Waldstein and Other Monuments

With the exception of the "Leicht Sonaten," Opus 49, numbers 1 and 2 (Sonatas 19 and 20), I have only been able to make my way reading through the Beethoven Piano Sonatas at what I call "composer speed." What I think of as composer speed is a tempo slow enough to hear every single harmonic change while playing all the notes correctly. Composer speed is my happiest place at the piano.

I know that I will never have an actual piano technique, and I know that I will never have the confidence on the instrument to ever play it in public. In my house with the door closed and/or nobody listening is my happy piano place.

I do play with my students, and it puts them at ease because they know I am not a pianist, and that chances are I will make more mistakes they they will.

[And, by the way, I need to drop this little aside in about "composer speed." Composers always hear music in their heads at a faster tempo than it should (or even could) be played. That's why composer-generated metronome markings are always too fast.]

Yesterday I made it through the C major miracle known as the "Waldstein." A normal competent performance by a real pianist lasts a little under thirty minutes. My read took three days (maybe forty-five minutes each day). At composer speed the harmonic movement is slow, but at composer speed the music is just as exciting as hearing it played at pianist speed. And after making my way up the mountain of the piece, I have a newfound respect for pianists that have made Beethoven's expressions their own.

Most of the piece fits comfortably in the hands and arms, but how anyone can actually play the right-hand trill at the end eludes me, even considering Beethoven's instructions on how to present the illusion of playing a trill. It is like the tricks that Ricky Jay does with playing cards.

Part of my personal "Project 2025" is to read through all of the Beethoven Piano Sonatas at "composer speed." I have six to go, but those six take up 209 pages. After I make my way reading through the final six (which might take me until March or April), I plan to start the cycle from the beginning again. I do pepper my piano experience with Bach and other diversions, including my old friends Haydn and Mozart, but there is something about the defiant resilience of Beethoven that I imagine (or hope) will continue to give me courage as we navigate our way as musicians through the next couple of years.

Schubert is too hard right now, and I'm still too young for Brahms. Maybe by the time I'm old enough to play Brahms (maybe when I am close to 70, in four years) the figurative sun will rise up to illuminate our world, and I will be able to play some Schubert to greet it.