Beethoven's Last Sonata

May has been a month of many things. The life-equivalent of either a transition, development, but most definitely, a coda. Zheng and I are leaving Rochester for the foreseeable future. And this has also meant some lovely parties and gatherings. There will be more to come, for sure. 

My church choir at Elmgrove United Methodist Church had a final choir ‘picnic’ and also had a rehearsal imbedded in there somewhere. D.N. and B.N. hosted the dinner, and as good Methodists are want to do, we “brought a covered dish to pass.” 

I will share some photos of this party in a later post, but I wanted to take the time now to share this remarkable gift:

It is a vase, with an image superimposed from the beginning of Beethoven’s last sonata, Opus 111. His last three sonatas are a titan trio, epic in scope, emotionalism, and the technique to really play them. Beethoven treats the piano in many instances as an orchestra. 

My “serious and focused solo training” blended into collaborative studies (and, frankly, work and career) about ten years ago. So imagine my surprise, and delight, when I was asked to:

a) sit down to the piano 
b) download the score onto my phone 
c) play some of the opening! 

(Luckily, there is a slow introduction to Opus 111 before it really “gets going.”).

And I was really “playing it,” meaning I could really play the introduction, having never seen it before. Yes, I’m a good reader, but more important, these years of technical regimen combined with all of the orchestral reductions I’ve played are fusing into something surprising — an affinity for these bigger nineteenth-century pieces that ten years ago, I would have studied only - never performed them in public. 

A delightful choir member, S.R. (who found the vase), when there was a small chat going on during this reading, said:

“Quiet!”
“She’s playing the vase.”

Perseverance, Part 4

This will be the first in a series of post about the Lukens Piano Trio tour to Georgia (and two stops in Pennsylvania).

Last night, the Lukens Piano Trio performed at Muhlenberg College as part of their

Sunday Evening Series. Our wonderful current-and-founding cellist, David Moulton, is on faculty there, so he was instrumental in organizing our event there last night. 

(Yes, that pun was intended).

It was terrific to do this "send-off" concert before departing Thursday morning. 

Our program for these concerts is:

Beethoven, Trio Opus 1, no. 1 in E-flat major

Jennifer Higdon, Piano Trio

---

Brahms, Trio in c minor, Opus 101

When David gave the opening remarks last night, he stated that "this is our first trip out of town." It is! We've been playing together since 2005, and we've mostly stayed within 2 hours of Philadelphia (NJ, Lehigh Valley, Philadelphia, NYC, Delaware, suburban NYC). 

We are headed to the Harry Jacobs Chamber Music Series of Augusta, Georgia at the end of this week. 

Why this post is labeled in the "perseverance" series is attributed to our "longevity." I remember times with this trio where we were playing in church basements, or other events where we had to lift a piano, or play to only five people (three of which were my immediate family). Those days, perhaps, are behind us. Last night's crowd was terrific, surprisingly great attendance! 

We've dealt with the difficulties of coordinating schedules, distance, programming, and planning in the cracks of a symphony job (David), a full-time business in antiques (Michael), building a collaborative career (Kristin), a doctorate out-of-state (Kristin), a wedding (Kristin), and other "life" happenings. We've stuck through the five-year itch that often kills new businesses. 

And now, we can continually bank on our own rehearsal process, practice techniques, and the ability to practice individually, with the gruop sound in mind, yielding better concentrated rehearsal efforts before concerts.

Stay tuned for more reflections on this process. 

PHOTO: The last bit of autumn that I was able to capture during my trip south. When I return in a week and a half, these leaves will most likely have fallen.