"TAKE THE 2 TRAIN" (11/10/2010)

The jazz standard "Take the A Train" by Billy Strayhorn became the signature tune for Duke Ellington and his orchestra. The title refers to the train going into Harlem from Manhattan.  In New York, the trains or subways do more than get people from point A to point B.  They take people from one world to another.  And because one is underground much of the time, the movement to another world is not recognizable until one emerges. On Wednesday, November 10,  I took the 2 train from near my apartment to Brooklyn College, one of its terminal stops.  While much of Brooklyn College itself has the well-manicured and highly organized layout of a typical Euro-centric liberal arts college, the surrounding environment is gritty and ethnically very diverse. A wrought iron fence gently but clearly separates the college from its neighbors.  The the students at the college reflect the diversity of the community.  While at BC I had a wonderful  meeting with Jeff Taylor, who directs the Hitchcock Center for Studies in American Music and teaches courses in American music.  He is a jazz specialist.  He provided me with some wonderful contacts and we had a good time sharing research and performance interests (he, like me, is a pianist).

After our meeting, I hopped back on the 2 train and traveled all the way to the upper, upper west side of Manhattan to attend masterclass at Manhattan School of Music.  Leaving the train, I was of course struck by the extremely large blocks of apartment buildings lining the street.  As I made my way down Broadway toward 122nd St. I could see and, more importantly, feel a change in atmosphere.  Sighting the famous Riverside Church spire clinched the deal.  I was entering a world of privilege and greater exclusivity.  I had come here to attend a master class given by the highly regarded pianist Robert Levin.  I was leaving a world of jazz, Latino, and African-American music and entering the world of Bach, Mozart and Beethoven, Levin's specialties.   Ironically, just as improvisation is a key element in jazz, Levin is especially noted for his improvisation in 18th century keyboard music.  Arriving late, I found Levin discussing one of Haydn's late piano sonatas, the Sonata in C Major.  My mind almost immediately flashed back to Alfred Brendel's talk at NYU.  Levin was exploring the whole idea of character in Haydn's sonata.  He worked with the student on going beyond her well-prepared but buttoned-up performance to one that would be much more comical, witty and even "naughty."  Levin noted that although Haydn was in his 60s when he composed this work he was acting more like a juvenile delinquent much of the time.  He urged the student to play the work, not like a prim and proper sixty year old but like a mischievous teenager.  One of his comments reminded me of Brendel's.  He noted that comic effects often depend on the disruption of what is expected.  Levin conducted a great master class in that he was able to speak to the student and to the audience. He was able to take specific points as starting places for larger issues.  He also had wonderful expressions, such as "Haydn should never be microwaved."  He noted that in this sonata,  Haydn changes personalities constantly. The underlying unity of the work allows him to do this.

Another student then performed three movements from Bach's English Suite in D minor. While the work was technically well performed for the most part, the student did not project much character or show that he had explored Bach's imagination to any extent.  Levin noted the daemonic implications of the key of D minor for many composers and that this work should take the listener to the edge of coherence.  Again, a buttoned-down performance would not do.  In interpreting the work the performer must make Bach's story the listener's story.  The listener must be involved.  Of the many wonderful comments Levin made a few stand out.  First, he commented that a secure technical approach to a piece is not based on playing it over and over. He referred to this as "sandpapering the music."  While a little sandpapering might smooth out some rough spots it can also destroy the contours and textures and render the work lifeless or lacking in any distinct profile. He referred to the miraculous key changes in the extended gigue as a "guided tour of the universe."  He said that repetitions in the sarabande needed easily five times as much ornamentation and embellishment as the performer provided and cited Bach's written-out ornamentation in his English Suite in G minor as an example of what Bach might have done. The performer's generally well-executed rendition has the potential of being a true musical event.

In taking my trip on the 2 train I moved from a world that is learning about discipline, boundaries and expectations to a world that knows these things all too well and needs to learn about discovery, freedom and spontaneity.  These two worlds have much to learn from each other.