Structure and Emotion Daniel Barenboim
When I first conducted the Ring in Bayreuth in 1988, I received a wonderful gift—a visit from Pierre Boulez. He stayed at my home, and to have the chance, every night after the performance, to discuss these works with him, who knew them like the back of his hand, was a unique experience. At the time, he recalled his first Ring performances in Bayreuth, 12 years prior, and explained that musically he had chosen a completely different path than I had. “As a composer, I was interested in the Ring’s skeleton,” he said, “and it seems to me that you are more interested in its blood and muscles. I was mainly after structure; you want to express the flexible parts. That is why my tempi were faster. But I’m sure that with experience, you will also get to know the skeleton better.” Of course I felt flattered, but most of all, I found what Boulez was saying highly interesting. And I believe that I have undergone a similar process with Beethoven’s piano sonatas. I began playing these sonatas in concert very early in life, some of them at the age of eight, then the “Hammerklavier” Sonata and the Sonata Op. 111 at 13 or 14. My father, who was my only piano teacher, was often criticized for this, but he was adamant that you should study the great works as early as possible, even if you still lacked the necessary maturity, for—as he would say—maturity will not come if the music remains on the shelf. So I learned early on that Beethoven demands not only the technical ability to play the notes, which are sometimes very hard indeed, but also true maturity of thought. In this regard, he is completely different from Mozart. Artur Schnabel said a wonderful thing once: “Mozart is too easy for children and too hard for adults.” What he meant is that it can be a challenge for an experienced artist to find the ease of expression
12
