Schubert's letters: Snooping in the mail

Last Saturday morning was my first day of Spring Break! I woke up late (yes, 9 am is late) and finally finished reading The Letters of Franz Schubert and other Writings.  As I read these wonderful letters, I listened to his Moments Musicaux, op. 94, D. 780 and the Piano Sonata in c minor, D. 958.  

The sun was streaming into our home and I had simply nowhere to be until mid-afternoon.  I was able to truly enjoy each word that Schubert had written.  It was an incredible experience to have such an intimate look into Franz Schubert's life.

Schubert's letter to publishing house, Breitkopf und Härtel trying to convince them to buy his music. I sincerely hope that they replied: "JA!"

Schubert's address is actually super cool. 5th staircase? 2nd floor? Wow, times have changed. 

Permit me to share with you a few of the observations that I made.  Firstly, Schubert was relatively poor.  Many of his letters were to publishers negotiating a fair price for his compositions. It was simply incredible to see the names Breitkopf und Härtel and Schott at the top of some of Schubert's letters.  One can see how Schubert had to be persistent in contacting these people in order to get his music published.  It was eye-opening for me to see that even in that society, the struggle to create art and still survive financially was very difficult.  I suppose that I had been under many false presumptions that music and the other arts were highly valued in that society, therefore making the ability to sell them easier.  Schubert's letters indicate quite the opposite.

Part 1 of Schubert's cover letter to Austrian Emperor Francis II. I say hire the guy! 

Part 2 of Schubert's cover letter to the Emperor.  People this is gold. 

Aside from noticing how the "music business" ran back in the early nineteenth century, Schubert's letters reveal so much about the man himself.  It is clear that he was quite good-natured, friendly, jovial and quite simply desired to be happy.  His letters are nearly always affectionate, personable, and thoughtful.  Schubert was not afraid to express how he missed his friends and family.  It is clear that he longed to be with those special people in those places which held such wonderful memories for him.

When I initially started reading Schubert's letters, I was under the impression that he acted this way with only a few select people. On the contrary, it would appear that Schubert had many close friendships and was indeed very good at keeping in touch with friendships who did not necessarily live close to him.  As if it were possible, I now admire Schubert even more than before!  His music simply reflects the love that he had for the people and places in his life.

Regarding the places in his life, Schubert writes incredibly descriptive passages telling his reader about the places that he is visiting.  His attention to detail is stunning.  One soon grasps Schubert's adoration of nature and how being in the mountains or countryside revived him.  A nostalgia pervades how he describes his journey and the joy that he took in spending time with people who were special to him.

Tragic. Schubert's last surviving letter - written a week before he died. 

What I've always loved about Schubert's music is that his heart is conspicuously displayed on his sleeve.  That same heart is so evident in his letters.  I have not always been able to identify why I have such an affinity to Schubert's music.  Of all the composers, it speaks so profoundly to my life experience.  After getting a more intimate glimpse into his personal life through his letters, I now understand why I have been able to strongly identify with his music. 

I have, in the last two years, been able to reconnect with many dear friends who live far away from me.  I am always very sad to leave them and try to make a concerted effort to keep in touch with them by whatever means possible.  In fact, I would say that I share Schubert's unhealthy love of all things nostalgic.  Both his letters and music demonstrate a longing to return to the past.  For Schubert, the past is seems to be a better place than the present.


I have found that maintaining friendships from the past comes at a cost.  Emotionally, I am still invested in these people.  Sometimes, that results in disappointment.  Nonetheless, there is great joy in knowing that in cities near and far, there are people dear to my heart.  Reading Schubert's letters was an affirmation that we ought to write to each other and tell each other that we miss one another.  Schubert's music, on the other hand, goes one step further and expresses that love that we have for each other in such a sublime fashion.

So to conclude, to all of you whom I haven't seen in a while or haven't spoken with, I care for you. I think of you often and hope that your days are filled with glorious, life-changing music.

With all of my affection,

J. 

But in the end, we ascend.

I will never forget the first time that I heard Schubert's magnificent Sonata in B-flat Major, D. 960.  It was Friday, January 11, 2002 at Convocation Hall on the campus of the University of Alberta.  I attended a solo piano recital by Claude Frank, professor of piano at Yale University.  My dear friend Allison and I trudged through banks of snow on that dark, quiet January evening.  If you are not from the Canadian prairies, permit me to state that winter evenings on the prairies are magical.  There is a transcendent silence, tranquility, and sense of peace that lingers in the frosty air.  I am not sure whether or not the frigid temperatures keep people indoors which results in the streets being fairly quiet places.  Nonetheless, this was the context in which I first heard this glorious music.

Claude Frank's recital was, in fact, the first full-length piano recital that I attended.  I was in my first year of university and had fallen back in love with classical music after taking an introductory music history course.  From the very first notes of the Molto Moderato movement that Claude Frank played of Schubert's last piano sonata, I was completely swept into the narrative that the composer weaves with his music.  I can honestly say I had never heard such music as this.  There was such profundity.  Such an array of human emotion was expressed.  The opening of the first movement is surreal.  It is quiet, gentle, reflective, and yet there is breathtaking beauty - not unlike a prairie winter evening.   In the first movement alone, Schubert's use of harmony, dynamics, and texture takes us through what seems to be an entire lifetime.  This is so ironic considering that he was only thirty-one years old when he died in 1828. Nonetheless, one can hardly miss that this is the testament of a dying man - a man looking back and reflecting upon his life.  At nineteen years old, I understood that this is what he was trying to accomplish but I hardly had the life experience in order to relate to what Schubert was trying to communicate. 

From that evening, Schubert's last sonata had reserved a special part of my heart.  Nine years later, in Montreal, a dear friend played this piece privately for me in preparation for a recital he would be giving.  Halfway through the second movement, I could feel tears slowly work their way down my cheeks.  Did I now, nine years later, understand what Schubert was trying to communicate? Was I moved because of the nostalgia that surrounded this piece? Were there tears in my eyes because my friend had so effectively communicated the feelings that Schubert's notes had intended?    

Since my friend performed that for me two summers ago, that piece, believe it or not, means even more to me than it ever did.  When I hear it, I think of this friend.  Moreover, I think of the friends with whom I have shared musical memories over the years.  I heard this piece recently performed by Paul Lewis at the Chan Centre for the Performing Arts at UBC.  (Sidenote: Apparently, university campuses seem to be the best places to perform Schubert's last major work as these are the only places in which I've heard this work programmed!)  To be honest, I was dreading hearing that piece because all of the memories it would conjure up.  Nonetheless, I felt redeemed after Paul Lewis finished the fourth movement.  

To this day, when I hear this piece, I am filled with utter sadness.  I do not listen to it often due to the extremely powerful effect that it has on me. Today, however, at my piano lesson, my teacher suggested something to me.  I am learning Schubert's Moment Musical, op. 94, no. 2 in E-flat Major.  My teacher, in order to demonstrate a concept about the rhythm, asked me if I knew the second movement of the Schubert's last sonata. I smiled and quietly replied, looking down, that yes, it was in fact my favourite piece.  She began to play the second movement for me to demonstrate the aspect of rhythm we had previously discussed.  

I began to understand the piece I was playing better.  My teacher also mentioned that at the end of the Moment Musical no. 2 that the A-flat Major chord is an octave higher than where it was when we begin the piece.  In her words, "we have ascended."   Although in both pieces of music, we are truly exposed to human suffering, loss, and grief, we come out in a higher place.  Schubert leads us to the most heartbreaking places of our human existence and I can genuinely say I am glad for the life experience that has allowed me to identify with these pieces of music.  The nineteen year old girl who heard this music in 2002 had no idea what she would experience between then and now.  Upon reflection, many of these experiences were extremely difficult teachers.  Nonetheless, my response has been to allow these experiences to let me appreciate music more deeply.  I am grateful that my life's story has made this music mean more to me.  

I am, however, most glad that Schubert allows us to ascend.  We are not completely left without hope.  It is as if Schubert is saying to us that it is acceptable to experience all of life's emotions.  His music validates what it means to be human.  

Concert Review : Talented Violin and Piano duo at Van Art Gallery

A few weekends ago, I had the privilege of attending a recital at the Vancouver Art Gallery.  The recital was given by the talented young chamber duo of Emily Westell on violin and Alexander Karpeyev on piano.  It was a bright sunny day in Vancouver - which in itself is a rarity.  What a refreshing change from the constant dull of grey.

The music that the artists performed was also a refreshing change from the pieces one can normally hear at a violin and piano chamber recital.  Starting with the lovely Handel Sonata for violin and continuo in D Major, HWV 371, op.1, no. 13, the musicians performed with vitality, freshness, precision, and elegance.  There was a lovely delicacy to the balance that they achieved between the piano and violin.  The performers were always attentive to the melodic line and the ornamentation was well-planned and executed.  Choosing the Handel showed their desire to present original choices to their audience.  How wonderful to hear a selection from the Baroque era that is not often programmed!

Following the Handel piece, the duo performed another rarely programmed work: the Sonata for violin and piano in b minor, opus 21 by Nikolai Medtner.  This piece was written between 1909 and 1910 and dedicated to the composer's wife, Anna.  Full of grand, sweeping gestures this piece was a delight to hear.  The performers' interpretation was luscious and the audience was grateful to be exposed to this work. A particularly beautiful moment was captured when the sound of Russian Orthodox church bells is evoked in the opening of the third movement.

Medtner is a of particular interest to pianist Alex Karpeyev as he is currently writing his doctoral thesis on the subject through City University in London.  Ten years ago, Medtner struck Mr. Karpeyev as "unusual and interesting."  Through his work and performance Medtner's compositions, Mr. Karpeyev hopes to bring attention to a composer who is neglected but still has something to say.  In particular, Mr. Karpeyev argues that Medtner should be programmed more frequently because the composer "glorifies the beauty of hte world in his own language."

Finally, the duo performed Sergei Prokofiev's Sonata for Violin and Piano no. 2 in D Major, opus 94bis.  Originally written for flute and piano, Prokofiev transformed the work into a violin sonata at the prompting of his close friend violinist David Oistrakh.  It premiered on 17 June 1944.  The performers responded with great skill to the virtuosic demands that this piece places on both pianist and violinist.  Both violinist and pianist played with lyricism and elegance that suits the essentially classical nature of this sonata.

It was a special treat to hear the duo perform considering that Emily Westell is performing on 1717 Windsor-Weinstein Stradivari violin, on loan from the Canada Council for the Arts.  She said that this precious instrument has given her a chance to explore the different colours of sound that are available to her.  The power of the instrument has also been a discovery that Ms. Westell has enjoyed making.  Having the use of this violin has also changed how Ms. Westell thinks about sound.  

The recital was a fresh and enjoyable display of youthful energy and wonderfully innovative programming of repertoire.  We, at An Die Musik, look forward to seeing what the future has in store for both Mr. Karpeyev and Ms. Westell.

Please visit their respective sites for more information on these wonderful artists!

Alexander Karpeyev: http://www.akarpeyev.com/

Emily Westell: http://emilywestell.wix.com/violinist#!

Their duo also has a page you can visit: http://www.myspace.com/westell-karpeyev-duo