sigh. I close my eyes, hearing sounds echo in my ears despite the silence. Slowly, I lift my hands and return them to a rest.
By far my favorite piece to play, Chopin's Second Ballade continues to captivate my emotions no matter how long I work with it. Technically and musically magnificent, the experience of learning and playing the piece has certainly made me a better musician (and given me more than a few hand cramps). Though words can only begin to express the complexity of music, this is my effort to describe something I am truly passionate about. I plan on music being a part of me for the rest of my life, and would certainly love to continue to pursue it at your school. Maybe you'll hear me play some day.
It's been my effort in writing this essay to avoid any clichés, and so far I've had positive input, but I would like to hear a few more opinions. This is my seventh minor revision. I'd also like a little help in making my first paragraph a little less boring. It's the only part of the essay that seems a little weak to me. Extra spacing in between paragraphs to make it easier to read.
I have played piano since the age of five. I started in California, taking lessons under the Suzuki Method for several years. I moved to Massachusetts at the age of thirteen, where I found Niva Fried, the most influential teacher of my life. She has made me a better musician, given me technique that I could have only dreamed of, and ultimately molded me into a better person through her rigorous, yet encouraging, teaching. The favorite piece I've learned under her guidance, and the experience of playing it, is revealed below.
Andantino, sotto voce. Words that may sound like lyrics to an Italian operetta, the phrase denotes the tempo and manner in which Chopin's Second Ballade should be played. Of course, there is much more to music than understanding a bit of Italian. I know that I must begin playing quietly, as if whispering, and in a moderate tempo. Nevertheless, the notes aren't going to play themselves, and that is where my interpretation begins. The first page of Chopin's Second Ballade, if played well, sounds incredibly fluid and placid, and can almost put a listener to sleep. It begins with a repeating C octave, which builds into an increasingly complex structure based around the initially set quarter note-eighth note pattern. The dynamics and notes rise and fall within a small range, but the volume never exceeds a mezzo piano. As the piece returns to a new, single repeating note, one may be inclined to think that the piece is going to keep on with its calming melody. I struggle to keep my intentions a secret. Then the unthinkable happens.
Presto con fuoco. As waves crashing in the sea, a thunderous flourish descends three octaves in the span of a measure, struggling to rise again to its initial potential. It descends and rises yet again, turning into a confused, descending a-minor arpeggio (and making for quite a workout). Regaining its direction, the energetic, undulating flourish repeats transposed a whole-step down, and a strong bass accompanies it into the next section. Chords in the right hand progress upward, while the left hand repeats an ever-slightly changing rising and falling flurry of notes. The treble chords and single-note bass peak with a fortissimo, and the melody descends in octave chords. The left hand continues with a repeating, linearly ascending progression, which calmly transfers into a right hand melody. Winding down, the passage ends in a pianissimo.
Andantino. Seemingly starting anew, the original longing melody echoes quietly for six measures, dying away into momentary silence. The theme set by several sections on the first page repeats itself for another line, and then violates expectation. Variations of an e-minor chord in the right hand, coupled with a yearning, confused theme in the left hand evolve into a troubled, melancholy melody. Stretto, piu mosso. Releasing inhibition but still expressing an inner sorrow, rising uneven chords and a strong bass build up strength up to a peak fortissimo, descending into an apparently happier B-Major chord. The theme continues somewhat blissfully for a line, only to grow somber once again. Transposed uneven chords in the right hand rise to their peak once more, and a crashing descent of melodic chords is followed by a short, deep, chromatic descent in the left hand.
Presto con fuoco. Fervently, a variant of the initially established flourish reappears. The wave reverts to its original, descending arpeggio, and emerges as a tremolo in the right hand. Sempre forte, marcato. The left hand asserts a bold theme, and changes into a trill to accompany the right hand's tremolo. Descending trills stoutly emerge into the most fantastic and difficult part of the Ballade. I struggle to contain my adrenaline.
Coda. A strong and even left hand acts as the conductor to an inconceivably complex flourish of overlapping notes in the right hand. Rising and falling but never quite making a decision, the right hand continues to discern a desperate melody from the tirade. Chords and octaves ascend brilliantly, peaking at a fortississimo. Rhythmically descending, a progression of treble chords and notes accompanies steadily ascending octaves in the bass. The right hand builds into split chords swelling up and down two octaves and emphasizing a single note, and descends into another progression of rhythmically descending chord and note progressions. The swelling chords repeat once again, and a sharp forte ends the technically strenuous passage on a single emphasized treble note. Silence. My hands tremble.
Andantino. The longing, whispering repeated note reemerges, giving up and losing all hope. The now familiar theme pathetically looks to resolve, ending abruptly on a chord almost trembling with emotion. Transposing to a fifth, the piece hangs on a single arpeggiated chord. Resolving, Chopin's Ballade dies away, the chord resembling a sigh. I close my eyes, hearing sounds echo in my ears despite the silence. Slowly, I lift my hands and return them to a rest.
By far my favorite piece to play, Chopin's Second Ballade continues to captivate my emotions no matter how long I work with it. Technically and musically magnificent, the experience of learning and playing the piece has certainly made me a better musician (and given me more than a few hand cramps). Though words can only begin to express the complexity of music, this is my effort to describe something I am truly passionate about. I plan on music being a part of me for the rest of my life, and would certainly love to continue to pursue it at your school. Maybe you'll hear me play some day.