I have been ruminating on
the subject of musical memorization since last year, when I read an
article in the New York Times that praised one ensemble for performing
a difficult contemporary piece from memory while taking to task a young
violinist for playing a Mozart sonata with the music. I began to wonder
what the role of memorizing should be in a performance. Does playing
without the music improve or detract from one's performance capabilities?
In search of answers, I spoke with a number of my colleagues, many of
whom perform frequently without notational aids. For some people (audience
members as well as performers), playing from memory can really enhance
the musical experience. For others, it is nerve-wracking and uncomfortable.
There do seem to be certain
audience expectations when it comes to memorization. Concertos, particularly
from the standard repertoire, are usually performed from memory. Judging
from the reaction of the Times reviewer, solo recital repertoire
should also be performed without the notes, at least at New York debuts.
I have to say, that poor violinist was perhaps not the best example,
since the Mozart sonatas are chamber works that are really duets between
equal partners of violinist and pianist. If the violinist must memorize,
shouldn't the pianist? And what if a performer is uncomfortable playing
without the music? Doesn’t this detract more from audience enjoyment?
As harpsichordist Byron Schenkman puts it, "The priority is providing
the best possible musical experience for the audience. How to get to
that will vary from performer to performer, and also will vary depending
on context." I once heard a duo cellist and pianist—both in
their teens—perform a Brahms sonata from memory. They played well,
but their nervousness (particularly the pianist's) at playing without
notes made those of us in the audience feel uncomfortable too.
As to what is expected of
a performer, I was interested to read last year of the experiences of
a writer for the New York Times who had competed in the amateur
division of the Van Cliburn Piano Competition. Although he felt he played
well in the finals, he did not win any awards. When he later queried
one of the judges, he found that he was the only finalist who hadn't
memorized (although scores were acceptable under the competition rules),
and that may have counted against him.
Keyboard soloists are often
required to play without music, particularly on the standard repertoire.
For string players, this is true when performing solos. I know that
cellist Anner Byslma advocates that solo cellists perform from memory,
since he feels that music stands create a barrier between cellist and
audience. I have seen him perform everything from obscure Dutch cello
sonatas to Bach Suites and standard concertos, and he always does so
without the music. But since violinists and violists often stand or
sit sideways to the audience, to take advantage of the best projection
of their instruments, the music stand is not quite so daunting an obstacle.
Memorization has taken on
a very personal meaning to me these days, since I am to perform a Vivaldi
cello concerto with the Portland Baroque Orchestra this season. I have
not performed from memory since I was in graduate school, and (dare
I admit it?) I haven't played a solo concerto in public for much longer.
Since I fear that I will be nervous enough just because I'm not used
to playing concertos, I am seriously considering using the music. In
this concerto's outer movements, the solo cello is accompanied only
by a small continuo group, contrasting nicely with the surrounding orchestral
passages. In keeping with performance practice, I plan to play along
with the bass section in the orchestral passages—and the idea of
memorizing these basic bass lines makes me more jittery than learning
the more melodic solo part!
I am not alone. New Yorker
Myron Lutzke maintains an extremely busy schedule as both a Baroque
and modern cellist. His feelings about the subject only confirm my fears
of playing without music: "For a freelance musician—for me,
anyway—memorization is not a daily routine. It takes courage and
practice, the former of which I have yet to muster. A leap of faith
is required. When I honestly think about it, I guess I would prefer
to play a concerto from memory if I could feel comfortable doing it,
but self-doubt is a powerful adversary." When he recently played
several high-profile performances of a Haydn cello concerto, he used
his music.
In contrast, some performers
feel a liberation when they dispense with the notes. In solo recitals,
Byron Schenkman elects to play from memory. "I feel it makes a
more direct connection between me and the audience," he declares,
"and it allows me to be a better medium between the music (or the
spirit of the music) and the audience." Also, he finds that in
much of his Baroque repertoire, "details are less important than
effect, and there's always more room for spontaneous improvisation."
Violinist Scott Metcalfe
also prefers the independence that he feels he gains from memorizing.
"Memorizing frees you up from what is on the page," he explains.
"It can heighten your improvisatory nature. Maybe it just frees
the imagination."
He and his wife, cellist
and gambist Emily Walhout, are members of the King's Noyse, a "violin
band" that performs some of its 16th- and 17th-century programs
completely from memory. They both have observed that the audience interacts
more with the players when there are no music stands between them. "The
audience loves it," says Metcalfe, although he admits that "it
doesn't make me feel any more connected to them." He notes that
when the King's Noyse memorizes a new program, it is indeed challenging
at first. "We have to rehearse a lot, and it helps us develop more
awareness of what is going on contrapuntally." Walhout does not
particularly relish performing without the music: "I'm just nervous
about it," she admits, "but I think that people do perform
more musically without the music."
Metcalfe certainly finds
the process of memorization advantageous. "Playing from memory
is a guarantee that the music is prepared at a certain level,"
he states. "It's a way of not letting myself get away with anything
in preparation."
I have certainly noticed
that the process of memorizing can be extremely helpful in understanding
the structure of a piece of music, and in really familiarizing oneself
with all the different aspects of the work. Some years ago, I had a
particularly difficult time trying to memorize the Prelude to Bach's
Fifth Cello Suite, which has an extended fugal section. The same cadence
appears a number of times in the fugue, and if you aren't careful, you
can get stuck in memorization purgatory—repeating the same section
over and over, instead of moving forward. I had a terrible time playing
the movement without the music, but my teacher at the time, Heidi Litschauer
in Salzburg, had endless patience. She forced me to play through it
without the notes: if I faltered, she'd show me the offending measure,
then make me continue. To be sure I was aware of what my left hand was
doing, she had me write the fingerings over every note (with the cello
in its case). She even encouraged me to write out the entire movement.
It's very complex, and I certainly felt I knew it intimately by the
time I performed it—from memory. But I never felt truly comfortable
playing it without the security blanket of written notes nearby.
As Schenkman mentioned,
context is important in deciding when to memorize. For example, he prefers
to rely on sheet music in concertos where there is extended chamber
music—like interplay between the soloist and members of the orchestra.
"When I used the score in the Beethoven Op. 15, I don’t think
I lost any intensity and I gained freedom to interact better with the
other players," he says. He also points out that trust is an important
issue when a number of players are involved. He performs and records
with violinist Ingrid Matthews and, in a recent all-Bach duo recital,
they played entirely from memory. Says Schenkman, "If we have enough
time to rehearse, we can play even the hardest music from memory, because
we have so much musical trust. It does make for a very intense performance,
though—much more intense than it would have been had we used the
scores."
Interestingly, when Schenkman
says that the music he plays allows for "spontaneous improvisation,"
he also mentions that "this would not be true in a Bartók
quartet!" I have heard a (perhaps apocryphal) story of Bartók
reacting quite negatively to a memorized performance of one of his string
quartets by the Kolisch Quartet. He felt that the group could not possibly
reproduce all the nuances of the score without making use of the notes.
This brings up the question, how literal to the score can a memorized
piece be? As Myron Lutzke puts it, "Should the goal be for the
music to be yours alone and not a 'reading' of the composer's ideas?
Should you be like a jazz player?"
It seems that I've raised
more questions than I've answered. Students are expected to memorize
(as Lutzke says, "often to the detriment of their reading skills").
Whether you enjoy performing without notes or find that it makes you
uncomfortable, there is no question that you will find memorization
an extremely useful skill, one that improves with practice. For me,
the most important realization is that playing from memory should never
detract from what performance is all about: bringing music to life in
a meaningful way.
