Concerto Blog, Vol. 1: Hurry Up and Wait

I was in Cleveland recording a chamber work when I received, in September 2018, an email from Alex Pauk asking about my interest in composing a piano concerto for Esprit Orchestra that I would premiere as soloist. In the life of a pianist-composer this is the commission you dream about – the one you contemplate from the beginning, far-fetched though it may seem. I took a bit of time to consider the offer ­(it was after all a substantial thing to commit to) and talked it over with the friend I was staying with at the time. “Should I really do this?” It was a question I already knew the answer to. I passed along my happy assent to Alex the next day. 

The previous autumn Esprit had performed my work Spacious Euphony to open their 35th anniversary season, on an ambitious program that also featured Colin McPhee’s Tabuh Tabuhan and Claude Vivier’s Siddhartha. What a revelation it was to see a Canadian orchestra tackle such complex music with utter fearlessness! From the first rehearsal I got to experience Esprit’s fierce musicianship and total commitment to every detail in the score. Composing for a group like this really brings out your best, for the prospect of a near-flawless performance brings with it the sober understanding that any flaws in sound / balance / pacing are yours alone to answer for. Mix in the element of being on stage with them as soloist and your nakedness is complete…!

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Why is the concerto an object of such veneration for us composer-performer types? Certainly there are many remarkable pieces in the repertoire that contribute to the genre’s prestige. But I think it has more to do with the vast potential it offers as a creative medium. In my view a concerto is the ultimate vessel for musical expression, a place to try out your boldest and most daring ideas, to ‘show us what you’ve got’, to fully self-actualize. A total blank slate. 

When writing for orchestra there are, despite a seeming infinitude of possibilities, hidden guardrails determining what effects a composer might be inclined towards because of the ensemble’s very particular instrumental proportions. In a concerto however the orchestra is no longer the locus of our attention, which lessens the impact of those received strictures. In its place there emerges a sort of ‘orchestra+++’, which subsumes both soloist and ensemble into a broader sonic plane with its own totally unique internal dynamism. 

Some canonical works explore this world to astonishing effect. My favourites, including the concerti of Schumann, Brahms and Rachmaninoff, are successful because the roles of the soloist and of the ensemble are in constant flux: at each moment the one might be putting the other into relief via conversation, reaction, amplification, etc. More recently in the 20th and 21st centuries we encounter works where piano and orchestra are fused together in a kind of meta-instrument, in which the latter serves as extension or ‘resonator’ of the former (Messiaen’s Turangalîla-Symphonie, Boulez’s Sur Incises and Unsuk Chin’s piano concerto being noteworthy examples of this approach). 

These masterworks are always top of mind for me, and so I deliberately took an expansive vision for my own concerto that could embrace all of the things I’d absorbed through them. I wanted to take listeners on a musical journey that was by turns virtuosic and brilliant, lush and expressive, somber and introspective, playful and mercurial, etc. As I often tell my students, why choose to restrain yourself in a piece when you’realready limited by so many things you’re not even aware of? 

The following audio example, drawn from the first movement, gives a glimpse of the variety in character I describe:

It required a full year of work to complete the piece from start to finish. Even with this extensive timeframe I recall a great rush leading up to the original concert date as I frantically orchestrated the final movement, typed up the score and practiced the solo part. What a surreal experience it was, then, when world events unfolded as they did, and the date of March 22, 2020, which had occupied the centre of my thoughts for so long, passed by like any other. 

Along with all of my other composer friends during this period I was left to watch the score gather dust on the shelf in the months that followed, wondering when it might eventually be brought to life. As the contours of the piece gently faded from memory I began to question things in it…perhaps I could use the circumstances to tinker a bit, to make some improvements? Does the piece actually come together as a coherent artistic statement? The usual insecurities, now stretched out excruciatingly in time... 

After a few false starts and delays we were finally able to gather in November 2021 to rehearse the work and produce a full studio recording. I am thrilled to be able to share excerpts from that session for the first time in this blog series, ahead of the premiere performance that will take place April 3 in Koerner Hall. After two years of waiting we hope to see you at this most exciting event!! 

Watch this space for next week’s installment in the blog series, where I’ll introduce some of the central poetic ideas of the concerto and share a few more audio samples.