Rehearsal tactics

Choral Fantasy, Op. 80; Piano Concerto No. 5, Op. 73 "The Emperor";Ludwig van Beethoven, composer; London Philharmonic Orchestra; London Philharmonic Chorus; Bernard Haitink, conducting; Alfred Brendel, piano

I don’t like people to be around when I rehearse. It mostly has to do with the frequent passes I will take over a series of measures. It is not uncommon for me to play a certain sequence of measures over and over again, maybe two, three, four, even five hundred times or more. That type of verbatim scrutiny would drive an unsympathetic listener bonkers.

The number of hours invested into the performance of just a few minutes of music would astound the lay-person. Many years ago I subconsciously subscribed to the following practice philosophy, which maybe you have heard before: An amateur rehearses so that he or she can play the music right. A professional rehearses so that he or she can’t play the music wrong.

Let me ask you this: How does a composer practice? How does he or she hone his or her craft? Certainly the composer hears something in his or her head and he jots it down the way that he or she thinks that it will sound. But how does he or she know how it sounds? There’s confidence that comes with experience, assuredly. But until that time comes, the composer has to assemble some friends to play his creations, while he or she stands in the background, noting that “this worked”, “that didn’t work”, “this needs a doubling”, “that needs to be an octave higher”, “this melody doesn’t cut it” and “that harmony works better than this one.”

Before Ludwig van Beethoven could compose his Ninth Symphony, he needed a rehearsal. He hadn’t written for a chorus, yet; at least, not on the grand scale that he required to match his “Ode To Joy” orchestral horses. A concert on December 22 in 1808 offered the opportunity.

Both his Fifth and Sixth Symphonies received their premieres at this concert, in addition to portions of his Mass in C Minor and a few piano pieces. He wanted to conclude his program with a single piece that would unite the different musical elements highlighted in the concert: piano solo, chorus and orchestra. In just a few days time, he wrote the “Choral Fantasy”.

The piece has a relatively short performance time; about twenty-one minutes. It begins with a twenty-six measure long piano solo that has an improvisatory nature. Then a conversation between the piano and orchestra ensues; inventing and developing two or three different themes before zeroing in on a suitable melody for a choral finale. Indeed, the chorus and its soloists don’t appear until the last five minutes or so. But when they sounded forth on that first performance, you can bet that Ol’ “Aerial Ears” Beethoven had his radar working to see if he had his game on when it came to choral writing.

Needless to say, it sounds fantastic. Oddly, though, the melody sounds, not just similar, but, maybe only five inches away from the “Ode To Joy” melody. So I ask: What kind of composer are you in the first place if you can’t borrow musically from yourself?

Credits: To Alfred Brendel, for championing the music of Beethoven and for bringing life to music written by a genius more than two hundred years ago. Bravo, master.