Beautifultohim’s Weblog

A month ago, I really enjoyed playing Chopins’ Nocturne in C sharp minor.  At the time, I was reading a very well-written love story (NOT a trashy romance novel) that was awarded best book of the year by a few well-known newspapers.  In order to play the piece expressively, I made up a story to correspond to the music.  Along with all the arts (novels, dance, etc) if music is not felt by the player, it probably cannot be felt by the listener.  Making up a story was my way of “getting in character” to play this piece. 

I don’t remember exactly what story I made up but it was really influenced by the novel I was reading.  I think the jist was that of a woman reminiscing about a torrid love affair in her past that had left both her and the paramour irreparably damaged.  When it shifts to major key, she’s thinking back to the earlier, sweeter times when they were younger and naive enough to think their love could work.  But as shown by the return of the minor theme, though they feel united with each other heart and soul, it cannot work … but we have a quiet, major ending because she has married and found someone else.  She doesn’t love him as passionately as the first guy, but she is happy enough.

So when I watched this, I was disappointed that it wasn’t as melodramatic as the story I associated it with!  But if you look at the beginning at the guys’ face, he looks like he’s in agony, like he’s about to break down into tears, which made me chuckle.  Perhaps he’s thinking about a love lost … or something he ate a couple hours ago that isn’t digesting too well?  ^^

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dh9iDUUo1ng

So when I played this piece again tonight, my mom kept saying it wasn’t dramatic enough.  I wondered why I couldn’t play this piece very dramatically anymore.  Was I afraid to get into the character?  Was I afraid to give myself over to those emotions which subvert all internal reason and order?  I simply didn’t have romance in my blood anymore. 

What I played especially well was “Il Penseroso” by Stephen Heller.  Here’s the story that goes with this one: single mom is doing laundry and thinking about her life.  She’s content with her life that includes a couple children, almost teenagers, and a modest but sweetly decorated little home.  The dissonant chord occurring in the middle corresponds to bittersweet memories about her dead husband, whom she still loves, and she knows he still lives though not on this earth.  The minor and rather troubled section in the middle is when she’s having doubts and insecurities about her ability, as a single mom, to effectively raise her soon-to-be teenage kids.  But eventually she concludes she’s just being paranoid because her kids love and trust her–and there we come back to the major, serene theme.