ENTRY SEVEN
ORCHESTRAL REDUCTIONS
One of the main aspects of collaborative piano is the use of orchestral reductions. A “reduction” is loosely defined as the combination of all orchestral parts, adapted for solo piano. These are most common for instrumental concerti (i.e. concerti for violin and orchestra), but can also be used for rehearsals in ballet and opera scenes. Let’s consider The Nutcracker, for example. In the second act of this beloved ballet comes the “Pas de deux,” a four-movement section in which two ballet dancers perform a mix of duets and solos. If they needed to practice their choreography with music, then it would be most practical to do so with a pianist who can play a simplified version of the original music. Despite the absence of a full orchestra and all its members, the pianist can imitate an orchestral sound and emphasize the important musical cues for the dancers to listen for as they practice. The real orchestra would, of course, be ready to perform as soon as the full ballet production is ready to be presented on the stage.
What I am about to say is something that I wrote about in a previous blog post, but the piano is such a special instrument because of the myriad musical voices it can handle simultaneously. Thus, the solo performer has the potential to create a sound that imitates at least a small chamber music group (i.e. the “Italian Concerto” by J. S. Bach). For the bigger and fuller orchestral sound, we have Romantic-period composer Franz Liszt (1811-1886) to thank for that: He composed several solo piano transcriptions (which are insanely difficult!) based on operas such as Mozart’s “Don Giovanni.” There are many other great composers who wrote works in a similar style. Again, the art of transcribing ensemble music into solo piano is nothing new. However, the interpretation of it—especially in the context of rehearsing with others—is the challenge that confuses collaborative pianists, including me sometimes.
For instance, a lot of orchestral reductions don’t even come from the original composers. Thankfully, most of them are pianistic and indeed comfortable for the fingers, but man… quite a few of them are incredibly awkward to play. So awkward to the point where you can tell that the person who wrote it didn’t attempt to play it at the piano before publication. Another problem is that some of them, despite being playable, are just too dang hard. Well, I guess that’s kind of expected; after all, it IS a reduction of several orchestral parts for one pianist to be in charge of. Now, you might think, “But Matthew, the spotlight is on the soloist(s), so you can omit some of the notes while still preserving the important musical lines and melodies for them to listen for.” And I would promptly say to you, “You fell right into the trap of thinking it is okay to remove notes.” Seriously, it is best to play all the notes. Heck, you should add notes whenever possible. If there’s a loud melody that you think would sound better if you played it as a set of parallel octaves, then go for it. If there’s a note(s) that is tied over the span of several measures, then maybe you should ignore the ties and actually play the note(s) softly again to ensure that the sound doesn’t completely go out. That happens a lot in introductory passages, where double basses and cellos softly sustain a single note in support of an aria-like melody that is played by the soloist.
Now, that sounds oddly specific, and that’s the point — I only know that because I recently collaborated with a cellist in a performance of the Cello Concerto in D Minor, written by French composer Édouard Lalo (1823-1892). When I got that request to accompany that piece, I didn’t even bother looking at the score of the orchestral reduction. Instead, I immediately listened to a recording of the original piece and internalized the overall sound of it. Only after completing that all-important first step of listening did I then consult the music and realize which and when specific instruments were being imitated in the reduction. In essence, I went straight to the source material (in this case, a recording of the cello concerto with a full orchestra) and attempted to see the connections between what I heard in the recording and what I saw in the reduction. Whenever I found it appropriate and necessary, I added notes in an effort to preserve the orchestral sound as closely as possible. Overall, the most important aspect of playing a reduction is inspiring the soloist(s) by giving them a solid foundation of sound for them to enjoy and build their own music off of. That can’t be found solely from the reduction itself; it can only be discovered from absorbing the original work and truly listening to it. The collaboration between the pianist and the soloist(s) is a temporary partnership that helps the latter prepare for the ultimate, final step: the performance with the full orchestra.