Edvard Grieg (1843 -1907) Piano Music, Vol. 9 Lyric Pieces, Book 5, Op. 54 (1891) Lyric Pieces, Book 6, Op. 57 (1893) Lyric Pieces, Book 7, Op. 62 (1895)...
Edvard Grieg
(1843 -1907)
Piano Music, Vol. 9
Lyric Pieces, Book 5, Op. 54 (1891)
Lyric Pieces, Book 6, Op. 57 (1893)
Lyric Pieces, Book 7, Op. 62 (1895)
Edvard Grieg was born in Bergen, on the west coast of Norway, in 1843. He showed a strong interest in music at a very early age, and after
encouragement from the violinist and composer Ole Bull (1810-1880) was sent to
the Conservatory in Leipzig at the age of fifteen to receive his musical
education. There he had fundamental and solid musical training, and through the
city's flourishing musical life, received impressions and heard music which
would come to leave its stamp on him for the rest of his life - for better or
for worse. Even though he severely criticized the Leipzig Conservatory,
especially towards the end of his life, in reality his exceptional gifts were
recognised, and one sees in his sketchbooks of the Leipzig period that he had
the freedom to experiment as well. He had no good reason to criticize the
conservatory, nor his teachers, for poor teaching or a lack of understanding.
From Leipzig Grieg travelled to Copenhagen, bringing with him the
solid musical training he had acquired, and there soon became known as a
promising young composer. It was not long before he came under the influence
of Rikard Nordraak, whose glowing enthusiasm and unshakeable belief that the
key to a successful future for Norwegian music lay in nationalism, in the
uniquely Norwegian, the music of the people - folk-songs - came to play a
decisive role in Grieg's development as a composer. Nordraak's influence is
most obvious in the
Humoresques for piano, Op. 6, which was
considered a turning-point in Grieg's career as a composer.
In the autumn of 1866, Grieg settled in Christiania (Oslo). In 1874, Norway's capital was the centre for his activities. During this time he
also wrote the majority of the works which laid the foundation for his steadily
increasing fame. In spite of his poor health - he had had a defective lung ever
since childhood - he was constantly on concert-tour as a pianist or as a
conductor, always with his own works on the programme. After his last
concert-tour in 1907, he wrote to his friend Frants Beyer:
This Tour has been strange. The Audiences have been on my
Side. In Germany I have received more acclaim for my ART than ever before. But
the Critics both in Munich and in Berlin have let me know in no uncertain
terms, that they think I am a dead Man. That is my punishment for my
lack of Productivity in these last Years, which my wretched physical condition
has caused. It is a hard and undeserved Punishment - but I comfort myself with
the thought that it is not the Critics, who govern the world. (Letter to
Frants Beyer, 5 March 1907)
More clearly than anything else, this letter shows a trend which
Grieg experienced in his later years in relation to his music. It was also a
development which would continue internationally until long after his death.
Within the musical "establishment", there were increasing numbers of
people who were gradually becoming more critical of Grieg's music and of his
abilities and talent as a composer. In the meantime his popularity among
music-loving audiences increased in inverse proportion. Grieg enjoyed some of
his greatest popularity with the general public during the last years of his
life, when, in spite of his greatly weakened health, he was continually on
tour, in popular demand from concert-managers all over the world. The critics,
however, were sceptical and condescending, and there is no doubt that Grieg
felt hurt by their attitude:
I cannot be blamed if my music is played in third-rate
hotels and by school-girls. I could not have created my music any other way,
even though I did not have my audience in mind at the time. I guess this
popularity is all right, hut it is dearly bought. My reputation as a composer is
suffering because of it, and the criticism is disparaging.' (Letter to
Julius Rontgen, London, 25 May 1906)
From early on Grieg was labelled a composer of small forms. His
indisputable lyrical ability and talent were never doubted, but apart from some
very few works such as the Piano Concerto in A minor, Op. 16, and the String
Quartet in G minor, Op. 27, the Piano Sonata in E minor, Op. 7, the three Violin
Sonatas - Op. 8 in F major, Op. 13 in G major and Op. 45 in C minor - and the Cello
Sonata in A minor, Op. 36, he was not able, in spite of his many desperate
attempts to do so, to feel completely at home with more extended musical forms.
He felt that this was a short-coming, and unfairly blamed his education at the
Leipzig Conservatory. Nevertheless, he also showed that he could master these forms
when on rare occasions he found raw musical material that could be reworked and
treated within the traditional structure of sonata-form. The only problem was
that the musical material to which he felt closest and that most fascinated
him, was of another quality and character.
Grieg's encounter with Norwegian folk-music, and his assimilation
of essential features from this music, released certain aspects of his own
creativity that soon led to his music being, for many, identified with
folk-music. By some he was considered more or less simply an arranger of
folk-music, and that hurt him very deeply:
In my Op. 17 and Op. 66, I have arranged folk-songs for the
piano, in Op. 30, I have freely rendered folk-ballads for the male voice. In
three or four of my remaining works, I have attempted to use Norwegian songs
thematically. And since I have published up to seventy works by now, I should
be allowed to say that nothing is more incorrect than the claim from German
critics that my so-called originality is limited to my borrowing from
folk-music. It is quite another thing if a nationalistic spirit, which has been
expressed through folk-music since ancient times, hovers over my original
creative works.' (Letter to Henry T. Finck, 17 July 1900)
Much instrumental Norwegian folk-music is built from small melodic
themes, units which are repeated with small variations in appoggiaturas and
sometimes with rhythmic displacements. Sections are then joined together to
form larger units. We seldom find any true development as it is understood in
traditional classical music. It gradually became clear to Grieg that he felt
the greatest affinity with this music. That is why it also became so difficult
to distinguish between what in Grieg's works came originally from folk-music,
and what was his own composition. This must also have been especially difficult
for foreign critics and audiences.
In Grieg's music there are two features which particularly attract
our attention, rhythm and harmony. In many instances Grieg's rhythm in his
piano compositions is taken from the folk-dance, as well as from compositions
which are not based upon folk-music. He placed great emphasis on the rhythmic
element, and considered it paramount in the presentation of his works which have
dance as the point of departure. He was of the opinion that in order to be able
to play one of his compositions, one had to know and feel the dance rhythm.
Characteristic of his understanding of the rhythmic element is the story about
the meeting between Grieg and Ravel in Paris, in 1894, at the home of William
Molard:
While the bright-eyed company discussed music, Ravel quietly
went over to Molard's piano and began to play one of the master's Norwegian
Dances. Grieg listened with a smile, but then began to show signs of
impatience, suddenly getting up and saying sharply: "No, young man, not
like that at all. Much more rhythm. It's a folk-dance, a peasant dance. You
should see the peasants at home, with a fiddler stamping in time with music.
Play it again!" And while Ravel played, the little man jumped up and skipped
about the room to the astonishment of the company. (A Ravel
Reader: Correspondence, articles, interviews, ed. Arbie Orenstein. New York: Columbia University Press, 1990, p. 237. This story comes from Lionel Carey, Delius:
The Paris Years, p. 56.)
Harmony is at the heart of his work. Often it is the harmony
itself which is the basis of the composition. Grieg pointed this out
emphatically in a letter to his biographer, Henry T. Finck:
The realm of harmony, has always been my dream world, and my
relationship to this harmonious way of feeling and the Norwegian Folk-songs has
been a mystery even for me. I have understood that the secret depth one finds
in our Folk-songs is basically owing to the richness of their untold harmonic
possibilities. In my reworking of the folk-songs Op. 66, but also elsewhere, l
have attempted to express my interpretation of the hidden harmonies in our folk-songs.
(Letter to Henry T. Finck, 17 July 1900)
Grieg's interest in harmony had become obvious to others already
while he was at the Conservatory. At that time it was first and foremost a
desire to experiment. Later harmony became his way of bringing forth the very
"soul" of the folk-tunes. Among other things, he deliberately used
unfamiliar, "radical" chord progressions in order to suggest the
vague tonality (
sotto voce half tones, vague thirds) such as one finds
in many of the songs, a melodic characteristic which would otherwise be
impossible from an instrument like the piano.
Grieg's instrument was primarily the piano. From his earliest
years to the concert-tour in the year he died, he performed as a pianist his
own compositions. He was not a virtuoso, but his intimate familiarity with the
piano allowed him to present his own music in such a way as to leave a deep and
lasting impression upon everyone who heard him play. According to contemporary
reports he had a marvellous ability to bring out the best, the very essence, of
his own piano pieces. When he took his place on the platform, the atmosphere
became electric, and the critics emphasized his refined touch, tone quality,
and the complete absence of superficial gestures.
Grieg's music contributed very modestly to the development of
piano technique. Most of his piano pieces are technically speaking within the
abilities of competent amateurs. This, together with musical characteristics
which seem to have a stimulating and refreshing effect, contributed to the fact
that he was one of the most played, and respected composers in Europe-popular,
if not with the critics, then at least with the majority of those interested in
music.
Grieg's compositions were written in the epoch of the piano. Music
and piano-playing in the average home were at a peak during the last half of
the nineteenth century and the first decades of this century. Cyril Ehrlich has
calculated that in 1910 alone more than 600,000 pianos were produced. To know
how to play the piano was part of the general education in most middle-class
families, especially for girls. No wonder the music publishers C. F. Peters
hoisted the flag in London and Frankfurt every time Grieg delivered a
manuscript for a new album of piano pieces. It is also understandable that
Grieg sometimes experienced the demand for new piano pieces as a strain. There
were also times when he felt that the production of piano pieces was a sort of
bribe, or indulgence, to make sure that the publishing-house issued his other
works as well. Nevertheless, in general, Grieg had an excellent relationship
with his publisher in Leipzig. He was particularly close to Dr. Max Abraham
(1831-1900), who became editor at Peters in 1863. This is dearly shown by the
abundant correspondence that has been preserved.
Verlagsbuchhandlung C. F.
Peters Bureau de Musique, was the full name of the publishing-house that
acted as Grieg's exclusive publisher from 1890 and agreed to pay him 4000 Marks
every year, a sum which was adjusted to 6000 Marks in 1901. In return, Grieg
was to offer Peters all of his future compositions with rights,
für allen
Lander (for all countries), for a certain fee.
Grieg experienced a great deal of adversity during certain periods
of his life, but he also had more success than most other composer colleagues
of his time. Nevertheless he never lost the feelings of unrest, of not having
developed his talent to the full degree, of having left something undone,
something unfulfilled within himself. Throughout his life, Grieg was a restless
soul. He never felt completely at peace anywhere. When he was in Bergen, he longed for Christiania, and when he was there he longed for Copenhagen and the
continent. When he was abroad, he longed to be back home, but no sooner had he
arrived in Bergen than he felt oppressed and restless and wanted to go off
again. There were perhaps only two places where he really felt at home and
satisfied, on the concert-platform and in the Norwegian mountains, especially
Jotunheimen. When he was in the presence of his audience or experiencing the
powerful and free nature of the western part of Norway, he felt whole and
complete.
Among Grieg's works, the
Lyric Pieces seem to have a special
place with a special significance in their order. That he apparently viewed
them in the same way is clear from the fact that his last lyrical piece, 'Remembrances',
Op. 71, No. 7, in 1901, quotes his first piece, 'Arietta', Op. 12, No. 1, of 1867. Thus the circle
is completed, marking the end of the period in which he was concerned with this
type of piano piece, a type that the whole world loved, admired, and above all,
played. Even though he revealed his deepest, most intimate feelings in many of
the lyrical pieces, the music remains approachable and is often played. It
would probably be hard to find the piano student who has not learned to
love these lyrical pieces, in spite of their occasional difficulty, and does
not feel that the struggle has been worth while, if the results are good. One
should ignore the fact that they have at times been looked upon with disdain as
inferior. In fact they have survived as music that is both living and vital,
because they are so strongly rooted in the consciousness of the people.
The expression
Lyric Pieces is actually Grieg's own
invention, but does not describe a genre. Character-pieces for the piano, with
or without descriptive titles, have a long tradition and Grieg is only one to
contribute to this, although his contribution is a very important one. Each of
his lyric pieces, like Mendelssohn's
Lieder ohne Worte, expresses only
one mood, one feeling. From the publication of the second book, in 1883, (the
first one came out in 1867), Grieg went on to publish collections of
Lyric Pieces
at regular intervals until 1901. They cover the greater part of Grieg's life
as an established composer, and represent more or less every single facet of
his personal style.
No attempt has been made to hide the fact that the lyric pieces
gradually became good business, both for Grieg himself, as well as for the
publishers. In a letter to Peters, Grieg called them
Semmeln - fragrant,
fresh-baked, bread - and the fact of the matter is that they were indeed sold
like "hot cakes". No wonder the publisher Peters, in London and Frankfurt, was delighted every time Grieg delivered a manuscript for a new album of piano
pieces. He was strongly attached to many of these pieces and enjoyed playing
them, while there were others that he was not pleased with at all. In a letter
to his friend, Emil Horneman, he writes:
My Silence is unforgivable, because I honestIy haven't done
anything, other than the so-called, "Lyric Pieces", which are
surrounding me like lice and fleas in the country. (Letter to Emil
Horneman, 15 September 1898)
Other people also made snide remarks about them, such as Debussy's
comment that the lyric pieces were like "pink candies filled with snow,"
probably alluding to the pink covers on the editions of the albums from Peters.
Grieg's
Lyric Pieces contain 66 compositions, published in
ten albums, during the years from 1867 to 1901. Most of these albums were
printed again several times, and many of the pieces were published separately.
Several of the most popular of them were published in innumerable arrangements,
some by Grieg himself, but mostly by others.
In Book 5, Op. 54, from 1891, Grieg reached a quality which he
would never surpass, when we consider the individual collections as a whole.
This is also the first book to be called
Lyric Pieces. Here, we also
feel that there is an element which binds them all together. While nature's
moods appear to be the main theme of Op. 43, in this album the focus of
attention is Norwegian peasant life and nature, though not represented by
folk-dance inspired pieces, as they were in some of the other collections. It
is rather the development of impressions from nature. We do find a 'Gangar', No.
2, a folk-dance, and the dance rhythm is of great importance in 'Scherzo', No. 5,
but the harmonic and rhythmic details, the way the mood is created, and the
general atmosphere in the individual pieces, together, give us the impression
that everything is carefully planned. No. 6, 'Bell-ringing', is one of Grieg's
strangest compositions. It was perhaps this piece in particular that he had in
mind when he wrote to Dr. Abraham:
A new book of lyric piece is finished, and I have enjoyed
myself immensely. (Letter to Dr. Max Abraham, 17 September 1891)
This piece is experimental in its evocation of the ringing of
bells and in its use of dynamics. In 1903 Grieg took four of the pieces, Nos.
2, 3, 4 and 6, and arranged them for orchestra, but he was not pleased with the
results:
At the time, I am very concerned about the new
instrumentation of the 'Lyrical Suite', which Anton Seidl has orchestrated... Seidl's
instrumentation was not, however, in the spirit of my intentions, and does not
sound like it should, something I discovered last winter in Christiania. (Letter to Heinrichsen,
5 July 1904)
Later, he also changed the name from 'Chiming of the Bells' to 'Shepherd
Boy'. This experiment with sound was too bold even for the composer himself.
The end result was the Lyrical Suite, which is a good example of Grieg's
extraordinary ability to orchestrate.
The next book, the sixth, came out in 1893, as Op. 57. In contrast
to the previous one, Grieg now returns to the European drawing-room tradition
in several of these pieces. In No. 2, 'Homesickness', there is a weak
connection with Norwegian folk-music, and Norwegian natural scenery, but the
longing is not as convincing as it was in Op. 43, No. 3. Neither does he reach
the same heights in Book 7, Op. 62, from 1895, even though some of his finest
lyric pieces are in this collection, notably 'Brooklet', No. 4, and 'Homeward',
No. 6. The first of these is one of his most impressionistic compositions, and
technically one of the greatest challenges among the
Lyric Pieces. In
the second one, Grieg is once again back in the world of folk-music. Of the
above, 'Gratitude', No. 2 and 'French Serenade', No. 3 are two of the more
interesting ones. In 'Gratitude' he presents a theme that reminds us of the
unpretentious and spontaneous elements in some of his earliest
Lyric Pieces,
which contrast sharply with the harmonically advanced, yet static second
section. No. 1, 'Vanished Days', had the title of 'Minuette' in the first edition
and is yet another example of retrospection, which appeared more and more
frequently in his work as the years went by.
Øyvind
Nordheim
English translation: Phyllis Nyquist