With manuscripts like these, no wonder there are so many different editions out there. (Manuscript for Beethoven’s string quartet Op. 131.)
One of my top expenses as a music student is, well, music. Buying scores can get so costly, and there are so many different editions out there to choose from! That’s why I asked my good friend Andrew (who is much more knowledgeable than I about these kinds of things) if he would write up an edition guide, to save the rest of us pianists from decision fatigue and undue worry about whether that one note in the third measure should be an A or a G. While he writes from a pianist’s perspective, I have no doubt that these guidelines will help other instrumentalists as well. Without further ado…
Fernand Khnopff, “Listening to Schumann,” 1883
Schumann’s last years, as described in eyewitness accounts. This is part two; read part one here.
Robert Schumann, by Hetty Krist, 2010.
Listen to a piece by Schumann, and you will gain more insight into his complex, troubled, creative, affectionate soul. Unapologetically chromatic harmonies; achingly gorgeous inner melodies; eerie, disorienting rhythmic displacements; obsessive motivic repetition and development–these are the elements so distinctive to his personal style (not to mention the quotations from other composers and the different versions of Clara’s name, encoded, that pop up every so often).
And out of all the lives of the great composers, Schumann’s is perhaps the most heartbreaking because of his last two years, which were a tragic spiral into the dark abyss of mental illness. The little paragraph your history textbook devotes to the end of his life is most likely cold and clinical, and probably goes something like this: “Schumann’s mental health began to deteriorate near the end of his life, and he was institutionalized in 1854 after a failed suicide attempt. He died two years later, in 1856.” What your textbook will probably leave out, for the sake of brevity, is that the voices in Schumann’s mind had begun to take a dark and demonic turn; that he was terrified that he would hurt his seven children, or Clara, who was pregnant with the eighth; that Schumann’s whole community–composed of musical greats like Joseph Joachim and Johannes Brahms–was in shock after Schumann jumped off that bridge, and was scrambling to protect Clara from the awful truth. Eyewitness accounts from the time, recorded in letters and diaries, brings everyone back to life in painfully vivid clarity.
It’s that wonderful time of year again: the air chills into a November crisp, bakeries and cafés are flooded with the scent of pumpkin everything, students with book-laden bags shuffle across campus through flurries of gold and crimson leaves–and graduating music students hole themselves up in dank practice rooms till ungodly hours, start losing copious amounts of hair, and consume indecent amounts of caffeine.
It’s APPLICATION SEASON! Hurray!
One of the most important parts of your application as a music student is your pre-screening recording, which is a requirement for most reputable music schools across the United States. Now, recording is a very different creature from live performance. The good thing about recording is that you can start over if you mess up during a piece. The bad thing about it? You can start over if you mess up during a piece. “Maybe I should just re-do it” can be a hideously distracting thought that nags you for the whole piece after even the tiniest slip, and giving in to that thought too often will lead to frustration and a dozen unusable takes. So, here are some of the things I like to keep in mind when recording: