Like a lot of music that violists play, this piece was originally written for the violin. It was composed for the Indianapolis Violin Competition and was the required piece for competitors in 2014. Zwillich was nice enough to publish this version for viola so that we don’t have to resort to theft to get in on the action! It is a fun, showy piece with lots of opportunities to show different characters.

When listening to violin recordings of this piece, I noticed that some little details were missing in this version for viola. The violin version has a couple of left-hand pizzicato spots that become straight arco passages in the viola version, and there are a few places where double-stops are reduced to single notes. I have never really liked the sound of left-hand pizzicato, so I left those spots as written when I recorded, but my foolish pride compelled me to add the double stops back in. You may notice a particularly nasty, out-of-tune octave near the beginning of the piece that suggests I probably should have left well enough alone… Anyway, it was a lot of fun to learn and play!

It’s Christmas time, so I thought I would join the throngs of musicians posting their favorite holiday classics by sharing these three duets by Bartók! The first one is called “Dancing Song,” then “Sorrow” (2020, amirite?) and finally “Scherzo.”

There is not a lot to say about these pieces that isn’t in the last Bartók post, so instead I will just say to watch for more posts from me in the coming weeks. It looks like it will still be a little while before I get back to anything like a normal performing schedule, and while I have been working on some new music, I have been lazy about recording. So, coming up is music by Ellen Taaffe Zwilich, Hindemith, maybe Stravinsky(?), and of course Bach! Now that it is in writing, it’s sure to happen!

Happy Holidays to everyone!

Well, another long break between recordings. I have been working on a few pieces that will make their way onto video at some point, but they have proved to be more challenging than I first thought!

Anyway, It snowed a couple weeks ago, and the trees looked so beautiful covered in snow that I went out for a walk in the woods. I was recording some videos of the scenery on my phone when I suddenly remembered that my friend Jonathan had sent me a piece he composed for three violas, and that the title had something to do with snow. I immediately convinced myself that I was a master cinematographer, and had visions of a lush music video with majestic snowy vistas and swooping camera moves. These aspirations were eventually pared down to a couple shots of snowy paths with title cards over them, but I think it turned out all right!

This is another one where I played and recorded all three parts, and then mixed the recordings together. It is a really nice piece, with some extended techniques and “effects” (the scratches are intentional, I swear!), but also some beautiful melodies and harmonies. I really miss playing with Jonathan and all my Ursa friends, so it was nice to get to collaborate again, even from a distance!

Check out Jonathan’s website!

https://www.jonathanhannau.com/

In Memory is a very recent piece for solo viola by the composer Quinn Mason. On his web page for the piece, (which you can see here), he writes:

“This piece wasn't written about a specific time or person. It is meant to be a contemplation of memories past, which could be anything the listener/player desires…”

I find this piece to be very effective. For me, it has the quality of a difficult or painful memory that lurks below the surface of your thoughts, sometimes bubbling up and threatening to overwhelm you before fading into the background.

A few weeks ago I got a request from my Godfather for videos of the Bartók duets, and while I think I would have been safe to refuse him, I decided to err on the side of safety. Bartók was one of the earliest people to make an academic study of folk music, before ethnomusicology was a degree offered at universities. In the early 1900s He traveled in eastern Europe and Africa, lugging around a phonograph that he used to record music played by the people he met. Some of these recordings are available on YouTube, and while the sound quality is obviously not what we are used to, I think they are fascinating. Here is a link to those recordings if you are interested, though I should warn you that when I make students listen to them they don’t seem as excited as I am… https://youtu.be/MhCoDIiWtzw

It’s been over a month since I last posted! A couple weeks ago I got to play an actual performance with two other live humans (for a live streamed donor event), and that really made me realize how much I miss playing music with other people. Recording alone in my living room with bad acoustics just isn’t as fun… I have found some music that I am excited to start working on, though, so I am going to get back into the swing of recording more regularly! I’ll start with the final movement of the Bach, the Gigue. Honestly, this is probably the least interesting of the movements, but it is bouncy and fun to play. I actually made this recording weeks ago, but I was irked by two out-of-tune B flats in close proximity, so I didn’t post it. I recorded it again a few times yesterday, and while I managed to avoid playing those two notes out of tune, I liked everything else about the old recording better! It’s too bad, because the video from yesterday includes some new artwork on my wall that I got recently, but I guess it will have to wait until the next video!

Two videos again today! First up are the Bourreés from the Bach Cello Suite no. 4. Even though they are technically 2 separate movements, they are usually grouped together. The instruction in the score is to play the first Bourreé, then the second, and then go back and repeat the first. I have always been a little bothered by this particular set of dances because I think the second Bourreé is one of the most beautiful movements from all of the suites and it only lasts for a few seconds! I recently listened to a very interesting recording of the suites by a viola da gamba player named Paolo Pandolfo. In addition to re-voicing many of the chords to take better advantage of the 6 strings on his instrument, he also makes some…let’s say…bold interpretive choices. He came up with a pretty clever solution to my complaint about the second Bourreé being to short, which is to just repeat the movement many times in a row! I actually like it a lot when he plays it, but when I experimented with it I found that I was not quite satisfied with the results. I think there is a virtue to making a brief, simple statement, and then continuing on your way.

The second video is one of the sillier things I have ever made. On Instagram, people have been posting videos where they record themselves playing all of the different parts of a work meant for multiple people, and then editing the recordings together, effectively playing the ensemble with “yourselves.” I found a recording of a German Folk Song called Der Gutzgauch auf dem Zaune saß, or The Cuckoo Sits on a Fence. This is a bit of a special tune for violists because it is one of the melodies that Hindemith used in his viola concerto. I worked out the different vocal lines by ear and then wrote them out for viola, and then employed some pretty sophisticated video editing techniques! Look for my special effects credit in the next Star Wars movie!

Another long break between videos! I actually recorded this movement last week and was about to post it, but at the last minute I decided I could probably do better. I recorded it again today and listened to the two recordings back to back, and the one from today is in fact cleaner and and more controlled. It’s gratifying when practicing actually produces noticeable results!

There’s not actually a lot to say about this movement. It’s fast, there are a lot of notes. Instead I want to share another project I was working on this week. I have two students in Naperville who I have been teaching over Zoom. This summer will probably be the last lessons I will have with them, and I am going to miss them a lot! Since we can’t have a real recital this semester, I wanted to come up with a project we could do to fill that space. I found a little Mozart Trio that someone transcribed for three violas, and I had the two of them each record a part and I played the third. Then I edited the three of us together and came up with this video.

Just a little bit of information about the musicians. Ethan is playing viola 1, and despite being an extremely advanced violist, he will be starting a degree in science(?) or something (not music?!) in college in the fall. Lauren is going to start eighth grade in the fall, and has only been playing for about 3 years or so. She has been one of the hardest working students I have ever worked with, and she is using vibrato in this recording!

It’s been quite a while since my last post, so here are two videos! The Courante is usually a faster dance in Bach suites, with a bouncy and lively character. In Italian, the same dance is called a Corrente, which is also the term for “running.” In this example from the 4th Suite, there is a lot of back and forth between triplets and duples to keep the texture lively.

The next dance contrasts with the quick and exciting Courante. The Sarabande is usually the slowest movement in the Cello Suites, and is usually the most serious in character. All of the dotted rhythms in this particular Sarabande set it apart from the other suites. I think the effect is similar to a Baroque French Overture, sounding poised and austere.

I don’t really know anything about Max Reger except that he was German and liked fugues (a fact I recall from some long-ago music history class). I’m not sure I could even name any of his compositions outside of the three Viola Suites, and so I was a little surprised to learn (after a quick glance at Wikipedia) that he was not a violist. While they are quite difficult to play, these suites fit very well on the viola and are a good showcase for the instrument. This slow movement has long, interesting melodies with lots of opportunities to show off lush double stops in the lower register of the instrument, something violists love to do. A lot of the music I play is transcribed from other instruments, so it feels good to play a piece composed by someone who really understood the instrument!

This is probably the most difficult movement in the Suite, which is partly why it took me so long to make another video! It is a fun piece, though, with big dynamic contrasts and lots of dramatic gestures. The contrasting middle section is slower and more melodic, and is really quite beautiful. When I played this piece in school, I thought of this as the “funny” movement, but playing it now I detect nastiness in the laughter that I did not notice before. I think I was probably too concerned with playing the double stops in tune to notice how mournful the melodic middle section is, and how the laughter surrounding it might be more cruel than mirthful.

As a violist, I never thought that I would have to play Paganini. In school, watching my violinist friends struggle with the Caprices made me grateful that I had chosen a more sensible instrument. Not only is Paganini famously difficult, but there is also the knowledge that every string player in earshot is going to be listening and judging, comparing you to recordings of the greatest violinists in history. In more honest moments, I may have acknowledged a bit of jealousy, brought on by the fact that the Viola does not really have music comparable to the Caprices, and that I would not have had the skill to play them even if we did. I decided that I did not like Paganini, and that as a violist, I was above such silly displays of empty virtuosity.

When Mr. Kawasaki, one of my teachers at the University of Cincinnati, suggested that I work on Paganini, I dismissed it out of hand. He was a very technically minded teacher, and over the seven years that I studied with him and Dr. Carroll, they methodically rebuilt my playing from the ground up. I was (and still am) extremely grateful for the skills that they taught me, but by the end of my time with them I felt like had reached the limits of my technical progress. I was ready to be a musician, I was not interested in the mindless finger exercises of Paganini! My next teach was Sally Chisholm at the University of Wisconsin. She talked about music very differently than my previous teachers, and her thinking about viola technique seemed completely new to me. So I was surprised when she suggested that I work on Paganini, just as Mr. Kawasaki had! I guess the moral of the story is to trust your teachers when they tell you do something. Who knew!?

Anyway, some of the greatest advances in my playing have come from practicing Paganini. The Caprices are sometimes dismissed as “simple” show-pieces, but I find them to be a fascinating collection of works. They can be straightforward and satisfying, but are also often quirky and surprising in interesting ways. He always finds a way to engage your musical imagination, enticing you to improve past what you thought you could do. I have never had a performance of Paganini that was entirely successful (including this video, sigh), but working on this music always makes me better!

I confess that I do not know a whole lot about Barouque dance forms. When I have looked for information about them I tend to find vague ideas about strong and weak beats along with a general observation about style. There is usually a caveat that by the time Bach was composing, these forms had been so greatly embellished and expanded upon that it is unlikely they were intended to accompany actual dancing. While the dances in Bach’s Cello Suites bear little resemblance to their 16th-century ancestors, they do each have a distinct character. One of the most challenging aspects of playing (and teaching) these pieces is to identify what gives each dance its character, and then to bring that character out in performance.

Over the years I have found it useful to sort the dance movements of the Cello Suites into two basic groups. The first are dances that sound like they are meant for people in wigs and fancy dresses in a fancy house, and the second are dances that sound like they are meant for an outdoor fair around the table where the beer is served. The allemandes tend to fall in the first category, and to my ear they tend to be the “fanciest” of the dances in the Cello Suites.

Today I am posting two pieces from John Harbison’s collection of short, solo viola works called The Violist’s Notebook. In his notes at the beginning of the score, Harbison writes that he had Campanioli’s collection of “inventive, musical, and satisfying viola etudes” in mind when composing this collection. They are all very short, but still manage to have surprising moments that are a lot of fun to play with.

Each of the pieces in the collection are dedicated to a well-known violist, and so I am honor bound to start with the one composed for my teacher, Sally Chisholm. Sally told me that this one was named after her because it is the prettiest, and I’m not going to argue with that! The next one is named after Marcus Thompson, who I have never met, but listening to this piece I assume he wears lots of cool sun glasses and leather jackets!

This piece really deserves better than a small, carpeted apartment living room, but I can’t imagine surviving quarantine without Bach! I once had a conversation with the violist Michael Strauss about the Cello Suites. His theory is that they map pretty directly on to the experience of aging. The First Suite is the uncomplicated joy of childhood, the Second is angsty teen drama, then comes the confidant swagger of youth, and the Fourth is a slightly bumbling, but somehow still noble middle age. To follow through with the last two, the Fifth Suite is the pain and sorrow of old age, and the Sixth is the sublime joy of heaven.

Certainly I think the prelude to the Fourth Suite fits this theory! Instead of flowing melodic lines, there are awkward, jumpy arpeggios with difficult string crossings. Instead of inventive rhythmic patterns, there is a an almost uninterrupted march of steady eighth notes. But Bach knew what he was doing, and despite what seems like a recipe for a plodding slog, this Prelude strikes me as being particularly elegant. (I mean, I hope that’s how it comes across, anyway!)

First up is a piece I played in my undergrad and then kind of forgot about until recently when looking for a piece to assign to a student. This is the first movement from the Suite for Solo Viola No. 1 by Max Reger. As a student, I remember being confused by how he seemed to intentionally undercut satisfying phrases with "weird" dynamics. The slightly aimless quality seems a little more appropriate to me, now.

Quarantine has left me with more free time than I know what to do with, and I have found myself spending time with music that has often been in the back of my mind, but that I have not had an opportunity to work on seriously. Some are pieces I played as a student that I want a second crack at, some are pieces that I bought years ago thinking they would be fun to learn "someday," and some are pieces that I have practiced on and off for years but have never had a chance to perform. It is gratifying to finally have the time to work on them, but as the weeks wear on I find myself less motivated to seriously practice with no concrete goal.

So, one day I made a video of a movement from the first Reger Suite (which will be the next post) and emailed it to my friends and family, thinking I could make a newsletter kind of thing. Then it occurred to me that I pay for this website and pretty much never use it, and maybe I should embrace the technology of the early 2000s and put these videos in a blog! So here it is, Viola at a Distance.