Stephen Hough wrote an interesting blog post on November 27th about a work that, in spite of its unmistakable beauty, is often underrated or even dismissed. Perhaps its ubiquity and reputation in some circles as a "teaching concerto", a fate shared with the Mendelssohn G minor concerto, cause us to forget what a wonderful work Edvard Grieg's lone piano concerto (score here) is. You may read his original post here.
Hough does raise one interesting point, however, that I don't disagree with, but would rather like to carry just a little bit further. And I believe that I e-speak with some authority on this subject since unlike Stephen Hough, I lack the talent and drive to pursue a performing career, and instead I spend my leisure time (if any, of course) listening to music, perusing scores and trying to become an overly-educated dilettante. Not to say that Hough doesn't seek out interesting scores as well; I don't think he found a copy of the Schloezer Etude, op. 1 no. 2 while shopping at his local Walmart.
Thirty years after writing his famous concerto, Grieg wrote the Notturno op. 54 [no. 4], one of the most beautiful of his Lyric Pieces and something I often play as an encore. In this work, written in the evening of his life, he quotes his early concerto, and it is a heartbreakingly sad moment in this tender piece.
I would carry this point further. Grieg does not "[quote] his early concerto" only in the Nocturne. He quotes it every darn where, it would seem.
Like Francis Poulenc, but not as frequently (in Poulenc's case, one could say "constantly"), he seems to utilize this "do-ti-re" motive throughout many of his most familiar pieces. The Cello Sonata, op. 36 (in A minor, no less) quotes it so extensively that one has to wonder if discarded sketches from the Concerto wound up in the Cello Sonata. Catch this stirring performance of the third movement by Mischa Maisky and Martha Argerich, whose matching passion and similar coifs make this a literally hair-raising performance. Starting just after 2:12, you hear a reworking of what I call the "Concerto Motive" that slices, dices, and juliennes those three notes about as much as the opening flourish of the concerto. [February 2011: The former link to a performance of this has been made "private", fortunately someone else has posted the same performance. So hair it is.]
Like Francis Poulenc, but not as frequently (in Poulenc's case, one could say "constantly"), he seems to utilize this "do-ti-re" motive throughout many of his most familiar pieces. The Cello Sonata, op. 36 (in A minor, no less) quotes it so extensively that one has to wonder if discarded sketches from the Concerto wound up in the Cello Sonata. Catch this stirring performance of the third movement by Mischa Maisky and Martha Argerich, whose matching passion and similar coifs make this a literally hair-raising performance. Starting just after 2:12, you hear a reworking of what I call the "Concerto Motive" that slices, dices, and juliennes those three notes about as much as the opening flourish of the concerto. [February 2011: The former link to a performance of this has been made "private", fortunately someone else has posted the same performance. So hair it is.]
Probably the most blatant use of the "concerto motive" is found in the third of the Symphonic Dances, op. 64. I could not find a video of it on YouTube, even though it is the most familiar of the four. There is a score at IMSLP, however, and here I link to a copy of the score arranged by Grieg for four hands. Click ahead to page 23 of the pdf file, and voila!
Perhaps, as Schumann had his "Clara motive" (usually interpreted as sol-fa-me-re-do), this might be his "Nina motive". Did it evolve into his "Percy motive"? He certainly whips it around.
That just about ties up this subject, until the Hough recording of this concerto is released. When it is, I already sense that my beloved Perahia recording is about to be relegated to a second-string position, as the Grieg Concerto, in my opinion, is a work that begs for the quality that Hough brings to a work.
(And for my usual Amazon.com link, I would like to call your attention to Hough's charming "Spanish Album", which contains one of my favorite repertoire discoveries - a work I have played since high school, Walter Niemann's "Evening in Seville".)
What would one of these articles be like without a "personal aside"? While in college, I performed in a public recital hosted by my college's summer music academy for high school students. I had served as a counselor and assisted in classes, and all the assistants performed in a group program. I performed the Ravel Sonatine and received my first "positive review", as the local paper had actually sent a critic to cover the program. The reviewer called me a "no-nonsense pianist who takes his work seriously" and complimented me on my "outstanding clarity and beautiful tone quality". He spoke with us after the recital and told us a story of the time he attended and covered a rehearsal of some pianist playing the Grieg First Piano Concerto. So I guess I shouldn't take much stock in that review.
Thanks for your research and revelation of this interesting use of the Concerto motive. The Baroque composers actually "borrowed" from each other so it seems logical that composers would borrow from their other works. Great blog--keep us up-to-date.
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