Music sponsorship in
the Cultural Committee
of German Business
The annual music competition of the
Cultural Committee of German Business
is always dedicated to a different instrument
or to a classical music discipline,
and has become one of Germany’s most
established instrumental competitions.
The Music Panel of the Cultural Committee
of German Business awards the
Music
Prize of German Business once per
year to the winner of the competition,
based on the decision of the expert jury
working in cooperation with the Panel.
The profile of the 2007 piano competition
“Sound and Explanation – Communication
in Music and Word” was developed
to show participants’ overall stage
personality. In the three rounds of the
competition, the young musicians were
faced with a special task: not only should
they perform their elective and obligatory
pieces at the highest artistic level; they
should also explain their interpretations.
Every performance at the competition
thus should attain the character of an individual
“performance” which was to reveal
the entire personality of the pianist.
Further information is available under:
www.kulturkreis.eu
The Cultural Committee of
German Business
The Cultural Committee of German
Business is Germany’s only supraregional
forum for the corporate
promotion
of the arts. Among its members are
the most important German companies.
Having
supported talented young artists
in the fields of literature, fine arts, music
and architecture for 55 years, it is one of the
most established institutions in Germany at
the interface between business and the arts.
Clemens Berg on this Recording
Frédéric Chopin. This is the composer
I naturally begin my debut CD with –
how could it be any other way! No one can
escape the fascination of this personality: his
fragile poetry, his bold sound and his masterful
perfection at the piano. Of the many
famous 19th century composers, he was the
only one to almost exclusively dedicate himself
to writing for his instrument. But in addition
to his famed and often noted qualities,
what I wholly admire is something else:
his melancholy. It is just as uncompromising
as Bach’s strict polyphony or Beethoven’s
heroism. There is nothing contrived about
it; it originates from the depths of his soul. Is
melancholy accepted in society? Who could
frankly say “I am sad”, without being faced
by collective pity – or even derision? I am in
awe of Chopin because of the true greatness
that speaks to us through his uncompromising
honesty.
My CD begins with the great Ballade
No. 4 in F Minor. The piece starts with a
simple theme in C Major. Nothing – so it
seems – could cloud this idyll. But just as
C Major, the dominant, must resolve into
the tonic with ironclad determination, the
actual main theme in F Minor must follow.
The plaintive character of this melody
determines the entire spirit of the Ballade;
the only contrast is a sweet, gently swaying
theme in B-flat Major. After the thematic
exposition, many images are painted in the
free development: some portentously mystic,
some gracefully elegant, some joyfully
rebellious. The climax is the surprising –
and parenthetically interjected – return of
the simple first theme in the wonderfully
distant key of A Major. The story becomes
increasingly agitated in the recapitulation.
The main theme now seems already rather
distressed, with its fast runs and frequent
rubato, while the third theme constantly
intensifies and finally soars to a triumphant
D-sharp Major at the end. Here, now, follow
the entire tragic consequences of this
Ballade: after a forced modulation to the
F Minor tonic, the music races along with
unusually brusk and brutal chords that
violently announce the end of the piece.
It seems as though the entire work is running
towards this painful funeral march.
One sees comparisons with Chopin’s own
life – the composer died after a long, severe
illness at the age of 39. After a G.P.,
we hear the chimes of a bell that seem to
come from heaven (in C Major, as at the
beginning!), but which are hardly capable
of providing solace. Finally, the work ends
with a frenetic F Minor coda, full of – it
can’t be described any other way – chaotic
and frenzied desperation.
In contrast to the great Ballade, Chopin’s
sadness reveals itself in the Nocturnes
in the reverse form. The beginning of the
Nocturne op. 48, No 1, for example, expresses
simple melancholy. C Minor governs
the musical events for 24 bars until a new,
chorale-like theme in C Major suddenly
appears in the middle section. First held
exceptionally quiet, it gradually develops
triumphant power. The return of the main
theme has an all the more frightening
effect; it is now twice as fast as at the beginning
and sounds fearfully distorted. After
a last despairing escalation, the Nocturne
ends with inconceivably lonely, restrained
C Minor chords. Without a doubt, the triumphant
middle section holds a vision of
power and happiness, but this is thwarted
in and by the night. It is not real, but only
a short dream. Only a quiet, nightly sadness
remains.
The second Nocturne seems almost
sadder to me. If one could say that the
previous piece does rebel to an extent, the
second seems to be without resistance,
without animation, only exhaustion. The
descending melodic lines seem to go on
forever. The slow tempo and the many
piano interjections and ritardandi of the
D-sharp Major middle section – if fast, it
could even be a scherzo – gives this part
a powerless and oddly apathetic feel. The
only real climax returns to F-sharp Minor
via an amazing deceptive cadence. The
recapitulation surprises with new variants
and leads after many chains of trills to the
conclusion in F-sharp Major that ends the
Nocturne with sweet weariness. It is thus
not the powerful vision and plaintive resistance
of the first Nocturne that leads to
a close in a major key, but the complete
surrender of the second. This is Chopin’s
honest confession of faith, which must
earn our esteem.
The second part of my CD is dedicated
to works of the modern. Alban Berg’s Sonata
op. 1 connects the two epochs; one
could call this elegiac work the greatest
possible intensification of the romantic
will to expression. Simultaneously, however,
its seeming atonality points toward the
future. With its end in B Minor – except
for the beginning, the only B Minor chord
in the whole sonata – tonality is buried in
this dusky key: a new age begins.
The Variations op. 27 by Anton Webern
are among my favorite works of all. Down
to the last detail, everything is constructed
according to twelve-tone techniques.
Despite this, however, the composition
manifests brilliant expressivity. Webern –
contrary to the false impressions of dry
minimalists – wanted to give just about
every tone its own manner of expression.
He thus sang(!) his music to his students –
but never told them about the techniques
he used to compose it. I hope that you
learn to like the restrained first movement,
the humorously moving second movement
and the last movement, which goes
through a number of different moods, as
much as I do.
This is followed by a digression into
contemporary music. I had the great
pleasure to be able to premiere the following
two Préludes by Manfred Trojahn and
am proud to present the first recording of
them as well. Written as an homage to the
Préludes of Claude Debussy, Trojahn finds
his own modern musical language for the
pieces. Just let the titles inspire you…
In conclusion, I recorded a work that is
primarily formed by its terse rhythms: Alberto
Ginastera’s Sonata No. 2 from 1982.
The joyful first movement is based on various
Latin American dances, while the nocturne-
like second movement is inspired by
songs of aboriginal peoples. Ginastera said
the theme of this movement is a melancholy
love song sung in the night. The middle section,
composed in the manner of a scherzo,
represents very quiet sounds in the stillness
of the night. The last movement blooms
once again with rhythmic power – a music
whose brutality is thoroughly deliberate. It
is thus not surprising that the sonata ends
vigorously and energetically.
I wish you great pleasure with this music!
Clemens Berg
Translation: Elizabeth Gahbler