Waltzes, Preludes & Mazurkas (arr for Cello) (Vol 1)

Essays on fate and grace

Let's for the fun of it pretend I need to defend the transcribers cause, in this case Davidov's Chopin adaptations. Or shall I start with thanking him for precisely that, for choosing Chopin's piano waltzes for transcription, because what might seem an unlikely choice turns out to be such a completely blissful one?

Maybe I'll begin with a bit of playful, defensive manouvering. First of all we can safely say that the cello was very dear to Chopin.Three out of his five chamber music works are for cello and piano: the expansive sonata, the delightful Grand Duo Concertante, written together with his friend the cellist Auguste Franchomme and the Polonaise Brillante. Also, in his piano works he often seems to try to evoke a cello sound, which explains nicknames for piano pieces such as 'cello prelude'or 'cello etude' that circulate among pianists.

Secondly, apart from being a stupendous innovator of piano technique and a revolutionary as far as style and harmony are concerned, Chopin should be considered as one of the melodic geniuses of the 19th century. Sometimes one wonders whether the power of his music doesn't lie more in its lyricism than in the drama of its outbursts, the vulcanism, the storms of virtuosity or its refined pianism. Whatever his temperament comes up with, this enormous array of moods, from the fatalistic to the ecstatic, from the destructive to the all-embracing, he seems to be able to find melodic expression for everything. His lyrical vocabulary seems endlessly resourceful, producing passionate, vulnerable and elegant melodies, full of emotion and sometimes just simply ravishing.

Now for the best defense: Attack! If we took one of those melodies, say a left hand theme from a piano piece, a theme pianists would call a cello melody, then a pianist would try to play the melody 'cellistically', imagening the sound of a cello. If a cellist were to play that same tune, he would in his effort to imitate a singer, have a baritone's voice in his mind. What would happen though if we would give that melody (plus a text) to a singer? Wouldn't he also, with some sort of neo-platonic intentions, try to transport his listeners beyond his instrument, his voice (and even the text)? At his place in the chain that would mean straight into spiritual realms.

But then, text, voice and instruments, are they not all mere ladders to that higher goal? Isn't all music making essentially an act of sublimation, of symbolism, of bringing the unattainable into reach? On the other hand, there is no sublimation without seduction, no elation without the physical pleasure of music making. Most of the time one simply can't tell from which element the ecstacy of a great musical experience stems, from the subliminal or the playful and sensual.

If we agree we hereby have isolated the two essential musical elements, pure play and pure spirit, seemingly at the two ends of music's spectrum, but both inseparably at work when good music comes to life, surely we can then also identify them as the two major green lights for the transcriber.

Or marching in from a different angle: of course Chopin's music is full of idiomatic piano writing, specially in the passages that more or less rely on virtuosity. In the more cantabile passages there is this fabulous finesse and sophistication to make the listener forget we are dealing with a percussive instrument. In a militant mood one could argue that in a cello transcription it's the other way around. What we might feel are the essential bits, the cantabile passages, sounds completely natural on a cello and it's the elegant rendering of weightless virtuosity and the launching of instrumental fireworks where the challenge lies. And by the way, what a welcome challenge it is to transfigurate our slightly awkward, oversized vertical violin into an effortlessly managable mini double bass.

I realise I'm pushing it a bit by almost declaring the waltzes better off played on a cello. After all, when I think of unsurpassably superior performances by pianists like Ignaz Friedman or Dinu Lipatti, I more feel like forgetting about the cello as a musical instrument all together. But in stead of starting to shoot my own soldiers, I'd better call this operation off now.

On to serious matters: interpretation. What fun and fulfillment there is in interpreting Chopin! In the recording venue we played some preludes and mazurkas through for the first time, sight reading from the piano score and it was no less than shocking how powerful and original some were. I remember for example the shock of the first confrontation with the 2nd prelude (and shortly thereafter the excitement of recording it, trying to preserve that initial emotion). How two minutes of music can become an essay on fate! Like the 7th prelude is one on grace.

All those short pieces have such strong and explicit characters, but perhaps even better, at the same time they seem to elude us. Maybe because they are so real to life in the sense that in the course of playing them, the portrayals end statements keep evolving, changing and developing, nuances being added, as if we are dealing with round characters in a story. A piece like the 4th prelude is never static or one sidedly definable. It's more like a fluidum, making the listener feel as if he is witnessing the creation of thought or the search for a lost memory.

It follows that the biggest challenge in interpreting these short stories, maximen and poems or whatever they are, lies in shaping the subtleties that are at the core of each of them, the details that ultimately carry the message. A challenge as welcome as the above mentioned one, because both are relatively rarely put to us cellists. In our main repertoire, if there is virtuosity asked for it's too often just square figuration and the short compositional form is almost completely missing. Singers and pianists can devote their lives to an abundance of Lieder and short pieces, while we are suffering in deprivation.

Well, not total deprivation. We shouldn't forget about our six preludes and thirty dances from Bach's cello suites. Specially the skills we've developed in those dance movements. How fortunate we are that we now have 19th century waltzes, mazurkas and polonaises to apply those to. Yet another reason to thank Davidov for putting us on this track.

Pieter Wispwelwey

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Pieter Wispelwey received his early training from Dicky Boeke and Anner Bylsma in Amsterdam followed by studies with Paul Katz in the USA and William Pleeth in Great Britain. He won first prize in the Elisabeth Everts Prize (1985), which is a biennial award endowed upon the most promising musician in the Netherlands. In 1992 he was the first cellist ever to receive the prestigious Netherlands Music Prize. Wispelwey acknowledges the financial support so generously given by Schiphol NV (Amsterdam Airport) which benefits his artistic goals. In 1997 he was awarded the Belgian Press Prize for Musician of the Year.
Wispelwey is one of the first of a generation of general specialists, performing exquisitely on either an authentic or modern cello. His expert stylistic knowledge, original and profound musical thinking, augmented by a phenomenal technique enable him to render individual, yet remarkable interpretations of the cello repertoire from J.S.Bach to Elliot Carter. For years now, he has won the hearts of critics and public alike with his unique performances of the Bach and Britten unaccompanied cello suites, and with his recitals of the Beethoven and Brahms sonatas either on authentic or modern instruments.
The 1998-99 season will see him perform on every continent. The integral Bach suites will be heard in London (Wigmore Hall), Amsterdam (Concertgebouw), Buenos Aires (Teatro Colón), Toronto (Ford Center) and Brussels (Royal Conservatory). In recital he performs in Vancouver, Montréal, Cologne, Dresden, Hamburg, Milan, Lyon, Bourg, Montpellier, Paris, Monaco, Brussels, London, Sydney, Melbourne, Canberra, Jerusalem, Santiago de Chile and Panama. Recent successes in the Far East have resulted in an invitation to return in the spring of 1998.
Wispelwey is in keen demand as soloist A recent fortnightÕs tour through the Australian capital cities with the Australian Chamber Orchestra was a triumph. A typical review in Melbourne's 'The Age', ushered in a cellist for the 21st century when it reported: "To say Pieter Wispelwey's music-making is ravishing is to utter an understatement of huge proportions...the concert did everything to confirm him as one of the world's greatest cellists. As a soloist, he played like a man possessed; his face, his whole body seemed consumed by a musical spirit whose familiar is the cello".
His recordings by the quality Dutch label Channel Classics have all been highly acclaimed by the international press, and no less than six have won international awards, including the recent CD of Schubert's Arpeggione Sonata which was awarded the Choc de la Musique. Another recent recording of Vivaldi's cello concertos with Florilegium of London is already a best-seller. Wispelwey's highly successful interpretations of the Bach suites which he recorded in 1990 will be artistically revised in a new version set to appear in the summer of 1998. Plans to record the major cello concertos with distinguished orchestras and conductors will be fulfilled during the coming seasons.

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Pieter Wispelwey received his early training from Dicky Boeke and Anner Bylsma in Amsterdam followed by studies with Paul Katz in the USA and William Pleeth in Great Britain. He won the Elisabeth Everts Prize (1985), which is a biennial award endowed upon the most promising musician in the Netherlands.

Wispelwey is one of the first of a generation of general specialists, performing exquisitely on either an authentic or modern cello. His expert stylistic knowledge, original and profound musical thinking, augmented by a phenomenal technique enable him to render individual, yet remarkable interpretations of the cello repertoire from J.S. Bach to Elliot Carter. For years now, he has won the hearts of critics and public alike with his unique performances of the Bach and Britten unaccompanied cello suites, and with his recitals of the Beethoven and Brahms sonatas either on authentic or modern instruments.

Wispelwey is in keen demand as soloist. A tour through the Australian capital cities with the Australian Chamber Orchestra was a triumph. A typical review in Melbourne's 'The Age', ushered in a cellist for the 21st century when it reported: "To say Pieter Wispelwey's music-making is ravishing is to utter an understatement of huge proportions...the concert did everything to confirm him as one of the world's greatest cellists. As a soloist, he played like a man possessed; his face, his whole body seemed consumed by a musical spirit whose familiar is the cello".

His recordings have all been highly acclaimed by the international press, and no less than six have won international awards.