This afternoon’s programme promises the best of the best: works by Johann Sebastian Bach, Ludwig van Beethoven, Robert Schumann, and Frédéric Chopin. It begins with the last of Bach’s keyboard suites, Partita No. 6 in E minor, written sometime between 1726 and 1730. The tradition of the instrumental suite was established in seventeenth-century France with pieces modeled after popular court dances. In keeping with the style, Bach mainﾭtained the four core dances—the allemande, the courante, the sarabande, and the gigue—but added three galanteries for a total of seven pieces. All movements use a consistent minor tonality, and with one exception are in binary form (AABB).

The Partita opens with the dramatic Toccata, a free-form piece that demands artistic subtlety. This movement is divided into two distinct sections; one declamatory in nature, the other contrapuntal. These are separated by a subﾭstantial cadence, with a single voice heralding the start of the three-voice counterpoint; the opening style returns to round out the movement. The next dance, the Allemande, is moderately paced, with a predominately two-voice texture. This is followed by the Courante. Usually this dance incorporates fluent running "steps" taken from the choreography, but here it is more Italian in style and, depending on the interpretation, generally less vigorous. The title of the next piece, Air, implies a vocal influence, and the melodic line is indeed supported by a quasi-lute accompaniment heard especially in the opening rolled chords. The Sarabande is emotive in the Baroque recitative tradition with frequent ornamentation and slight variation in the repetition. The Tempo di Gavotta has a bright pace and brisk gestures reflecting the original choreography, which demands raising the feet. What makes this specific Gavotta unusual is the triplet figure in the 2/2 time signature which gives it a somewhat romping affect. The final Gigue brings another surprise to the set and more questions for the performer. Normally this dance is in a triple metre (rhythms grouped by three), similar to the style heard in the previous dance, but in this instance the notation indicates a binary metre (rhythms grouped by two). Some pianists believe the rhythm needs to be adapted to fit the triple metre, while others take the notation literally and perform it as written. As the evidence is ambiguous, the issue becomes a matter of taste; fortunately, it is effective in either interpretation.

Ludwig van Beethoven’s Sonata Op. 109 was the first of his last three sonatas, a group commissioned around 1820 by a publisher in Berlin. Because all three pieces, Op. 109, Op. 110, and Op. 111, demand much of the performer as well as the listener, they were not immediately accepted into the standard concert repertoire. Of the group, Op. 109 is perhaps the most accessible, although it still requires great skill to perform with control and aplomb.

Op. 109 has several intriguing qualities. The opening movement, Vivace, ma non troppo, avoids dramatic chords in favour of horizontal lines, and shifts tempi frequently. The following Prestissimo is faster and more aggressive than the Vivace, boldly abandoning the tradition of an introverted or subdued second moveﾭment. The Finale begins with a theme marked Andante molto cantabile ed espressivo, indicating amoderately slow tempo in a very singing, expressive style. The music departs from this template after Variation I, and thereafter presents a series of progressively more active effects. After the exhausting trills of Variation VI, a simple restatement of the theme ends the movement in a reflective mood.

As a young man Robert Schumann focused his compositional talents on the piano and created an amazing body of work almost exclusively for the instrument, Ops. 1 to 26. He likely did this for several reasons. Firstly, it was his primary instrument, and, although a late starter, he had grand hopes for a concert career. Secondly, his initial studies with Herr Wieck left little time to explore other arenas, and he seemed content to concentrate on the keyboard. Lastly, as his relationship with Clara Wieck developed, the two used their piano works to communicate even while her father schemed to keep them apart.

Kinderszenen dates from 1838, a period shortly before Robert and Clara were able to marry. It is a charming series of vignettes expressing an adult’s nostalgia for childhood. Originally there were thirty movements to the set, but Schumann trimmed it substantially before publishing and added titles to the selections, describing these as "nothing more than delicate hints for execution and interpretation." Schumann’s choice of key signatures within the set is interesting in that, with two exceptions, he limits himself to a maximum of two sharps or flats; he also keeps the tonality major for eight of the thirteen pieces. These elements make the pieces seem quite approachable for a young player—but this impression is deceptive. Considerable maturity is required to bring sufficient depth and nuance to Schumann’s simple yet well-crafted phrases.

Kinderszenen begins with Von fremden Ländern und Menschen (Of Foreign Lands and Peoples), a lovely introduction to the set. Curiose Geschichte (A Curious Story) moves to a lighter mood with humorous intent, while Hasche-Mann (Blind Man’s Bluff) shifts into a minor mode for a slightly sinister effect. Bittendes Kind (Pleading Child) is entreating without being too forceful, and Glückes genug (Perfect Happiness) is infectious in its joy. Wichtige Begebenheit portrays "an important event" with the key of A major, a tonality of three sharps that gives it a particuﾭlarly bright, brash mood. Träumerei (Dreaming) is perhaps the most familiar piece in the set, although its complicated voicing makes it rather more difficult to play than expected. Am Camin (At the Fireside) maintains the same key as its predecessor but increases the tempo. Ritter vom Steckenpferd (Knight of the Hobbyhorse) evokes any number of scenarios from childhood make-believe. Fast zu ernst (Almost Too Serious) returns to the minor mode, this time with five sharps to underline the darkness of the subject. Fürchtenmachen is rather "frightening" with its key of E minor, but Kind im Einschlummern (Child Falling Asleep) uses the same mode to more lulling affect. Finally Der Dichter spricht (The Poet Speaks), representing Schumann himself, brings the cycle to a close in the same tonality in which it began.

Frédéric Chopin’s great talent lay in his ability to blend free improvisation with painstaking workmanship. His unique skills resulted in vocal melodies and fresh harmonies as compelling today as they were almost two centuries ago. The afternoon’s program illustrates this genius with a sampling of smaller works to remind us of both the beauty of simplicity and the excitement of virtuosity.

The étude Op. 25, no. 1 was nicknamed "the Aeolian Harp" by Robert Schumann, most likely referring to a musical instrument of the same title featured in several Romantic poems and apparently still in use during the period. Sometimes called a wind harp, it was named for Aeolus, the ancient Greek god of the wind, and consisted of a wooden soundboard with strings stretched over its top that hummed various pitches when placed outside in the elements. Chopin’s étude was composed in the early 1830s, and while the effect is not quite as eerie as its namesake, the subtitle is aptly chosen as the piece has a delicate pastoral melody over breezy figurations in the bass.

Chopin wrote numerous mazurkas during his career and each is a musical gem, a reflection of his Polish heritage. The dances are in triple metre and have a curious freedom of pulse, stressed on either beat 2 or 3, that lends them an intimate, improvisatory feeling. The pieces depict a wide range of emotions, of which three are to be heard today. Op. 59, no. 2 Ab+ from 1845 begins a little timidly but becomes bolder and somewhat defiant in passages. Op. 50, no. 3 C#- from 1841-42 is more nostalgic in character, perhaps recalling scenes from earlier times. Op. 59, no. 3 F#- is alternately coloured with wistful and charming melodies.

Chopin wrote four Scherzi, of which Op. 54 is the last. The term scherzo comes from the Italian word for a joke; the form grew to prominence as an alternative to the minuet movements in Classical symphonies, quartets, and sonatas. In the Romantic era composers began to isolate the scherzo and expand its structure to create solo works, usually retaining the triple metre time signature and sometimes, but not always, the light-hearted character.

Written in 1842, Op. 54 is in a rondo form with two main melodies in the major mode and sections in the minor mode. This is Chopin’s most amiable example in the genre: even in its darker passages, lyric beauty avoids the drama or disturbing emotions heard in the earlier works.

©2009 by Barbara Siemens, a piano instructor who has done post-graduate work in historical musicology. www.keystothepiano.ca.