Rachmaninoff Prelude in G major Op. 32 No. 5

I had a good excuse to learn this beautiful piece. My horse Fritz (far right) mule-kicked my right hand a month ago, fracturing three metacarpals and requiring significant surgery—thanks again, Dr. Evans. Piano playing is some of the best physical therapy for this type of injury, so as soon as I was able, I learned Bach's B minor Prelude from WTC I, and next this gem from Rachmaninoff.

Both pieces ask the right hand for independence, but of different kinds. The Bach holds two voices in one hand, requiring sustained pitches, stretches, and finger substitutions, though at a tempo that lets you find them. The Rachmaninoff wants that same independence at speed and with a light touch, in the leggiero passages and the trills. My hand is still gaining strength, and not being able to rely on it has made me listen harder for the balance and voicing I’m after.

Bach Prelude in B minor BWV 869

My family enjoys riding horses. Here are my daughter Sabine and me on a ride this summer in the Salt River Range in Wyoming. My horse, Fritz, is pictured on the left.

Unfortunately, while Sabine and I were catching our horses last month, Fritz spun 180 degrees and mule-kicked me with both hind legs, metal shoes and all. His right hoof got my leg—no fracture but a bad bone bruise. His left hoof got my hand. I suffered three midshaft metacarpal fractures, index, middle, and ring fingers.

Here are the x-rays, from the emergency room that night on the left and after surgery on the right. I'm told there was significant comminution, where the bones broke into several fragments, creating gaps at the fractures. I was fortunate to find one of the top hand surgeons in the country, Dr. Brady Evans at Stanford. He used three screws to repair the metacarpals. I owe my hand, my art, and much more to this wonderful surgeon and the amazing team at the Orthopaedic Clinic at Stanford. I could not be more thankful.

After the surgery, I visited Fritz in our pasture. He came up to me, muzzled his head next to mine, and then sniffed my cast. Maybe he was saying sorry.

They removed my splint a few days ago, and I started basic physical therapy on my hand. It turns out that playing piano is some of the best exercise for the recovery of fractured hands.

Today, sixteen days after surgery, I recorded Bach's Prelude in B minor BWV 869, the last from his WTC book 1. It's not clean, yet still Bach. I chose this piece because it's delicate enough to avoid real exertion at this stage in my recovery, while holding two voices in one hand requires independence, stretching, finger substitutions, and sustained pitches—all useful for physical therapy. Oh, and you can see Sabine's dog Peanut in the background.

La fille aux cheveux de lin

Remembering my dear niece, Lia Smith, the girl with flaxen hair.

"La fille aux cheveux de lin" by Claude Debussy, from Preludes Book 1, and set to the French poem by Charles-Marie-Leconte de Lisle:

Sur la luzerne en fleur assise,
Qui chante dès le frais matin?
C'est la fille aux cheveux de lin,
La rose et le lys en sa face.

Upon the clover in bloom sitting,
Who sings from the cool morning?
It is the girl with flaxen hair,
The rose and the lily in her face.

Opening on a pentatonic melody, sans rigueur, we notice a plagal cadence to M3, IV/I to G-flat major, softly establishing the home key, or with my interpretation, a modest prayer.

Later, before the this same melody returns in a higher register, we have a deceptive cadence at M79, instead of returning to I (G-flat), we move to IV (C-flat), or the the plagal chord at M2. I interpret by design, setting up the return of the original melody, this time "from above", a remininscence of the past.

Liszt Wiegenlied S. 198

It snowed two nights ago. More snow is expected this week. It's such a pretty time of the year. I was looking out my bedroom window yesterday morning and noticed not just the leaves but all of the crows, migrating south for the winter. Nature's cycle and time continue.

I'm working on several Brahms Op 76 (but lack enough time for them), some Bach Sinfonia (all full pieces and each one a gem), and a new piece I'm writing. I somehow stumbled across this Liszt lullaby (because I was missing my daughter). So I decided to spend a day on it and record it, after insisting that said daughter (Sabine) learn it too.

I believe the piece is Liszt's own piano transcription of his last orchestral tone poem, "Von der Wiege bis zum Grabe" ("From the Cradle to the Grave"), composed in Rome around 1881/82, near his 70th birthday. Aside from his frequent travels, including to Rome, I believe Liszt was mostly living in Weimar at the time, and possibly wrote the piano transcription there. Liszt had an accident where he fell down the stairs in a hotel in Weimar in July 1881, which dramatically impacted his health and outlook.

It's a simple piece yet shows Liszt's creative side, his unusual form, his willingness to step through unexpected chromatic modulations and harmonies, and his use of motivic fragments in place of melodies. Hints of impressionism? Most of all I love the ambiguous sense of perceived time. I can't decide if I'm in the present looking back at a remininsence or actually experiencing that same remininsence. I find myself floating between the two perspectives. Similarly, the close of the piece doesn't quite resolve the tonal ambiguity of the open, despite ending where it began, on the mediant. The last bars invert the gesture of the opening bars, 3-5-6, this time 6-5-3, with the submediant, A-minor, in focus once more. I'm reminded of migrating crows and the changing colors of the leaves.

Étude-Tableaux No. 4

I finally finished my next work in the set of Études-Tableaux piano pieces I'm composing and performing, modeled after Rachmaninoff's own sets. Here I continue my study in polytonality, except this time use whole tone scales throughout. It seems whenever anyone uses whole tones it must be a reference to Debussy? In this case, no, although Debussy's works are often present in my mind. Instead I was attempting to manage the perception of time, noting that whole tone scales float somewhat. The absence of semitones creates challenges of harmonic structure and progression, the motion towards a goal perhaps. Yet that was the point of using the whole tone scales—avoiding the progress towards a given "goal" (e.g. riding east.) I use ambitus to suggest soft modulations. The piece opens with both whole tone scales together before moving in and out of diatonic harmonies that eventually and finally resolve to the implied theme in A-minor.

I recorded the piece at my home here in Fairview, Wyoming on a Yamaha S400 piano. It snowed again last night.

Étude-Tableaux No. 4 score

Bach take ii + Chopin and Janáček

More piano recordings. I worked on the 4th and 18th Preludes and Fugues from Bach's Well Tempered Clavier, Book 1. I also recorded a Chopin Etude and the second movement from Janáček's Sonata 1905. All of these works were shared with my piano studio at Stanford, where we continue to meet virtually to discuss and perform music together.

Bach Prelude No. 4 in C sharp minor

Bach Fugue No. 4 in C sharp minor

Bach Prelude No. 18 in G sharp minor

Bach Fugue No. 18 in G sharp minor

Chopin Etude Op 25 no. 1 in A flat major

Janáček Piano Sonata 1.X.1905

Bach Prelude and Fugue No. 4 in C sharp minor, BWV 849

Relative to San Francisco, it's very quiet here in Fairview, Wyoming, especially in the early spring, as the aspens don't yet have leaves to rustle in the wind, and the forest birds are just arriving from their winter sojourn. There were no jets flying over the valley this afternoon, and I heard no coyotes—they only howl at night.  However, I did hear Peanut snoring again.

Amidst this mostly quiet afternoon, and following recordings of the Prelude and Fugue No. 18 in G sharp minor from Bach's Well Tempered Clavier Book 1, I worked on Bach's Prelude and Fugue No. 4 in C sharp minor, also from Book 1.  I love the Prelude, so lyrical and inquisitive.  A real gem.  The Fugue is a tough—one of the more complex pieces I've studied.  I imagine it will take time to truly understand the piece, all of the lines, the five voices in counterpoint, the masterfully developed and contrasting subjects, creating the fugue's austere, tender, yet tormented character.  It continues to grow on me.

We always learned in music theory class that you should prepare a dissonant note or chord, perhaps with a suspension, thoughtful voice leading, passing tones, etc.  Yet Bach, despite being the reference standard for tonal music theory, doesn't seem to care for such rules and uses unprepared dissonance throughout this fugue, starting with the second note of the subject—B-sharp, the leading tone, which doesn't resolve to the tonic.  True to form, as we encounter the final cadence in bar 112, following a big dominant chord, we get a jarring and once again unprepared dissonant chord.  

While Bach often uses the Picardy third to end a minor piece in the major key, here he introduces the E-sharp four bars early in a deceptive cadence, an augmented A-major chord (VI7+), first inversion.  Not expected.  When you look at Bach vertically, to me his music often seems more dissonant than, say, that of Ives.  Yet typically, within the context and horizontal flow of the piece, nothing sounds dissonant, as Bach manages to take our ears to many foreign lands that don't seem so foreign.  But not this time.

Here is the prelude, followed by the fugue.

Prelude No. 4 in C sharp minor

Fugue No. 4 in C sharp minor

Bach Prelude & Fugue No.18 Book 1 WTC in G sharp minor BWV 863

While sheltering in place here in Fairview, Wyoming, I recorded the Prelude and Fugue in g-sharp minor, no. 18 from J.S. Bach's Well Tempered Clavier, Book I.

It's been such a difficult month -- my heart goes out to all those who are suffering or are sacrificing for the rest of us.  I can only imagine what it must be like to be working in the ER in NYC or in a distribution center or as a grocery clerk.  I feel very thankful for all of these people.

I'm also thankful that we can turn to music at such times.  I see so many people singing around the world on Smule.  It warms my heart.

I recorded the prelude and fugue on a Yamaha S400 piano.  It's soft and seems to work well for Bach.  I've actually been playing a lot lately, including quite a bit of Brahms.  I'm just trying to find the time to sit down, breath, and record.  The iPhone mic isn't great but will have to do.  Stay safe everyone.

Chorale No. 5

Remembering my father, again, I was reflecting with a close friend today on music I wrote years ago, including this piece, set to Psalm No. 6.  The piece was both dedicated and directed to my mother.  I'm not certain she cares for the piece as much as I do.

Here are the score and a piano recording of the chorale, which I just recorded tonight.

Chorale No. 5 (score)
Chorale No. 5 (piano)

I also include the text to Psalm No. 6.  The music is set to only the first six lines of the Psalm, which possibly makes some sense (or not) when you consider the change in tone and perspective of the Psalm after the sixth line.

6 O Lord, rebuke me not in thine anger, neither chasten me in thy hot displeasure.

2 Have mercy upon me, O Lord; for I am weak: O Lord, heal me; for my bones are vexed.

3 My soul is also sore vexed: but thou, O Lord, how long?

4 Return, O Lord, deliver my soul: oh save me for thy mercies' sake.

5 For in death there is no remembrance of thee: in the grave who shall give thee thanks?

6 I am weary with my groaning; all the night make I my bed to swim; I water my couch with my tears.

7 Mine eye is consumed because of grief; it waxeth old because of all mine enemies.

8 Depart from me, all ye workers of iniquity; for the Lord hath heard the voice of my weeping.

9 The Lord hath heard my supplication; the Lord will receive my prayer.

10 Let all mine enemies be ashamed and sore vexed: let them return and be ashamed suddenly.

Adagio Cantabile from Beethoven Sonata Op. 13 in C minor, “Pathetique”

After spending more time with Brahms and Bach this past year, I'm coming back to the early Beethoven sonatas, including Op. 7, Op. 10 No. 2, Op. 14 No. 2, as well as this treasure. I was probably inspired by my friend Andrew Rangell's new CD, a Bouquet of Beethoven.  BTW, do we still call them CDs?

I spent some time on this piece this week.  I didn't realize how fast I was playing until I listened to the recording.  Hardly an Adagio, it's difficult to "sing" at this tempo, but unfortunately, so is life for me.  I've been trying to slow down for the past few decades and haven't yet succeeded.  I dream of not rushing one day—while playing Beethoven, while walking to Caltrain, while spending time with my children...

When I think about the frenetic pace of my life, I'm reminded of the time in 2005 when I stepped down from job/career and focused on composing full time.  One of the first pieces I wrote, before formally beginning my graduate studies at Stanford, was an orchestral set based on Dante's Purgatorio, which allowed me to explore this theme of life and time.  Lacking an orchestra, I used Cubase and "virtual instruments" to create recordings, which didn't seem so awful back then (oh my, was I wrong, so much so that I began to abandon writing orchestral pieces in favor of piano pieces that I could learn and play myself).  Here are a couple pieces from that set, including "Calliope Arise" and "Femmina Balba II", which I more or less improvised on a keyboard that was plugged into Cubase to synthesize two cellos.

Calliope Arise (virtual instruments)

The Divine Comedy, Purgatorio, I, 1:12

Per correr miglior acque alza le vele	1	To run its course through smoother water
omai la navicella del mio ingegno,	2	the small bark of my wit now hoists its sail,
che lascia dietro a sé mar sì crudele;	3	leaving that cruel sea behind.
e canterò di quel secondo regno	4	Now I shall sing the second kingdom,
dove l'umano spirito si purga	5	there where the soul of man is cleansed,
e di salire al ciel diventa degno.	6	made worthy to ascend to heaven.
Ma qui la morta poesì resurga,	7	Here from the dead let poetry rise up,
o sante Muse, poi che vostro sono;	8	O sacred Muses, since I am yours.
e qui Calïopè alquanto surga,	9	Here let Calliope arise
seguitando il mio canto con quel suono	10	to accompany my song with those same chords
di cui le Piche misere sentiro	11	Whose force so struck the miserable magpies
lo colpo tal, che disperar perdono.	12	that, hearing it, they lost all hope of pardon.

Femmina Balba II (virtual instruments)

The Divine Comedy, Purgatorio, XIX, 10:14

Io la mirava; e come 'l sol conforta	10	I looked at her, and as the sun revives
le fredde membra che la notte aggrava,	11	Cold limbs benumbed by night,
così lo sguardo mio le facea scorta	12	so my gaze gave her a ready tongue
la lingua, e poscia tutta la drizzava	13	And then in very little time
in poco d'ora, e lo smarrito volto,	14	straightened her crooked limbs

Bach Goldberg Variation No. 13

The first thing I did when I arrived in Fairview, Wyoming today was to open the gate to the outer pasture, hopefully persuading the horses to come and visit so it will be easier to catch them tomorrow.

The second thing I did, after arriving, was play the piano. It's such a treat to be able to play while watching the wind blow through the quaking aspens as the sun is setting on "Big Ridge" to the west.

I think a lot about the sacrifices my ancestors made for me.  This land was my great-grandfather's, Robert Hillstead, an immigrant from England.  On the ridge of the mountain, nestled near the Bridger Nat'l forest, this "dry farm" (not irrigated) would support grazing the dairy cattle during the summer months.  My grandfather and his brothers would take turns making the trip to the ridge from the valley each evening.  They would round up the cows, milk them, spend a night in a little shack (quite near the corral in the photo), and then repeat the exercise for the morning milking the next day.  After, they would take the milk down to the valley and sell it.

I remember many summers here in Star Valley with my Grandpa Joe.  His heart never left this valley.  I think my heart will never leave Star Valley either.

Preludes No. 8 and No. 11

Today was a day of reflection. Seventeen years ago, or June 6th, 2000, my father passed away. One year prior, on the same day, my Grandma Smith, his mother, had passed away. They are buried next to each other, alongside his father and sister, in Holladay, Utah. From his grave, you have a perfect view of Mount Olympus in the Wasatch mountains, his favorite mountain peak.

I experienced every emotion that summer. At work, we were busy closing our quarter, our fourth as a public company. I was a week away from starting the road show for our secondary offering. In parallel with the secondary, we'd signed a term sheet to purchase another company and were commencing diligence. At home, my wife Tina and I had just purchased our second piano, a beautiful Bösendorfer from Austria (which I used for the recordings below). She was seven months pregnant with our first child, my son Noah. And then my father died.

I think of this summer often. When I see Mount Olympus, when I play some of my own pieces from that era, when I hold my son, when I hear and sing the hymns my father and I sang in church together. I wrote these pieces, Preludes no. 8 and no. 11, six years later, still reflecting. No. 11 is a variation of the hymn, Be Still my Soul, taken from Sibelius's Finlandia.

Prelude No. 8
Prelude No. 8 score

Prelude No. 11
Prelude No. 11 score

Brahms Ballade Op. 10 No. 1 in D Minor

I turned 50 on March 11 and hosted a piano recital for my birthday.  My program included Brahms Op. 9, the Schumann Variations, as well as Ballade Op. 10 no. 4.  Family and friends attended, who were quite gracious and forgiving of my lack of practice time.

Since the recital, I've been working on the rest of Brahms Op. 10.  When I was younger, I couldn't get enough of late Brahms.  Now that I'm getting older, I'm drawn to his earlier works.  

I sat down tonight and briefly recorded Op 10 no 1.  I need to memorize it and work on the sound (too harsh), but I find this piece enchanting—from another world, another time.

Chopin Prelude in F# Major Op.28 No. 13

My cute eight-year-old daughter Sabine recorded me playing Chopin today.  Sabine was a flower in the Hillview Middle School production of Jungle Book this past Saturday.  I've included a shot from her show.  As you can see, the tiger was really good.  I also loved the palm tree.  Nice touch.  You can see Sabine as the flower next to the plant on the left.  The plant had a lot of energy throughout the show.

I learned most of the Chopin preludes a year ago and decided to come back to some of them the past couple days.  The F# Major op 28 no 13 is such a gem.  The lines of this piece are amazing, especially the embedded/implied inner lines.  I love, for example, how he starts on the octave (A#) in both hands. The piu lento sostenuto in the middle of the piece is another great example of the wonderful lines and inner melodies Chopin develops.  So precious. 

It seems all young pianists love Chopin, and understandably so.  I felt there was almost too much bias towards Chopin when I played more in college, and was determined to venture out.  I'm older now and find myself coming back to Chopin.  

Brahms Variations on a Theme by R. Schumann Op. 9 Nos. 7-9

A typical Sunday morning playing the piano in my PJs. My daughter Charlie filmed this on my iPhone 6. Sound quality is ok, not great.  When I take the time to bring in my high end microphones, it becomes a whole day affair of recording, and I didn't have the courage today. So this iPhone captured spontaneous and scraggly recording will have to do.

I've learned this entire set of the Variations on a Theme by Robert Schumann, Op 9, by Johannes Brahms.  I love this piece.  My goodness.  I've never found a more intimate character piece in all of art.  The story of Robert's life with Clara, from marriage through his death.

I play three variations from the set in this performance (in my pajamas), namely 7, 8, and 9.  The meter in Variation 7 moves from 4 to 3, almost representative of a life cut short.  Variation 8 is one of the most amazing canons ever written.  Truly inspired.  Variation 9 seems to suggest the storm that is coming in all of its despair, the beginning of the end perhaps.

Yes, I know, I need to learn how to play the piano in piano.  Working on it.  Also, I really haven't perfected this set yet.  This was more of a morning romp.  I'm hoping for a recital that would include this set, the first French Suite from Bach in D minor, Janáček's X. 1905, maybe some Ravel, and then a few of my own pieces along side Rachmaninoff.

Étude-Tableaux Nos. 1, 2, and 3

I have decided I will write a set of Étude-Tableaux. Hopefully six. I think the form is open to exploration, and am surprised no one seemed to follow Rachmaninoff. Some modern composers would object to any references to images or "programs", or God forbid the use of text [B.F.]... I don't care what "modern" composers think.

I started with No. 3 a couple months ago. I then realized that my previous "Lander Pass" made a lot of sense in the set, and having never written a score for the piece, spent a month transcribing and frankly recomposing the piece. The set starts with Lander Pass as No. 1. I also realized that a late "prelude"—a term I attached to several pieces that lacked any relationship to one another but were simply experiments of sorts—also belonged in this set. Voila, No 2, dedicated to my brother Greg.

I'm now committed. I'm starting to put together some sketches for Nos 4, 5, and 6.

Étude-Tableaux No. 1
Étude-Tableaux No. 1 score

Étude-Tableaux No. 2
Étude-Tableaux No. 2 score

Étude-Tableaux No. 3
Étude-Tableaux No. 3 score

Étude-Tableaux No. 1: Lander Pass

I wrote a new piece last month, Étude-Tableaux No 1. I realized after I wrote it that it made sense alongside a piece I wrote in '07, Lander Pass. The problem with "Lander Pass", however, was I had only played it from memory -- I'd never written out the score. When I got sick last month and couldn't leave my house for a couple weeks, I made the time to finally transcribe the piece.

It ended up being difficult to transcribe as I realized that my improvised playing from sketches was virtually impossible to notate. The timing and meter were all over the place. I changed and simplified the piece somewhat as a result. I hope it is better. "Lander Pass" is now Étude-Tableaux No 1, and the previous No 1 is now No 3. No 2 is also already written (mostly), and coming soon.

I sat down and recorded No 1 earlier this afternoon. There are several sections where I'm faking it still, and the arpeggios just aren't even or clean. One day...

Étude-Tableaux No. 1
Étude-Tableaux No. 1 score

Étude-Tableaux No. 3

After a fairly significant lapse, I'm writing again. I've been a bit busy lately with work and school. And my kids.

I considered continuing my preludes with a second book. Yet at least for now, I want a little more freedom to explore new ideas without boundaries and structure. A single prelude might satisfy such goals, but not a set. And so I'll try something new, paying homage to a former resident of Menlo Park. I hope to record this piece in the coming weeks.
[5/1/2015 just recorded it. needs work.]
[5/30/2015 no 1 just became no 3]

Étude-Tableaux No. 3
Étude-Tableaux No. 3 score

ps I'm not gonna talk so much about the structure any more. If you discover something interesting, it may have been by design.

Baldwin vs iPad

Smule marketing approached me the other day and asked me to record the Presto Agitato from Beethoven's Piano Sonata Op 27 No. 2 in C-shart minor, "The Moonlight".  Their concept was to juxtapose performances of this piece on the piano with the "Magic Piano" from Smule.  I mentioned I didn't know the piece and it would take some time to learn it.  They responded by asking if later in the week would work.  I chuckled and reminded them I wasn't Van Cliburn.  They asked to confirm whether later in the week would work...

Not that week but a week later (!), we recorded performances of the piece at Smule's offices in San Francisco with me on the piano and Naoko Maruko of Smule on the iPad.  Here is the final video:

Ironically, they didn't use my first recording.  They claimed the piano was too fast for the iPad—it couldn't keep up (not the performer but "Magic Piano" latency).  So, we came back two days later and recorded again at a slower tempo.  

It's a fun video.   Kudos to Smule marketing:  cute concept and nice editing.  And great job Naoko.  I think the piece might actually be harder to play on iPad than Baldwin.

Chopin Preludes Opus 28

I sat down this morning on my Steinway B and recorded a few of the Chopin Preludes I've been practicing.   They're not quite ready but getting closer.  I'm hoping to put together a recital, perhaps commemorating many different recent life events, both personal and academic.

I was inspired by Kenneth Hamilton's at Stanford a month ago in the Reactions to the Record IV Symposium.  Kenneth's lecture walked through the recent history of piano performance, focusing on the changes of the past century, perhaps relating to the era of the recording.  He spent considerable time exploring the notion of the unpolished, authentic, improvisatory elements of performances in the previous century, including the practice of 'preluding' between pieces in a performance.  Most of this preluding represented somewhat spontaneous musical musings of a pianist in transitioning between pieces, although in many cases I'm sure those transitions may have been planned, composed, or perhaps drawn from a collection of tools.  Beyond such musings, we have several collections of preludes in the canon of western music, notably Bach's WTC I and II, but also Chopin, Debussy, and Scriabin to name a few.

I contemplate a recital where every piece is connected to another piece through preludes, mostly those chosen from Bach, Chopin, and Debussy (and perhaps one or two of my own), but also sometimes more improvisatory in nature.  My hope would be to create a somewhat continuous ribbon of music from start to end with no breaks, where different movements of disjunct works might be integrated with one another in novel ways.  Ideally the listener in the end perceives the works but also the connections between them (that is to say the preludes), and in some cases might have their lasting attention drawn to the preludes themselves.

Chopin Prelude Opus 28 No. 1 in C Major
Chopin Prelude Opus 28 No. 10 in C-sharp Minor
Chopin Prelude Opus 28 No. 14 in E-flat Minor