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SCHUBERT's 12 Piano Sonatas Paul Lewis, piano Music in Words: Performing Schubert 25 JAN 2024 | THU | 7PM Moderated by Prof. Daniel Chua
Schubert's 12 Piano Sonatas (Part 3 of 4) 27 JAN 2024 | SAT | 8PM Schubert's 12 Piano Sonatas (Part 4 of 4) 28 JAN 2024 | SUN | 3PM
at The University of Hong Kong
The two concerts are recorded by RTHK Radio 4. The broadcast details will be announced later..
Paul Lewis Paul Lewis is one of the foremost interpreters of the Central European piano repertoire, his performances and recordings of Beethoven and Schubert receiving universal critical acclaim. He was awarded CBE in 2016 for his services to music, and the sincerity and depth of his musical approach have won him fans around the world. This global popularity is reflected in the world-class orchestras with whom he works, including the Berlin Philharmonic, Chicago Symphony, London Symphony, Philharmonia, Bavarian Radio Symphony, NHK Symphony, New York Philharmonic, LA Philharmonic, Royal Concertgebouw, and Leipzig Gewandhaus orchestras. His close relationship with Boston Symphony Orchestra led to his selection as the 2020 Koussevitzky Artist at Tanglewood. With a natural affinity for Beethoven, he took part in the BBC's three-part documentary Being Beethoven and performed a concerto cycle at Tanglewood during summer 2022. He has performed the cycle all over the world, including Boston Symphony Orchestra, Camerata Salzburg, Melbourne Symphony, Orquestra Simfonica Camera Musicae, São Paulo State Symphony, and Royal Flemish Philharmonic orchestras, and was the first pianist to play the complete
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© Kaupo Kikkas
cycle in a single season at the BBC Proms in 2010. Between 2022 and 2024, Paul Lewis embarks on a four-programme Schubert piano sonata series presented at over 25 venues and festivals around the world. Beside many award-winning Beethoven and Schubert recordings for Harmonia Mundi, his discography also demonstrates his characteristic depth of approach in other Classical and Romantic repertoire such as Haydn, Schumann, Mussorgsky, Brahms, and Liszt. In chamber music, he is a regular at Wigmore Hall, having played there more than 100 times. He works closely with tenor Mark Padmore in lied recitals around the world—they have recorded three Schubert song cycles together. Lewis is co-Artistic Director of Midsummer Music, an annual chamber music festival held in Buckinghamshire, UK. He is a passionate advocate for music education and the festival offers free tickets to local schoolchildren. He also gives masterclasses around the world alongside his concert performances. He himself studied with Joan Havill at Guildhall School of Music and Drama in London before going on to study privately with Alfred Brendel. In 2021 Paul Lewis became an Irish citizen.
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Human, all too human—Paul Lewis 25 October 2022 With Schubert, I started on the dark side. The first sonata I played as a teenager was the A minor D. 784. It's one of his pivotal sonatas, written around the time he got his syphilis diagnosis. In the wake of that death sentence, everything became bleak. That's the core of his message. The change of his style and musical language was immediate and shocking. That was my introduction to Schubert—I didn't start with the cosy, early music—so he has always been essentially a dark composer for me. I've always been struck by his lack of answers. With Beethoven, there are questions, but he almost always creates some sense of resolution. That's rarely the case with Schubert. And yet there's also a sense of hope. For me, that makes him the most human of all composers—especially now, when we don't have answers to very much. There are so many things going on and the challenge is to control these and achieve the balance you're looking for His music has so many layers of emotion—the surface ones, but many others just beneath that. It's the same with the piano writing—there are so many things going on and the challenge is to control these and achieve the balance you're looking for. His writing can be quite awkward and not very pianistic. There's a famous story that he had his friends round and tried to play the Wanderer Fantasy but broke down, gave up, and said, "Let the devil play it." I don't think he necessarily had the ability to play to the level of technical difficulty of his music, but I imagine he had a fantastic ability to control levels of pianissimo, with a high level of touch control. With Schubert, more than with any other composer, the condition of the piano is crucial. You need an instrument that will help you play infinite levels of pianissimo. You want to go down to an almost imperceptible volume, but to keep the core of the sound—a whisper that somehow gets to the back of the hall. It's difficult to achieve that with a piano that's set up to be powerful and bright, for playing Rachmaninov in a 3000-seat hall. You need something more subtle, with an even left pedal voicing that allows you to play incredibly softly, without skating on the surface of the keys. You have to play into the keys, pressing them down very slowly but with the notes still sounding. That depends on how the action has been set up. For my recording I used a Steinway Model D in Flagey, and Thomas Hübsch, the Berlin Philharmonie's piano technician, spent a day working on it. 4
You're dealing with tiny gradations of sound, colour and character, but they're so significant. They set up the whole character of a piece Alfred Brendel was a huge influence in my understanding of Schubert. When I played to him in the 1990s, he opened new doors in terms of how to think about this music. His lessons are still vivid, even at this point. I'm not sure how much I took on board immediately, but these things take time to process and to translate into your own musical thinking and language. I remember playing him the G major Sonata D. 894. We spent a lot of time balancing the opening— you can do that endlessly, balancing the chords, colouring each individual voice. You're dealing with tiny gradations of sound, colour and character, but they're so significant. They set up the whole character of a piece. The sonatas on this CD [Schubert: Piano Sonatas, D. 537, 568, 664] are all earlyish works. The A minor D. 537 is a precursor to the later A minor sonatas. It doesn't have the sense of distress or bleakness or even anger of those, but all the ingredients are there. It's interesting that the slow movement theme is the same he uses in the last movement of the great A major D. 959. Obviously, this was a theme that meant something to him. It has the sense of intimacy and introspection that you instantly recognise as being Schubert. It's hard to define what that is, though—maybe it's a sense that it doesn't project itself out to you but draws you in. The E-flat sonata D. 568 is an incredibly beautiful, lyrical piece. It doesn't have the storm clouds or the particular depth you have in the later sonatas, but it's a big piece, on a grand scale, and it has all the ingredients of what would become dark in his music later on. There's a sense of longing, sehnsucht, which turned into something a little bit more desperate later on, but is merely nostalgic in the early pieces. The 'little' A major D. 664 is probably one of his best-known sonatas. I played it 20 years ago when I did my last sonata series and haven't played it since. Back then, it was my least favorite Schubert Sonata, probably because it's so popular and I didn't see the depth in it. Coming back to it, I see what I missed first time around—it is a pleasure to play. When you let music rest and live your life, experiencing things and playing other music, it all feeds in and influences your interpretation It's 20 years since I gave my first Schubert series, and everything is different, somehow. When you come back to something you haven't played for a long 5
time, you see things in a different way, in a different balance. When you let music rest and live your life, experiencing things and playing other music, it all feeds in and influences your interpretation. When I played these sonatas 20 years ago at the Wigmore Hall, we recorded them for posterity. There are some good things in these recordings, but from this perspective, aged 50, looking back to 30-year-old me, I hear a blandness. At this point in my life, I see so much more detail in the music, including the richness of the expressive detail that perhaps I missed 20 years ago. Maybe that's the learning process. When I study a new piece these days, it takes much longer than it did all those years ago. I remember learning Liszt's 'Dante' Sonata when I was 15 and playing it in a concert two weeks later. That's not long to get under the notes. I have a recording of my performance and, of course, there's so much missing in terms of expression and detail. When you're younger, you're at the start of that learning process, and it takes a lifetime to get under the skin of these great works. There are endless possibilities to unearth and it simply takes time. Performing a series is an indulgence. It's a chance to spend lots of time with music that you love Performing a series is an indulgence. It's a chance to spend lots of time with music that you love. People talk about series being definitive, but I don't think that's ever the case. It is always just a particular journey within the output of a composer's work. Schubert piano sonatas show us so many things, many of which are fundamental to what he expresses, but it can't be everything because it lacks the human voice, which is probably the most fundamental part of Schubert's work. You have to know his songs intimately and to bring that knowledge, because there are so many cross-references, so many ways that the lieder and the sound of the human voice feed into his piano sonatas. Even across a series, my interpretations change a lot. The piano is a big factor, as well as the hall—subconsciously, you're always adapting to what you're hearing and the feedback. Every time I play a concert, I treat it as a lesson. I go back the next day and think it all through wondering, "What can I do to improve this?" You comb through everything and try to be your own best teacher. It's always changing. Every concert experience is a step in the process. © 2022 Paul Lewis Reprinted with the kind permission of Maestro Arts 6
Music in Words with Paul Lewis: Performing Schubert
25 JAN 2024 | THU | 7PM Foundation Chamber, Hung Hing Ying Building, HKU
Moderator: Prof. Daniel Chua, Chairperson, Department of Music, HKU In his fifties, British pianist Paul Lewis makes his second Schubert Piano Sonatas journey with a more 'human' reading in the composer's music. Before the last two instalments of the cycle, at HKU, he will share his thoughts on interpreting Schubert, especially the last three piano sonatas, and his introspective reflections on life.
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Schubert's 12 Piano Sonatas with Paul Lewis (Part 3 of 4) 27 JAN 2024 | SAT | 8PM Grand Hall, Lee Shau Kee Lecture Centre, HKU Piano Sonata No. 4 in A minor, D. 537 Allegro ma non troppo Allegretto quasi Andantino Allegro vivace
Piano Sonata No. 9 in B major, D. 575 Allegro ma non troppo Andante Scherzo Allegretto Allegro giusto
- INTERMISSION Piano Sonata No. 18 in G major, D. 894, 'Fantasie' Molto moderato e cantabile Andante Menuetto. Allegro moderato Allegretto
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Schubert's 12 Piano Sonatas with Paul Lewis (Part 4 of 4) 28 JAN 2024 | SUN | 3PM Grand Hall, Lee Shau Kee Lecture Centre, HKU Piano Sonata No. 19 in C minor, D. 958 Allegro Adagio Menuetto. Allegro – Trio Allegro
Piano Sonata No. 20 in A major, D. 959 Allegro Andantino Scherzo. Allegro vivace – Trio. Un poco più lento Rondo. Allegretto
- INTERMISSION Piano Sonata No. 21 in B-flat major, D. 960 Molto moderato Andante sostenuto Scherzo. Allegro vivace con delicatezza – Trio Allegro, ma non troppo
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Schubert's
Piano Sonata Cycle
FRANZ SCHUBERT (1797-1828) Schubert's musical gift was not unrecognised during his lifetime, but for years after his death in 1828, contemporaries and critics continued to evaluate Schubert's music in relation to Beethoven's legacy, with some even depicting Schubert as a composer who failed to write sonatas in the likeness of Beethoven's. Surely Schubert admired Beethoven; not only was he one of the torchbearers in Beethoven's funeral, he also requested to be buried alongside the great German composer when he died. This narrative that casts Schubert under the shadow of Beethoven can easily limit our understanding of Schubert's artistry. Schubert's achievement in the Lied, a genre that was considered more intimate, as well as his lack of virtuosic performance may also lead to an overlook of his piano music.
© Kurt Chan @ HKU MUSE
Schubert's solo piano music includes sonatas, fantasies, dances, and other shorter pieces, but his piano sonatas in particular gained new attention in the early 20th century. In the year 1928, Theodor W. Adorno published a rather harsh critique of Schubert, describing his music as "potpourri" because of its loose thematic and structural links. In contrast to this view that has been protested by Alfred Brendel who argues "Schubert's form is a matter of propriety, a veil of order, to quote Novalis, that conceals the most beautiful chaos music has ever seen", Donald Francis Tovey offered another perspective that focused on the tonal colours and key relationships in Schubert's sonatas. The question of how many piano sonatas Schubert wrote remains a subject of debate as Schubert left many sonatas 'incomplete' as fragments. According to Eva Badura-Skoda whose husband Paul Badura-Skoda completed five of the 'unfinished' sonatas, the total number of Schubert's piano sonatas should be 20, since D. 769A / D. 994 in E minor and D. 655 in C-sharp minor are too fragmentary to be included. The current Henle three-volume Urtext edition, however, establishes the number as 22. Why Schubert often chose not to finish a sonata is an enigma that has intrigued many. Scholars in general agree that this tendency to leave his music incomplete simply reveals Schubert possessed a vigorous and quick force of imagination that his pen could not follow.
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Schubert's twenty piano sonatas can be divided into three groups: the early period, the middle period, and the last period. Beginning with D. 157 in E major, the early period spans from 1815 to 1818. Schubert was prolific, especially in 1817 and 1818: in two years, he conceived eight sonatas in which the writing of melodies in octaves and in unison became prevalent. He also adopted more expansive harmonic progression. In 1817, Schubert composed a sonata in the delicate D-flat major known as D. 567, but he later transposed it to the key of E-flat major with slight elaboration, resulting in what is numbered today as D. 568. After composing D. 664 in A major, sometimes considered a link between the first and second groups, Schubert did not produce any piano sonatas for almost four years. Written in 1823 after the Wanderer Fantasy of 1822, D. 784 in A minor marked the beginning of the second period. Dedicated to Felix Mendelsohn when it was first published in 1839 by Anton Diabelli, it remains one of the most performed Schubert sonatas today with recordings by pianists like Daniel Barenboim, Alfred Brendel, Stephen Hough, Evgeny Kissin, Paul Lewis, Radu Lupu, Maria João Pires, Andras Schiff, and Mitsuko Uchida, among others. Subtitled 'Tragic', this sonata opens with a dark, despairing theme characterised by a successive use of sigh motives that seems to reflect his pessimism in dealing with his sickness. As Schubert confessed in a letter later in 1824, "In a word I feel myself the most unhappy and wretched creature in the world. Imagine a man whose health will never be right again, and ... who in sheer despair over this ever makes things worse and worse instead of better ... 'My peace is gone, my heart is sore, I shall find it never and nevermore.'" Also set in the melancholic key of A minor is D. 845, entitled Premiere Grande Sonata. Written in 1825 and dedicated to Archduke Rudolph, it was the first of the three sonatas published during the composer's lifetime. In 1826, Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung published a review that praised Schubert for his ability to interweave unity, freedom, and originality together in this sonata so much so that "it might not unjustly have been called a fantasy". Schubert's last three sonatas, D. 958, D. 959, and D. 960, were written in C minor, A major, and B-flat major respectively in 1828, shortly before Schubert's death. Artur Schnabel and Eduard Erdmann were likely the first pianists to perform this set of three sonatas in one evening. Although the sonatas were initially dedicated to Johann Nepomuk Hummel, they were later dedicated to Robert Schumann by Diabelli when he published them in 1838. Schumann expressed disappointment when they were first published, lamenting that these sonatas lacked coherence and direction: "Alas, he also tells us about Schubert's 12
voluntary renunciation of shining novelty, where he usually applies such high standards to himself ... As if there could be no end, doubt as to how to continue, always musical and singable, these pieces ripple along from page to page, interrupted here and there by stirrings of some vehemence which, however, are quickly calmed." Schumann's words somewhat capture the overall negative attitude towards these last sonatas in his days. Today, however, these final three sonatas stand among the most commonly performed from the sonata cycle. For some who are used to comparing Schubert with Beethoven, these sonatas are also considered some of Schubert's greatest works that are no less inferior to Beethoven's most famous piano sonatas. With more and more appearances in both recordings and concerts, Schubert's piano sonatas are now recognised as momentous works that are both beautiful and sublime, deserving our full attention. For pianist and pedagogue Menahem Pressler, Schubert transcends above Beethoven in his own way and is, in its melodic simplicity, closer to Mozart, "Schubert, like Mozart, is difficult to play because of the purity of the line and the beauty of his melody. Schubert gave the world something that even Beethoven didn't have—this overflow of melodies, a feeling that either in life or in heaven, the angels' music dance." For this cycle series, Paul Lewis presents 12 sonatas in 4 concerts over 2 seasons. In the final two instalments, he will be performing D. 537, D. 575, D. 894, and the last three sonatas D. 958, D. 959, and D. 960.
Part 3 Programme In the year 1817, Schubert composed six piano sonatas including both Sonata in A minor, D. 537 and Sonata in B major, D. 575. D. 537 opens with a sonorous melody in dotted rhythm followed by melancholic descending arpeggios. The beautiful theme of the slow movement reappeared, years later, as the main theme for the finale of Sonata No. 20 in A major, D. 959. D. 575 was Schubert's first four-movement sonata; its Scherzo Allegretto is particularly bright and lively and the finale, too, bespeaks joy and optimism. Written in October 1826, D. 894 in G major was noted by Schumann as the "most perfect in form and conception" among all Schubert sonatas. The publisher decided to publish the sonata as Fantasie, Andante, Menuetto und Allegretto, Op. 78, perhaps for commercial reasons, in 1827. In the first movement, one encounters two unusual choices in meter and dynamics: Schubert integrated a 12/8 time signature and a triple forte marking. Paul Lewis has expressed previously that this sonata would be 13
his favourite out of all Schubert sonatas, remarking that "Schubert always has a real intimacy and tenderness, but there is something very personal about this [sonata]—even that first chord. If I could have only one note, I'd pick that first chord".
Part 4 Programme Schubert's last three sonatas, D. 958, D. 959, and D. 960, were composed in 1828, shortly before his death. The sonatas were first dedicated to Johann Nepomuk Hummel, but later re-dedicated to Schumann when Anton Diabelli published them in 1838. Schumann was not impressed by the sonatas, but these last works have been performed consistently today and are often compared to Beethoven's piano sonatas. D. 958, for example, is often juxtaposed with or interpreted in light of Beethoven's 'Pathétique' Sonata, Op. 13. The first movement opens with a thick, powerful C minor chord that recalls the opening of 'Pathétique'. The Adagio in A-flat major is strikingly beautiful, followed by a Menuetto and a concluding Allegro that uses the tarantella. D. 959 shows no gloomy character like that of D. 958, but its Andantino stands out with exquisite melancholy; the middle section is particularly engrossing with an improvisatory character. The finale Rondo, which uses the theme of the slow movement of D. 537, is full of warmth with a tuneful melody. The final sonata in B-flat major, D. 960, composed two months before Schubert's death, opens with a tranquil—almost otherworldly—theme that evokes a spirit of yearning. The trilled G-flat in the bass in measure 8 has long been considered a mesmerising gesture; Charles Rosen has once argued that "the more one plays it, the more the entire work seems to arise out of that mysterious sonority". The first movement continues to undergo many passages of intensity and mesmerising modulations. The sonata concludes with an exciting, brilliant presto that radiates glory. Programme notes by
Keri Hui
PhD in Musicology The University of Hong Kong & Kings College London
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An Interview With Paul Lewis—Anson Yeung 15 FEB 2023 "I love the vulnerability of Schubert. I love the fragility. I love the lack of resolution. In a way, it's the most real and human music."—Paul Lewis One of the most celebrated Schubert interpreters of our time, British pianist Paul Lewis studied with Joan Havill at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama in London, and later privately with Alfred Brendel, whom Lewis regarded as an immense musical influence in his understanding of Schubert. After more than two decades, Lewis again embarked on the journey of Schubert's 12 Piano Sonatas (including the unfinished 'Reliquie' Sonata). Ahead of his appearances in Hong Kong, he talked to us about the conception of this cycle, his affinity for Schubert, and interpretive issues revolving around Schubert's music. The text has been edited for clarity and length. What sparked your love for classical music in your early years? I remember being interested in all sorts of music, including whatever I heard on the radio. There was no music at home, but when I joined the local library at the age of 8, I was able to take advantage of the classical records stocked there, being absolutely fascinated with it! I guess children's enthusiasm and love for music are built in. It's just a question of how you discover it. What inspired you to take on the challenge of the Schubert Sonatas cycle? It's a cycle I did around 20 years ago. It's simply the love for Schubert's music that inspired me to take on the challenge, as I wanted to spend as much time as I could with it. That has been a feature of my work over the years, concentrating on one or a few composer(s) for a period of time. In the meantime, I've done various other series and cycles, such as the Complete Beethoven Sonatas and all the mature Schubert piano music from the last six years of his life. I just wanted to come back to it 20 years later—I suppose I do it differently now, and there are things that I do see differently.
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What elements in Schubert's music make it particularly dear to your heart? I love the vulnerability of Schubert. I love the fragility. I love the lack of resolution. In a way, it's the most real and human music. He is what he is, with all his worries, vulnerabilities, and neuroses, and that comes through in his music. The things that make human beings fragile—loss, hope, nostalgia—always come to the fore in Schubert's music. That's why I love it so much. In an interview, you said that doing a cycle of Schubert sonatas is like "spending a lot of time with one of your closest friends". What do you hope the audience will feel or experience through this journey? From the audience's point of view, I'd like the sense of relationship [between Schubert and me] in all its complexity to come across in some way. I mean, even with your closest friends, you will experience ups and downs, and it is never straightforward. People are complex, and the greatest music is complex—there's definitely a parallel. It is difficult to put into words exactly, but I hope the audience will feel a sense of the closeness of the relationship. How are the sonatas ordered? I placed Schubert's last three sonatas (D. 958–D. 960) in the final programme, for they are one of the peaks of the piano repertoire. To play those three together is an incredible journey hard to resist. After that, I put the three other late sonatas in the second half of each of the three remaining programmes. Then, it's just a question of ordering the remaining sonatas and separating the A minor sonatas— you wouldn't want to have two A minor sonatas in the same programme. How do you approach Schubert's late sonatas, which are so deeply tragic but at the same time convey acceptance and occasionally tinges of optimism? After his Sonata in A minor D. 784, which was composed around the time of his diagnosis of syphilis, everything in his music changed and became so bleak. There is occasionally optimism, but I'd say it is more of nostalgia, reminiscing about something you can't have anymore. That's what I find more in his late works. There is certainly acceptance in Schubert's reluctance to resolve or to find answers to things where, let's say, Beethoven would resolve. Schubert accepts things the way they are and that we don't necessarily have answers. This fits my way of thinking with the tragedy of his music, and it's a very human quality. 17
The repeats in Schubert's sonatas have posed a headache for many pianists. How do you decide on when to take the repeat and when not to? It's more a question of the way composers develop their material. For instance, I would normally do all the repeats in Beethoven's sonatas. With Beethoven, things develop at such a high speed. With such density, it's usually helpful to hear that music another time. As for Schubert, I'm not convinced that it's always necessary to repeat. His recapitulations tend to be far more similar to the expositions compared to Beethoven's, and Schubert takes more time and space to develop his ideas. I know the repeats are there [in the scores], but I believe that's more of a convention for composers to write down repeats. In certain cases, like the first movement of Sonata in C minor, D. 958, it's absolutely necessary. But I generally don't take the repeat in the first movement of the last Sonata in B-flat major, D. 960. It's not because of that fortissimo trill in the first-time bar (laughs), but because there's only one major difference between the exposition and the recap. There was this famous story of Brahms conducting his Symphony No. 2 some years after its premiere. At this point, it was no longer a piece new to the public, and he didn't take the first movement repeat. Afterwards, he was asked why he didn't. He replied, "In the early days when people didn't know the piece, I used to take the repeat. These days people know it much better, so I don't." It seems a very simplistic answer, but I guess sometimes it can be that simple. The word moderato repeatedly appears in the tempo markings of his works (e.g. Allegro moderato, Molto moderato), sometimes creating ambiguity in interpretation. In your view, is it merely a tempo indication, or does it hint at the emotional intensity or the flow of the music? I think it's more of a tempo indication. I'm inclined to believe that tempo indications are at least as much character indications as they are tempo indications. But in this case, I believe Schubert is telling us the tempo shouldn't be excessive in any direction—he's moderating the way we think just in terms of the tempo rather than the character of the music.
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What in everyday life or other aspects of arts gives you inspiration in understanding Schubert? All our experiences in life feed into who we are as musicians, how we approach music, and how we perceive musical characters. We often experience or witness loss, grief, and tragedy these days, but I think what's important is to remember that our own experiences were not necessarily those of Schubert. It is essential, as an interpreter, to try not to make it about yourself, but to bring the experience to it. In what way has your understanding of music evolved through the COVID-19 pandemic? I would always have said before the pandemic and now still say that people need music in some way. It keeps us in touch with something that is difficult to articulate in words. During the pandemic with such distance and remoteness [from each other], I came to understand that music needs people—if there is no one to experience it, then what is music? It would just be notes on a page. Music is really a social interaction and an exchange. When you perform music at a concert, the audience participates and becomes a crucial part of the experience. The remote way we all lived our lives for some time has helped me understand that. © 2023 Anson Yeung Reprinted with the kind permission of Interlude.hk
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