Through the endless progress of time, invention and improvement, we have been led to the instruments that we know of today. But, as with most things in engineering, what we have gained in convenience, we have lost in variety of expression—the strive for uniformity of sound has eliminated the colors of tone that were once so widespread, and these many subtle modes of expression are now sadly lost on modern players and audiences.
But to what extent is this true?
We are lucky to live in such a time where the instruments of the past have been dug up, rebuilt and re-evaluated. And, to go along with these instruments, we have regained the knowledge of playing practices that have been lost for hundreds of years—methods that allow for near endless amounts of affectation, rather than rules for conformity.
Through the many brilliant orchestras and musicians that now specialize in playing these historical instruments, we have become reacquainted with a lost time. Imagine, we can almost achieve a direct communication with the past; by following the styles and practices laid out in the manuals of the time, we are as close as we can possibly come to emulating what audiences of former times once heard. This is an amazing prospect when thought of in this way. It is like reading the writings of ancient authors, it is the only way they speak to us in this day and age.
Through the medium of recordings, a whole new world of sound and music has been opened up to listeners across the world, breathing new life into old music. The freshness of such interpretations still abound with so much awe. One can choose any of the recordings that now exist by a period orchestra and be struck by the variety in interpretations. This is one aspect that can be found sorely missing from older, romantic styled performances from the first half of the twentieth century. Now, as it has been revealed, the uniformity of sound created a uniformity of interpretation, where the music of Mozart, Beethoven and all others were deemed to be played in only one manner, and deviations from that manner were met with ridicule.
The very nature of this music is one of democratic expression! Where all voices can be heard; and where differences in interpretations, style and playing are welcome in order to make the music unique and interesting each time. It is expected that the musicians will improvise their own little ways during performances in order to give expressiveness to the music each and every time. It is a shame that this method of thinking and playing has been so lost since the time of these compositions and their creation.
By using the original instruments that pertain to these compositions we can know how to get closer to the truth of how they should sound. The timbre of the instruments, the manner by which they need to be played, learning the style of the time period, all contribute to getting an accurate sound world almost frozen in time. But performances of this kind are unique; they become an insight into history, of how things once were. We gain by the knowledge, study and the hearing of such music. We see the fog of time cleared away, the picture of the past revealed in crystal clear tones, each equal in importance and meaning.
The contrast from modern performances is what gives us this insight. Modern orchestras, the halls they play in and the instruments they play on are all designed to be projected loudly, but not necessarily clearly. What becomes of the sound is generally a mess of unclear tones, much of the music becoming indistinguishable. The lines of counterpoint, melody and even harmony cannot be heard as individuals. This is key to hearing what each instrumental voice is saying in the musical dialogue.
The modern piano is the worst offender. It has become an enormous instrument, loud and clangorous. It fills a hall with sound, and masks the other players in an ensemble by sheer force. Instruments are the tools used in music. We always have to choose the right tool for what we need to do. The modern piano has become a tool that completely overdoes what the majority of the standard repertoire requires. It would be like trying to use a wrench to hammer in a nail. Perhaps a more accurate analogy would be using a jackhammer to put the nail in the board; the tool would be too big and powerful for a much simpler job.
When the rhythms are skewed, the tones manipulated, the ideas obfuscated, the whole music flattened to a point, to paraphrase Malcolm Bilson, at what point can this even be considered the same music? It is why audiences, when they hear the old music played in these old ways, they are enthralled as if it is new again. For it is new again! The liveliness and energy is restored. The clarity becomes foremost. The ideas, now straight from the composer’s own inner voice, are suddenly comprehensible.
These are all reasons why playing on historical instruments and studying period practice are important for the world of music today. By doing so we reveal what the composer’s meant to convey in their music. What was once confusion to the listener becomes meaningful thoughts. Seemingly odd choices in orchestral usage or playing methods are shown to be by-products of instruments and styles designed to do something completely different than the original intentions from the composer. What they heard was a world full of different sounds and tone-colors not available to us anymore. In a way, the musical world went from color film to black-and-white: the music is still there but the distinguishing features are blurred and mottled together.
As many in the historical movement have proved, we have also lost the ability to even properly read the music. The rhythms, the tempos, the pauses, the lengths of notes, the articulations, they all become ignored or subsumed into an evenness that takes away all methods of expression from the performer. It begins to all sound so mundane, enervated. And now, no performer can articulate in those ways because the instruments increasingly don’t allow it. As mentioned, a modern grand piano projects its voice as loudly as can be; it is almost impossible to use the methods of articulation that the old instruments provided. A modern piano can’t be clear in tone or rhythm: the tone itself lasts too long, the decay too slow. What was once an avenue to subtle expression has now become a means only to say something as loudly as possible. Musical conversation has turned into shouting.
If we can’t read the music, how do we hope to play it? This is not a rhetorical question. This is a genuine concern. So again, the question must be posed, If the music can’t sound like it should how can it be the same music? At which point can we consider it the same music? This is not an easy question to answer or quantify. The rhythms and tones, the tempi and affectations, all contribute to make the music sound as the composer intended. If we ignore those instructions, or take too many liberties with the interpretations, results in distorting the music to something unknown. Yes, it sounds new, but it is not the music.
This brings another question: how much freedom do we allow for interpretation? Certainly, if the entire piece begins to sound like a set of variations barely resembling the original, this would constitute itself as a new piece. But if we slow down to a dirge a piece that is to be played as a lively dance, have we then warped the music into something also incomprehensible as the original piece?
These, too, are more reasons why historical practice is so important to modern study. We have to research and and know what composers intended and how they intended to convey it. Instead, we have seen that the big Romantic theories are applied to music that is not that. Looking at the music this way, and playing it in this way, turns bold Enlightenment statements into inward looking masses. The whole meaning of what was being said through the tones of music is changed into something entirely different. Great visions of humanity could easily be changed into a depressive look at an inner psyche. The ponderous power might remain, but the effect is entirely warped. Imagine the projection of a 3D object into 2D space, the effect would be similar. Can those ideas even be turned around into other forms of expression? It might be able to move people, but it lacks the truth of the original intention.
Aesthetic questions such as these are difficult to answer. They are often too subjective. We must find objective ways to look at them and find answers. It’s the only way we can scientifically and artistically provide an answer. Returning to the past to find the manners once used to play our instruments, and using the historical instruments themselves, gives us that objective foundation by which to evaluate the way the music of the past is played and sounds. We apply the teachings of the old masters to the historical instruments and we find long lost sounds. The music becomes changed into an older, more exciting form. The essence is returned to us, without obtrusions by years of contrasting thought and practice.
Knowing our history, even in music, is important to know who we are as a society, culture, and people. Is not this equally important in music as it is history? Do we not need it in our time when the past can be so easily overwritten and changed into something it isn’t? This is why research into an aesthetic, artistic practice long lost is important. It gives more meaning to the works we know and love. It provides that meaning with an historical foundation that enhances it. We glimpse the vision of the time and see what was propounded. Now the works that were left to us become greater still. We learn as we listen.
This is the power of both art and science.
Code and Coda 