Piano Notes: The World of the Pianist

As a pianist I stand in awe of Charles Rosen's phenomenal analysis and exposure of the life, status, mind, intellect and passion of one of our most celebrated pianists. If there were ever any doubt about why one plays the piano, here is the answer. This is another MUST HAVE for any honest and serious pianist, either amateur or professional.

Charles Rosen belongs to that rare breed of musician in whom is combined high executant skill as an international concert pianist with a formidable wide-ranging intellect: at once creative artist, writer, thinker and academic. In 'Piano Notes', Rosen - the creator of 'The Classical Style', 'Arnold Schoenberg', 'Sonata Forms', and other learned treatises - reveals himself as a raconteur and wit, with a considerable repertoire of tales very much 'out of school'. For those fans and devotees of Rosen and indeed all things pianistic, but who are unwilling to tackle his weightier writings, this manageable and engaging book is the right choice. Lighter fare though it undoubtedly is, 'Piano Notes' is by no means an inconsequential if amusing throw-away by an otherwise serious writer. Here are all the hallmarks of the author's style: compelling argument, clear expression, the large brush as well as the finely finished decoration, understandable (for the amateur) use of example and illustration, and a good deal of provocation besides. How many dedicated piano teachers will bristle at the observation that 'almost all books on how to play the piano are absurd', that 'beautiful tone production does not exist on the piano apart from the music', or that the masterclass is 'a way of earning more money and doing less work'? But of course, there is cogent reasoning to follow the bald statement, and it would be an obtuse reader who is unmoved by the plain speaking about cherished myths and traditions within the pianist's world, the painful truth - as it would seem to many established professionals - exposed within a few pages by the persuasiveness of the writer's experience, wisdom and uncompromising judgment. Many pianists of talent who have suffered some erosion of confidence by failing to achieve a place in a major piano competition can take heart from Rosen's unforgiving view of this institution which, like the Conservatory of Music - as he argues with equal insight - does not necessarily serve the interests of the exceptional student. He discusses the conservatism of juries, the inadequacies of voting systems, and not least the capacity - indeed tendency - of the best performers to suffer occasional disasters in contrast to their superb interpretations when on form, this necessary artistic vulnerability sometimes ensuring that the merely consistent triumphs over the extraordinary . But extraordinary qualities are required to be a concert pianist, apart from the rigorous training from infancy. In his inimitable way, Rosen rounds off the perspective: advanced music training and experience should always take account of the 'the public' (as distinct from the experts ), the body who has the refreshing capacity to respond to 'eccentric originality' rather than correctness. Readers will enjoy the many anecdotal references to 'great' pianists: their widely varying playing positions (Rubinstein and Gould), Horowitz's spliced 'live' recordings, Cherkas

Rosen is humorous and insightful. He looks at a number of piano and music related topics (concerts, competition, practice, etc.) and imparts a level of understanding that reveals both the brilliance and idiosyncrasies of the music world. This is not just a book for the piano student but for anyone interested in classical music. The following passage illustrates:"For whom does one play? To whom is the performance addresses? These questions are odd because they do not seem at first sight to call forth a useful answer. They are worth asking, however, because they raise a more interesting one: to what extent is the performer aware of the public during their actual playing? The latter question is more pertinent to the pianist than any other musician. Unlike the string player of the singer, the pianist does not face the listeners while playing; the public exists only in the margins of his sight. Nevertheless, even for the violinist or the soprano, the contrast of the spotlit stage and the lowered lights in the hall make the audience largely an anonymous blur."Rosen's writing is accessible and his style witty. Both newcomers to music and the most erudite aficionado will come away with a deeper understanding of the world of classical music. It gives much food for thought and further discussion with friends. Very enjoyable.

I love books like this. A renowned master of the keyboard talks about a lifetime of experience in the concert hall and on records. Charles Rosen talks about the physicality of playing the piano, the joys and the problems, the obstacles to keeping a piano in good working order (most non-pianists don't appreciate what a high-maintenance item a piano is), the difficulties of recording vs. live performance (and the different kinds of nervousness that attend each), and the future of the instrument (will it be replaced by the electric guitar as the instrument of choice? Will piano recitals become a thing of the past?). My only complaint is the book was too short. I could have enjoyed another hundred pages. It's a fun, quick read, a great book to bring along on a train or plane trip.

In his brilliant article, "Who's Afraid of the Avant-Garde?" Charles Rosen makes the point that the societal dilemma of the decline of serious music is a false one, as the survival of music depends not on the willingness of audience-goers to listen to it, but on the drive within musicians to play it. In the end, we play the pieces that inspire us and challenge us -- and, above all, the pieces we love. Rosen argues that the commercial aspect of music has made us forget this simple fact: we participate in musical experience because it brings us joy. "Piano Notes" is overflowing with this joy, that of a man who has been thinking about, writing about, and playing music for more than 60 years now. And Rosen is so successful in conveying the pleasure the musical experience has to offer, that in reading his new book, we feel it too. We smile and laugh out loud at his comical and endearing anecdotes about music performances and performers, competition juries and contestants, and conservatory students and teachers alike. First and foremost, reading "Piano Notes" is a pure pleasure, like eating good dessert and sharing thoughtful conversation with friends. As such, it calls less for a critical review than for a reflection on and discussion of its ideas. Of course there is more here than mere pleasure. In between the personal experience and the occasionally sardonic wit lie some of Rosen's most important thoughts and ideas: the qualities of the piano that have attracted composers to it for 200 years; how the tactile experience of playing the piano impacts the way we hear our own performances and others'; the physical limitations of the piano, and their relevance to performance and the realization of music; the effects of the conservatory system on musical individuality; the importance of sight-reading and a deep knowledge of the piano literature; considerations for live and recorded performances; and a survey of differing piano styles from composer to composer throughout the years. Rosen has, of course, discussed many of these ideas elsewhere (see "The Classical Style", "The Romantic Generation", his essays for the New York Review of Books, some of which appear in "Critical Entertainments", and, more recently, "A Short Companion to Beethoven's Piano Sonatas" and a lecture entitled, "Tradition Without Convention"), but in "Piano Notes" they are given particularly lucid, if brief, treatment, and, thankfully, are free of some of his more grating tics of style. (I must admit that they are endearing, as well. For example, Rosen is usually unrelenting with his superlatives; the construction "no piece demonstrates better..." appears hyperfrequently in some of his earlier books. While I was pleased to see more "variety" (for lack of a better word) in his expressions of praise this time round, I did begin to worry about two-thirds of the way through the book when I hadn't come across it once. I was relieved when it finally arrived, on page 209. Odd th