Beethoven’s Op. 49 piano sonatas are generally considered to be simple pieces. Both No. 19 and No. 20 are in two movements, and by most pianists are considered to be rather elementary works. Beethoven himself may not have thought much of the No. 20 sonata, as it was likely written about a decade before its publication, among some of his suppressed early works.
So when I say that I gave up playing the piano because I hit the challenge of the No. 19 sonata, I’m not exactly tooting my own horn as a great pianist who was tackling a monumental piece. I was about 10 or 12, I think. By my own admission, and my mom’s frustration, I practiced little and seldom. My parents had gotten me private lessons in my home, we had a beautiful baby grand to practice on …. And I just never found the patience to do it.
Moreover, my inability to tackle this basic piece, which was completely owing to my lack of dedication to hard work, was worsened by my love of the beauty of the work itself. While it is simple, it is a delightful sonata. Artur Schnabel also contributed to my surrender – the Viennese pianist’s recording from 1932-35 amazed me with his technical brilliance as well as keen ability to capture the ebbs and flows of the thematic emphasis which Beethoven had tossed back and forth from the treble to the bass lines. I heard the beauty that he created and only felt dismay – I would never be able to play it this well, never.
I always think about this as a great loss when I listen to this piece today, years and years later. There is a pain in the mature mind to look back at one’s own inability to seize an opportunity as a child. I had a piano, I had lessons, I had a love of music – I just didn’t have the drive or patience to practice (at that age). The same way we look back on all the classic literature we explored in Cliffs Notes in high school, instead of really reading. If I had done my work at age 10-12, I would be able to play this piece to myself today. If I had read my assigned reading at age 16-18, I wouldn’t still have Ulysses on my ongoing list of books to read.
Our sense of perception and valuation grows as we age. At 10-12, all I wanted to do was watch afternoon and Saturday morning cartoons. Only now do I realize the value I could have gained by spending just an hour a day sitting at that piano fondling the keys. Only now do I realize what I lost. And only now do I listen to Schnabel’s rendition and realize that we shouldn’t ever stop what we’re doing since someone before us has done it better (I’m no Shakespeare, but if I don’t write just because I won’t achieve his sonnets, I’ll never find value in my own thoughts and words). But in listening to Schnabel and reading Shakespeare, we aspire to greatness in our own playing and writing. We should find inspiration, not dejection, in those experiences.
But as my sorrow on listening to Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 19 persists, I am luckily reinvigorated by a realization that my loss is not permanent! I can buy a piano, I can buy lessons (I still know how to read music, so I could probably pick up the basics of the piece myself first). Don’t let disappointment at what we lost of a prior time curse us today. We cannot let it.
I should buy a piano. I should buy some sheet music. I should listen to Schnabel. I should sit down and play.
So when I say that I gave up playing the piano because I hit the challenge of the No. 19 sonata, I’m not exactly tooting my own horn as a great pianist who was tackling a monumental piece. I was about 10 or 12, I think. By my own admission, and my mom’s frustration, I practiced little and seldom. My parents had gotten me private lessons in my home, we had a beautiful baby grand to practice on …. And I just never found the patience to do it.
Moreover, my inability to tackle this basic piece, which was completely owing to my lack of dedication to hard work, was worsened by my love of the beauty of the work itself. While it is simple, it is a delightful sonata. Artur Schnabel also contributed to my surrender – the Viennese pianist’s recording from 1932-35 amazed me with his technical brilliance as well as keen ability to capture the ebbs and flows of the thematic emphasis which Beethoven had tossed back and forth from the treble to the bass lines. I heard the beauty that he created and only felt dismay – I would never be able to play it this well, never.
I always think about this as a great loss when I listen to this piece today, years and years later. There is a pain in the mature mind to look back at one’s own inability to seize an opportunity as a child. I had a piano, I had lessons, I had a love of music – I just didn’t have the drive or patience to practice (at that age). The same way we look back on all the classic literature we explored in Cliffs Notes in high school, instead of really reading. If I had done my work at age 10-12, I would be able to play this piece to myself today. If I had read my assigned reading at age 16-18, I wouldn’t still have Ulysses on my ongoing list of books to read.
Our sense of perception and valuation grows as we age. At 10-12, all I wanted to do was watch afternoon and Saturday morning cartoons. Only now do I realize the value I could have gained by spending just an hour a day sitting at that piano fondling the keys. Only now do I realize what I lost. And only now do I listen to Schnabel’s rendition and realize that we shouldn’t ever stop what we’re doing since someone before us has done it better (I’m no Shakespeare, but if I don’t write just because I won’t achieve his sonnets, I’ll never find value in my own thoughts and words). But in listening to Schnabel and reading Shakespeare, we aspire to greatness in our own playing and writing. We should find inspiration, not dejection, in those experiences.
But as my sorrow on listening to Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 19 persists, I am luckily reinvigorated by a realization that my loss is not permanent! I can buy a piano, I can buy lessons (I still know how to read music, so I could probably pick up the basics of the piece myself first). Don’t let disappointment at what we lost of a prior time curse us today. We cannot let it.
I should buy a piano. I should buy some sheet music. I should listen to Schnabel. I should sit down and play.