Copyright

Yvonne Chen

2019

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto ii

ABSTRACT

Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto

by

Yvonne Chen

This document is a comprehensive study of Witold Lutoslawski’s Piano Concerto (1987-88), a masterpiece of the post-modern era. A biographical look into Lutoslawski’s fifty year gestation with the ideas for the music shows the inspirations, genesis, and processes of materials used in the piece, which straddles tradition and modernity in refreshing ways. An analysis of the work clarifies the many points of inspiration – from the pianism of Chopin to the woodwind timbres of Stravinsky, and his use of ad libitum sections to support his pragmatic approach to notation or his development of “chain form.”

Following Lutoslawski’s ideas about music perception, this document includes performance observations from recordings including those by the work’s dedicatee and the composer himself. Finally, I provide a practical guide for pianists to discern and approach the technical and musical difficulties of the piece in

Part Four.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto iii

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Many thanks to Yuri McCoy, friend, colleague, collaborator, organist-arranger extraordinaire, and birthday fellow, who was the first to introduce me to this piece. Without his enthusiasm for this piece and his persistence, I might have never come across it, let alone learn it. It is to him I have to thank for having the patience for spirited conversations while we figured out the piece note-by-note together in many rehearsals, and I want to thank him for taking it on the road with me to share it with people in

Houston, Washington, DC, and Charleston thus far.

It is with great thanks to my teacher, Brian Connelly, whose support of my varying interests in repertoire throughout my graduate studies and guidance in approaching post-modern music in a critical way has made a lasting impression. The lens through which I listen and analyze music has undoubtedly been shaped by our lessons. Also at the Shepherd School, I am indebted to Dr. Richard Lavenda, my advisor and chair of my document committee. His encouragement, direct and positive feedback, and his wealth of insight and experience into this document, as well as throughout my doctoral studies, have been invaluable.

Thank you to my piano students. I am always learning from their different perspectives towards music and have found that our interactions with music have only further stimulated my own approach to music. Through working with them I also find myself compelled to find different solutions to different problems. Similarly, I would like to thank my engineer dad, Chih-Hung, whose analytical perspectives have seeped into my artist brain and helped me look at music through different lenses. I am grateful to my mom, Hui-Min, whose love for memoirs and interest in people’s stories was passed on to me, which in turn, made the hours of researching Lutosławski’s life a joy and pleasure. Thanks to my sisters Elisa and

Elaine, whose many accomplishments are always keeping me driven in all my endeavors (but also for not going on for doctorates in their own fields so I can be our family’s first doctor)!

Closest to my heart, I am grateful to Sir Reginald, my constant canine writing companion who was the best decision of my life when I first started the doctoral program. Lastly, my greatest admiration and gratitude is reserved for my husband, Brandon Bell. His support and belief in me through it all has

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto iv kept me going throughout this journey, and whose own journey with his doctorate was a great source of inspiration.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto v

TABLE OF CONTENTS

ABSTRACT ...... ii

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ...... iii

TABLE OF CONTENTS ...... v

LIST OF MUSICAL EXAMPLES ...... vii

INTRODUCTION ...... 1

PART ONE : LUTOSLAWSKI BIOGRAPHY ...... 8

Impressions from his Youth ...... 8

1937-38, Warsaw ...... 13

War Interference ...... 18

The Right Pieces Coming Together ...... 20

A Lifetime of Self-Taught Experiments ...... 23

PART TWO: ANALYSIS ...... 28

Models of the past ...... 28

Form ...... 33

Melody and Harmony ...... 36

Orchestration and Timbre ...... 42

Texture ...... 45

Rhythm ...... 46

PART THREE: PERFORMANCE MODELS ...... 56

The First Steps ...... 57

Krystian Zimerman, Witold Lutosławski, and the BBC Symphony Orchestra ...... 62

Ewa Poblocka, Lutosławski, and the Polish Radio National Symphony Orchestra ...... 64

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto vi

Krystian Zimerman, Sir Simon Rattle, and Berlin Philharmonic ...... 68

Ewa Poblocka, Kazimierz Kord, and the Warsaw Philharmonic Orchestra ...... 72

Piotr Paleczny, Antoni Wit, and the Polish National Radio Symphony Orchestra ...... 74

Garrick Ohlssohn, Jacek Kaspszyk, and the NFM Wroclaw Philharmonic Orchestra ...... 75

Louis Lortie, Edward Gardner, and the BBC Symphony Orchestra ...... 77

Leif Ove Andsnes, Franz Welser-Möst, and the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra ...... 78

Paul Crossley, Esa-Pekka Salonen, and the LA Philharmonic ...... 79

PART FOUR: A PERFORMER’S GUIDE ...... 81

Rhythmic Incongruities and Their Implications ...... 82

Auditory Allusions ...... 89

A Resonator ...... 93

Emotionalism in Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto ...... 96

CONCLUSION ...... 99

APPENDIX A ...... 101

APPENDIX B ...... 103

SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY ...... 104

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto vii

LIST OF MUSICAL EXAMPLES

Example 2-1: chasing gestures, fourth movement, Rehearsal 98 ...... 30

Example 2-2: third movement, Rehearsal 75, mm. 2 – Rehearsal 76 mm. 1-4 ...... 31

Example 2-3: linear and vertical expansion in piano left-hand motif, first movement, Rehearsal 2-4 ...... 37

Example 2-4: voice-leading and expansion of chords by semitone, first movement, Rehearsals 2-4 ...... 37

Example 2-5: piano left-hand outline of [0167], second movement, mm. 4 ...... 38

Example 2-6: intervallic significance to display harmonic progression, second movement, Rehearsal 63b ...... 39

Example 2-7: Piano Concerto, second movement, mm. 143-159 ...... 40

Example 2-8: resolution of sonorities, second movement, measures approaching Rehearsal 64 ...... 40

Example 2-9: rhythmic diminution, second movement, Rehearsal 37 mm. 3-4 to Rehearsal 38 mm. 1-3 49

Example 2-10: metric displacement of piano melody; gradual alignment via diminution in orchestra, second movement, Rehearsal 38, mm. 3-5 ...... 50

Example 2-11: rhythmic and melodic expansion, first movement, Rehearsal 12 ...... 51

Example 2-12: divisive values over consistent groupings, first movement, Rehearsal 12 ...... 52

Example 2-13: third movement, Rehearsal 77, mm. 2-Rehearsal 79, mm. 1 ...... 53

Example 2-14: rhythmic diminution, fourth movement, Rehearsal 119, mm. 4-Rehearsal 120, mm. 3 .... 54

Example 2-15: rhythmic diminution, fourth movement, Rehearsal 120, mm. 5 through Rehearsal 121 ... 54

Example 2-16: composers’ musical signatures in final measures ...... 55

Example 3-1: timings of individual movements in selected recordings ...... 60

Example 3-2: variances in timing of the Piano Concerto, third movement ...... 61

Example 4-1: cantabile theme of the third movement ...... 83

Example 4-2: rebarring of piano part to align with stressed beats, fourth movement, Rehearsal 85 mm. 4 – Rehearsal 68 mm. 1 ...... 85

Example 4-3: accent patterns for fourth movement, Rehearsal 87 ...... 86

Example 4-4: metrical interpretations of theme from fourth movement, mm. 1-10 ...... 88

Example 4-5: waltz figurations from Ravel to Lutosławski ...... 90

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 1

INTRODUCTION

It is equally significant that the delayed creative work of Lutosławski, which bears the distinct marks of a synthesis, of a classical and even Apollonian perfection, accepts some idioms of the past without the characteristic traits of postmodernism. The Piano Concerto could therefore be considered as an example of a modernism that is at the same time both proud and tolerant that seems to tell us, on the one hand, that there is no longer a return to the traditional form of the piano concerto and, on the other, that pays tribute to this tradition. - Andrzej Chlopecki, translated by Keith Anderson1

Polish composer Witold Lutosławski (1913-1994) once said, “music is, after all, not only a composition of sounds, but also is, maybe above all, the composition of human reactions to them.”2 In this conception of music, we see Lutosławski’s understanding of music’s possibilities, existing in its capacity to communicate and to evoke human emotion. We find a composer deeply understanding the audience’s role in a piece of music, and his natural desire for them to connect to his music. And yet,

Lutosławski’s music does not bend to popular appeal in overt traditional idioms, as he explained in 1988:

“In principle, I write music that I would like to hear, music that is an expression of my own tastes, wishes, and desires. I am offering audiences my own internal truth.” It is in this delicate balance that he is now considered “one of the major composers of the 20th century.”3

At his death in February 1994, the magnitude of Lutosławski’s compositional accomplishments had already been recognized, and his music had been well-regarded internationally for decades. His obituary by the New York Times starts with “Witold Lutosławski, an innovative Polish composer whose orchestral and chamber works had a direct and immediate appeal that made them centerpieces of the modern repertory, died on Monday in Warsaw.”4 The word “innovative” justly captures his thoughtful considerations and resulting solutions to pragmatic issues in composing his ideas, from his use of limited

1 Andrzej Chlopecki. “Work Information: Piano Concerto by Witold Lutosławski” trans. Keith Anderson. 2 Zbigniew Skowron, ed. and trans., Lutosławski on Music (Lanham: Scarecrow Press, 2007), xx. 3 Charles Bodman Rae, “Lutoslawski, Witold,” Grove Music Online, accessed March 20, 2018. https://doi- org.ezproxy.rice.edu/10.1093/gmo/9781561592630.article.17226. 4 Allan Kozinn. “Witold Lutoslawski, 81, is Dead; Modern, Yet Melodic, Composer”, New York Times, Feb. 9, 1994, accessed October 30, 2019, https://www.nytimes.com/1994/02/09/obituaries/witold-lutoslawski-81-is- dead-modern-yet-melodic-composer.html.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 2 aleatorism to his development of “chain form”. While those two procedures are completely foreign to the layperson, his music, complete with structural integrity, is compelling and appealing to audiences with his keen sense of traditional lyricism and timbre and balance of dramatic elements.

While his reputation continues to grow, his contributions have yet to be included in the most recent edition of one of the most prominent music history textbooks.5 The contributions of post-WWII composers, from Karlheinz Stockhausen (1928-2007) exploring electronic music and Pierre Boulez

(1925-2016) further utilizing Arnold Schoenberg’s ideas of serialism, to John Cage (1912-1992) in adding chance as a musical element, have been widely recognized for their avant-garde ways of approaching music. Lutosławski’s contributions to the musical canon are less radically extreme, though no less significant. While his mature work does not fit into a singular “ism” category, it does show a synthesis of different self-taught techniques that, in all, serves his unique musical aesthetic. Its brilliance is also that his music does not sever ties with the past, but instead is drawn from the idioms and structures of Beethoven and Haydn and the timbres and textures of Stravinsky and Ravel, without making mockery or overt claims to their language. Today, with a larger appreciation for synthesis and balance over the radical and boundary-breaking aesthetics of the mid-twentieth century, the culmination of these elements in Lutosławski’s music has been increasingly appreciated and recognized. During his lifetime,

Lutosławski was awarded many honors, including three awards from the International Rostrum of

Composers (IRC),6 the Leonie Sonning Music Prize in 1967, the first Grawemeyer Prize in 1985, an honorary doctorate from Cambridge University, and many commissions for world-famous artists and orchestras.

This recognition continued after his death, most notably in 2013 due to Lutosławski 100, an extraordinary festival celebrating the centenary of Lutosławski’s birth. The efforts of this initiative resulted in a surge in his popularity, with a staggering 700 concerts of Lutosławski’s music in 2013

5 Richard Taruskin’s Music in the Late Twentieth Century is the fifth in the five-volume Oxford History of Western Music, and as of the edition published in 2010, contains no mention of Lutoslawski. 6 Awarded in years 1959, 1964, and 1968, Lutoslawski holds the most awards in the organization’s history thus far.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 3 worldwide.7 Though this was certainly out of the ordinary and can be seen as an outlier in its rise in popularity, the effects of this campaign and the communicable strength of his music continues to attract new followers. This organic growth may be seen in the years since the festival. Between the years 2016 and 2018 there was a 143% increase in performances of his work, with 44 performances in 2016, 77 in

2017, and 107 in 2018.8 This ever-increasing popularity shows a growing international appreciation of his music. For example, in 2018 there were 107 performances of his works all over the world, from Roseville

Lutheran Church in Minnesota to the Concertgebouw in the Netherlands. The works performed most often include his Concerto for Orchestra (1954), Musique funèbre (1958), Symphony No. 1 (1947), and, more recently, his Concerto for Cello and Orchestra (1970).9 Since it is a relatively late work, the Piano

Concerto (1987-88) shows promise in gaining popularity in concert halls around the world.

Grounded in his aim to elicit responses from his audiences rather than a strict adherence to procedures, Lutosławski’s musical language in the Piano Concerto blends traditional formulas with new approaches to tonality. The piece preserves the compositional mastery of Lutosławski and yet contains many different points of entry for appreciation.

When I first came across the Piano Concerto in 2016, I was intrigued—here was a work by a composer who was essentially unfamiliar to me (whose only work I had previously heard was the

Concerto for Orchestra) that had the brilliance of a virtuosic concerto, and yet was not an egotistical showing off for showing off’s sake. The musical language somehow blended the ethereal impressionism of Ravel, biting ferocity of Prokofiev, swarming and percussive timbral effects of Bartók, and yet also had a lyricism and romanticism harkening back to Chopin and Brahms. It was familiar, yet felt entirely new, and somehow executed so it never sounded like that of an imposter copying older musical styles.

7 Instytut Adama Mickiewicza. Accessed January 4, 2019. http://lutoslawski100.culture.pl/#0/2/en. 8 These numbers and data were calculated based off performances reported on Music Sales Classical, and in reality, a conservative estimate of performances of his work since the publisher would likely not have knowledge of performances of the composer’s solo works, or other works that are not ‘for hire”. https://bit.ly/33yGmBl. 9 Ibid.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 4

The piece, which Lutosławski regarded (in addition with his Partita, Chain 2, and Third

Symphony) as “the most important of all my works,”10 serves not only as a concerto furthering the piano concerto repertory beyond where Ravel, Gershwin, Prokofiev, and Bartók left off, but also evidence of his journey as a composer. A sort of autobiography in musical form, the Piano Concerto was the result of

Lutosławski’s half-century journey in creating the piece. From his early desire as a young, accomplished pianist right out of college to create a show-stopping concerto, to his final return to the form in 1987, it is because of the influences and life experiences he encountered that the Piano Concerto reached its resulting maturity. Due to the interference of World War II, there are no surviving excerpts of his early attempts at the Piano Concerto, and therefore we only know of its history through Lutosławski’s own recollections. Through reading his interviews and studying his life, we may piece together the varying influences in his development as a musician and composer that found their way in the Piano Concerto.

When I learned and performed the piece in 2016, it became clear to me that it ought to be more familiar to general audiences. It is rewarding for the performers to learn and play, as Lutosławski had spent a lifetime honing his craft to create something idiomatic (he believed in the causal relationship between good composition and good performance) before arriving at this concerto. Showing the depth of his pragmatism, its length, size of orchestra, and notation are all very practical: At 27 minutes, it is a modest length as something both substantial yet concise for a symphony program; The fairly contained instrumentation features only the instruments that would already be needed for a typical traditional symphony concert; And, the score is clearly notated, which allows it to be prepared for performance with a limited rehearsal schedule. Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto does not stray too far from a general classical music audience’s dramatic expectations of a piano concerto, and it provides plenty for people to respond to. Its language, though on the surface mystifying, elicits strong emotive responses from its listeners.

With further analysis of its components, we realize the economy and artistry of the composer in his blend

10 Irina Nikolska, Conversations with Lutosławski, trans. Valeri Yerokhin (Stockholm: melos: En Musiktidskrift, 1994), 105.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 5 of affective and yet cerebral procedures. Each note and marking serves dual purposes in supporting the dramatic narrative while providing thematic unity.

This dissertation is an opportunity for me to find out how Lutosławski’s music manages to elicit these responses from listeners. Through discovering his influences and personal journey with the piece, as well as analyzing the piece’s components - their origins and manipulations - I hope to persuade readers of the genius of the piece, not only as a fine example of a late twentieth century piano concerto, but also as notable evidence of this Polish composer’s talent. While other piano concerti of his contemporaries

(especially those of Cage and Ligeti) may be achieving comparable levels of popularity as measured by the frequency of their performances, Lutosławski’s concerto is able to link the concerti of the early 1900s to those of the postmodern era, while simultaneously reflecting on his Polish roots by following the lyricism of Chopin’s pianism. With many commonalities with traditional and more familiar repertoire, the concerto is a great candidate to be included on a variety of symphonic programs.

After exploring the contextual background and providing an analytical look at the piece, I will present a third way to determine the composer’s intentions - through performance history and audio recordings of various interpretations. Part Three of this document provides readers a narrative to understand its reception since its premiere, as well as a discussion of the varying effects differing performances of this work can have on the listener through audio recording observations. As the quotation above demonstrates, Lutosławski strongly believed in composing music through the ears of his listeners.

In the interest of showing the effects his music has on a listener, as well as the importance of the pianist’s interpretation of the work, I have included my reflections as a listener of the current recordings of the work in order to help pianists decipher a closer interpretation of the work. Since I make it a rule to refrain from listening to other interpretations of a given work before I can learn it myself and come to my own conclusions, my reactions to these recordings are colored by my own experience of learning the piece and coming up with my own interpretations of the indications on the page. They also were listened to in the order in which I write about them, which certainly affected my perception of each ensuing recording.

Realizing that most first time listeners do not and would not come to the piece in the same way, I hope

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 6 my observations of a variety of interpretations show an informed listening of the work that also admits the varying possibilities in interpreting Lutoslawski’s score. Additionally, exploring the subtle effects that slight changes of phrasing, timing, and touch have on the music can lead future performers of this work to imagine how listeners might experience the music, and therefore get closer to Lutosławski’s imagining of the piece.

Given Lutosławski’s conducting of two recordings with different pianists, a comparison of these performances offers strong evidence of the composer’s intentions, particularly in regard to his personal disdain for “overwrought emotion”. As it happens, both pianists recorded the concerto again, after

Lutosławski’s death, which offers an unusual opportunity for comparison. Using the premiere recording

(the composer as conductor and the piece’s dedicatee, Krystian Zimerman as soloist) as a constant, I will compare and contrast it with subsequent recordings: Zimerman with Sir Simon Rattle, Lutosławski with

Ewa Poblocka, and then Poblocka with Kazimierz Kord as interesting initial starting points. Studies of other recordings present a wide variety of interpretations, and are a useful way to explore some of the many interpretative possibilities given the composer’s notation, suggestions of what he might have intended, and how to negotiate any differences into a personal interpretation of the piece.

Using the observations noted from the comparisons of recordings combined with the analysis of the music, the final part of this document introduces a way for pianists to approach the piece, both technically and musically. It serves as a pedagogical guide to alert the pianist to the technical and musical challenges one might face in performing this work and provides suggestions for approaching these difficulties in a manner that supports a faithful interpretation of the score.

When George Newman exclaimed in his review of the premiere performance in August 19, 1988 that the piece would “surely become quickly established in the contemporary repertoire,”11 he became the first of many proponents of the piece. While the Piano Concerto is currently still relatively unknown to both pianists and general audiences, Lutoslawski’s name-recognition is increasing in conservatories and

11 George Newman, review of Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto, 1988 Salzburg Festival, Tempo, New Series, 167 (Dec., 1988): 52-53. Accessed January 14, 2019, http://www.jstor.org/stable/945226.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 7 concert stages around the world. I hope with greater recognition and awareness of this work, it will indeed be welcomed and truly “established in the contemporary repertoire.” Its ability to straddle the fine line between tradition and newness adapts the piano concerto genre into something that is not only fresh to the ears, but perhaps caters to the more practical needs of the musical world we live in now.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 8

PART ONE : BIOGRAPHY

Impressions from his Youth

Despite being born into an esteemed family January 25, 1913 in Warsaw and considered a child prodigy, Lutosławski had to endure tremendous turmoil and tragedy throughout his life with incredible perseverance before he could produce music that reflected his maturity as a composer. With each return from a setback, Lutoslawski’s continued self-guided explorations in composition reveal a determined, level-headed and pragmatic musician, always aware of what he wanted to communicate, and increasingly aware of the techniques to implement these ideas efficiently. It is likely that his will to continue after each setback was carried through due to a love of music that was fostered at a very early age.

Young Witold’s father, Józef Lutosławski (1881-1918), was "an accomplished amateur pianist” having studied with Eugene d’Albert, and instilled in his youngest son the beauty and variety of music.

However, Józef’s activities with the National Democracy Party, Endecja, would later lead their family to instability and tragedy. When World War I broke out, the family fled from the approaching German forces to Moscow because of Józef’s political ties and known associations with Imperial Russia. During this period of time, young Witold Lutosławski was a witness to the February and Bolshevik revolutions of

1917, and upon the rise of the Bolsheviks against the Poles, found himself fatherless. Józef Lutosławski had been arrested and put before a firing squad in September 1918. Prompted by this tragic loss, Witold’s mother, Maria, sought refuge in Ukraine until November 1918, when the German occupation of Warsaw ended and they could return to the city center. The family, faced with all these shifts in the political climate, would make several more moves between the family home in Drozdowo and Warsaw in the ensuing years.

Throughout the many moves, young Witold embarked on his early musical studies in violin, piano, and composition. After graduating from early piano lessons with his mother, his lessons with Helena

Hoffman were what he credited the most for introducing him to a varied repertoire, beyond the basic facilities of keyboard playing: “Apart from teaching me how to play the piano—she also played me a lot

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 9 of music, which was extremely important for my musical development.”12 While moves caused him to change teachers, he was able to compose his first piano piece by 1921 while in Drozdowo, taking piano lessons with Alina Rudnicka in the neighboring town of Lomza. However, it was not until a return to

Warsaw in 1924 that Lutoslawski arrived at his “first piano lessons in the proper sense of the word” with

Józef Smidowicz (1888-1962), without whom he might not have developed any technical mastery of the keyboard. As Lutoslawski explained later in 1973, “I had to play many pieces in order to develop my technical skills.”13

In the midst of these early years, his interest in music and its variety, first shown by Hoffmann, was solidified with a live performance of Szymanowski’s Third Symphony. At a concert April 11, 1924, the young and impressionable 11-year-old Lutosławski’s curiosity about the possibilities of musical language was awakened by this piece. While this profound experience is one that he credited for the development of his musical aesthetic, Lutosławski only admitted to being directly influenced by

Szymanowski’s musical language in a few early student works. Its influence was instead felt strongest in its daring aesthetic, which Lutosławski, without the guidance of a proper composition teacher, used as permission to explore further possibilities in his own music.

Eager to learn more, Lutosławski began violin lessons as well, studying with Lidia Kmitowa

(1888-1967), herself a disciple of Eugène-Auguste Ysaÿe and Joseph Joachim. During six years of studying “quite a serious repertoire” of Mozart concerti, Bach solo works, and Franck, Kmitowa gave

Lutosławski “the ability to phrase and interpret in the classical sense.”14 It is likely that this classical phrasing and interpretation he learned was what he later manipulated and transformed into new expressions in his own music, including in the Piano Concerto. Recognizing his talent early on, Kmitowa also was the instigator to convince him to take up composition lessons. She subsequently referred him to

12 Witold Lutosławski, Lutosławski on Music, trans. Zbigniew Skowron (Lanham: Scarecrow Press, 2007), 217. 13 Ibid. 14 Ibid.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 10

Witold Maliszewski (1873-1939), once a pupil of Rimsky-Korsakov and Glazunov at the St. Petersburg

Conservatory.

It is remarkable, given the many shifts in environment, that young Lutoslawski had the good fortune to start and then to continue his music lessons. Eventually, he was able to take lessons with

Maliszewski outside of school, before considering composition seriously. However, after he graduated from the gimnazjum, he enrolled at Warsaw University as a mathematics major in 1931, seemingly unsure of his future in music. Luckily, Lutosławski continued lessons privately in piano, violin, and composition, before formally enrolling the following year as a Warsaw Conservatory student in composition and piano.

The year of courses in music seemed to have persuaded him, as he quit his University studies in 1933 to fully concentrate on music.

In lecture classes and lessons, Maliszewski’s focus was true to his Russian training with Rimsky-

Korsakov, particularly in orchestration, though it was specifically his lectures about the Viennese classical composers that made a lasting impression on Lutosławski. Using Beethoven sonatas to demonstrate the idea of perceiving music psychologically in the form of “four characters: Introductory,

Narrative, Transitional, and Concluding”, while “not generally accepted and even ardently opposed,”15 was welcomed by Lutoslawski. One can see from his own lectures on composition (particularly the four lectures he gave at Tanglewood Music Center in 1962) and in explanations about his music, that

Lutoslawski adapted these “four characters” to his own principles of musical aesthetic and in turn was

“deeply convinced” of this perception of musical form.16

His studies of the Viennese classics as a conservatory student convinced him of the significance of balanced musical architecture in a composition’s reception. “In Haydn’s symphonies,” he praises to interviewer Bálint András Varga, “show great refinement in the art of what I would call conducting the listener through a piece of music. Haydn was a master at spacing the musical content out in time… It’s a

15 Witold Lutosławski, Lutosławski on Music, 219. 16 Ibid.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 11 classic trick.”17 Meanwhile, with an enduring love of Beethoven’s string quartets and piano sonatas, he noted that “it is precisely Beethoven’s method of presenting the musical process to the potential listener that has been leaving its imprint on my music all my life.”18 These “tricks” are found in the Piano

Concerto (to be examined in Part Two), proof that even fifty years after working with Maliszewski and their falling-out, Lutosławski was still indebted to the techniques his teacher imparted on him.

For his piano studies at the conservatory, he worked with Jerzy Lefeld (1898-1980). From the infamously tumultuous coda of the Chopin Ballade, to the unending dexterity of the fingers and physical endurance needed for the Etudes and the Schumann Toccata, his 1936 graduation program shows the technical facility of an accomplished pianist. With his technical mastery of the instrument, he certainly would have been capable of following many pianist-composers in premiering their own piano concerti.

As conveyed to Charles Bodman Rae,19 his graduation recital from Warsaw Conservatory in piano featured the following program:

J.S. Bach Prelude and Fugue in D Major, BWV 874 Mozart Sonata in A Minor, K. 310 Schumann Toccata, Op. 7 Liszt Paganini Caprice in A Minor Chopin Etude in C-Sharp Minor, Op. 10 No. 4 Chopin Etude in C-Sharp Minor, Op. 25 No. 7 Chopin Ballade No. 4 in F Minor, Op. 52 Debussy Reflets dans l’eau, from Images, Book I Maliszewski Dance, from the Ballet Syrena

Based on this program alone, one can directly appreciate the level of technical expertise he must have had. As he recalled to Kaczynski later in life, he understood the duty of a composer to its performers to be knowledgeable of their art form, given his thorough experiences as a pianist, and then as a conductor of his own works:

17 Bálint András Varga, Lutoslawski Profile, (London: Chester Music, 2012), Kindle edition, Loc 526 of 983. 18 Nikolska, 90. 19 Charles Bodman Rae, The Music of Lutosławski, (London: Faber and Faber, 1994), 10.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 12

It is only through experience that the composer can learn even the simplest facts about performance… One learns especially from the confrontation of the work with reality, from discovering how one’s innovations work ‘in life’ — at rehearsals and at concerts… My piano studies gave me quite priceless experience, especially in the understanding of the performer’s art. And they still continue to have an important influence on my composition. I can never compose without imagining the performance. It is an essential part of the composing process.20

Lutosławski’s thoughts about music and practical perspective guided him to create the Piano Concerto as a piece that is not only effective to a late-twentieth century audience, but one that is attractive to musicians and audiences alike. His writing is idiomatic, and takes the needs and artistry of the performers, both soloist and orchestral musicians, into consideration.

His deeply entrenched beliefs in the need for composers to intimately understand the performing side of music might have also been a result of his experience performing the works of his own teacher. As evidenced by his examination repertoire list, Lutosławski performed the Dance from the ballet Syrena by

Maliszewski, with whom he was able to continue studying composition amidst changes between high school, university, and then finally formally in his class at the Conservatory. Though the pieces are unknown today, Lutosławski’s performances of them surely gave him the unique experience of working on a composition by a living composer, while also gaining an intimate understanding of his professor’s own compositional methods.

Beyond the sheer number of notes of this repertoire, the variety of touch and stamina necessary for these pieces show he had a complete and refined understanding of the vast expressive qualities capable on the instrument. From the sensitivities needed for playing Bach to the sensual touch needed for the

Debussy, this knowledge and experience would later serve him well in finding true inspiration in Krystian

Zimerman, creating virtuosic music that is idiomatic, and heightening his ears for creating discerning textures and timbres for the piano.

Upon receiving his piano diploma, while working on finishing his composition degree he might have started considering to compose a piano concerto for himself. Like many other young pianist-

20 Tadeusz Kaczynski. Conversations with Witold Lutosławski, trans. Yolanta May (London: Chester Music, 1984), 117-8.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 13 composers, the young Lutosławski might have felt the pressure of catching up with “the greats”—after all, Beethoven composed and premiered his first concerto at 25 years old, Chopin composed and premiered his first concerto at 20 years old in Warsaw, and Prokofiev composed and premiered his first piano concerto at 21 years old. Lutosławski was now already 25 years old and had not yet attempted the genre. At the very least, with performances of Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 4 in G Major, Op. 58 and

Prokofiev’s Piano Concerto No. 3 for his final examinations for his piano diploma, Lutosławski was well- acquainted with the piano concerto genre, and later admitted the influence the latter composer made on his composition:

In my conservatoire days I was strongly impressed by Sergey Prokofiev. He appeared in Warsaw in the thirties. I heard him play his piano concertos. At the time I was preparing his Third Concerto for my final examination as a pianist. A certain influence of Prokofiev makes itself felt in my early works.21

Indeed, my analysis of the Piano Concerto in Part Two shows dramatic juxtapositions and instrumental timbres that can be attributed to Prokofiev, likely from the composer’s own personal experience with his music. It would only be a matter of time that he would put down some sketches for a concerto, but first he had to confront his compositional studies and endure the torturous exam in a conflict with his professor, which would have lasting consequences.

1937-38, Warsaw

You must think about what you will do next, since if you wish to choose the way you began with that unfinished composition, I will not be able to give you any advice.

- Witold Maliszewski to Witold Lutosławski22

With these cautionary words from the only composition professor he would ever have, it is clear that Lutoslawski was at a developmental crossroads in 1938, uncertain which way to go in his compositional aesthetic. During this critical developmental year, Lutoslawski started sketches on a piano concerto, reached his first compositional success outside of school, completed his military service, and

21 Nikolska, 75-76. 22 Witold Lutoslawski, Lutosławski on Music, trans. Zbigniew Skowron, 218.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 14 broke ties with the only composition teacher he ever had. He was searching for who he would become. In studying his life at this juncture, one can begin to understand his initial intentions for a piano concerto and acknowledge the aspects in his student compositions which he chose to either continue. It is because of the events of this year and his decision to start on a piano concerto during this calamitous time that the resulting piano concerto decades later retained a genuine balance of tradition and freshness.

In conversation with musicologist Irina Nikolska, Lutosławski admitted to being “in a state of depression” during the end of his musical studies at Warsaw Conservatory, to the point of exasperation and denying a clear response: “I don’t want to talk about it. It was so - that’s all.”23 Nicholas Reyland speculates the reasons for this state of despondency could have been a breakup with his girlfriend and a resurfacing of emotions from the loss of his father.24 Since he was writing two requiem movements, the genre might have brought out childhood memories of his father’s early death. However, considering

Lutosławski’s reference to it as a “torture of an exam” it may have been caused more by the discord with his teacher and the frustrations in reconciling his developing personal aesthetic with the “acceptable” tonality that was favored by his teacher. In a separate recollection of his relationship with Maliszewski to

Marcin Boguslawski,25 this final year of composition studies at Warsaw Conservatory was full of strife with his teacher of nearly a decade. This would have certainly caused him stress, anxiety, and self-doubt in his own efforts as a young composer:

I always hold my professor in great esteem for his spotless honesty and morality, for his deep and versatile knowledge… Thus, I felt the more strongly his total lack of understanding and disapproval of the contemporary music of the 1930s… if I regularly attended his lessons during my last year of studies and presented my ongoing work on my diploma, I would never have finished it [Symphonic Variations was originally primed for his diploma-composition], since my composition would never have been approved by my teacher.26

Ultimately, after avoiding his lessons, he then made desperate attempts to convince Maliszewski of the merits of his Symphonic Variations. Unsuccessful, Lutoslawski had to submit something else “that would

23 Nikolska, 27. 24 Nicholas Reyland, “Personal Loss, Cultural Grief, and Lutoslawski’s Music of Mourning,” in Lutoslawski’s Worlds, ed. Lisa Jakelski and Nicholas Reyland (Rochester: The Boydell Press, 2018), 55. 25 Lutoslawski, Lutosławski on Music, trans. Zbigniew Skowron, 218-220. 26 Ibid., 218.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 15 correspond to the aesthetics of my earlier piano sonata [1934], which he accepted.”27 These alluded

“corresponding aesthetics” to his Piano Sonata were more closely aligned with the sound language of

Debussy, Szymanowski, and Ravel. One cannot help when listening to the opening of his Sonata to hear echoes of the opening of Ravel’s Sonatine. Its soprano melody overriding legato repetitive figurations bubbling beneath the surface demonstrates a young composer fascinated by gestures and an understanding for pianistic idioms, but one that has not yet developed his own voice.

Though Lutosławski clearly wanted to move toward a different direction with his Symphonic

Variations, the success of his Piano Sonata (1934) with his own performance of it broadcast on Polish

Radio (1935) and the support of his teacher to progress in that vein could have definitely caused inner turmoil as a composition student. Reflecting on this time of inner conflict in his early compositions,

Lutosławski describes the need for direction: “In my youth, when I composed my first works, I was surrounded by a world of ‘violated tonality’. In other words, tonal music with false notes, such as early

Hindemith, or some of the works of Les Six. That is what I found to have no future… alien to my nature, for I longed for order. I tried to create order in my very first compositions, but that was of course very difficult in that period of my life. Perhaps not a tonal order, yet some kind of order.”28

With no other way to graduate with his diploma in composition, Lutosławski studiously composed the two requiem movements “Lacrimosa” and “Requiem aeternam” as something that he could “show the exam committee a work for which [Maliszewski] could be wholly responsible.” 29 It is clear that with the conflict between teacher and pupil, Lutosławski was at odds with how to proceed in developing his compositional aesthetic - particularly in regards to his approach to tonality, and he made the pragmatic decision to write what was expected so that he could graduate.

Upon finishing his schooling, before he could decide how to proceed with any compositions without the help of his professor, he had to complete one year’s compulsory military service. Though this

27 Ibid. 28 Bálint András Varga, Lutoslawski Profile, (London: Chester Music, 2012), Kindle edition, Loc 425 of 983. 29 Ibid.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 16 prevented him from working further on some early sketches and finishing the temporarily abandoned

Variations, he found the year rejuvenating, with newfound energy upon returning: “While in the army, I couldn’t help leading quite a different life. My brain was no longer employed in giving thought to music, and I was very busy too… Having served my time, I felt as if I’d been renewed - I was restored to life.”30

Basking in renewed energy, Lutosławski quickly worked to complete the Symphonic Variations in

1938, with which he achieved his first large-scale success as a composer. Featuring triple woodwinds, four horns, three trumpets, three trombones, tuba, percussion, harp, piano, celeste, and strings, this traditional instrumentation would largely remain the same for many of his other orchestral works later in life, including the Piano Concerto. Listening to it, one can hear some of the Russian influences heavily impressed on him through Maliszewski. The Symphonic Variations opens with a serene flute melody accompanied by light pizzicato strings (not unlike the opening of the second movement of Tchaikovsky’s

Piano Concerto). The theme is then developed and worked into a dissonant sound world before being thrust (with instigating high woodwind flourishes as found in Prokofiev’s Third Piano Concerto) into a relentless Stravinskian motoric rhythmic ostinato. The piece is exciting in very obvious ways, and demonstrates Lutosławski’s early concern for the experience of his audience: “The main purpose of a piece of music is that it should be experienced by the listener… I understand the process of composing above all as the creation of a definite complex of psychological experiences for my listener…”31 It was broadcast over Polish Radio in 1939, then premiered in concert a couple months later by Grzegorz

Fitelberg (1879-1953) conducting the Polish Radio Symphony Orchestra.

With a restored confidence in his composition, he simultaneously began working on new ideas for his Piano Concerto and what would be his First Symphony. When World War II reached Poland with

Germany invading in September 1939, however, his efforts stopped, and he enlisted to help in the war effort. He reflected on this time in interviews with Nikolska regarding the beginnings of his Partita and the Piano Concerto, which were started in this moment before the Second World War:

30 Nikolska, 29. 31 Steven Stucky, “Change and Constancy: The Essential Lutoslawski,” in Lutosławski Studies, ed. and trans., Zbigniew Skowron (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 121.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 17

I readily write music obviously relating to the past. An example is the opening of the Partita. I was going to write this music - no, something similar to it - long ago, before the Second World War, but I was unable to do that. In the same period I began to compose a piano concerto - to no avail, either; but its opening was similar to the opening of the Partita. It follows that by writing the Partita (I wrote it many years later - this time without difficulty) - I was ‘paying off my liabilities’, so to speak.32

While I reserve discussion about the musical elements (such as the opening, referred to here) that make their way into the final composition for the analysis in Part Two, it is necessary to understand the importance of the work’s early history and its effect on the final composition. Without this early conception of a piano concerto, taking place during a time of self-discovery and reflection, the final piece almost certainly would have resulted in something entirely new and mature - but not as deeply rooted in tradition. Similarly, had war not intervened and Lutoslawski finished the piano concerto in 1939, the resulting piano concerto would not be the elevated mature work that he arrived at in 1988. Considering the deep conflict with his professor concerning musical aesthetics, and without these surviving early sketches of the concerto, we can only look into his other works of this time period to conclude how he might have seen his only way to continue discovering his own voice as a composer.

Through studying the Symphonic Variations, one can already see Lutosławski’s early use of characterizing instrumentation and motifs, particularly in its service to generate a specific emotive response from the audience. By the time these characterizations are utilized in the Piano Concerto, however, his compositional aesthetic was fully developed and incorporated as his own, not just a blatant collage of compositional tricks. At this moment of conflict with his first and only composition teacher,

Lutosławski was trying to find his own unique compositional language and its place in comparison with the music around him. Though he had his teacher’s support through much of his first successes as a young student composer, Lutosławski was just starting to find a way to make music that was true to his own ideas and aesthetic, one which was not limited to the more conservative idioms prescribed by his teacher.

Regardless of whether uncertainty about his own musical aesthetic was holding him back from making more progress with the composition of the Piano Concerto, it is clear that it was not for lack of

32 Nikolska, 104.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 18 talent pianistically nor experience composing for the instrument, as is evident from our examinations of his early life as a pianist. A piano concerto would surely have established him dually as an accomplished and capable composer and pianist. While understanding the conflicts of 1938 can reveal Lutosławski’s underlying intentions for his piano concerto, it is important to factor in his early development to better understand the musical values instilled in him, which would continue into his mature work. However, once again, he was stalled, now by the external forces of war.

War Interference

With his enlistment in the war effort, Lutosławski was stationed in the east Poland city of Krakow as a radio operator. Ever-focusing on the positive, Lutosławski recounted to Nikolska his pride in his pianistic training coming in hand: “I was reputed to be a very good signaller: being a pianist, I had in me -

I surpassed my section-mates in sensitivity of the fingers, which was of much use to me in my army days.”33 However, unlike his rejuvenating experience of military service in 1937, the perils of war were an imminent threat. Soon after, he was captured with his unit by the Germans as a prisoner of war, but was able to free himself after eight days, as he explained to Nikolska: “At that time prisoners were not yet being so rigidly guarded as later – the Germans were in want of experience… In the evenings the guard allowed us to go to the grove for firewood so that we might light a bonfire and warm ourselves for a while. Once we simply did not return. Half a dozen of us. My section-fellows. We had been told beforehand that the area was cordoned off, and that would-be escapees would be shot, - there was nothing of the kind. – I walked four hundred kilometers to Warsaw.”34

Upon his return, Lutosławski and musicians across Poland were faced with the censorship of musical life, first from the German occupancy, and then later from the enforcement of the Soviet Zhdanov

Doctrine. Though Lutosławski continued work on his First Symphony, it was quickly judged to be

“formalist”, fitting for only elitists. Therefore, in order to survive and comply with the new regulations,

33 Nikolska, 30. 34 Ibid., 30-31.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 19

Lutosławski made his harmonic vocabulary and style conform to that of the popular and simple, composing only functional music and performing piano duet arrangements in cafes.

During the 1940s, when composers were limited to writing “functional music” and performers to playing at cafés, Lutosławski formed a duo with fellow composer-pianist Andrzej Panufnik (1914-1991).

Amidst playing nearly 200 four-hand arrangements of a wide array of repertoire,35 Lutosławski composed

Paganini Variations (1941), a short, dynamic, and crowd-pleasing duet the two pianists premiered at the

Aria café, based on Paganini’s infamous A minor Caprice. A look at his piano diploma recital program shows that he had performed Liszt’s Paganini Caprice (Etude No. 6 in A minor, Theme and Variations) just a few years prior. Given his technical mastery of the work and his success with the variation form with his Symphonic Variations, it must have been a natural progression for him to follow the lead of

Liszt, Friedman (Studies on a Theme of Paganini, 1914), Szymanowski (Third Caprice for Violin and

Piano, 1918), and Rachmaninoff (Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini for piano and orchestra, 1934) among others.

While Lutosławski was able to continue working in music, the effects of war placed restrictions not only on his creativity, but also on his plans to further his studies. He captured the broad memories and the effect of this transitional period decades later in his conversation with Krzysztof Zanussi: “The

Second World War I was supposed to go to Paris to study composition to go on studying. After the war, there were very difficult circumstances in which…[inaudible]… and then this period of social realism and

I couldn’t say that it was totally lost time for me, but it was a very depressing time. That was of course a bad influence on my work.”36

Though he ultimately did not adhere to this harmonic vocabulary in his post-war works, the necessity to compose in this manner might have given Lutosławski ample exercises in creating explicit musical materials meant deliberately for general audiences, while perhaps creating his aversion towards

35 Krzysztof Teodorowicz, “Andrzej Panufnik,” The Witold Lutoslawski Society, trans. Maksymilian Kapelański, accessed January 3, 2019, http://www.Lutosławski.org.pl/en/person,10.html. 36 Witold Lutoslawski in Conversation with Krzysztof Zanussi, directed by Krzysztof Zanussi (BBC, Eurofilm/Antelope, Roem, WDR, et al., 1990), accessed December 21, 2018. https://youtu.be/rdDE5owPUMc.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 20 bravura and overwrought emotion. We indeed see in a 1989 preview article by Charles Bodman Rae stating the Piano Concerto’s adherence against “neo-romantic aesthetics which are anathema to

Lutoslawski.”37

It was not long before, once again, Lutosławski and his mother had to relocate due to the intensifying political landscape. The Warsaw Uprising from August to October of 1944 resulted in the total destruction of the city and the execution of 150,000-200,000 Polish citizens. Luckily, Lutosławski and his mother were able to flee Warsaw for Komorów, but unfortunately the only works that remain were the ones he brought with him: “sketches for the First Symphony, a few student pieces (including the

Piano Sonata), the Two Studies for piano, the Symphonic Variations and the Paganini Variations.”38

Lutosławski’s sketches of the piano concerto were never found: “They remained in Drozdowo, in our house. (In 1937-9 I lived there. Rather, I was there by fits and starts.) The sketches were in the garret, in the trunk where all my early compositions were kept, among them those which had been performed in public. After the war I never came to Drozdowo. So I don’t know anything about that trunk.”39 The piano concerto was now lost, and its progress would be put on hold for more than half a century.

The Right Pieces Coming Together

When Lutoslawski did eventually return to the piano concerto in the 1980s, it was because of the fortunate intersection of a collaboration, a commission, and good timing. By the eighties, Lutosławski had already written works dedicated to illustrious internationally-famed musicians such as Peter Pears,

Mstislav Rostropovich, Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, and Heinz and Ursula Holliger. He was also approached by the Salzburg Festival years earlier, in 1971, to write a piece for orchestra, but was unable to accept the project then (due to his usually lengthy compositional process and time constraints). Now that he was in a period of stability and success after a lifetime of challenges, he could finally find

37 Charles Bodman Rae, “The Background to Lutoslawski’s Piano Concerto,” The Listener 122, No. 3124 (July 1989), 36. Accessed December 17, 2018, https://search-ebscohost- com.ezproxy.rice.edu/login.aspx?direct=true&db=rih&AN=A252423&site=ehost-live&scope=site 38 Rae, “Lutoslawski, Witold,” Grove Music Online. 39 Nikolska, 104.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 21 solutions to compositional problems through his self-taught experiments in music and fully compose the ideas that had been coming together throughout his life, namely the piano concerto. Unfortunately this delayed return to the genre was also far from his performing years as a pianist. However, his advanced training in conservatory had developed a discerning ear and understanding about mastering the instrument, so it’s no wonder that the 1975 Warsaw International Chopin Piano Competition gold medalist, Krystian Zimerman (b. December 5, 1956), captured his attention. Understanding intimately the expressive range of the piano from his own extensive experience as a pianist, he described the young pianist’s “beauty of tone,”40 and credited him as “the principal inspiration for me to compose the

Concerto.”41 As though this inspiration was not enough to inspire Lutosławski to return to the sketches almost long forgotten half a century ago, Zimerman himself took it upon himself to make this composition happen. As recalled by Lutosławski, it was Zimerman who had persistence, utilizing his resources at PAGART (Polish Artistic Agency) and then going through connections he had at the Holland

Festival, to reach him: “He might well come directly to me - he did not so (apparently on account of an immense difference in age). His steadfastness in the desire to get my concerto was a big impetus for me to write it.”42

Zimerman, on the other hand, perhaps modest, placed the fruition of this project largely on

Lutosławski: “Lutosławski and I first discussed it in 1976, when he told me that he wanted to write a piano concerto for me. I thought that it was a very nice compliment, but I never thought it would come about.” Six years later I saw him, and he said, 'I'm still working on the piano concerto.' Then in 1987 he phoned me and said, 'It's ready.'”43 While it is unclear whose account is to credit for the fortunate collaboration, the collaboration was sealed with Lutosławski obtaining another commission from the

Salzburg Festival, now for the Piano Concerto. With this commission and a capable pianist, Lutosławski could finally return to finish what had been started decades earlier.

40 Rae, The Music of Lutosławski, 217. 41 Nikolska, 35. 42 Ibid., 45. 43 Jamie James, “Krystian Zimerman,” Stereo Review 58, no. 3 (March 1993): 104.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 22

Following Lutosławski’s initial completion of the Concerto in 1987, the composer worked in collaboration with Zimerman for six months in London.44 In an interview with Nikolska, Lutosławski was appreciative of the pianist’s artistry: “Krystian Zimerman is the star of the Polish pianism in the second half of the twentieth century. I am a great admirer of his playing. I heard him play in concerts, I know his recordings. Zimerman’s interpretation of the E minor Concerto by Chopin can only be compared to this concerto as played by Józef Hofmann - both these interpretations are absolutely brilliant… Meeting

Zimerman was one of the luckiest moments in my life.”45 Zimerman, in turn, described Lutosławski as “a man of such eminence and such stature… an extremely open-hearted man, who helps young people enormously, and who is himself, inwardly, very young”, and the experience of this collaboration as “a great privilege and distinction.”46 Working through the year on slight edits (much of which will be discussed in Part Three), Lutosławski completed the final version of the Piano Concerto on January 20,

1988, days before his 75th birthday. With Zimerman as soloist, Lutosławski and the Vienna Radio

Symphony Orchestra give the premiere at the 1988 Salzburg Festival. It was the finale on an all-

Lutosławski program, with Anne-Sophie Mutter also performing as soloist for Chain 2, and in a review featured in Tempo, George Newman described the evening as “an unforgettable musical portrait.”47 The two Poles then gave its Polish premiere in Warsaw at the contemporary music festival, Warsaw Autumn in 1988.

While the concerto did not put him in the category of young pianist-composers that would premiere their first concerti themselves (as he initially planned in the 1930s), it was certainly “worth the wait,” as he described to Zanussi in a 1990 BBC documentary. Without the decades of discoveries and experiments, he could not have made the concerto into the mature work it became: “Although it was a bit paradoxical - I was an infant prodigy… and yet my maturity came relatively late. It was the beginning of

44 James, 104. 45 Nikolska, 45-46. 46 Anthony Burton. Liner notes for Lutosławski: Partita: Chain 2: Piano Concerto, performed by Krystian Zimerman, et al., 1989, 2002. Deustche Grammophon 471588. CD. 47 Newman, 53.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 23 the 1960s that I felt that [my music] was beginning to become what I wanted.”48 A brief look at his various experiences during the 1960s show the final pieces of the puzzle coming together to create the

Piano Concerto.

A Lifetime of Self-Taught Experiments

Just as the Szymanowski Third Symphony deeply impacted him, a piece that impressed him to the point of becoming the key to unlock the musical ideas Lutosławski had for the Piano Concerto was John

Cage’s Piano Concerto (1957-58). Faced with a problem of balancing rhythmic integrity, harmonic language, and the practical means of acquiring a good performance (as earlier mentioned, something he took particular care to understand), it was not until he heard John Cage’s Piano Concerto in 1960 that he developed his solution, now termed as limited aleatorism: “While listening to it (John Cage’s Piano

Concerto) I suddenly realized that I could compose music differently from that of my past. That I could progress toward the whole not from the little detail but the other way round — I should start from chaos and create order in it, gradually.”49 Certainly the compositions Lutosławski created as a result of this solution, starting with Jeux vénitiens (1961), do not share the wide range of audibly perceptible variety from performance to performance as Cage demonstrates frequently in his own Piano Concerto. Instead, he used a limited number of chance permutations in regard to rhythm and texture that allow a performer’s musicality and freedom to shine through unimpeded. Using motivic fragments to create a larger texture,

Lutosławski was able to free the alignment of varying instruments to create his desired sound. To achieve a similar effect in prescribing every articulation would be too calculated, resulting in an exponential amount of effort required by the musicians in practice and rehearsal and detracting from the general effortless and natural unveiling of the music, as explained in a speech presented in 1993 upon his reception of the Kyoto Prize:

The use of the element of chance opened for me a way to use a lot of musical ideas, that were kept “in stock” in my imagination without any way to use them…. The element of chance in my music...is a factor that can considerably enrich the repertoire of the means of expression,

48 Witold Lutoslawski in Conversation with Krzysztof Zanussi, directed by Krzysztof Zanussi. 49 Balint Andras Varga, Lutosławski Profile (London: Chester/Edition Wilhelm Hansen, 2012), 12.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 24

especially in.. rhythm. The rhythms that result from the introduction of the element of chance are very sophisticated and it is impossible to achieve them in any other way. And they are not difficult to perform.50

These ad libitum sections are found primarily in the first movement of the Piano Concerto, creating rich textures in the orchestra while coordinating with the specified piano melody. Examples of its use as a practical method to portray organic musical congruences are further explained in Part Two.

An opportunity to go to the United States to teach composition at the Tanglewood Music Center in

1962 allowed him to witness some of the best conductors of the day, which inspired him to start conducting his own works on the concert stage starting in 1963. Ever-learning from his real-world experiences, it is likely that this exposure to conducting in the sixties drew him to using limited aleatorism as a solution to how to organize the varying instruments into a texture he could only previously imagine. Through conducting he was confronted with the expressive limitations each instrumentalist had when playing in orchestras, all well-intentioned musicians aiming to please the conductor and honor the notes on the page. This specific use of limited aleatorism allowed for conductor and instrumentalists alike to focus less on precise alignments and more on the merging of timbres to create an entirely new texture.

With his self-taught ways involving lots of experimentation, Lutosławski used conducting as a way to try different approaches:

The contact with such elite orchestras has been a priceless experience for me not only as conductor, but also as a composer. To form the sound one wants to hear, to discover all the possible secrets of one’s own works, to get in direct contact with various kinds of audience, all this is of supreme importance for a composer… I think orchestral music must be playable. It is very easy to compose music that is difficult to play. The true art is to be able to compose not very difficult music without artistic compromises.51

Throughout this period of travel and exposure to orchestras between 1960-79, Lutosławski refrained from composing pieces for piano, opting instead to focus on varying harmonic approaches and textures music for other instruments. Looking back on his compositional output throughout his life, it is

50 Lutoslawski, Lutosławski on Music, trans. Zbigniew Skowron, 99. 51 Ibid., xix.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 25 easy to segment that period as the full development of his style. What finally brings him back to the piano genre came in the form of a commission to revisit the Paganini Variations from 1941.

A brief glance at the trajectory of the Paganini Variations can shows us Lutosławski’s path towards the Piano Concerto, since it would be the primary genesis for his first work for piano and orchestra. Requested by pianist Felicja Blumenthal (1908-1991) in 1977 for a piano and orchestra work,

Lutosławski chose to simply recompose his Paganini Variations, originally for two pianos. In some ways, as Kathy Ann Russavage asserts, it can seem like the self-educated composer was using this opportunity almost simply as an exercise in orchestration:

The Paganini Variations [1977-78] illustrate the composer's struggle with time in his role as composer/conductor. In response to a request for a piano concerto, he instructed his wife to paste the music of his duo-piano Variations on a Theme of Paganini above the staves of blank score paper; the orchestration was done during long intercontinental flights and in other spare moments. A rather literal translation of the piano part not being played by the soloist (piano and orchestra exchange roles in the repetition of each variation), the orchestration does exhibit Lutosławski's penchant for stratification and "division of labor" by instrumental family.52

While it is clear this project was not a priority for Lutosławski, this exercise turns out to be beneficial in two ways to make it subtly significant in his path towards the Piano Concerto. Firstly, returning to a work from 1941 certainly presented a reminder of earlier ideas, particularly for the piano. With the exception of his one-minute solo Invention for pianist Stefan Sledzinski in 1968, he had avoided using piano as a non- orchestral part since the 1950s, and even then it was mostly as accompaniment to choral music (some of which were later orchestrated) or as study pieces for children. Given that he was struggling with negotiating a harmonic language with the thick textures of an orchestra during the 70s, working on expanding the texture from the original Paganini Variations and making more out of less gave him a solution to begin working on a more intimately expressive language using thinner textures, which he would end up using in the Piano Concerto:

52 Kathy Ann Russavage, "Instrumentation in the Works of Witold Lutoslawski” (DMA diss., University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, 1988), 143, accessed June 15, 2019, http://hdl.handle.net/2142/77337.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 26

I began with the extremities I should say, that means the harmonies of twelve different notes, and that occupied me for several years. There are traces of that up to roughly 1979… But I always thought that it’s not a complete language. It’s good for big masses of sound, but I badly needed the possibility of composing thinner textures. Monody, or two parts, or one part with accompaniment or very simple things that were lacking in my repertoire means of expression… Since then I was able to compose things like Epitaph for oboe and piano… and I was able to include this kind of music in my works for big orchestras like... the Piano Concerto.53

It seems that after looking back on the different periods of his life, all the varying influences were negotiated into the dramatic forces of a piano concerto, and he was able to come to the Piano Concerto as a mature work. His experiments (though masterpieces in their own right) with smaller forces in the 1980s

— the Chain triptych, Epitaph, then with Grave and Partita featuring a more significant role for the pianist — paved the way to the Piano Concerto. Because of this gradual experimentation of using the piano with increasingly greater significance, the Piano Concerto is unique in its avoidance of the typical extroverted soloistic bravura typical of concerti before World War II, and demonstrates a fairly equal balance between orchestra and soloist.

Five decades after his first desire to compose this piece, Lutosławski was able to combine the entirety of his experiences and the musical and personal growth, and exhibit the blend of past and future in the Piano Concerto which makes it a piece to consider in the longstanding repertory of concerti. From performing piano duets in bars during German-occupied Warsaw, studying and being inspired by the works of other composers, and developing a “simpler” way to compose and negotiate his harmonic language, we are able to arrive to the piece we have today. It took the combination of many things — the gradual development and acclaim of a self-learned composer, his outlook and openness to new ideas, inspiring teachers in his early development, and meeting a very talented, passionate, and capable Polish pianist, tremendous willpower and luck during life-threatening times — for Lutosławski to overcome many obstacles over the course of much of his life to finally write the Piano Concerto.

When he finally does write the Piano Concerto, it is only thanks to half a century’s worth of composing, sketches, and external musical influences that we arrive to a work that is uniquely

53 Witold Lutoslawski in Conversation with Krzysztof Zanussi, directed by Krzysztof Zanussi.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 27

Lutosławski. Though evidence points to a significant influence from experiences in his early development, the return to the genre after establishing himself as an internationally-renowned composer makes the Piano Concerto a mature work of his and not a mere extension of young ideas from the 1930s.

Without the direct guidance of a composition teacher beyond his conservatory years, one might assume his works are generated purely from his experiences as a young student and the foundation Maliszewski instilled in him. However, because of his perseverance and curiosity about the musical world around him after his graduation, we instead find a successful self-taught composer, learning from his own experiments with composition and finding solutions to best convey his intentions.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 28

PART TWO: ANALYSIS

“The main purpose of a piece of music is that it should be experienced by the listener… I understand the process of composing above all as the creation of a definite complex of psychological experiences for my listener.” - Witold Lutosławski54

As mentioned in Part One, Lutosławski viewed his Piano Concerto as a mature work, with which he was very pleased. From reading Lutosławski’s many writings about composition, we can gain insight to the struggles he faced in arriving at his musical language, before he felt comfortable with approaching the genre of solo instrument with accompaniment in the 1980s. The Piano Concerto is one of his final works, so the study of its elements uncovers evidence of his solutions to problems he encountered throughout his musical life. These challenges ranged from rhythmic to textural, and the management of musical ideas within the practicalities of performance concerned him greatly. His solutions reveal a truly unique language that alludes to traditional musical characters and forms while creating a completely idiosyncratic aesthetic and simultaneously appealing to the experiences of the work by performers and audiences.

Models of the Past

Through studying his writings and musical works, we can attribute much of Lutosławski’s mature compositional style to his early education and experiences with music. His formal studies with

Maliszewski had on him, particularly regarding the “four characters” made a lasting impression, as well as his own studies of works by composers of the early 20th century. In his decision to write a piano concerto, one can tell that Lutosławski understood the characterization that began to typify the genre, as well as his role to extend the parameters that Bartók and Ravel had left half a century earlier. As observed in the Oxford Dictionary, “A notable feature of concerto composition after World War II has been the conception of the solo–ensemble relationship as a dramatic one, with each side expressing ‘characters’

54 Witold Lutosławski, “Kompozytor a odbiorca’ “The Composer and the Listener,” Ruch muzyczny 4. (1964), as quoted from Nordwall (ed.) Lutosławski, 121.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 29 involved in calm discussion, violent argument or independent development.”55 Lutosławski’s piano concerto is an epitome of this type of concerto: In his program note (as translated by Charles Bodman

Rae), Lutosławski’s descriptions of the music aligns with the notion of concerti as soloist and orchestra each embodying different characters, with words such as “capricious”, “dramatic”, “singing”, “calmly subsiding”.56

The “art of leading the listener through the composition”, as Lutosławski said, came from

Maliszewski’s teaching of Beethoven and Haydn’s music, as mentioned in Part One. In creating a narrative arch for the listener to experience through the work, Lutosławski uses “dramatic methods” in order to surprise audiences. In discussion with Nikolska, Lutosławski praises Beethoven’s manipulation of “characters (“natures, i.e., types of musical utterance)” in his compositions:

He was kind of “playing” with the potential listener… the composer was - during a certain span of time - suggesting to the listener that the current section is coming to an end, but then - all of a sudden - a note of the chord was replaced by another so that it was clear that the expected conclusion of the section was no longer expected to ensue, whereby the listener’s expectations proved to be disappointed. This kind of “playing” consists in giving the listener not what he has just been offered, but quite another thing. And it is thence that my dramatic methods come. “Dramatic” methods in the meaning “methods of theatricalization of musical constructions”. To exemplify: a musical thought is being stated, and then it is interrupted by a group of instruments striking up, or by a new-type harmony. Here is a parallel: you are talking - I am interrupting you. In the dramaturgy of my compositions I call such moments “interventions”.57

“Interventions” in the Piano Concerto arise in a variety of ways to affect the audience. In the manner as described in the quotation above, Lutosławski uses overlapping gestures, staggered entrances, and rhythmic and melodic cells to “interrupt” other characters in the fourth movement. The very pianistic

“chasing” idiom58 can be seen in the fourth movement, Rehearsal 98-99, where hands alternate back and

55 Paul Giffiths, “Concerto - The Twentieth Century,” Grove Music Online. 2001, accessed November 3, 2018, https://www-oxfordmusiconline- com.ezproxy.rice.edu/grovemusic/view/10.1093/gmo/9781561592630.001.0001/ omo-9781561592630-e- 0000040737#omo-9781561592630-e-0000040737-div1-0000040737.5. 56 Witold Lutoslawski, Concerto for Piano and Orchestra, program note translated by Charles Bodman Rae, London: Chester Music (August 1988). See Appendix A for full text. 57 Nikolska, 89-90. 58 One might think of Burgmuller or Liszt’s respective “La Chasse” etudes, each featuring sections of staggered hand entrances juxtaposed with aligned arrivals.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 30 forth as in dialogue amidst passages of figurations vary through moments of togetherness and misalignment (Example 2-1).

Example 2-1: Chasing gestures, fourth movement, Rehearsal 98

The chasing technique evokes a sense of motion, direction, and eagerness in the dramatic arch of the music. Another aural metaphor presented is the narrative of “trying until success”, where the composer might use repetitions of motifs with ending alterations, perhaps with a relaxing of tempo or elongated durations signifying failed or questionable attempts, before a decidedly “correct” version of the motif is played with a continued line. This tool has been employed by many composers, from Haydn to Prokofiev, all in hopes of eliciting a response of surprise from the listener. One notable moment where Lutosławski uses this dramatic tool is in the Più mosso at Rehearsal 76 in the third movement. A final “classic trick”

Lutosławski employs is the age-old “surprise” element, set up by a repeated phrase (generally soft in dynamic) and abruptly cutting it off with something different (generally subito forte). This is most dramatically noticeable in the dialogue between piano and orchestra in Rehearsals 75-76, with the

“interruption” or “surprise” occurring with the forte chord at the third bar of Rehearsal 76 (Example 2-2).

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 31

Example 2-2: Third movement, Rehearsal 75, mm. 2 – Rehearsal 76 mm. 1-4

Lutosławski’s aesthetic influences are not limited to Haydn and Beethoven, and their ideas about the perception of music, its emotive responses, and how their compositional techniques create these aural metaphors. With a shared home country and Krystian Zimmerman’s lauded expertise in the performance of his works, Chopin and his piano music had a lasting influence on Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto. In this piece his admiration for the composer was exemplified not in explicit quotation, but incorporated into his own language:

“In this composition there are some moments (will anybody notice them?) of looking back towards Chopin. I tried to find my own Chopin. I did not want to “reconstruct” what I admire in his music: I wanted to construct something new, something original, which, however, would be

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 32

somehow connected with the music of this artist of genius, who personifies our national culture.”59

Even the most audibly perceptible point of Chopinistic moments - perhaps the third movement’s Largo theme - is still just a faint remembrance of an earlier style, so the homage to his fellow countryman does not come across as a quotation. Lutosławski’s “own Chopin” features a similar penchant for lyrical, cantabile melody and legato sweeping accompanimental gestures for the soloist, clearly a result of his own studies of his work as a pianist. It was in the piano works of Chopin and other Romantic era composers where Lutosławski learned to write idiomatically for the piano in a language whose expression blended with his own:

The Piano Concerto, too, is a ‘child’ of a strange ‘marriage’: my individual idiom (melody), harmony, rhythm) is combined with traditions of nineteenth-century pianism. With the traditions of Chopin, Liszt, and Brahms. The result is quite a new quality… In our century the field of piano writing was only tilled (in a really new manner, I mean) by Debussy and, in part, Prokofiev. Prokofiev’s contribution to the cause of development of pianism was significant, but not universal (not for anyone to draw from without producing something ‘Prokofievian’). His piano writing is his piano writing. Too closely connected with his personality, with his individual manner of expression, with his style. Chopin or Brahms - that’s quite another thing: their piano writing can be useful to a composer without converting him into their imitator.60

Indeed, upon listening to the piece, it can only be described as Lutosławskian, left for future generations of composers to figure out how to imitate.

In an effort to concentrate on the components of his idiom and to organize this paper more effectively for different audiences and their respective purposes, most of the discussion regarding the piano writing of the piece will be presented in Part Four for pianists’ interpretations. In both the following analysis and the guide for performers, connections will be drawn to Chopin and other composers

Lutosławski studied, as a means to further show his mastery at synthesizing the music and traditions of the past into his own musical language to create a timeless piece of music. Though there are certainly many intersections, the analysis is organized into the following categories for clarity: form, tonality, timbre, texture, and rhythm. With each category, there is evidence that supports Lutosławski’s use of old

59 Nikolska, 91. 60 Ibid., 101.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 33 techniques to create something new, and how his use of these elements serves the drama and underlying human narrative that make it a timeless composition to be appreciated for centuries to come.

Form

In his concerto, rather than employing the typical three-movement concerto structure,

Lutosławski opts for a traditional symphonic form of four movements of alternating slow and fast tempi, as is used in Brahms’ Piano Concerto No. 2 and Prokofiev’s Piano Concerto No. 2. What is different about Lutosławski’s concerto is that the movements are played attacca, though that is still far from new, as demonstrated by Liszt’s single structure, multi-movement concerti. Also, unlike many others,

Lutosławski opens the concerto with a fantasy-type character featured both in the piano solo and orchestra, which, dramatically, is not the typical strong and forceful entrance found in many of the celebrated Romantic concertos (Schumann, Grieg, Tchaikovsky, to name a few), but instead recalls

Ravel’s Daphnis et Chloe.

Lutosławski’s use of other familiar structures, such as scherzo, cantilena, cadenza, recitative, and chaconne, is also evidence of his appreciation of the lasting qualities of centuries-old forms and styles.

These structures are utilized more for their character than their form, as seen in Lutosławski’s prescribed use of two cantilenas featured in the first movement (Rehearsal 20-23 and again at Rehearsal 28), reminiscent of a Brahms intermezzo with its expressive leaps in the singing melody and rhapsodic rhythms.

As a “moto perpetuo” movement, the second movement conforms to the dramatic pacing of a typical concerto with alternating characters. Similarly linking itself stylistically to the symphonic form, the ordering of the movement within the four movement structure fits audiences’ expectations for scherzo-type music, following a dramatic opening movement. Charles Bodman Rae aptly describes this movement as a “whispering scherzo conveyed by pianism of Chopinesque delicacy (but not Chopinesque in language).”61 Notated primarily in a scherzo’s traditional triple meter, it is most like a scherzo due to its

61 Charles Bodman Rae, “Pitch Organisation in the Music of Witold Lutosławski Since 1979” (PhD diss.,

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 34 fast tempo and its many quick and snappy gestures. Though much of the movement is a continual drive, there are rests and pauses built in, adding suspense. The virtuosity inherent in the piano concerto genre is demonstrated here, as the figurations, quick and wide-ranging, provide moments of excitement and bravura.

While Lutosławski never calls it a cadenza, there is a prominent virtuosic solo interlude towards the end of the second movement. With its placement at the fifth measure of Rehearsal 63, it offers the same purpose as a traditional cadenza - reworking and elaborating previous musical ideas, building to the climax of the movement, demonstrating the virtuosity of the performer, and leading to the final coda of the piece. While not improvised, its rhapsodic passages and musical reworkings of earlier material demonstrate the musical allusion to a traditional cadenza (albeit, without an actual cadence).

As evidence of Lutosławski’s commitment to traditional pacing, the drama subsides in the third movement, offering audiences the respite that they need after the continuous drive of the previous movement. Like the opening of the Adagio assai in Ravel’s Piano Concerto, Lutosławski opens the movement with a lengthy piano solo. However, unlike the Ravel, the mood of this music is mysterious and suspenseful, with its use of unregimented pauses.

As described by the composer in his program note, “the third movement opens with a recitative for the piano alone, which then intones, also without the involvement of the orchestra, a singing ‘largo’ theme.” Though this passage and the corresponding return at the end of the movement (beginning at the

Tempo I indications in Rehearsals 66 and 81, respectively) is stylistically and dramatically similar to that of a typical operatic recitative, it is in the final movement that we see Lutosławski’s strongest use of recitative.

In this final cadenza-like passage (fourth movement, Rehearsal 114), Lutosławski’s musical knowledge and ingenuity blend in a way that puts the concerto in a category where it is looking forward, yet also looking back on the music that came before it. In place of a typical cadenza prior to the final coda

The University of Leeds Department of Music, 1992), 340, accessed June 13, 2019, http://etheses.whiterose.ac.uk/467/1/uk_bl_ethos_247672.pdf.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 35 of a concerto, this rhythmically-free impassioned piano solo includes the orchestra in the manner of a secco recitative, with the music unmeasured and the strings acting as continuo. Lutosławski’s use of the strings to create a unique timbre is explored later in this analysis.

The fourth movement’s use of “chain form”62 and its roots in the chaconne is a prime example of

Lutosławski blending a structure of the past and making it new within his own musical language.

Lutosławski skillfully employs the chaconne while still conforming to the audience’s dramatic expectations, using a repeating bass motif (iterated by the orchestra) in varying instrumentations, relying on the timbre and texture of each variation. Meanwhile, he utilizes the piano to provide new episodes juxtaposed incongruently from the chaconne theme to support the narrative. Straight from the pianist’s entrance, the passagework is dazzling, focused, and sharp. The newness of this movement comes from the imposition of the piano passagework amidst a misaligned ground bass.63 Furthering his aesthetic idea of using his musical language to reflect a more natural and unpredictable world, Lutosławski approaches this technique in a historically-informed and profound way:

In this finale, use is made of what can be described as chain form (tried out in the 1954 Concerto for Orchestra), with two layers (theme and accompaniment) not being properly co-ordinated in time: the soloist enters approximately in the middle of the Chaconne, and happens to ‘syncronise’ with the orchestra only at one moment …What I call chain form is an important element of my music. Historically, a musical construction has been made up from a series of sections, each having a cadence at its end. I wanted to break this convention. So I put forward an alternative conception of leaving one musical thought for another; namely, the method of asynchronous superimposition of two layers passing on to another section independently. This device freshens the dramaturgic quality of the musical form… This method is conducive to an ambivalent perception of music; after all, I can initiate a new musical thought against the background of a different one, carrying - why not? - an antithetic sense. Suppose you have a dream. You see something, and suddenly you realize that it is something quite different.64

For further study in his systematic use of chain form, I refer readers to Rae’s dissertation “Pitch

62 Lutoslawski’s use of “chain form” is defined by the composer in the quotation on p. 35. 63 See Part Four for a full discussion on conflicting implied meters in the fourth movement between the orchestra and soloist. For a chart of the placements of each chaconne and episode, I refer readers to Charles Bodman Rae’s Table 10:3 on page 349 of his dissertation “Pitch Organisation in the Music of Witold Lutosławski Since 1979”. 64 Nikolska, 102.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 36

Organisation in the Music of Witold Lutosławski Since 1979”. His tables show the methodical way

Lutosławski juxtaposed the orchestra and the solo parts, using terminology borrowed from the Medieval technique of isorhythm to describe the differences in talea and color, as well as how the chaconne theme varies from repetition to repetition. The use of this formal structure provides a way in which the music can offer repeated recognizable materials in a tonally ambiguous musical landscape, while simultaneously supporting the “characterization” of dueling members.

With pianist and orchestra often “in disagreement” due to their uncoordinated beginnings and endings, Lutosławski brilliantly crafts the interaction between the two. The fourth iteration of the chaconne theme beginning in Rehearsal 87 is inserted in between piano outbursts, and given the asymmetrical theme with built in hesitations (rests), the interchange is like one of dueling members. With this narrative, audiences from all backgrounds and experiences can hear it and relate it to the human propensity for disagreement. Further studies of the rhythmic implications of the chaconne theme and its interaction with varying piano episodes will be included in Part Four. While these formal structures and auditory allusions to music of the past may lead listeners and readers to believe the Piano Concerto is a mishmash of styles, the unifying factor in his music is his treatment of melody and harmony.

Melody and Harmony

Familiar with the varying approaches varying composers had at the turn of the century toward tonality, Lutosławski’s mature musical language relies on the repetition and manipulation of recognizable motifs, borrowed use of traditional formulas from tonal harmony (e.g., voice-leading and pedal tones), and commonly used intervallic content. Oftentimes these techniques are combined and executed economically in the concerto to mimic the emotional effect of tension and release which cadences in traditional tonal harmony are able to achieve. More specifically, his intervallic pairing of semitones with a leap is integrated in both melody and harmony. It is most aurally perceptible as the motif illustrated in the piano opening of the piece (see Example 2-3), though it is presented both horizontally and vertically throughout the concerto.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 37

Example 2-3: linear and vertical expansion in piano left-hand motif, first movement, Rehearsal 2-4

In Lutosławski’s introduction of the tonality of the piece, with the piano solo emerging out of the cacophonous “buzzing” from the orchestra, the writing is simple, deliberate, and effective. Understanding that it will be unfamiliar to the audience, he uses time and repetition to coax the audience’s ears to hear the harmonic and melodic language, which ultimately shapes the entirety of the piece. With these opening three chords, Lutosławski establishes the significance of the semitone in his musical language. Each note moves in contrary motion from its registral neighbor by a semitone with each iteration, creating a non- diatonic voice-leading that lends a feeling of progression and order amongst the dissonance of clashing pairs of semitones (See Example 2-4). By widening the leaping interval and increasing the volume with each iteration, the emotional content is strengthened in a purely traditional way.

Example 2-4: voice-leading and expansion of chords by semitone, first movement, Rehearsals 2-4

In the first movement’s first cantilena, the “semitone with leap” motif leads a natural progression heightening in pitch (D, F, Gb, G) and reiterated with repetition and “failed attempts”, as would be natural in a tonally traditional landscape. This melody also brings out the interval of a ninth, which exemplifies a blend of the initial motifs - using the dissonance of the semitone with the expressivity of a leap.

Lutosławski alludes to the significance of the interval of a ninth in this work and other mature works in a conversation about harmony with Nikolska:

“My discovery in the sphere of harmony is of the utmost importance to me: it is by this discovery that I have been guided in my work as a composer up to now [April 1990, Nikolska] But certain

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 38

elements of the technique in question can be found in my Third Symphony, in my Concerto for piano and orchestra, and in other compositions. The only thing that I can tell you is this; the ‘field of expressiveness’ is polarized by chords with and without minor ninths.”65

Throughout the second movement, the motif is precisely articulated with pairs of fifths separated by a minor 2nd, both melodically and harmonically. What can be codified as 0167 (see Example 2-5), the sonority is outlined linearly in the left-hand accompaniment (most notably at Rehearsals 37, 38, 61, and

62) but also in the chordal progression at the climax of the piece (See Example 2-6).

Example 2-5: piano left-hand outline of [0167], second movement, mm. 4

——— [0167] ——— ——— [0167] ——— ——— [0167] ——— ——— [0167] ———

Here, in the fifteen measures approaching Rehearsal 64,66 Lutosławski uses an array of non-functional

Major and minor chords, with the primary sonorities — G minor, C minor, F minor (beginning in the first, fourth, and seventh measures respectively) — demonstrating his use of the common technique of the reverse circle of fifths. Meanwhile, underneath these held chords, Lutosławski presents the semitone with

G-sharp minor, C-sharp minor, and F-sharp minor sonorities, respectively. The semitone clash is audibly perceptible with the sustained notes of the primary sonority continuously sounding, though the contrasting use of register allows the listener to also perceive these primary and secondary sonorities separately. All the while, he presents the semitone and fifth concept linearly with the lower registers.

Example 2-6 outlines these varying intervallic interpretations of this passage.

65 Nikolska, 122. 66 For the ease of referencing to the portions of this example, I call this section in the score Rehearsal 63b, starting at the 16th measure of Rehearsal 63.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 39

Example 2-6: Intervallic significance to display harmonic progression, second movement, Rehearsal 63b

67 measure # 1 2 4

prime sonority G minor (down P5) C minor

secondary sonority G minor (up m2) G-sharp minor C minor

outlined octaves G minor (down P5) C (down P5) F C minor

pedaled outline G minor (down M9) F C minor

While this way to use musical elements may seem very cerebral, Lutosławski is able to present the music in aurally significant moments that the listener can grasp. For example, at the start of this passage, the G minor sonority is presented by itself for a full beat. This is a clear aural signifier to audiences that it is an arrival point, albeit a temporary one.

The harmonic implications of this passage (see Example 2-7) have an emotional effect on a listener. The original “semitone with leap” motif has within it its own natural tendencies. Semitones moving upward may be treated as rotating leading tones, particularly when Lutosławski sets up the pitch to build up tension, as though any of them could “resolve” by merely moving up a semitone. This is why the context Lutosławski prepares is critical for the way these pitches are functionally perceived. The common intervals of a fourth or fifth, used as the leap in many instances, are also typical bass movements, alluding to the movement in a tonal landscape from V to I or IV to I. The deceptive cadence is inferred, for example, at the end of this passage (final two measures before Rehearsal 64) though here it is largely due to the prolonging of the bass leading up to it, and the simultaneous treatment of texture to release tension (See Example 2-8). In contrast to the opening motif illustrated in Example 2-2, the pitches here “resolve” inward, contracting the pitches for the opposite effect.

67 Ibid.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 40

Example 2-7: Piano Concerto, second movement, mm. 143-159

Example 2-8: resolution of sonorities, second movement, measures approaching Rehearsal 64

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 41

With his slowly dissipating lead into the arrival at Rehearsal 64, Lutosławski relies on traditional methods to make this arrival sound like a resolution, without the clear use of functional harmony.

In support of this feeling of resolution at Rehearsal 64, Lutoslawski uses the pedal to outline his transformational use of the ninth. While the pedal changes initially outline the movement from G to F and then C to B-flat, the presentation of the F sonority initiates the narrative of “trying until success” as similar options (B-flat and E-flat) are presented, but deemed unsuitable and pedaled through. The pedal continually articulates the F Major chord in its varying registers and inversions until Lutoslawski finally chooses to save the aural significance for the E-natural arrival at Rehearsal 64, thereby dramatically transforming the repeated presentations of the minor ninth into a major ninth.

This “harmonic resolution” coupled with the pianistic figurations of the piano and manipulations in timing create a truly magical moment in the music, one that evokes the masters from the past, as Rae mentions: “Gesturally, this passage testifies to the influence of Chopin, particularly the tactile allusion of the right hand's chromatic decoration. Harmonically, however, it suggests another reference to the sound world of Ravel.”68 This passage provides further reinforcement of the E bass in the pianist’s left hand before the orchestra’s chromatic descent at the Lento (third measure of Rehearsal 66) leads us into the third movement, further solidifying the E as the arrival point.

With the use of traditional accompanimental patterns and voice-leading techniques (stemming most immediately from Chopin), the third movement may be considered the most traditional in its use of harmony. At the start of the movement, the E pedal arrived from the previous chromatic movement moves to an A at the theme, outlining the reverse circle of fifths. The way in which Lutosławski manages to settle the audience in a given tonal area through repetition is particularly noticed in measure 20.69 Using the common tone B-natural and the repeating LH accompanimental gesture, he plays on the audiences’ expectations by moving the interval of the ninth outward to a tenth, presenting a momentary startling E

68 Rae, “Pitch Organisation in the Music of Witold Lutosławski Since 1979,” 344. 69 Due to the lack of designated rehearsal numbers in this section and for added specificity, the first 24 measures of the third movement will be referred to by their measure number throughout this document.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 42 minor sonority. In moments of altering audiences’ expectations such as this one, pianists have an opportunity to highlight the emotional effect of this “deception” in their interpretation.

Lutosławski’s use of “stealthy chromatic voice-leading”, particularly in his later works such as

Partita, Chain 2, and here in the Piano Concerto has been implied by scholars Rae and Stucky as a particular Chopinistic influence.70 An apt example that may have provided a model for Lutosławski is the

E minor Prelude, Op. 28 No. 4, with its similar use of subtle chromatic voice-leading in the piano left- hand accompaniment.

In looking at Epitaph for oboe and piano and Grave for cello and piano, Jadwiga Paja-Stach pinpoints the primary ways in which he uses his melodies, which may be applicable also to the Concerto:

“Another common characteristic in many of Lutosławski’s mature works is his development of the melodic process in two ways: the first the step-by-step extension of the initial motif, the second its contraction.”71 As this plays importantly in Lutosławski’s use of rhythm, the examples of the ways this expansion and contraction are utilized in the piece will be presented in the later section.

Orchestration and Timbre

While Lutoslawski straddled the fine line between tradition and modernity with his dissolution of functional harmony, his orchestration and use of timbre in conjunction with melodic materials are aural signifiers that directly evoke the familiarity of music from the past and provide structural integrity throughout the concerto. Lutosławski’s scoring for triple woodwinds, two trumpets, four horns, three trombones, tuba, timpani, percussion, harp, and strings, is evidence of his economic use of a typical symphonic orchestra, in both size and timbral possibilities. While this may be seen as unusually brass- heavy for a piano concerto, Lutoslawski’s choice for its standard symphonic instrumentation supports his vision for the orchestra to be an equally participating member of the piano concerto, not just mere

70 Stucky. “Change and Constancy” in Lutosławski Studies, 146. Stucky uses the phrase “stealthy chromatic voice-leading” which I found to be an apt characterization of Lutoslawski’s harmonic transformations. 71 Jadwiga Paja-Stach, Jadwiga, “Works for Solo Instrument and Piano” in Lutosławski Studies, ed. and trans., Zbigniew Skowron (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 282.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 43 accompanist. It is noticeable that the work does not require any nontraditional instruments that may be a barrier for more practical or budget-restricted orchestras to perform the piece, especially with a fairly limited collection of percussion instruments (during an era when many new instruments and sounds were being invented to fit the timbres envisioned by the composer). While addressing the limitations of the use of traditional instruments for the contemporary composer, he speaks of the beauty within these instruments: “there is something in the very nature of these instruments that associates them in our mind with the past. Their sound is beautiful indeed, but old, as beautiful old furniture may be.” Though certainly understanding the possibilities of electronic music and musique concrete, Lutosławski declared that traditional instrumental music is superior because of its “richness and subtlety of sound,” and clearly was able to demonstrate his economy and creativity in his usage of these instruments.72

The ways in which he showcases varying timbres indicate an influence by the composers before him, particularly in Stravinsky and Debussy. One can infer his orchestral palette and the possible characteristics implied used in the Piano Concerto from his lecture “Seminar on Instrumentation”, in which he provides a “very informal and subjective” listing of basic characteristics of each instrument.

Commonly used works as references to instrumental writing included Debussy’s Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun, Ravel’s Daphnis and Chloe, Stravinsky’s The Nightingale, Firebird, Rite of Spring, and

Petroushka, and Mussorgsky/Ravel’s Pictures at an Exhibition. While these are the most significant, he also repeatedly mentions Varèse and Brahms, showing an appreciation for and breadth of understanding in both new and old approaches to instrumentation.73 In these descriptions, he further characterizes the varying colors of the instruments and their preferred uses almost in terms of motifs, which can be found in the Concerto.

Some examples of these musical characters can be found in even just the instrumental opening.

The burbling of the combinations of winds and their culminating wave of arrival just prior to the piano entrance can be directly attributed to Ravel’s Daphnis and Chloe. With the undulating winds and harp

72 Witold Lutosławski, “Seminar on Instrumentation” in Lutosławski on Music, trans., Zbigniew Skowron (Lanham: Scarecrow Press, 2007), 73. 73 Ibid., 76-81.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 44 weaving repetitive passages and the use of flutes as bird calls interjecting the texture, it is clear that

Lutosławski was greatly influenced by the “Lever du jour” (Daybreak) opening of the second suite to set the scene for his own concerto. As Lutosławski transitions from this burbling timbre to introduce the piano soloist, he uses suddenly juxtaposed diminuendo and crescendo to create an impressive swell of sound, perhaps most clearly attributed to the cascading woodwind waves from “Danse generale”. One may see his success in using these timbres not merely as looking back to the past in a loose quotation, but evoking the spirit and character behind the gestures. He beautifully evokes the “sensual, voluptuous character” of the flutes,74 as characterized in “Seminar on Instrumentation”, in this dramatic opening.

With the final movement’s use of chain form, the 18 iterations of the chaconne theme give

Lutosławski the opportunity to showcase his command of the breadth of musical timbres, particularly using the effects of varying combinations of instruments. The ways in which Lutosławski is able to transform the chaconne, making it sound so different even on its own is evidence of his mastery of orchestration, reminiscent of Ravel in his instrumental treatment of the Bolero theme. Perhaps most notable is the sixth iteration, starting at Rehearsal 91 in the horns. The piano is still in the midst of its fourth episode, a whirling and glistening passage, but the entrance of the horn quartet takes the spotlight.

Particularly with the strings now holding the harmonies in long, sustained tones, we are transported to a lush Ravellian landscape. The piano episode is transformed by these long tones in the horns, with flourishes one might find in Poisson D’or or Jeux d’eau. When the orchestra moves on to the seventh chaconne iteration, one can instantly feel the change in character, now with the theme set in thin glissando first violins, supported only by violas and second violins, releasing the glorious sounds of the previous section, and entering in a strange, eerie mood. Another notable use of timbre is the tenth episode, starting at Rehearsal 99, where, borrowing Rae’s use of isorhythmic terminology,75 the talea has not been preserved, but the color is retained as it’s being played by a blend of unpitched percussion: tam-tams,

74 Ibid., 76. 75 Rae, “Pitch Organisation in the Music of Witold Lutosławski Since 1979,” 350.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 45 bongos, and tom-toms. With no other instruments performing in this moment, surely Lutosławski was inspired by Bartók in this momentary piano and percussion duet.

Beyond using the familiar color combinations and characters previously used by Ravel,

Stravinsky, and Bartók, Lutosławski creates his own colors, inferred from music of the past. A great example of Lutosławski’s ingenuity is seen in the recitative of the final movement, where he looks back to try to recreate a similar sound to the Baroque tradition while bringing it into the dramatic context of this quasi-cadenza. As though mimicking the sustained, composite sound many lutes being plucked would make, Lutosławski has the strings articulate repeated notes in varying rhythms, “not to be coordinated within particular groups,” with each player mandated to “play as if alone.” The overall effect is a continuous peppering of articulation that is halfway between a tremolo and a supersonic pizzicato frenzy.

With this technique, he is truly using the beauty and possibilities of traditional instruments in new ways to create different timbres for the audience.

Texture

Lutosławski’s use of texture is rooted in traditional dramatic associations. Put simply, he uses a thin texture for intimate moments or moments of stasis, which he then thickens for heightened drama. The most obvious example is how the fourth movement’s chain form and use of instrument groupings show off Lutosławski’s orchestral palette, which, in its final iterations as the drama increases, finally ends up tutti. On a more micro level, one can see Lutosławski’s subtle manipulations of rhythmic units simultaneously between instruments to thicken the texture.

This procedure is also seen in the cantilenas of the first movement. Here, with the presence of a variety of rhythmic units, he uses Ligeti’s concept of micropolyphony both vertically and horizontally.

With pianistic markings of “espressivo” and “con Ped”, alongside triplet octave figurations, slower tempo, and a string-rich orchestration, the first cantilena (Rehearsal 20-24) is reminiscent of Brahms rhapsodies and Chopin nocturnes. Demarcated with a 3/4 time signature, Lutosławski has the bass playing in 6/8, the lower strings in quarter note 3/4, and upper strings repeating four 2-beat harmonic structures over the course of three measures. This, while the pianist plays in triplet figures against the duplets of the

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 46 strings, creates a thick, ambiguous texture seemingly rooted in the original metric manipulation of

Brahms. Additionally, with the use of ever-increasing divisions of rhythm vertically, we see yet another way Lutosławski is using subtly-changed rhythms, now affecting the texture of the music. Amidst the thick texture and understanding that the audibly “uncoordinated” rhythmic values might be difficult for the audience to understand, Lutosławski allows for the figurations to line up harmonically, causing for gratifying moments of congruity (e.g., the bass move from F to B-flat in the third measure of Rehearsal

21).

His use of strikingly bare texture such as the presentation of the “heartbeat” motif in fourth movement (Rehearsal 107) played by the bass drum allows for a reprieve for the audience. In this moment, Lutosławski is also preparing the audience for the final coda of the piece, and therefore using the thin texture to “reset” the tension that had been previously built up.

Rhythm

Though the Piano Concerto can come across as ametric - with many sections of music consistently altering their pulse and the absence of a distinctively articulated motif - a study of its elements finds that Lutosławski used simple rhythmic ideas to express his naturalist aesthetic, that, in their modifications and repetitions, function to create unity throughout the work. While the short-short- short-long rhythmic motif might seem a derivative from Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, its presentation displaced throughout the meter fully eliminates the “pickup then arrival” metric implications of the

Beethoven motif. Blending unnoticeably into the texture, Lutosławski’s repeated strings of this motif with systematic additions or subtractions to each repetition provides a broader rhythmic interest which lies in the perception of the longer line.

The notation establishes a flexible, yet practical approach to how to best indicate his intentions.

Each movement uses a primary metrical allegiance according to what would best serve the intended character. For the first movement, ad libitum measures make up the bulk of the movement so that only the cantilenas are regularly metered. The second movement features the strictest adherence to the meter of the music, with the time signatures changing regularly each measure, to as long as 24 measures of consistent

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 47

3/4 meter (starting in the second measure of Rehearsal 46). The Largo third movement demonstrates a mix of notation similar to the first, with ad libitum sections mixed in with measured changing meters, likely to bring out the Chopinesque rubato amidst regularly occurring beats. The fourth movement goes against all previously used systems and instead uses a consistent 3/4 time signature throughout, but does not always acknowledge any metric alignments.

The beginning of the piece is a prime example of his use of free rhythmic structures as a practical way to achieve the burbling undulations to set the mood of the piece. Here Lutosławski uses his ad libitum instruction for the orchestra musicians to play their individual sixteenth-note figurations in their own time. While this description may sound like it is leaning towards the indeterminate works of John

Cage (whose Piano Concerto was an inspiration to him), Lutosławski makes it clear in his program notes that these ad libitum sections are in fact so specifically notated and organized that each performance would still have the overall same effect. The resulting sound are quasi-Ravellian, with flourishes imitating the sounds of the natural world, trying to replicate the fleetingness and unpredictable nature of the world around us.

While other portions of the movement are senza misura, he is able to achieve a level of precision in its interpretation through uses of fermatas, specified rhythmic motifs, and tempo and duration indications. This rather simple notation points to evidence of Lutosławski’s concern for the performers of his music, and the effects an inscrutable notation might have on the performance of the music itself. In his

1968 paper, “About the Element of Chance in Music”, he admits how difficult it is for composers to notate in such a way as to “control the ultimate result of the entire procedure,” and explains how limited aleatorism is a way to empower the performer and bring out that which cannot be notated:

The very concept of collective ad libitum can be considered as a reaction of a composer- performer to the often absurd demands that some composers have made of performers in the last few years. Such demands are the result of a completely abstract approach to music considered exclusively as a series of acoustic phenomena occurring in time. I consider such an approach to music as being flagrantly one-sided. I understand music not only as a series of sound phenomena but also as an activity carried out by a group of human beings — the performers of the piece. Each of these persons is endowed with many far greater possibilities than those that a purely

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 48

abstract score demands. I want to induce in the repertoire of compositional means the wealth that is presented by the individual psyche of a human being — the performer.76

Additionally, his use of limited aleatorism in the layering of parts whose “instability” supports a naturalist aesthetic and provides dramatic purposes are in service of a “sound texture”, which he describes in his

1968 paper, “About the Element of Chance in Music”:

“In my works this intention was always a particular sound picture, the essential features of which remain undisturbed despite the accepted method of collective ad libitum playing… Moreover, in composing in this way, clear-cut rhythmical contours, in which the slightest shift in time would introduce an essential change into the picture, are not brought into play. These clear-cut contours can, indeed, appear in the particular parts; they are, however, subject to a process in which they are partially leveled out as a result of the lack of a common rhythmical pulsation for all performers. Thus a sound texture arises, the essential feature of which is its instability. This feature does not in any way exclude the possibility of bringing sharp rhythmical contrasts into play. One of the main aims of collective ad libitum is to enrich rhythm by elements that a traditional technique does not possess.”77

With the absence of a regular pulse in these sections, Lutosławski is able to bring out his so-called

“rhythmical contours” with additive and divisive values - a process principally inspired by Stravinsky’s approach to rhythm: “The essential feature of Stravinsky’s innovation is, firstly, diminishing the module to the length of a part of a measure, lasting for only a fraction of a second…. And secondly, discarding the multiples of the number two in forming the modules into groups.”78 Though Stravinsky’s innovation was carried out most obviously by Messiaen’s practice of using additive rhythms, Lutoslawski’s writings and interviews suggested a different approach and intention. By applying an additive or subtractive procedure to consecutive rhythmic motifs and the durations between their occurrences, Lutosławski is able to subtly relieve or prolong the tension organically at any given moment. This, in contrast to

Messiaen’s Javanese-inspired rhythms, shows the composer's enduring goal for each musical element to serve a dramatic purpose. While Lutoslawski admired the composer, stating “Messiaen created a powerful, ultra-rich sound-world, exceptionally characteristic of his personality,” he was wary of his use of rhythm and its expressive abilities, aligning it with the “apathetic” nature of serialism:

76 Lutoslawski, Lutoslawski on Music, 52-53. 77 Ibid. 78 Ibid., 26-41.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 49

Messiaen’s well-known Study (Mode de values et d’intensités, 1949) inspired the composers of the youngest generation to attack other musical elements in the same way: rhythm, dynamics, tone color, etc. Their subjection to numerical laws through the use of successive metamorphosis totally eliminates the leading role of the aural factor in the actual forming of this music. In other words, this subjection neutralizes all these elements for the ear successively, makes them apathetic, and —- if I may express myself in this way — places the experience of a musical work outside the realm of human sensibility.79

Given Lutoslawski’s knowledge of both Stravinsky and Messiaen’s contributions to rhythm, it seems clear that his own innovation of “rhythmical contours” was a way he could offer structure and flexibility in expression without sacrificing his devotion to serve the listener.

We can see Lutosławski applying this concept in both measured and unmeasured sections. A prime example of these manipulations of the aurally-perceived beat is in the second movement. As a

“moto perpetuo” akin to the second movement of the Prokofiev Second Piano Concerto, the presence of a constant beat is integral. Here, starting in the third measure of Rehearsal 37, Lutoslawski sets up some metric regularity before further driving the momentum forward with metric displacement and rhythmic diminution. As seen in Example 2-9, Lutoslawski begins the section with accented half note beats which is successively divided into dotted quarter notes, quarter notes, and finally eighth notes.

Example 2-9: Rhythmic diminution, second movement, Rehearsal 37 mm. 3-4 to Rehearsal 38 mm. 1-3

accented piano beats X x X x X X X X X X X X X X X X

in eighth note counts 1 2 3 4 1 2 3 4 1 2 3 1 2 3 1 2 1 2 1 2 1 2 1 2 1 2 1 1 1 1

time signature counts 1 2 3 4 1 2 3 1 2 3 1 2 3 1 2

In the next measures, we quickly see a different set of techniques in use. Lutosławski uses the rhythmic motif short-short-short-long (see Example 2-10) in the treble voice of the piano in four repetitions, displacing the previous measure’s articulated 3/4 meter into a 5/8 pattern.

79 Lutoslawski, Lutoslawski on Music, 111.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 50

Example 2-10: Metric displacement of piano melody; gradual alignment via diminution in orchestra, second movement, Rehearsal 38, mm. 3-5

piano repeated motif x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Perceived eighth note 5/8 1 2 3 4 5 1 2 3 4 5 1 2 3 4 5 1 2 3 4 5

Written time signature 3/4 1 2 3 1 2 3 1 2 3 1

Oboe (call) x x x x

Plucked strings (response) x x x x

Meanwhile, the orchestra simultaneously articulates a different pattern. Starting with the oboe arriving with the piano motif, the response by the plucked strings coordinates with the final “long”. However, with the metric displacement of the motif restarting sooner than metrically expected, the orchestra instead adheres to starting on the 3/4 metrically delineated downbeat. Rather than adhering to the previously set pattern, the alternating interjections between the oboe and pizzicato strings gets increasingly impatient, with each response coming an eighth note earlier than previously established until they arrive at the measure before Rehearsal 39 together, as though finally in agreement. This arrival coincides with the final

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 51 arrival of the piano motif, showing listeners in the span of seconds that order and resolution in music does not need to come from steadily synchronous rhythmic patterns.

Lutosławski also applies rhythmic expansion, adding notes to a particular motif in order to increase either its frequency or its duration, as was illustrated in the opening piano grace note motif. This can further be aurally perceived at Rehearsal 12 of the first movement (see Example 2-11), where the left hand articulates in accented consecutive A’s the exponentially longer values as written in the right-hand passagework, delineated by the G. Here, each iteration is expanded by a mere 32nd note, which is also increasing the melody chromatically (as initiated in the piano opening of the concerto). With such slightly perceptible values, it is the larger process that the audience can aurally discern and appreciate.

Coming out of this section, Lutosławski immediately contracts the rhythmic groupings of the left hand while borrowing the final previous seven-unit structure to create temporary metric consistency in the right hand (Example 2-12). Diminishing by a sixteenth with each iteration, Lutosławski also has the left- hand units lower in pitch by a semitone. Hidden within each right-hand unit, one can also hear the “short short short long” rhythmic motif placed to align with the perceived downbeat, which is also found in the second movement (see Example 2-10).

Example 2-11: rhythmic and melodic expansion, first movement, Rehearsal 12

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 52

Example 2-12: divisive values over consistent groupings, first movement, Rehearsal 12

LH descending chromatic line A Ab G Gb F Ab G Gb F G Gb F Gb F E

Piano LH beamed counts (in sixteenths) 1 2 3 4 5 1 2 3 4 1 2 3 1 2 1

Piano RH beamed counts (in sixteenths) 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Hidden rhythmic motif in piano RH x x x x x x x x

The third movement showcases a few moments of utilizing these processes within the same beat, akin to a written out accelerando or ritardando, thereby quickening or slowing the sounded values systematically. In measures 5-8, Lutosławski has the right hand increase its momentum by subdividing the quarter note beat into 4, 5, 6, and 7 before arriving to the pinnacle C. He repeats the process immediately after, subdividing it into 3, 4, and 5. A prime example of this ebb and flow as a result of rhythmic procedures is found in Rehearsal 77-78 (see Example 2-13). Though starting with steady demarcated quarter note beats in the orchestra, the descending line (F C A G#) alludes to a release in tension before the piano interjects. Here in the measure before Rehearsal 78, the piano presents a polyrhythm with its outlined ascending (F A Db) iterations, thereby both quickening the perceived beat and increasing the tension. The orchestra then continues the rhythmic pattern set by the piano with its F C

A G# descent before the piano interrupts again, this time broadening the rhythm with a single iteration of the F A Db motif outlined in quarter notes.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 53

Example 2-13: third movement, Rehearsal 77, mm. 2-Rehearsal 79, mm. 1

Finally, the orchestra takes the underlying sixteenth-note figuration of the previous piano gesture but applies it to the F C A G# melody, quickening the feel of the music one last time, before broadening it across a triplet and duple eighths to wind down.

Lutosławski’s use of rhythm to control the dramatic pacing of the narrative can be seen through his use of written “molto ritardandos,” or affective ritardandos, by way of incrementally prolonged note values. The same can be said for the opposite, for accelerandos. As in the coda of the first movement in

Prokofiev’s Piano Concerto No. 3, Lutosławski’s final ending coda is one continuous crescendo, with manipulations in perceived tempo and a mixture of ever-rising scalar passages. In Rehearsals 120 and

121, the perceived gestures in the right hand of the piano part are increasingly impatient, with an increase in sounded units per measure. One hears two equal gestures in the first two measures, three gestures in the subsequent two measures (see Example 2-14).

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 54

Example 2-14: rhythmic diminution, fourth movement, Rehearsal 119, mm. 4-Rehearsal 120, mm. 3

accented piano gestures x x x x x

sounded eighth notes 1 2 3 4 5 6 1 2 3 4 5 6 1 2 3 4 1 2 3 4 1 2 3 4

time signature 3/4 1 2 3 1 2 3 1 2 3 1 2 3

With a temporary lapse at the fourth measure of Rehearsal 120, Lutosławski continues his procedures at the fifth measure, now with two gestures in one measure, then three in final measure, four in the first measure of Rehearsal 121, five in the second measure, and nine in the final measure (see Example 2-15).

Example 2-15: rhythmic diminution, fourth movement, Rehearsal 120, mm. 5 through Rehearsal 121 accented piano gestures x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

sounded eighth notes 1 2 3 1 2 3 1 2 3 1 2 3 1 2 1 2 1 2

time signature 3/4 1 2 3 1 2 3 1 2 3 1 2 3 1 2 3 1 2 3

With this thickening in texture and quickening of notes, all the while supported by the orchestra, the coda culminates in a barn-burning arrival, giving audiences the familiar satisfaction of experiencing any fiercely spirited finale. As a nod to Rachmaninoff, whose rhythmic signature claims the ends of his second and third piano concerti, Lutosławski penned his own full six-syllabic name to the rhythmic iteration of the final chord (Example 2-16).

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 55

Example 2-16: composers’ musical signatures in final measures a) Lutoslawski: Piano Concerto b) Rachmaninoff: Piano Concerto No. 380 c) Rachmaninoff: Piano Concerto No. 281

With this emphatic resolution, Lutosławski was once again, able to subtly infer his knowledge of previous repertoire while masking it and recreating it as his own.

80 http://conquest.imslp.info/files/imglnks/usimg/c/ce/IMSLP105599-PMLP01949-Rachmaninov_-_30_- _Concerto_n.3_d_(2P)_(ed.Gutheil).pdf , PDF from website, 79. 81 http://conquest.imslp.info/files/imglnks/usimg/b/b3/IMSLP415316-SIBLEY1802.30012.7c92- 39087009355639score.pdf , PDF from website, 95.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 56

PART THREE: PERFORMANCE MODELS

“Lutosławski is a kind of musical director when it comes to human emotions - of what people experience when they listen to his music.” - Krystian Zimerman

This part of the paper will be sectioned into three segments: 1) a brief overview of the Concerto’s performance history; 2) Krystian Zimerman’s significance on the initial and subsequent performances; 3) my own reviews of a selection of recordings of the work. The discussions about interpretation will be focused on that of the pianist, and less about the orchestra.

Ever since its premiere at the Salzburg Festival August 19, 1988, Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto has had a relatively healthy stream of lauded performances and recordings, thanks to some strong proponents of his music. While it has not yet reached the popularity of the canonical concertos by

Rachmaninoff, Beethoven, and Prokofiev, there is an increasing momentum behind Lutosławski’s name and the music he wrote so that his music is becoming more widely appreciated.

With the help of key performers of his music and Polish cultural institutions, such as the Adam

Mickiewicz Institute, which most notably supported the 2013 Lutosławski Centenary celebration and the coinciding Woven Words series led by Esa-Pekka Salonen and the Philharmonia Orchestra, there is a growing level of name-recognition for Lutosławski. As noted in his obituary in the New York Times, “his

Concerto for Orchestra (1954), “Funeral Music” (1958), “Livre pour Orchestre” (1968), Third Symphony

(1983), and Chain 2 (1985) are among his works that are frequently performed.”82 Though his popularity has waned in the immediate years following the 2013 Lutoslawski Centenary, a report following the 2013 events by the Polish Institute of Music and Dance (Instytut Muzyki i Tanca, or IMiT) declared an impressive surge in popularity of the composer’s works.83 In the first nine months of 2013 alone, Krystian

82 Allan Kozinn, “Witold Lutosławski, 81, Is Dead; Modern, Yet Melodic, Composer,” New York Times, February 9, 1994, accessed January 3, 2019, https://www.nytimes.com/1994/02/09/obituaries/witold-Lutosławski- 81-is-dead-modern-yet-melodic-composer.html. 83 Alina Swies et al., Lutosławski Year 2013. Report. (Warsaw: Instytut Adama Mickiewicza/Instytut Muzyki i Tanca, 2014). Accessed June 13, 2019. http://imit.org.pl/uploads/Raport_Lutos%C5%82awski_greatest_events_EN.pdf.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 57

Zimerman gave performances of the Piano Concerto in seven cities, reaching almost 20,000 people.84

With some of Lutosławski’s greatest collaborators and proponents still performing on the world’s podiums and stages today - among them, Krystian Zimerman, Sir Simon Rattle, Esa-Pekka Salonen, and

Anne-Sophie Mutter - there is reason and hope for continued growth and popularity in the coming years.

The First Steps

In an interview with Jamie James, Zimerman admits that “it was the first time I had ever played a piece I had never heard before,” referring to the Lutosławski Piano Concerto.85 His youthfulness and apprehension was further evident in his recollections of their first meeting:

One day I received a telephone call from Witold Lutosławski who says, “Your concerto is ready.” So I booked the next available flight and came to London. And in London, right here in the hotel, we played and sang this concerto without a piano; we practiced it sitting on the couch. I kept asking him hundreds of questions as I really wanted to know how he saw this whole thing. At some point he interrupted me and said, ‘you have to know how to perform it.’86

Though this comment about his inexperience might show his age and apprehension (at the time of its completion in 1987, Zimerman was thirty years old), it did little to worry the composer, as he trusted the skills, integrity, and musicality of the pianist:

[Zimerman] is a very significant contribution to this composition. As for me, I had had no distinct idea as to how it should be interpreted. Naturally, the musical text itself does not enable the performer to overstep certain bounds. The first movement consists of four episodes; the second and fourth episodes are easier to understand than the first and third. Zimerman kept asking me: ‘How am I supposed to treat the first episode and the third one?’ I answered: play them reluctantly - half-heartedly, as it were.’ I also said that he should not make much of these events. And - he played these fragments wonderfully: they sound very delicate, with a touch of poetry, but did not force strong emotions from the listener - they dissolved in what was being opened to the ear.87

This recollection seems to create a snapshot of their six months of rehearsing and refining between 1987 and 1988 in preparation for the piece’s premiere. In his interview with Peter J Rabinowitz, Zimerman

84 Ibid. 85 James, “Krystian Zimerman.” Stereo Review. 86 86 Instytut Adama Mickiewicza. Accessed January 4, 2019. http://lutoslawski100.culture.pl/#1/3/en. 87 Nikolska, 55.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 58 shares stories of the partnership between the two musicians, mostly demonstrating the composer’s specificity in notation and what he wanted (to the extent of the colours capable on his specific piano):

I said, ‘I have one trouble here: You sing this beginning’ and he sang it again for me. He wanted to have kind of ‘Whaaa.’ I said “That’s not what you wrote,’ and I sat down to his piano and I played the beginning as I played it in my home — and the piano made the sound he wanted.88

While Zimerman recalls this as the moment he realized the importance of using a specific piano for a given performance (as he famously insisted on travelling with his piano on tour), these quotations inadvertently gives readers a sense of the thorough and exhaustive dedication Zimerman and Lutosławski had in learning the Piano Concerto.

As a performer with experience working on new music with its composer, I find that this extensive collaborative process is unique, opening a discussion about the possible interpretations of this piece. Most composers (especially established ones such as Lutosławski) would often already have their ideas of the music firmly rooted, with little (if any) input from its dedicatee, let alone “workshopping” ideas. It is apparent from these interviews that Lutosławski was very inspired and humbled by

Zimerman’s talent, and seems to have used their rehearsals to fine-tune his writing, perhaps to find better ways to suggest the colors and expression. Zimerman, on the other hand, likely appreciated the experience, having admittedly never worked on a piece with a composer previously. It’s likely those decisions of “how he saw this whole thing” related to the shaping and pacing of a melody and the overarching implementation of traditional structures (as discussed through Part Two) in a nontraditional idiom.

Given the depth of Zimerman’s involvement with the creation of the concerto, it is natural to infer that his performance would be the gold standard to which all subsequent interpretations are held. While there is some truth to this, even Lutosławski saw that his notation still allowed for the “spirit and imagination” of varying performers to “realize those deeper layers” in music. After all, there is nary a descriptive word used within the notation, besides those previously established in the canon (i.e.

88 Peter J. Rabinowitz, “Learning in Every Concert: A Conversation with Krystian Zimerman,” Fanfare 23, No. 1 (October 1999).

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 59 cantabile, espressivo, precipitando). Had he been as descriptive in his score as he was in his instructions to Zimerman to “play them reluctantly - half-heartedly, as it were” or “delicate, with a touch of poetry”, it might have added a further interpretative challenge for performers to manage. Instead, his score allows for the performer to use their own knowledge and experience of varying styles (as he did in composing it) to come to their own interpretations of the piece, given the articulations, textures, and figurations presented through the music. His own openness in varying interpretations is evident in his choice of using another Polish pianist, Ewa Poblocka, for performances and a recording in the final years of his life.

With my own personal preference of not listening to any recordings prior to learning a piece, my own experience preparing this one was rich, as the score’s roots in traditional idioms and the music’s tension and release patterns allowed for a natural way to engage with it and to produce a confident and communicative performance. The only interpretive challenges were the negotiations between the piano and orchestra in the final movement (which is discussed at length in Part Four), which is largely important for the purposes of ensemble.

Clearly, I am not the only pianist who found the concerto to be a worthy endeavor to interpret and perform. According to the Witold Lutosławski Society there are (as of December 2018) thirteen published recordings89 of the Piano Concerto by a variety of pianists: Piotr Paleczny, Krystian Zimerman (once with

Lutosławski and the BBC Symphony Orchestra, a second time with Sir Simon Rattle and the Berlin

Philharmonic), Paul Crossley, Sir Ernest Hall, Ewa Kupiec, Leif Ove Andsnes, Ewa Poblocka, Piotr

Paleczny, and Louis Lortie. With three recordings of the piece as well as a Lutosławski Medal awarded to her in 2013 for her performances of Lutosławski’s Piano Sonata, Ewa Poblocka (b. November 21, 1957) is the only pianist other than the work’s dedicatee to have recorded the concerto more than once, and to have worked with the composer himself. Though much of the inspiration for the piece is thanks to

Zimerman, Lutosławski scholar Charles Bodman Rae recalls in the liner notes of Poblocka’s 1992 CD the composer’s possible later preference for her interpretation: “Lutosławski was greatly impressed by her

89 There are 15 listed on the website, though the 2002 Deutsche Grammophon release of Krystian Zimerman with Lutosławski and the BBC Symphony Orchestra is the same recording as the 1992 debut recording, as is Ewa Poblocka’s re-release of the Lutosławski and NOSPR collaboration on CD Accord.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 60 interpretation of the piece (particularly her delicacy of touch) and chose her as soloist for several concerts which they gave together during his final years; therefore he also chose her as soloist for the present recording made in Katowice at the end of January 1992.”90 Taking this into consideration, a comparison between the two pianists’ recordings with the composer as conductor, as well as each artist’s respective subsequent interpretations without the composer offers an interesting study of the composer’s own ideas of the piece and the possibilities of interpretation the piece lends.

General assessments will be made regarding the recorded interpretations of the other pianists in hopes to guide future pianists. In discussing the various interpretations of the Piano Concerto, I will synthesize the choices made with each performer and provide some insight for future interpreters to decide for themselves where they see a true realization of the composer’s intentions for the piece.

To gain a general frame of reference, I have included a listing of the timings of these varied performances in Example 3-1, listed by pianist alphabetically. With the mean and medians listed for each movement, one may see how they compare to each other, as well as against Lutosławski’s recordings.

Example 3-1: timings of individual movements in selected recordings Piano Concerto timings by movement Artists (Pianist, Conductor, Orchestra) I. II. III. IV. Andsnes, Welser-Most, and Bavarian Radio Symphony 0:05:41 0:04:28 0:07:06 0:07:50 Orchestra Crossley, Salonen, and LA Philharmonic 0:05:31 0:04:34 0:07:43 0:07:52 Lortie, Gardner, and BBC Symphony Orchestra 0:05:41 0:04:41 0:08:13 0:07:44 Ohlsson, Kaspszyk, and NFM Philharmonic Orchestra 0:05:36 0:04:32 0:07:14 0:08:04 Paleczny, Wit, and NOSPR 0:06:08 0:05:05 0:07:12 0:08:08 Poblocka, Kord, and National Philharmonic Orchestra 0:05:31 0:04:48 0:06:30 0:07:24 Poblocka, Lutosławski, and NOSPR 0:05:23 0:04:55 0:06:40 0:07:56 Zimerman, Lutosławski, and BBC Symphony Orchestra 0:05:38 0:04:38 0:07:23 0:08:01 Zimerman, Rattle, and Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra 0:05:54 0:04:40 0:07:57 0:07:29

Mean: 0:05:40 0:04:45 0:07:11 0:07:48 Median: 0:05:38 0:04:40 0:07:14 0:07:52

90 Charles Bodman Rae. Liner notes for Witold Lutosławski last recording. Piano Concerto - Symphony No. 3, performed by Ewa Poblocka et al., 1992, 1996. CD Accord. ACD 015-2. CD.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 61

As listeners and readers will find in the following recording assessments, the selected recordings show pianists’ varying approaches to the third movement, especially in regard to the degree of their freedom in expressivity. One way to chart this in a mathematical way is to compare their overall movement timings, since much of the movement is solo piano. This data is displayed on the line graph in Example 3-2, with the most extreme in timings at the outer edges of the graph. This will provide a point of reference when later discussing emotionalism and the degree of expressive freedom in a performer’s interpretation of his music. At first glance, however, it is interesting to see the two Lutosławski performances vary in timing quite differently, and their pianists’ second recordings each show a move towards the opposite extreme.

Example 3-2: variances in timing of the Piano Concerto, third movement

-Most

Poblocka/KordPoblocka/Lutoslawski Andsnes/WeiserPaleczny/WitOhlsson/KaspszykZimerman/Lutoslawski Crossley/SalonenZimerman/Rattle Lortie/Gardner

While these data points can give readers a starting point for comparison, it does not chart each performer’s degree of expressivity precisely. One might think that quicker performances such as those of

Poblocka, would be more conservatively expressive, while longer performances such as that of Lortie’s, would be taking Lutosławski’s markings liberally. However, in the following recording observations, one will find that this is not the case. The third movement has fairly specific tempo indications, provided by metronome markings, but also plenty of opportunities (fermatas, for instance) for the pianist to linger and be more flexible. The effects of varying tempo choices by each performer on my perception of the drama are included in the narrative below. I encourage readers and listeners to survey their own listening perspectives of the recordings to see how they might compare with the timings provided.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 62

Krystian Zimerman, Witold Lutosławski, and the BBC Symphony Orchestra

As one cannot help but be influenced by the premiere recording, this study of recordings begins with an informal narrative of my perceptions of Zimerman’s recorded performance with Lutosławski.

This narrative is provided as a way to suggest a listener’s perception of the music as it unfolds, so one might understand the varying impressions certain interpretive liberties can cause. While considerations were made to synthesize the broader strokes of my impressions of these recordings, I ultimately found it most compelling to provide a full detailed accounting of the recordings, particularly since Zimerman himself expressed the significance of each detail:

The quality of a recording or the quality of a performance depends on many factors: the orchestra, the conductor, the acoustics, the piano, hundreds of small details. And it’s enough that one of the details is not a hundred percent on the same level as the others, and the whole picture is destroyed. It’s like a chain, it’s as strong as its smallest part.91

The opening of the concerto is like a chorus of baby chicks chirping away. The woodwind outbursts are crisp and deliberate, very articulated, but could be heard as plodding, if given a slightly slow tempo. The piano opening is tentative in character, yet expressive in its repeated notes. At the precipitando, one can notice the rapidity of Zimerman’s skilled articulation of his right hand. Dutifully reading the composer’s every marking, his mezzo forte espressivo in the piano entrance at Rehearsal 20

(3:19) is rather understated, choosing to wait until the third measure of Rehearsal 21 (3:35) to effectively use the bass register accompanimental triplets and adhere to the composer’s cresc. poco a poco marking.

His choice of rubato within his triplets is flexible and not overly done. At Rehearsal 24 (3:58), his piano gestures are calm and delicate, putting it in more extreme contrast with the clarinetist’s squawkish solo

(though supposedly piano). The brass playing at the final three measures of the first movement are impressive, with their rapid-tonguing of the 32nd notes.

The second movement as recorded by Zimerman with Lutosławski begins rather insistently and straightforwardly. The initial motive is a rumbling biting crescendo, building up bit by bit with the insistence of the repeated seconds in the third measure of Rehearsal 38 (0:24) before a final thrust into

91 Rabinowitz, “Learning in Every Concert”, Fanfare.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 63

Rehearsal 39. He certainly achieves a scampering quality in the senza Ped. upper register sections, while in the lower registers, particularly in the beginning until this moment, it is largely an effect of low rumblings. With the speed, passages such as Rehearsal 49 through Rehearsal 52 do not have much shape and are played simply with forward direction (1:28-1:51), causing more reliance on the orchestra to show direction and progression when approaching Rehearsal 51. At Rehearsal 53, he holds eighth notes longer than the prescribed staccato eighth notes would imply (1:51-2:00), perhaps from liberally using the pedal.

Together with the orchestra, they create a Bartókian sense of night music at Rehearsal 60 through the first three measures of Rehearsal 63 (2:34-3:07) that is very effective. The solo “cadenza” section is impressive, in four bar phrases gradually more urgent, his fingers gliding over the keys seemingly with an even and supple touch, without harshness in articulation, preserving the legato, while still creating intensity into the climax. Upon reaching the climax, as he does with the first movement’s mezzo forte espressivo section, he does not care to dwell on the “expansive” nature of triplets, and instead trusts the composer’s penchant for marking what he intends and saves a more legato touch for the ensuing notated

32nd note passage. The transitioning Lento section is surely slow, set by the orchestra, while Zimerman plays still with the rapidity of his previous scampering figures, maintaining the integrity of the previous movement while the orchestra readies the listener for the third movement.

Zimerman’s natural sense of pacing is evident in the third movement’s Largo, with the emerging right-hand melody full of expression as his left hand patiently coaxes the drama to its height over seven expansive bars (0:47-1:30). His rubato in this cantabile section brings out the mystery and sensuality of this music. Zimerman’s care for even the slightest gestures—his expressive yet delicate treatment of the grace notes in Rehearsal 69 (3:10), for example—show his mastery of injecting emotion in even the smallest places.

When we arrive at Tempo 1, the measure after Rehearsal 77, the orchestra dutifully plays the role of slowing the previously established rhythmic drive that it had before. However, when the piano enters two measures later, its elongated and sustained feeling is too dramatic and feels like a laborious 6/4 instead of the notated triplets, leaving little room for the orchestra to sustain the momentum. Without

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 64 being able to continue the slow tempo for too long, these three bars show a very liberal interpretation of what should be a consistent tempo, until a strict tempo is reinforced at Rehearsal 79 (5:42).

The final movement begins with a slow awakening from the previous Largo movement. At

Rehearsal 87 (1:13) the tiered dynamics and the way Zimerman inflects them (as more of a gradual crescendo instead of in two note groupings highlighting a 12/16 meter) gives a feeling of insistence. At

Rehearsal 88, his pianism comes before his allegiance to all of the composer’s markings, forgoing the tenuto of the penultimate eighth note value and instead using an audible lift more akin to a portato, to emphasize the accented quarter note harmonies. The accented octaves in the right-hand passage starting at

Rehearsal 90 (1:49) are played seemingly effortlessly and not obtrusive to the orchestra due to his use of pedal and legato touch.

There is a slight blip in the splicing of the recording at the transition to Rehearsal 105 (4:56-57) which is rather unfortunate. The short and crisp articulations of the bassoons at Rehearsal 107 (5:38) ushers a sense of anticipation for what’s to come. Zimerman’s recitative (6:56) contains rubato with a sense of urgency, performing the figurations with a forward drive.

Ewa Poblocka, Lutosławski, and the Polish Radio National Symphony Orchestra

In an essay she titles “My Lutosławski,” Ewa Poblocka recalls her journey with the Piano

Concerto and the time she spent with Lutosławski and his wife Danuta when they would travel to perform together. Prior to their collaborations, Poblocka was well aware of Lutosławski and his music. Growing up with her mother, a professional singer in the north Polish town of Gdansk, she was immersed in

Lutosławski’s Tuwim’s poems for children. Later, as a student, she would travel to hear him perform his works with the Warsaw Philharmonic. One can admire her courage and gusto in 1990 to ask the composer to listen to a recording of her performance of the concerto with Jerzy Maksymiuk at State Higher School of Music, where she had graduated nine years earlier. Though she shares little about their rehearsals together or of the composer’s thoughts about her playing, her recollections in “My Lutosławski” do

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 65 include comments about his demeanor at the podium: “He controlled things, listened. Forever with a friendly attitude towards the orchestra, he was nonetheless demanding.”92 Since the composer did not work with Poblocka until after many of his interviews, lectures, and writings were already published, there is little written about her in his recollections beyond the generous words Charles Bodman Rae supplied in her CD’s liner notes (presumably in unrecorded conversation with Lutosławski before his death).

Ewa Polocka’s first recording of the concerto, with the composer conducting the Polish Radio

National Symphony Orchestra, is expressive and yet anti-Romantic, with a preference for long phrasing and specific deliberate uses of rubato. Recorded January 28-30, 1992 in Katowice for the CD Accord label, it was the second recording for the composer of this work. As such, comparisons will be made against his first with Zimerman, though this is not to say Poblocka’s interpretation cannot stand on its own (quite the contrary).

The orchestra opens the piece with fluid and very legato playing, giving it a less rigid or imposing character, in comparison to Lutosławski’s earlier recording with Zimerman. A slightly faster tempo helps in this regard. When Poblocka enters (0:43), there’s no bravado in the sound, instead it is a true piano without the cantabile touch one often needs in a concert hall (and which may be more appropriate for a live performance). Her sound is unhurried and not overly ponderous, resulting in a natural unfolding of the opening material, which may be interpreted as a “searching” figure, with each entrance gradually gaining confidence in sound and momentum as it moves from an improvisatory dream-like mirage to a confident direction As Zimerman does, Poblocka also uses the repetitive Bs and its following cascading figurations in Rehearsals 5 and 6 to apply some rhythmic liberties to support a fantasy character (1:15).

Her passagework at the precipitando has clarity (2:21), focusing more on the longer phrase than showing the individual twists and turns of the line. Her pacing of the cantilena starting at Rehearsal 20 (3:14) is

92 Ewa Poblocka, My Lutosławski, Ewa Poblocka, 2, Accessed January 3, 2019. http://www.poblocka.com/media/js/kcfinder/upload/files/moj_lutoslawski_eng.pdf.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 66 well-defined, gradually developing the sound and motion from the beginning, instead of waiting for the crescendo marking at Rehearsal 21 to start showing direction.

The boisterous ending of the first movement often can be overwhelming, but Poblocka manages the buildup well, with an adherence to clarity instead of frenzy. Upon the subito piano, which she (as

Zimerman also had done with the composer) takes a brief breath to clear the sound (4:46), she honors the composer’s poco a poco precise notation for the impending crescendo so she truly does not reach her full dynamic power until the fortissimo as marked at the measure before Rehearsal 34.

In comparison to the rumbling and murky nature of Zimerman’s opening of the second movement, Poblocka’s is suspenseful, with a balanced texture towards the right hand, until the left hand emerges with greater articulation and presence in Rehearsal 38. With perhaps a shallower pedal, finger legato, and sensitive control of her sound, Poblocka’s passagework has clarity with crisp articulation, and holds off on increased pressure until it is needed at the second measure of Rehearsal 39 (0:33). She reserves the clean articulated sound for Rehearsal 47, where with the composer’s secco marking, she is not only able to draw listeners in with her precision, but surprise them as well with subtle nuances of her shaping (1:20-1:35). She continues her preference for overarching direction over gestural shaping in

Rehearsals 51 through 52. It should be noted that her tempo choice hovers around quarter note = 138, noticeably slower than Zimerman’s frenzied 152, though it certainly does not detract from the excitement of the music.

At the conclusion of the second movement, the notated accented G-sharps at Rehearsal 65 and its preceding measure can be discerned amidst its subdued context, though not dynamically or projected with articulation as a traditional accent (4:12-4:28). It is likely with finger legato, holding on to the thumb notes as though they were tenuto where listeners can make out a slight hum. The overall effect is therefore unlike the interpretations of other pianists - an eerie underlying hum versus ringing bells of impending doom.

One can find Poblocka’s expressivity and mastery of the instrument displayed most prominently in the third movement, where the Largo section (beginning at 0:45) is played with a Chopinesque rubato,

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 67 the hands sometimes not coinciding with one another. Her attention to harmonic changes is displayed as she deliberately places the A-sharp octave with a bit more stress, after an unmoving A pedal tone.

Meanwhile her attention to the chromatically rising middle voice is seamless in its growth from the left hand to the final E-flat in the right hand (1:00-1:20). While the next section has many tempo changes which can come off as abrupt, Poblocka does this much more naturally than other pianists, interpreting it as a natural rubato instead of irregular emphasis. This supports the idea that Lutosławski, in his effort to keep the music from becoming too indulgent, would allow for limited moments for rubato as he so indicates, but wished for no liberties taken where none is written. Her grace notes at Rehearsal 74 (3:31-

3:37) are ultra-condensed, giving them a crisp sound and spontaneous character. When we reach the

Ancora piu mosso section, she again focuses on the long drive, with the final run focused on the following downbeat, as opposed to accenting each of the beamed groups (4:06-4:29).

As her playing of the fourth movement is fairly straightforward, I will only comment on a few things that caught my ear. Generally, both soloist and orchestra have significant moments of strict adherence to establishing a clear tempo with well-articulated downbeats. They choose to begin with a moderate tempo of around quarter note = 73 in Rehearsal 86. We see a re-establishment of tempo starting the measure after Rehearsal 96, though that is quickly dissolved by Rehearsal 100, giving the effect of lost control, but also added excitement. The new tempo choice of the piu mosso at Rehearsal 107 comes without preparation or placement, nearly as an interruption, causing great excitement in the final thrust of the piece (5:26). Here, again, Poblocka’s overarching understanding of the piece is observed with her pacing of the material from here to the end. Whereas most other pianists (Zimerman included) use the

Meno mosso recitative section as a free self-expressive cadenza, Poblocka feeds off the tremolo strings and is relentless in her shaping (6:51-7:19). Rather than give herself any moment of reprieve of the tension implied by the harmonies, she chooses to drive forward, continuing the final sweep of the piece into the coda. With this penchant for the longer trajectory of the music, Poblocka does not completely lose sight of her expressive capabilities in smaller phrases. She surprises listeners by starting with pedal at

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 68

Rehearsal 121 (7:35), perceivably to give significance to the long note values, but then goes completely secco by its third measure, thus achieving a new kind of intensity to end the piece.

In general, Poblocka and Lutosławski’s recording shows a full understanding of the piece, and in my opinion, seems to fit the aesthetic Lutosławski was aiming for - not overly excessive, yet still interesting and always appealing to the listener. The recording itself is also particularly good, with a great balance between the orchestra and soloist throughout, so that the pianist frequently weaves from moments of prominence and moments in the midst of the orchestra. There are some ensemble issues (Rehearsal 24-

27, 45, 81, ending), and a few misread notes (Rehearsal 95), leading me to believe the recording must have been done in broader strokes, getting the longer scope of the phrases, instead of a focus on perfection. The result is a clarity in the musical aesthetic of the piece and its form, and a sensitive and precise rendition of the music.

Krystian Zimerman, Sir Simon Rattle, and Berlin Philharmonic

When asked by Martha Petruch about his decision to make another recording of the Piano

Concerto after the composer’s death, Krystian Zimerman suggested that the great composer acknowledged the freedom performers had to interpret the work as they chose: “I asked Lutosławski how to play it and he had answered, ‘I just wrote it. The rest is yours. The interpretation is yours’.” With this anecdote as a blessing and considering what Zimerman described as the haste in which the first recording was done, he was eager to re-record the work:

Not everything was set… we were still solving rhythmical problems. Therefore now, after 25 years, I strongly insisted on playing it again. The concerto sounds now pretty much differently. I’m also very happy that the recording company finally agreed to make another record, and that I was accompanied by the Berliner Philharmoniker and Simon Rattle, perhaps a combination you can only dream of.93

With Rattle, “an extraordinary person, he is a great music enthusiast” whom Zimerman came to know since the 1970s, and the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, which to Zimerman, is “the best orchestra in the

93 Krystian Zimerman, interview by Marta Perchuc-Burzynska, “Krystian Zimerman – Interview – 2013,09,23” (video), November 23, 2013, accessed June 12, 2019, http://youtu.be/BLZGjcz7BHM?t=2m55s. Translation provided by commentator Joseph Niepce.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 69 world today”, this dream team’s recording was celebrated by many. The Guardian praised it and gave reason for keeping the piece in the repertory: “the Berlin Philharmonic’s realisation of the flickering, glinting orchestral writing is just as meticulously detailed as the jewel-like precision of the piano playing.

Together they make this new recording a glorious affirmation of the place of Lutosławski’s work in the concerto canon.”94

In general, this second recording by Zimerman shows a bit more settled quality. The sound is less

“extroverted” with his choice to use a softer touch overall, in both louder and softer sections of the piece.

The piano opening is more expansive than his earlier recording, without the dramatic sudden immediacy of sound, favoring to rush more towards the beginning and take time towards the end instead of the cautious general accelerando favored by most (0:43-1:00). Interestingly, he injects a bit of humor in his treatment of the grace note figures at the end of Rehearsal 10, making them quick and a bit more articulated (2:17). The most surprising difference from his original recording was the dramatic growth at

Rehearsal 20, where his mf espressivo entrance is more of a pp, very soft and slow, seemingly not wanting to go anywhere fast (3:41). He starts to push the tempo and dynamic little by little until Rehearsal

23, the musicians collectively make a big accelerando and steady build up to make the arrival at Rehearsal

24 feel like an overwhelming release. Zimerman otherwise performs the first movement with similar dedication to the composer’s markings and a delicate yet sparkling touch, with very rare subtle nuanced uses of sensuality, for instance in his treatment of the slurred chromatic motif at Rehearsal 27 (4:39).

Zimerman’s second movement is much more nuanced for this second recording, as distinct from his initial more straightforward and insistent interpretation, though this may be more due to the higher quality of the sound recording this time around, and less a more detailed reading in Zimerman’s interpretation. In Gavin Dixon’s review of the recording, he too picks up on this difference:

“...the hall’s acoustics respond beautifully to the mellow, floating textures. Lutosławski often writes quiet music, but with such detail that every nuance needs to be heard. Every nuance is

94 Andrew Clements, review of audio recording by Krystian Zimerman, Sir Simon Rattle, and the Berlin Philharmonic, “Lutosławski: “Piano Concerto; Symphony No 2,” The Guardian, August 5, 2015, accessed June 11, 2019, https://www.theguardian.com/music/2015/aug/05/lutosawski-piano-concerto-symphony-no-2-cd-review- simon-rattle-krystian-zimerman-deutsche-grammophon.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 70

heard here, and the effect is spectacular. The piano is always apparent across the orchestra, even when their respective textures call its dominance into question.95

The opening figure grabs the listeners’ attention without the force of the earlier recording, this time using a hairpin swell and a softer touch, results in a softer sound. The character recalls to mind a mystical scene of children trying to catch fireflies as they come and go without warning, instead of a suspenseful and ominous mood recalling a monster lurking within the shadows waiting to catch the watchful children.

This is likely done through lessened pressure on the keys, releasing the “forced” sound of the piano. The musicians still create the change of mood into the Bartók-inspired night music at Rehearsal 60 (2:36), though the transition is seamless, with Zimerman taking very little time “setting the stage”, perhaps now favoring a broad picture interpretation that uses this entire section as a transition, setting up the cadenza at

Rehearsal 63, and therefore additional deliberate placement of the section is unnecessary. The dialogue between the orchestra and soloist favors this reading, as there is much less waiting between the two at

Rehearsal 61 and 62 (2:41-3:07). Perhaps it is because of this longer trajectory, Zimerman’s treatment of the climax is a bit more emphatic, weighty, and strong, giving it more depth and therefore a more satisfied approach to hearing all the harmonies. This contrasts with the initial recording, where Zimerman demonstrates a fiery, impassioned drive from the G minor harmony to the F minor LH chord and beyond.

Zimerman’s third movement, a full half-minute longer for this second recording, is more unrestrained and emotive.96 Perhaps one reason for this change may be a freedom felt in returning to the piece without the pressures of playing under the supervision of the composer. Though the “characters” involved in the opening are still quick-tempered, with a quick rise from calamity to explosive prominence in the buildup prior to Rehearsal 67,97 it is in this movement that Zimerman’s softer palette shines through, a significant contrast from the first recording’s extroverted impassioned aria. Clearly still

95 Gavin Dixon, review of audio recording by Krystian Zimerman, Sir Simon Rattle, and the Berlin Philharmonic, “Lutosławski: “Piano Concerto; Symphony No 2,” Fanfare 39, No. 2 (November/December 2015), 368. Accessed June 13, 2019. https://search-ebscohost- com.exproxy.rice.edu/login.aspx?direct=true&db=a9h&AN=110139608&site=ehost-live&scope=site. 96 More discussion about emotionalism continues in Part Four of this paper. 97 Due to the lack of designated rehearsal numbers in this section, for specificity this is in reference to measures 16-17 and 21-24.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 71 recognizing the expressive qualities of the grace notes at Rehearsal 69, he is more subtle now, shying away from the grace notes with a whiff of sensuality (3:44-3:51). The obtrusive interruption at Rehearsal

76 (5:15) is just as provocative as he executed it in earlier recordings, truly showing his mastery at the piano. The seemingly “careless” wham of sound (I’m imagining someone karate-chopping the keys) actually demonstrates his true artistry - its sound so selectively raw and uncared for, sitting in contrast with the varied palette he demonstrates in the rest of the recording. One would think after listening to it several times, one would be prepared for it, but it’s still abrasive, effectively startling its listeners.

The finale, now a half minute shorter than the initial recording (borrowing back the time taken in the previous movement, perhaps), demonstrates the full capabilities of Zimerman. Now at a faster tempo, supported by the superb musicians of the Berlin Philharmonic, the runs truly sparkle and dazzle from the start. From the earlier recording at quarter note = 76, to this one at quarter note = 86, as compared with the composer’s intended marking at 84, one may guess that the initial recording, done in its haste and perhaps while it was fresh in Zimerman’s fingers and with a “lesser” orchestra, resulted in the slower tempo choice. It is a relief that Lutosławski, with all his practical considerations for his musicians, understood the intended effect of a faster tempo, and did not modify the intended tempo. The faster tempo allowed the piano line to be more easily heard, especially in more obscured places such as Rehearsal 90, where Zimerman stays in the background and only slightly brings out the octaves, accented by weight and not sharpness in articulation (1:38-2:00). The most prominent difference with this faster tempo is his dry treatment of the chords at Rehearsal 94 (2:17-2:20) - while he does this in the first recording, the effect is not maximized, because the drive is not very apparent. With the added speed, the effect of the dynamically intensifying portato triplets leading to Rehearsal 94 presents a stark contrast to the dry figure at Rehearsal 94 to great effect.

In the cadenza at Rehearsal 114, Zimerman favors the speed as he’s demonstrated thus far, shortening the smaller values exponentially, creating a heightened state of urgency (6:26-6:58). As the tempo is already pushed to its limits (though still impeccably executed), the coda at Rehearsal 120 is more nuanced with Zimerman playing the gestures with more clarity and slight accents in the right hand to

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 72 bring out the quarter note groupings. This is in opposition to his tendency to favor the gestural swells of these chromatic scales in long murky flows, in favor of the more articulated underlying beat to heighten the drama. This choice, however, still adds to the impending finish with evident virtuosity.

Ewa Poblocka, Kazimierz Kord, and the Warsaw Philharmonic Orchestra

With this recording released September 19, 2000 on the CD Accord label alongside concertos by

Panufnik and Szymanski, Ewa Poblocka shows her mastery of the instrument and understanding of these three Polish composers. As a champion of Lutosławski’s music and the head of Warsaw’s National

Philharmonic from 1977-2001, Kazimierz Kord was a natural interpreter for his music. Heading the

Lutosławski Forum in the years after the composer’s death, it was during the 1996 Forum that he first performed the Concerto with Poblocka, which they subsequently performed again March 1, 1999 to celebrate Chopin’s anniversary, and then recorded.

The first movement of Poblocka’s recording with Kord is largely very similar to her first recording with Lutosławski. In general, as she does in the original recording, she limits herself to only sparing uses of rubato, choosing instead to show the expressivity of any given line with shaping, tone, and by being generous with the ends of phrases by allowing them to linger. There are only a few choice moments where she allows herself to be a bit wilder in heightened moments, particularly in Rehearsals 12 and 13 (2:26-2:50), and 30-31 to achieve a rhapsodic character (4:45). Noticeably, in this recording we finally hear the composer’s written forte actualized by the orchestra at Rehearsal 20, which continues the rhythmic motion from the previous section into the ensuing section building up to Rehearsal 24. This contrasts with many other recordings (including, surprisingly, both of Lutosławski’s recordings) that treat the transitional measure as a significant drop in volume and a blurring of sound. This, in turn, emphasizes the harmony and character more than the rhythm, which the piano then dictates at its entrance a measure later.

Poblocka chooses to interpret the second movement with the same straightforward reading and biting sound as her original recording with Lutosławski, except the tempo is just slightly faster, resulting in shaving off a mere seven seconds off the timing. In the initial recording, Poblocka was careful and

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 73 deliberate in her placed downbeat arrivals to coordinate her landing with the orchestra (such as the arrivals of Rehearsals 43 and 44). Here, in this second recording, the slightly faster tempo allows

Poblocka to lead with direction and phrasing to ensure the coordination without impeding the forward motion of her passagework (0:39-50). Poblocka ends the movement with Kord as she had done with

Lutosławski, with a much faster interpretation of “Lento” than in both of Zimerman’s performances.

The third movement further proves the idea that this second recording by Poblocka and Kord may be seen as a tribute to Lutosławski, trying to emulate the interpretation of the previous recording, but perhaps with a more capable orchestra. Poblocka’s adherence to differentiating the written note values (as opposed to reading them as suggestions for rubato (the opening figure of third movement) is still seen here, as is her introspective shaping (the underlying figure in Rehearsal 69 – 2:50-2:56), and the forward- driven pacing (the chromatic figure at Rehearsals 73 and 76) to allow for a ritardando which does not weigh down the movement. To account for the ten seconds that Kord and Poblocka shave off in this movement, we can look at Rehearsal 75, where the horn enters with a slightly quicker pace (3:46), and then at Rehearsal 81, where the dialogue between the pianist and orchestra flows naturally without taking excess time with the written fermatas (5:22-5:36). This decision supports a focus in this recording more on highlighting the longer trajectory, directing the listener towards larger sections. For the piu mosso section, Poblocka chooses to stress the arrivals of the final chords, setting them up with a bit of added time so the final fermata octave is placed (or in the case of the second one, the arrival of the B octave is placed).

The fourth movement contains no frills, with both orchestra and pianist executing the notes, articulations, dynamics as written, which one might think as “dry”, but in actuality is dazzling and results in an unemotional quality the composer might have intended. The main difference between this recording and Poblocka’s interpretation with Lutosławski and the Polish National Radio Symphony is speed. The base tempo is closer to the composer’s designated marking, now approximately quarter note = 80. As she does in her first recording, she refrains from getting swept up in the gestures and maintains the tempo until Rehearsal 108, where now the tempo increases to 92 (5:00). Perhaps because she has had more time

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 74 with the piece, or now has a more capable orchestra, or some recording situation unbeknownst to us,

Poblocka does increase the tempo through Rehearsal 112 to quarter note = 100, and then ends with a

Presto significantly faster than previously done (quarter note = 175 as opposed to the previous 154).

With the very limited amount of interpretive differences between these two recordings, it is clear that Poblocka was satisfied with the interpretation she arrived at with Lutosławski, and that Kord respected their decisions. The increased tempo throughout supports Lutosławski’s indicated tempo markings in his score, as well as the idea that the markings are intended to prevent the music from being overly indulgent.

Piotr Paleczny, Antoni Wit, and the Polish National Radio Symphony Orchestra

Piotr Paleczny’s recording with Antoni Wit conducting the Polish National Radio Symphony

Orchestra is perhaps the most liberal reading of Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto, which makes it even more peculiar that it is included in Naxos’ six CD collection of Lutosławski’s complete orchestral works.

Recorded June 27-28, 1995, Paleczny approaches the piece seemingly with little concern for the composer’s intentions, taking Lutosławski’s general markings often more as suggestion than fact. His interpretation is overwhelmingly Romantic in style, taking a significant amount of liberty in his timings

(setting up Rehearsal 64 with a significant ritardando – 4:06), and even applying these liberties in shaping small figures, as evident in the opening material, causing the orchestra to sound more like wallowing murmurs. His treatment of triplets in the cantilenas are Brahmsian, broadening them slightly with a tenuto touch. While Paleczny dutifully brings out the “melody” as notated by the composer in different note values and accents, presumably to magnify the juxtaposed duples, his shaping of them as though it were an impassioned aria comes off as inappropriate.

In the third movement, he gives significance to the seemingly least interesting line. The middle motif made up of broken thirds are the smallest in value in this section, and yet Paleczny almost stubbornly picks them out, first choosing to interpret the secco as applying to each note,98 thereby

98 The secco indication looks to be referring to the absence of pedal so the ensuing rests may be heard.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 75 ignoring the legato slurs, giving them prominence within a subdued texture (0:09-0:12). Then as it continues to occur throughout the movement (such as in Rehearsal 68 - 2:58-3:00) the gestures are consistently overvalued, with time, stress, and articulation. His treatment of the chromatic figures at the end of this third movement (Rehearsal 81) also contrasts with that of the vast majority of other pianists, him choosing to shape each twist and turn of the figures in a slower tempo, almost like they were 16ths instead of 64ths as they are written (5:56).

A final note about his interpretation: His treatment of rhythmic groupings is unique, in that he tries to bring out syncopations, particularly in the final movement. While some sections are notated by the composer with conflicting markings (which will be further examined and discussed in Part Four), the select moments of unconventional rhythmic groupings Paleczny chooses are worth noting, if only to entertain. With a slower tempo in the final movement, Paleczny is able to give clarity to the rhythm and pulse, setting up manipulations of it, such as in the fifth measure of Rehearsal 86, where he anticipates the final eighth note accented chord by a fraction of a beat (1:13-1:15). In Rehearsal 98 (3:38), he confounds listeners by emphasizing the left-hand three-note groupings, displacing the downbeat to the second 16th beat of the measure (or rather, reading the previous measure as a 13/16 bar). At Rehearsal 49, he chooses to accent the downbeats where no stresses are written and the beamings allude to a different stress pattern

(in decreasing units from 5/8, 4/8, to 3/8).

While unique and perhaps even enticing to some audiences, this syncopated interpretation of these passages contradicts Lutosławski’s clearly indicated intended conception of rhythm in the concerto.

The pianist here is imposing his own desire for a strong extroverted rhythmic character whereas

Lutosławski, as mentioned in Part Two, was captured more by the mimicking of natural occurrences his rhythmic contours provided.

Garrick Ohlssohn, Jacek Kaspszyk, and the NFM Wroclaw Philharmonic Orchestra

The recording of Garrick Ohlssohn with Jacek Kaspszyk conducting the NFM Wroclaw

Philharmonic Orchestra was part of the Witold Lutosławski’s Collected Works Release Project and a subsidized project from the Lutosławski 2013 centenary program. Given his renown for interpreting the

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 76 works of Chopin, from winning the 1970 International Chopin Competition to participating in the bicentenary projects, it seems that the pianist’s artistry for Polish music would be evident in interpreting

Lutosławski. While Paleczny’s interpretation veers to the over-romantic, Ohlssohn’s interpretation is as much steeped in subtlety and delicacy. His performance is straight-forward, with a disdain for unnecessary rubato, and a care for the tone in his sound.

As in Lutosławski’s own premiere recording with Zimerman, Jacek Kaspszyk starts the orchestra slowly, with a sense of deliberation, causing some instruments to gain prominence amidst the opening build up. When Ohlssohn enters, he takes no excess time, staying strict to the rhythm at Rehearsals 5 and

6, giving strength to the overarching phrase. He adheres to this propensity throughout the piece, even in situations that would ordinarily allow for more time. In the first movement, Rehearsal 32, there is a subito piano amidst a thick consistent texture for both orchestra and piano. Most pianists would take time to clear the sound, but Ohlssohn stays in strict tempo, since there is no marking from the composer to take additional time. Later, at the drama-filled build-up then pinnacle of the second movement (from Rehearsal

62 until the poco ritardando before Rehearsal 64), Ohlssohn takes the “anti-Romanticism” to heart, playing the initial fragments at Rehearsal 62 with little mystery, and the ensuing “cadenza” in a straightforward way.

Though restrictive in parts of the third movement, Ohlssohn’s rigidity in pulse comes off brilliantly in the notorious Tempo 1 section of the third movement (Rehearsal 77-78). The piano’s triplet figures here are played with their subtle nuances without too much time-taking, resulting in a clearer understanding of the rhythmic manipulation Lutosławski is aiming for between the orchestra and the piano soloist. I also appreciate his attention to Lutosławski’s groupings of notes, audibly accentuating them ever so slightly to make them clear to the listener, such as measures 186-188 in the piece’s coda. All in all, Ohlssohn’s fast tempo, while exciting, causes a few noticeable note inaccuracies and some incongruent moments between the orchestra and piano. While his interpretation is more conservative than that of Poblocka or Zimerman, his technical skills allow him to execute all the passagework with delicacy and brilliance.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 77

Louis Lortie, Edward Gardner, and the BBC Symphony Orchestra

Lortie’s interpretation approaches emotionalism in a restrictive way, mostly in his use of tone on the instrument, which to me, was not effective. For the most part, particularly in the fast movements, he keeps the momentum from building too much, or would build it but not achieve a satisfying arrival point.

It seems as though he has been cautioned to keep it from getting too emotional that he limits the expressive palette to only a small variety of tone - most of which is on the drier side (instead of the lush, full, soft touch one might get in Brahms). This is epitomized in the way he treats the “interruption chord” at the fourth measure of Rehearsal 76 (5:19). Perhaps my ears have been used to the brutality and rudeness of Zimerman’s treatment, since Lortie’s version, short and somewhat resonant, comes off as cute. In places that would often be more rhapsodic — the first movement’s first cantilena and the cadenza of the second movement — Lortie instead starts as though the motion had already been brewing, at a fully realized speed. This sort of sectionalism, immediately conveying a given section’s mood without transitioning from the previous, while jarring in most places, benefits him in the second movement. With a generally fast tempo (quarter note = 154) throughout the movement, the juxtaposition of characters between piano and orchestra adds to the drama of the piece. Highlighting the intense differences in timbre, the fermatas in Rehearsal 60 are held longer than expected by Gardner and the BBC Symphony

Orchestra, providing suspense in the pregnant pauses (2:34-2:49).

Lortie’s third movement is the slowest of the recordings studied. Compared to Lutosławski’s two recordings (which already widely vary in this movement at 6:40 and 7:23), Lortie’s 8:13 is perhaps unnecessarily slow, with the Largo registering approximately at eighth note = 52, well below his intended indication of 40-45 at the quarter note. This slow tempo leaves Lortie with very little room to be expressive by nuancing the rhythmic groups in a natural way. When he does so at the ending return to

Tempo 1, the triplet figures do not have any regularity, blurring any integrity of the composer’s intended rhythmic motives and tempo.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 78

The fourth movement is straightforward, with little shaping outside of the dynamics and articulations written by the composer. The entire movement seems to be under wraps, cool and collected

(but perhaps subdued in comparison to most other interpretations), until Rehearsal 102 (3:53), where a noticeable increase in tempo hints to the audience of the impending action. The ending keeps listeners on their toes with Lortie’s choice to disregard the composer’s pedal marking in favor for a secco rendition of the coda at Rehearsal 120 (7:13) — an effective tool to show off the clarity and articulation of the pianist.

Leif Ove Andsnes, Franz Welser-Möst, and the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra

This CD is the only one which includes other solo piano works by other composers, providing listeners with different sources of comparison. In the liner notes, comparisons are made to his commissioned concerto by Marc-André Dalbavie: “As is the case with Dalbavie, Lutosławski’s descriptions of his own musical thinking are both intriguing and inviting. His enthusiasm for instrumental colour is in a sense a pre-echo of spectralism, but his Concerto is also more directly comparable to

Dalbavie’s deliberate confusion of foreground and background in its shifts from the tightly integrated to looser musical outlines.”99 After performances of the concerto with the London Symphony Orchestra,

Cleveland Orchestra, and New York Philharmonic in 2002 alone, it is clear Andsnes had a clear conception of the work before recording it on his “Shadows of Silence” released by the EMI label in

2007. Indeed the performance is accurate, relying on the music itself to come through, with a very competent orchestra supporting as an equal member. The dialogue at Rehearsals 45 and 46, usually a very problematic area prone to ensemble issues (sometimes avoided by taking a slower tempo) is instead here precise and energetic. Andsnes forgoes setting the audience up for character changes in preference for the longer line, particularly getting into Rehearsal 64, which his performance alludes to a continuation of the previous material instead of transitional material.

99 Roger Thomas. Liner notes for Shadows of Silence, performed by Leif Ove Andsnes et al., 2009. Warner Classics B001W20UT6. CD.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 79

The third movement is notable due to Andsnes’ adherence to tone and pacing himself throughout with a slow but steady tempo. In contrast to Zimerman’s impassioned outbursts, Andsnes is never hurried, even in the quick buildup crescendi in measures 21-22. Interestingly, he sees the harmonic interest of the ensuing harmonic shift being more prominent in the bass note, changing the pedal on the E, rather than the G-natural.

The fourth movement starts in a moderate tempo, just as many do, slightly under the composer’s indicated marking. His touch is more delicate than articulate, giving a more shimmering quality than a nervous energy. His tempo at Rehearsal 111 is a great choice, fast and yet clear. His pedaling is superb, cutting off oftentimes before the indicated marking to allow for a quicker cutting of sound. The result is a feeling of dazzling virtuosity instead of boisterous passion. The final coda stands out with his clarity in his fingers and holding fast to the tempo so that at the fifth measure of Rehearsal 120, listeners can pick up on the sudden duple meter of the right-hand groupings as an area of rhythmic interest.

Andsnes clearly had a clear concept of interpreting the work. Paired with his technical skills, I believe it to be a balanced reflection of the composer’s intentions with a great orchestra. Compared to

Lutosławski and Poblocka’s performances, it is more subdued and dazzling in the larger scope of the piece, perhaps aligning even closer to the Chopinesque delicacy Lutosławski intended.

Paul Crossley, Esa-Pekka Salonen, and the LA Philharmonic

I was looking forward to hearing this recording, given Esa-Pekka Salonen’s devotion to the performance and study of Lutosławski’s works in the 21st century, Paul Crossley’s background studying with Messiaen and Yvonne Loriod and his subsequent championing of 21st century works for the piano, and the excellent reputation of the LA Philharmonic.

Unfortunately, in general the recording falls short of the musicians’ reputations. Overall, the interpretation leans toward a freer, more indulgent interpretation, as evidenced by the cello solo in the fourth movement, and some manipulations of the tempo by the pianist at Rehearsal 56, an abrupt change in tempo at Rehearsal 72, and irregular shaping and stressing of beats at Rehearsals 88 and 89. These distorting freedoms perhaps might be acceptable if it did not cause undue problems of ensemble. For

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 80 instance, between Rehearsals 97 and 99 the ensemble seems to lose steam, likely to ensure accuracy in this challenging section. Unfortunately, perhaps due to some loss in clarity in rhythm and articulation of the LH (Rehearsals 111 and 86), the scampering quality of the music is realized a bit too genuinely. If anything, this leads to a good discussion on overcoming some of the difficulties within the music that will be discussed in Part Four.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 81

PART FOUR: A PERFORMER’S GUIDE

Inherent in any concerto is a level of virtuosity, ranging from passagework that challenges the fingers and muscles (e.g. dexterity, independence, endurance), to the coordination of ensemble (and for the pianist, between the two hands) and speed (for leaps and passagework). While these are technical difficulties that the piano soloist can expect as a primary concern in approaching a new concerto, much of the challenges in the interpretation of Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto are linked to understanding its rhythmic structure and the complexities of negotiating the piano part with that of the orchestra. Therefore, much of the following discussion will be a study of Lutosławski’s view of rhythm and notation, and suggestions for interpretation.

In the hope of encouraging and being of benefit to future performers of this work, I have selected a few examples of these difficult passages with an explanation of their challenges and suggested solutions. The difficulties of the piece can be categorized primarily into three types: 1) rhythmic understanding, 2) stylistic familiarity, and 3) technical passagework. While certainly this concerto is meant to show off the soloist to a degree, none of the technical work requires the extent of endurance and sheer force featured in most of the prominent romantic concerti. As Lutosławski mentioned in his lecture to young composers, “Your work sounds better when the players feel that their effort pays off. On the other hand, it sounds much worse when they can see clearly that the part is awkwardly written, and that the difficulties are unnecessary.”100 This pragmatic and considerate approach to composition is seen throughout the concerto, as the piano part is indeed written idiomatically and ideally suited to maximize the musical effect while minimizing the technical work behind it - resulting in a performance that is both spectacular for the audience and seemingly effortless for the pianist.

To complete this study, we must revisit the notion of emotionalism in Lutosławski’s music, as was introduced from the varying interpretations of the Piano Concerto noted in Part Three. While it is clear that pianists ought to adhere strictly to the notation written, particularly now knowing the care

100 Lutoslawski, Lutoslawski on Music, 75.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 82

Lutosławski took in creating each and every utterance, this discussion considers the extent of the unwritten freedoms the performer might be able to enjoy without betraying the composer’s intentions or delivering a dry and unfeeling performance.

Rhythmic Incongruities and Their Implications

As mentioned in Part Two, one of the hindrances to the appreciation of this piece is the absence of a steady beat. However, knowing Lutosławski’s intention to reflect the unpredictable and ever- changing characteristics of his music, performers should be persuaded to let go of any strong, innate propensity to find and bring out a steady beat. His notation of this aesthetic within varying structures - from a measured metrically-felt allegiance to the beat to non-measured ad libitum fantastical free writing

- certainly shows his allegiance to providing the performers of his music something legible while conveying his musical intentions. Though using these different systems prevents most misinterpretations

(for example, creating stresses where none are written) from occurring, there are still accent associations present in the music which may mislead the traditionally-trained performer, as evidenced in observations noted in Part Three. These associated markings that may affect the rhythmic interpretation of the music include slurs, pedal markings, regularly occurring melodic patterns, and rhythmic motifs.

For the classical musician, there exists intrinsically-trained correlations between phrasing, articulation, accompanimental patterns, and meter which are very difficult to parse. The music of the

Common Practice Era101 demonstrates a predilection for specific phrasing decisions given these clues. For example, when encountering two-note slurs, one usually accentuates the first of the pair. In pedaling indications as well, which largely show the harmonic rhythm of the music, the performer “feels” the beat as coinciding with the pedal changes. With these subtle cues written into the music, as well as accompanimental patterns (waltz, for instance) ingrained in our metrically-ordered cognition of music,

Lutosławski at times will put them against each other, causing the pianist to have to decide which to follow. Having a pedal marking designate a “downbeat” while the perceived melodic patterns accentuate

101 Approximately 1650-1900

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 83 an entirely different “downbeat” is just one example of these disagreements. As apparent in hearing the varying pianists’ interpretations, how is one to know which of these indications takes precedence in interpreting Lutosławski’s music? How can one make a decision?

One such example of a passage as described above is found in the Largo theme of the third movement. In its first iteration at measure 2, the melody fits the natural stresses implied by the meter.

This is supported by Lutosławski’s crescendo markings leading into the downbeats of each measure and the slurs indicating each phrase. Meanwhile, the left hand, while starting on the second beat in the initial measure, is made to feel like a downbeat given Lutosławski’s pedal indication. Aside from the initial measure, which could be notated as a 1/4 and 4/4 instead of a 5/4 to imply the stresses, the accompanimental patterns line up with every pedal and downbeat through measure 8. The issue arises in the return to this theme nine measures before the end of the movement, where the left-hand accompaniment with its corresponding pedal is now placed on the second beats of each measure while the cantabile melody is grouped according to the meter (see Example 4-1).

Example 4-1: cantabile theme of the third movement

a. mm. 2-9

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 84

b. mm. 68-76

Lutosławski changed the meter twice in this section, which suggests that he intended a felt metric association in the melody, perhaps to stress the changes in pitch in the left hand. In this example,

Lutosławski is intentionally having this disagreement in felt beats, likely a way to allude to the continued disjunction in the following movement. Pianists should therefore aim to refrain from overt shaping, concentrating more on projecting the gradual descent and decay of the longer line.

The fourth movement is full of downbeat contradictions, whether between the hands or between the pianist and orchestra, so therefore it is necessary to have some general guiding rules. Essentially, performers should approach this music in a straightforward manner, without many stressed beats. This allowance for the music to flow without extra unnatural impositions supports Lutosławski’s desire to reflect the natural world. In passages with prescribed pedal indications, pianists should take effort in making that audibly perceptible to the audience, though added inflections or heaviness may not be necessary, since most of Lutosławski’s pedal markings are in the service of a specific timbre rather than for harmonic prolongation and emphasis. Lutosławski’s accent and dynamic markings take precedence over the bar lines in this movement, even though there are long passages where the melody naturally

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 85 supports a metrically-inspired stress (or lack of stress, for off-beats). This is evidenced in the measure before Rehearsal 86, where the pedal and piano figurations coincide to clearly outline each of the three beats. This promptly changes at the following measure, with the last eighth note beat accented and indicated as though an arrival point. While Lutosławski could have indicated the piano part here in a 4/4 + two 3/8 bars to align with the varying gestures, accentuations, and pedal markings (see Example 4-2), it is apparent that he chose the 3/4 consistently through the movement in part to remain the passacaglia in a perceptible order, but also to assist in rehearsals with the orchestra and an overall ease of reading for the pianist. In choosing this notational system, it shows that Lutosławski understood these disagreements and

“corrected” the pianist’s understanding of the stressed beats through his use of accents.

Example 4-2: rebarring of piano part to align with stressed beats, fourth movement, Rehearsal 85 mm. 4 – Rehearsal 68 mm. 1

a. original

b. rebarring

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 86

As mentioned in Part Two, his manipulation of these felt beats surprise the listener and adds drama to the narrative. Whether in moments of surprising coordination (e.g., the arrivals at Rehearsal 104 and 105 or the “hocketing” at Rehearsal 99), or traditional manipulations of the meter (e.g., the consecutive use of three pitches over a variety of rhythmic patterns at Rehearsal 98, Lutosławski aimed to create this discord and one would be remiss to try to articulate implied “syncopations”. One such example is Rehearsal 87, where four groupings of two-note gestures are fit into a 3/4 meter, accentuating a 12/16 meter (Example

4-3).

Example 4-3: accent patterns for fourth movement, Rehearsal 87

a. original notation

b. incorrect stresses to bring out meter

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 87

c. correct stresses to bring out gesture and longer line

This implied polyrhythm (the orchestra is absent here) may lead one to accent the metrically defined 3/4 beats to show off the syncopations, as might be appropriate in Chopin or Brahms. Here, however, such an interpretation would be out of place and may come off as kitschy. Instead, performers should aim to convey the urgency (due to the “quickening” 12/16 feel of the beat) and increasing drama of this repeated motif, with slight agogic accents on the first of every pair (as notated, Lutosławski does not even indicate the repeated pitch, showing a preference for the gesture of the motif).

While it may seem like I am approaching a blanket statement of “staying in your lane” in the successful performance of these two structurally different materials between the piano and orchestra, I would impress on pianists the need to find the agreements that may be felt. This requires an understanding of the metrical implications of the passacaglia theme that underlies the entirety of the movement. Though the orchestra’s sparse injections land primarily on pulsed beats, they are scattered throughout the meter, thereby creating a level playing field for each occurrence (i.e., lessening the notion of “downbeat”). The lonesome off-beat occurrence in the first measure of Rehearsal 82, however, still inherently contains the traditional characteristic of unbalance, irregularity, and imposition. While these first seven measures of the final movement fit well in a 3/4 meter, it could just as well fit in a combination of 3/4 and 4/4 meters (see Example 4-4).

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 88

Example 4-4: metrical interpretations of theme from fourth movement, mm. 1-10

a. original notated meter

b. implied meter based on beams and slurs

However, at the eighth and tenth measures, a clear 6/8 meter is felt, given the slurs and beamings used.

Here, the eighth measure’s opening motif draws from the previously established motif from measure 6, there felt in the 3/4 bar, thereby surprising audiences of the dual feeling of 3/4 and 6/8. This is all to say that when the piano part is interacting with any section of the passacaglia, there may be distinct moments where it would be appropriate to demarcate a congruent meter. For example, instances where a co- interpretation of 6/8 might assist in ensemble include the measure before Rehearsal 85, the fourth and sixth measure of Rehearsal 92, the fourth and sixth measure of Rehearsal 94, the fourth measure of

Rehearsal 96, the fourth measure of Rehearsal 100, the third measure of Rehearsal 104, the fourth and sixth measures of Rehearsal 106, the measure before Rehearsal 110, the second measure before and the third and fourth bars after Rehearsal 112, and the fourth bar before Rehearsal 113.

To put all these interpretations into practice, the pianist ought to systematically work in sections of the fourth movement using varying combinations of metronome beats. Practicing with a constant

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 89 quarter note beat and then with a constant dotted quarter note beat can not only illuminate the passages which feel more natural to do one way over the other, but also assist in establishing rigorous rhythmic integrity when aligned with a conflicting orchestral part. In passages with consistent offbeats, practicing with offset downbeats in accordance with the metronome will help in lessening the ear’s reliance on downbeats vs. offbeats, while also strengthening the evenness of passagework. With the resulting clarity in articulation and evenness in the passagework, the metric and rhythmic disagreements can exist in coexistence in dashing displays of independent voices before the inevitable (and rewarding) resolution makes the stress pattern clear.102

There are several other general rules of thumb that may be applied to phrasing issues in the piece as a whole. In slower passages, a lack of a steady beat may be overpowered by the beauty of tone and varying melodic units which express different characters. In faster passages, listeners should perceive a subtle change in the rhythmic units, as one might not notice the slowing fall of precipitation from the sky until it’s already done and passed. In achieving this, the pianist ought to stay restrained in her or his need for clearly delineated beats.

The exception to a straightforward reading of the music in a flowing, seemingly undifferentiated sequence of notes is the awareness and acknowledgment of alluded musical ideas. As he discusses in his

“Lecture on Instrumentation”, Lutosławski appoints certain musical characteristics to specific gestures or motifs that one remembers from various works of the past. Some of them are intrinsically tied to the timbre and the rhythm of the music. Understandably, the knowledge of these musical ideas and their origins would undoubtedly help in the interpretation of disagreeing metrical passages.

Auditory Allusions

One prominent example of Lutosławski’s borrowing of the sounds of previous composers is found in the second movement, third through last measures of Rehearsal 57. This loose quotation recalls

Ravel’s presentation of waltzes in piano works, particularly in the Valse nobles et sentimentales and La

102 See Part Two: Analysis – Rhythm for further examples of rhythmic resolutions, that is, the deliberate use of rhythmic alignments after a prolonged section of “uncoordinated” music.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 90

Valse. While the rhythm could be generic enough to be attributed to other causes, his use of octave spanning chords in both hands in the treble register of the piano in this texture immediately alludes to

Ravel’s presentation of this motif (see Example 4-5).

Example 4-5: waltz figurations from Ravel to Lutosławski

a. Maurice Ravel, Valse nobles et sentimentales, mm. 1-4103

b. Maurice Ravel, La Valse, mm. 211-214104

c. Witold Lutosławski, Piano Concerto, second movement, Rehearsal 57, mm. 3-4

103 Maurice Ravel, Valses nobles et sentimentales, score (Paris: Durand, 1912) IMSLP, accessed May 14, 2019, http://ks.imslp.net/files/imglnks/usimg/6/6e/IMSLP01971-Ravel_-_Valses_nobles_et_sentimentales.pdf 104 Maurice Ravel, La Valse, score for two pianos (Paris: Durand, 1920) IMSLP, accessed May 14, 2019, http://ks.imslp.net/files/imglnks/usimg/3/34/IMSLP163680-SIBLEY1802.17723.c043-39087012927549score.pdf

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 91

Given this background, pianists can feel empowered to play the passage by accenting the first of every figure, in the manner of La Valse, rather than an even plodding (which may be tempting given our trained tendencies to elongate triplets with tenuto). To support this interpretation, Lutosławski notably leaves out any slurs, to likely set it apart in articulation from its preceding measures and the interjections at the first and third measures of Rehearsal 58.

A less literal, but still visceral allusion to music of the past is Lutosławski’s recreation of Bartók’s

“night music”. The blending of string glissando and pianissimo high registral chromatic murmurings (e.g., second movement, Rehearsal 60-63; third movement, first five measures of Rehearsal 81) and the clusters and swells of sound (e.g., fourth movement, Rehearsals 94 and 95) were certainly born out of a sound world created by Bartók’s Out of Doors.105 Speaking of this collection, a pianist might find it more beneficial to work on these shorter works, rather than Bartók’s piano concertos, in order to become more familiar with the varying styles Lutosławski imitated. In this collection alone, pianists can experience similar sonorities, soft passagework, and more brisk articulations to those Lutosławski used in his concerto. Out of Doors certainly has a lot of similar sonorities of ninths (“Musette”), avoidances of a discernible consistent downbeat (“With Drums and Pipes”), eerie chromatic figurations juxtaposed with a more jocular motif (“The Night’s Music”), and polyrhythms - juggling of quintuplets against duplets and triplets (“The Chase”).

Since Lutosławski performed both C-sharp minor Chopin Etudes for his piano performance degree in his youth, both pieces would also be great studies in preparation for the Lutosławski concerto.

The Op. 10 No. 4, with its incessant, motoric chromatic figurations can be helpful to develop the finger dexterity necessary in the breakneck Presto “moto perpetuoso” movement. Meanwhile, the lyricism, rubato, tone, quick rises in temperament, and use of pauses to suspend the drama in the Op. 25 No. 7

Etude can help listeners and pianists alike gain perspective in the cantabile Largo theme of the third

105 Interestingly enough, when Bartók was guiding a student on this movement, “The Night’s Music,” he illuminated a preference for the timbre and effect of the music over the rigidity of the notes written, which aligns with Lutosławski’s ad libitum solution: “Are you playing exactly the same number of ornaments that imitate the noises of the night and at exactly the same place where I indicated them? This does not have to be taken so seriously, you can place them anywhere and play of them as many as you like.”

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 92 movement. Lutosławski’s obvious admiration for and extensive experience of Chopin’s music is not limited to these works, as evidenced in his interviews with Nikolska. In addition to recalling Chopin’s ingenuity in creating modulations,106 he mentions the dramatic effect found in Preludes No. 5 in D minor and No. 8 in F-sharp minor from the Op. 28 collection, and the Fourth Scherzo, Op. 54: “In Chopin’s music there are moments which call forth a sensation of flight. As if you were taking off from the ground.”107 Familiarity with these moments in Chopin’s music can enable pianists to be better equipped to find similar moments in Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto.

As mentioned in Part Two, Lutosławski declared his inspiration for the piano part as one drawing from the “traditions of nineteenth century pianism”. Though he chose these Romantic era compositions for their feasibility to blend into his own musical idiom, he may have also used these models to learn to create something idiomatically written for the pianist:

A few more words about the Piano Concerto. I have already told you that there are some traits of nineteenth-century pianism in it. (Stockhausen, for example, would not have settled on such a thing.) I also tried to make a point of the piano part being really playable. To play what Brahms contrived to write in his Concerto in B flat major (but also in that in D minor) is tantamount to an attempt to climb on a sheer rock! Richter plays it all in his own way; Horowitz, in his own. In each case, the result is very good. But that is - in some passages - not what is written! (The simple reason of this state of things is the fact that what is written is unplayable.) I avoid such things. According to my convictions. Of course, my Concerto is not easy to play. But I think there are no superfluous difficulties in it.”108

In general, given the technical implications of the chromatic collections Lutosławski uses, the pianist ought to have experience with the fluidity of decorative passagework found in the piano music of Liszt and Ravel, navigating effortlessly between black and white key collections lightly in the background. For the lower register octaves and accompanimental patterns, pianists should have some experience playing

Brahms using the tone necessary for the pedal points throughout the piece (a combination of textural and registral allusion). For an expressive lyrical vocally-inspired melody, experience playing Chopin’s music

106 Nikolska, 129. 107 Ibid., 92. 108 Ibid., 103.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 93 would be the most applicable. In its crisper articulations, one might look to the piano works of Debussy,

Prokofiev, and Bartók.

A Resonator

When reflecting on composer and performer collaborations, Lutosławski clearly understood the great importance of obtaining a good performer for his music, since it would greatly affect the listener’s perception of the music: “A bad performance of a work by Mozart is always the fault of the performer.

But a bad performance of a piece of contemporary music is always the fault of the composer - every listener knows that!”109 From this comment in 1960 about what he looks for in a performer, it is clear he had a specific kind of performer in mind to suit his particular compositional aims:

Faced with such varied demands from composers, it’s difficult to talk about an ideal performer. To my mind, fidelity toward the composer’s text, though essential, is not enough in itself. A performer should be something of a resonator, sensitive to the deeper layers of a piece of music. One cannot describe in words the qualities which underlie the score. A performer must have enough spirit and imagination to realize those deeper layers.110

One can see from his response that his thoughts about the responsibility of his ideal performer likely stem from his own experience studying works such as Beethoven sonatas, whose markings are plenty and explicit, and yet demand a performer who can not only follow all the markings, but also have the “spirit and imagination” to understand the composer’s reasoning for each marking and make it their own.

While Lutosławski was successful in creating a work without “superfluous difficulties”, its version of virtuosity still places demands that might not come easily to the classically trained performer.

Given the clues in his music and my personal experience learning the piece, I can already discern a few important facets necessary: rhythmic integrity, consistent and adequate fingerings, and finger independence and evenness. These three prerequisites can ensure the technical proficiency needed to master the majority of the piece’s challenges.

109 Kaczynski, Conversations with Witold Lutoslawski, 115. 110 Ibid., 116.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 94

Understanding how to accurately follow Lutosławski’s rhythmic notation means that one must have an innate rhythmic backbone and be prepared to be rhythmically independent in many sections of the piece. Since there are so few articulated meeting points (throughout much of the fourth movement in particular), the pianist should have significant knowledge of the few that do correlate with the orchestra

(some of which explained above), and have an unwavering conviction in their rhythmic execution.

In regards to fingerings, the common methodology of using strong fingers on downbeats to best correspond physically with arm movements is appropriate in this concerto. Without the presence of these regular downbeat delineations, fingerings should be chosen based on the outline of gestures (often notated with beamings). This should be relatively easily done, as the majority of them are written idiomatically for the average five-finger span, and should be considered before using fingerings that bring out the written (or perceived) downbeats. Chordal passages are limited to the span of an octave, and many fast passages are in small enough intervals that allow for multiple fingering possibilities. Example 4-6 illustrates Rehearsal 111 with some suggested sets of fingerings.

Example 4-6: suggested fingering for fast passagework, fourth movement, Rehearsal 111

When the pattern starts on the second beat, the right hand is two alternating four-note groups which is naturally assigned 5-3-4-2 and 5-2-4-1. While the groupings do not align with the meter in the first measure, Lutosławski conveniently places the start of the final 5-2-4-1 group at the downbeat of the second measure, which helps the coordination of the left-hand patterns as well as the orchestra’s entrance.

As illustrated in the example, the final two notes may continue the pattern, or be substituted with 2-1 for a

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 95 strong forte arrival.111 Meanwhile, the left-hand passagework is metrically evenly divided into two alternating three-note groups. For those who prefer the same fingerings throughout, 1-2-3 may be used all along. For those who wish to align a specific fingering with the different note combinations, they may alternate 1-2-4 with 1-2-3. For evenness across the notes (avoiding an audible stress on every first note of the group), the fingering pattern 1-2-3 (or 4) alternating with 1-2-1-2-3-4 may be a good choice to consider. The main key is to pick a somewhat systematic fingering (to build up muscle memory) that works best for your hand and evenness in sound and commit to it.

As notated in the first beat of the aforementioned example, Lutosławski was aware of the efficacy of hand redistribution and its resulting sounds, as all that are notated are effective and simple for the performer to execute. Some difficulties to read across staves (e.g.: the cantilena in the first movement,

Rehearsal 20-22) take a moment to process, its purpose being to point out separate lines, though any pianist with experience playing a Bach fugue or reading across staves in many of Debussy’s piano works would find it commonplace. In fact, the greatest difficulty for a pianist learning the piece is simply reading the notes and acquainting oneself with the sonorities. Given Lutosławski’s dispersal of recognizable patterns across meters and beamings, even great sight-readers will have some difficulty to easily identify and play reoccurring patterns at sight. However, I hope to alleviate any anxieties over its perceived difficulty by acknowledging Lutosławski’s idiomatic writing. Though it might be daunting to read the music at first glance, once the fingerings and familiarity of notes are acquired, the concerto is physically very comfortable and rewarding to play.

As heard in the multiple recordings of the work, there are many dazzling melodic decorative lines which require a dexterity and evenness from the pianist. In executing a limited preference for

“downbeats,” pianists may prepare by using the metronome in rotating “downbeats” in their practice.

Though the quarter note is oftentimes the commonly notated unit, practicing with variations of stressed notes can not only strengthen evenness in passagework, but also help one become less reliant on that

111 All dynamic, pedaling, and beaming indications are omitted in Example 4-6 for legibility, though extensive considerations about these markings were taken into consideration when suggesting fingerings.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 96 articulated beat, and diminish ensemble issues when rehearsing with orchestra. This approach can be very helpful in the fourth movement.

Emotionalism in Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto

In discussing interpretations of the Piano Concerto, one would be remiss to not mention the composer’s “allergy to overwrought emotion”, as put forth in Lisa Jakelski’s “Lutosławski, Revived and

Remixed”, in which Krystian Zimerman was the first witness.112 Zimerman suggests that performers of

Lutosławski’s music, knowing the composer’s preference for reservation in emotional content and tempted to play unemotionally, to instead approach the music in the same manner as one would towards

Bach:

Lutosławski possessed an excellent compositional technique, he had a mathematical plan of what he was doing. I asked him once about a note, because it did not sound good to me. He pulled a file of papers from the wardrobe and explained: "Look, this is the note, she must be here." This does not mean that this music should be played dry, mathematically, without heart, and we often make this mistake, for example in Bach.113

In a preview for the 1989 Proms performance of the work, Charles Bodman Rae suggested that the work was evidence of a continuation of Lutosławski’s distaste for a neo-romantic exploitation of the piano melody: “Works such as… the Piano concerto, whilst certainly richer in melodic expression than much of his earlier music, are nonetheless fully in keeping with his aesthetic position of the last 30 years.”114 As recalled in Lutosławski’s 1988 Salzburg Festival performance conducting his Muzyka zalobnaat, critic Zaczynski commented, “Lutosławski refrains from what he considers to be unnecessary emotion and he presents the music in such a tempo that it in no way reminds the listener of a funeral march”. The issue of tempo in Lutosławski’s works, particularly in his tendency to use it as a way to avoid unnecessary lingering or give room for emotionalism, is particularly evident in the choice of Presto tempo in the second movement in Zimerman and Lutosławski’s first recording. With their performance

112 Jakelski, 318. 113 Ibid. 114 Rae, “The Background to Lutoslawski’s Piano Concerto,” 36.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 97 clocking in at approximately quarter note = 152, they are still a few clicks slower than the composer’s blazingly fast indicated marking of quarter note = ca 160. While the “circa” indication can be interpreted liberally to account for this decision, it is still a dazzling speed that can come off as chaotic or frantic.

From the recordings observed in Part Three, it does seem performers will need to find the right balance between a tempo that is playable (particularly given the difficulty to coordinate the dialogue between the orchestra and pianist) and Lutosławski’s desire for a scintillating scherzo.

Upon reflecting Zimerman’s 2013 Warsaw Autumn performance, Jakelski posits that the choice of having a fast tempo may be a way to further demonstrate a stark emotional juxtaposition between movements, rather than a way to stifle emotion within the movement: “Zimerman’s icily static third movement, and the breakneck tempo he took in the fourth, upped the intensity of the concerto’s expressive trajectory”.115 This narrative may also have been what Lortie was intending with his ponderously slow performance of the third movement. Performers may use this idea to gauge their tempo choices from movement to movement, particularly if the breakneck speeds are not possible for them.

Meanwhile, another Lutosławski scholar, collaborator and performer Esa-Pekka Salonen, believes that there is reason to interpret the composer’s music in a way that does not stifle the expression one might naturally feel from the music: “The older I get the less I think of Lutosławski in terms of form and the complicated techniques he used, and the more in terms of the emotional message of his compositions… I think that near the end of his life Witold also focused on emotions and less on technical solutions, the mathematical side of music”.116

Through researching Lutosławski’s music and writings, particularly using his conversations with

Nikolska towards the end of his life, I support both arguments. As Lutosławski already took care to write the music economically to convey the expression he preferred, the performer needs not to be overly careful in reserving expression so long as they are true to the composer’s indications in the music. As

115 Jakelski, 320. 116 Alina Swies et al., Lutosławski Year 2013. Report, 60.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 98 mentioned to Nikolska, Lutosławski was against the Romantic outpouring of Tchaikovsky and

Rachmaninoff, and took care in making sure his music was not overly lavish and outwardly emotive:

“...the Tchaikovsky-Rakhmaninov-ian type of emotionality is alien to me… this music is excessively pathetic, sometimes pompous, and that the very pathos of this music is, so to speak, impudent… I do not like demonstrative lyricism, a lyricism which is immoderately ‘sung out’. Whenever such means are employed economically, the result is more impressive, to my mind.”117

He further tried to articulate the type of emotionality he preferred, one stemming from the music of

Chopin. When pressed about the expressivity of emotion in Chopin’s music, Lutosławski said

“Sometimes he lays bare a clot of emotions. Virtually all at once… but sometimes the emotion is hidden.

Somewhere in the depths of what is offered to the listener. That is the type of expression I like. I have been learning it from Chopin.”118 Given this, as well as his admission of Chopin’s influence on the Piano

Concerto,119 we can deduce that this hidden emotionalism is what he aimed to create in the concerto.

To support Zimerman and Salonen’s more emotive view of interpreting Lutosławski’s work, we must remember that much of the composer’s thoughts about music placed significant importance on the audience’s perception of the music and their emotional responses to the music. For a performer to merely play the notes on the page would be to go against Lutosławski’s “desire to communicate something”:

“I have a strong desire to communicate something, through my music, to the other people. But I am not working to get many ‘fans’ for myself. I do not want to win people over: I want to find my listeners, to find those who in the depths of their souls feel the same way as I do. How is this end to be attained? It can only be achieved through the greatest artistic sincerity in every detail of music, from the minutest technical aspects to the most secret depths.”120

It is with this “greatest artistic sincerity in every detail of music” that Lutosławski provides a critical lesson for both performers and composers. Knowing the painstaking attention Lutosławski gave to each sonority, articulation, and gesture in arriving to the Piano Concerto, it would behoove any pianists eager to perform the piece to approach it with a similar meticulous attention to every detail.

117 Nikolska, 84. 118 Nikolska, 93. 119 See quotation on page 31 from this paper. 120 Nikolska, 150.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 99

CONCLUSION

With no surviving sketches and only his recollections of beginning the work in 1938, it is impossible to know precisely which elements in the music were from Lutosławski’s imagination as a young student, and which from his later, mature years. However, upon observing the life he led and the variety of music he studied by the time he began the piece, whether through conservatory studies with

Maliszewski or in his piano and violin lessons as a young boy, it is clear that he greatly appreciated the works of composers who had come before him. As he called it “an example of my ‘flirting with traditions’”121, it was clear that he intended this work to reflect his passion for the aspects of music he so loved in previously established norms. But of course, it was only through his years of experience studying the works of others, perseverance through wartime and personal struggle, and perhaps most importantly, his curiosity for the audience’s perception of music, that he arrived at the techniques that allowed him to convey his intentions fully through a pianist to his audience.

While the analysis of the music reveals a deep connection to the compositional models before him, Lutosławski was able to create an aesthetic that reflected the unpredictability of nature and the human experience in an ordered, meaningful way. I hope composers studying his works are inspired by his thoughtfulness in coming up with notational solutions to convey his desired music effects, as modeled by the ad libitum opening of the piece, or his selections (or absences) of time signatures to notate his desired rhythmic units. Lutosławski’s attention to creating serious music with the audience and performer in mind is among the reasons why I believe this concerto to be a success, worthy of future performance and appreciation.

As a pianist and interpreter of the piece, one of the things I most appreciate about the concerto is

Lutosławski’s care in his notation — a perfect balance of helpful indications of his intentions while not encumbering the score with unnecessary markings. Its idiomatic passagework and dazzling array of aesthetic make it an appropriate level for many piano students at the graduate level, and approachable for

121 Nikolska, 101.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 100 ambitious or curious undergraduate students. The piece provides many opportunities for technical and musical growth for any pianist only familiar with the classic repertoire.

With the number of varying recordings of the work, particularly with two that Lutosławski himself conducted, we can better understand what he might have envisioned for his audiences to experience in his piece. My account of listening to each recording is merely one perspective on the effect

Lutosławski’s musical ideas may have in “directing human emotions”, and the interpretive power pianists hold in realizing Lutosławski’s score. With these observations relying on the musical ideas in the piece and their strength in conveying a dramatic narrative, I have no doubt that a similar experience may be had by others for decades or centuries to come.

When asked by Nikolska about Zimerman’s so-called different interpretation from that of his own, Lutosławski’s response put immense faith in the performer: “He is a staggering interpreter… he is a rigorist in his attitude towards the composer’s text. This is a big plus, to my mind.”122 As a performer and a teacher, I believe it is this rigorous attention to the composer’s markings in the score that is among the most important tools a pianist can have. Particularly after learning of Lutosławski’s painstaking compositional process and experiments with notation throughout his life to confront practical and musical issues, the work is most effective when the performers give it its due diligence.

Given my take on the dramatic effects each pianist's decision regarding timing or emphasis had on my perception of each performance, I hope to remind students in whatever work they might be studying to consider how each articulation, silence, harmony, or tempo can affect the audience’s perception of the work for an effective performance. In regards to this piano concerto, while

Lutosławski’s notation must be strictly observed, it is in these slight nuances that pianists may have the permission and responsibility to make it their own.

122 Nikolska, 55.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 101

APPENDIX A

Composer Program Note as Published from the Score

My Piano Concerto consists of four movements which are played without any break, despite the fact that each of the movements has a clear ending. The first movement comprises four sections. In the first and third, the motifs presented are as if ‘nonchalant’, light, sometimes rather capricious, never over-serious. In contrast to the first and third, the second and fourth sections are filled with a broad ‘cantilena’, finally leading to the highpoint of the whole movement.

The second movement is a kind of ‘moto perpetuo’, a quick ‘chase’ by the piano against the background of the orchestra which ends by calmly subsiding in preparation for the third movement.

The third movement opens with a recitative for the piano alone, which then intones, also without the involvement of the orchestra, a singing ‘largo’ theme. The middle section, beginning with the entrance of the orchestra, contrasts against the first section with moments of a more sudden, dramatic character. The ‘cantilena’, without orchestral accompaniment, returns at the end of the movement.

The fourth movement, by its construction, alludes to the baroque form of the Chaconne. Its theme (always played by the orchestra) consists of short notes separated by rests and not (as with the traditional Chaconne) chords. This theme, repeated many times, provides only one layer of the musical discourse. Against this background the piano each time presents another episode. These two layers operate in the sense of ‘Chain form’, i.e. the beginnings and endings of the piano episodes do not correspond with the beginnings and endings of the theme. They come together only once, towards the end of the work. The theme appears again for the last time in a shortened form (without rests) played by the whole orchestra without the piano. There follows a short piano recitative, ‘fortissimo’, against the background of the orchestra, and a short Coda ‘presto’ concludes the work.

Although used to a lesser degree than in other works of mine, the elements of ‘chance’ also appears in the Piano Concerto. It is, as always, entirely subordinated to principles of pitch organisation (harmony, melody etc). In an article published in 1969, in the journal ‘Melos’ (No 11), I endeavoured to explain how this is possible. The whole substance of my arguments need not be repeated here. However, there is one aspect to remember: there is no improvisation in my music. Everything which is to be played is notated in detail and should be realised exactly by the performers, the members of the ensemble. The only fundamental difference between ‘ad libitum’ sections (i.e. not conducted) and others written in the traditional manner (i.e. divided into beats of specified metre), is that in the former there is no common division of time for all performers. In other words, each performs his part as if playing alone and not coordinated with other performers. This gives quite specific results, ‘flexible’ textures of rich, capricious rhythms, impossible to achieve in any other way.

All that has been said applied to matters which are not of great importance compared to the central essence which the composer employs to achieve his goal. What then is this goal? To this question only music itself can provide the answer. Happily, it cannot be explained in words. If it were possible, if a musical work could be described precisely in words, then music as an art would be entirely unnecessary.

Witold Lutosławski August 1988 (translated by Charles Bodman Rae)

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 102

Concerto for Piano and Orchestra was commissioned by the Salzburg Festival. The first performance was given by Krystian Zimerman (piano) and the Austrian Radio Orchestra conducted by the composer on 19 August 1988 at the Festival.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 103

APPENDIX B

Composer Conversation with Nikolska regarding the Piano Concerto (p. 101-102)

“...The Piano Concerto consists of four movements (attaca)... draws more perceptibly on traditions (particularly in the finale). The finale - in passacaglia (or even chaconne) form - is the main movement of the Piano Concerto. Not unlike the Second Symphony, or the Third Symphony, or such works as my String Quartet and Livre pour orchestre, etc., the formal structure of the Piano Concerto is end-accented. The centre of gravity of the cycle falls on the finale. Semantically. And in every other respect. In spite of the fact that this composition is an example of my ‘flirting with traditions’ the finale is the longest of the four movements. The first movement does not reveal any associations with traditions. It is a typical introduction, in which the events to come are merely sketched out. The piano is, as it were, engaged in ‘playing’ with the orchestra (not in real earnest), and invariably remains in the foreground. A cantilena follows up, but does not properly establish itself. A second ‘playing’ section. Another attempt at building up the cantilena leads to a culmination, which, however, ‘falls to the ground’. Whereupon the second movement (Presto) begins. Something like an étude, rather short in duration. Then, a laconic piano recitative, and - unexpectedly- the third movement (Largo), melodious, with measured steps of accompaniment (resembling my Partita). The three-section Largo is an expressive cantilena. As it is coming to an end, the tempo accelerates. A slight culmination ends in a question mark, as it were. Immediately after that, double-basses strike up to state (monophonically, regardless of historical tradition) the chaconne theme (in demisemiquavers); the melodic strand is determined by the circle of fourths, so that after a while it reaches its starting-point: however, there are no ‘verbatim’ recurrences of the theme. A transformation of the theme. The initial version. A second transformation. Yet another transformation. At last, a compressed reproduction of a somewhat pathetic recitative of the soloist (fortissimo against an orchestral background) and a Presto section (resembling an episode in my Chain 2). In this finale use is made of what can be described as chain form (tested in the 1956 Concerto for Orchestra), with two layers (theme and accompaniment) being not properly co-ordinated in time: the soloist enters approximately in the middle of the chaconne, and happens to ‘meet’ the orchestra only at one moment. The première of the Concerto for piano and orchestra took place in August 1988 at the Salzburg Festival; the soloist was Krystian Zimerman. (I conducted the Austrian Radio Symphony Orchestra) What I call chain form is an important element of my music. Historically, a musical construction has been being made up from a series of sections, each having a cadence at its end. I wanted to break this convention. So I put forward an alternative conception of leaving one musical thought for another, namely, the method of asynchronous superimposition of two layers non-concurrently passing on to another section. This device freshens the dramaturgy or musical form.”

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 104

SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY

Books Bedkowski, Stanislaw and Stanislaw Hrabia. Witold Lutoslawski: A Bio-Bibliography. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 2001.

Huber, Sonja. Das zeitgenössische Klavierkonzert : Analysen zu M. Feldman, M. Jarrell, G. Kühr, H. Lachenmann, G. Ligeti und W. Lutoslawski. Vienna: Böhlau Verlag, 2014.

Huber, Sonja. “Witold Lutoslawski: Concerto for Piano and Orchestra. Ein Beispiel zur Weiterführung der Gattungstradition,” Musik & Aesthetik 17, No. 68 (October 2013): 32-51.

Jakelski, Lisa and Nicholas Reyland, ed. Lutoslawski’s Worlds. Rochester, NY: The Boydell Press, 2018.

Kaczynski, Tadeusz. Translated by Yolanta May. Conversations with Witold Lutoslawksi. London: Chester Music, 1984.

Keefe, Simon P., ed. The Cambridge Companion to the Concerto. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005.

Lutoslawski, Witold. Lutoslawski on music. Translated by Zbigniew Skowron. Lanham, MD: Scarecrow Press, 2007.

———. Lutoslawski Studies. Edited and translated by Zbigniew Skowron. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001.

Nikolska, Irina. Translated by Valeri Yerokhin. Conversations with Witold Lutoslawski. Stockholm: Melos, 1994.

Rae, Charles Bodman. The Music of Lutoslawski. London: Faber and Faber, 1994.

Stucky, Steven. Lutoslawski and His Music. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981.

Varga, Bálint András. Lutoslawski Profile. Kindle Book. London: Chester Music, 2012.

Online Sources Adam Mickiewicz Institute and the Witold Lutoslawski Society. Lutoslawski Year 2013 Report. Warsaw: Adam Mickiewicz Institute. Accessed March 25, 2018. http://imit.org.pl/uploads/Raport_Lutos%C5%82awski_greatest_events_EN.pdf.

Cantrell, Scott. “The Long Road to a Piano Concerto,” New York Times. November 27, 1988. Accessed March 21, 2018, ProQuest. http://ezproxy.rice.edu/login?url=https://search-proquest- com.ezproxy.rice.edu/docview/110430043?accountid=7064.

Grella-Możejko, Piotr. “Fifty Years of Freedom: Polish Music After 1945.” Canadian Slavonic Papers / Revue Canadienne Des Slavistes 39, no. 1/2 (March - June 1997): 181–208. Accessed November 22, 2018. www.jstor.org/stable/40869897.

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Gwizdalanka, Danuta. “Witold Lutoslawski.” The Frederic Chopin Institute, 2003-2019. Accessed January 2, 2019. http://greatcomposers.nifc.pl/en/lutoslawski/catalogs/places/478_salzburg.

Instytut Adama Mickiewicza. “100 Lutoslawski.” Adam Mickieicz Institute. Accessed December 10, 2018. http://lutoslawski100.culture.pl/#0/1/en.

James, Jamie. “Krystian Zimerman”. Stereo Review 58, no. 3 (March 1993): 104. Accessed January 2, 2019. https://search-proquest- com.ezproxy.rice.edu/iimp/docview/211352304/6F85736595B74121PQ/9?accountid=7064.

Johnson, Stephen. Review of Lutoslawski’s Piano Concerto, August 1 1989 at the Proms. The Listener 10.

Kennedy, Michael and Joyce Bourne Kennedy. “Lutoslawski, Witold.” In The Oxford Dictionary of Music, 6th Edition. Oxford University Press. Accessed March 25, 2018. http://www.oxfordreference.com.ezproxy.rice.edu/view/10.1093/acref/9780199578108.001.0001/ acref-9780199578108-e-5637.

Newman, George. “Lutoslawski’s Piano Concerto.” Tempo 167 (December 1988): 52-53. Accessed March 24, 2018. http://www.jstor.org.ezproxy.rice.edu/stable/945226.

Philharmonia Orchestra. “Lutoslawski Centenary 2013: Woven Words.” Accessed November 26, 2018. http://woven-words.co.uk.

———. “Witold Lutoslawski: Piano Concerto Listening Guide with Peter Jablonski.” Lutoslawski Centenary 2013 (video podcast). Accessed November 26, 2018. https://itunes.apple.com/gb/podcast/lutos%C5%82awski-centenary-2013/id783603554?mt=2

———. “Witold Lutosławski Biography: Early Life (Part 1).” Lutoslawski Centenary 2013 (video). Accessed November 26, 2018. https://youtu.be/FE-MDGn7piU.

———. “Witold Lutosławski Biography: World War II (Part 2).” Lutoslawski Centenary 2013 (video). Accessed November 26, 2018. https://youtu.be/zk3rNitzZkM.

———. “Witold Lutosławski Biography: Stalinist Years (Part 3).” Lutoslawski Centenary 2013 (video). Accessed November 26, 2018. https://youtu.be/t01vDsOO0Dw.

———. “Witold Lutosławski Biography: Maturity (Part 4).” Lutoslawski Centenary 2013 (video). Accessed November 26, 2018. https://youtu.be/JnM7jljMazU.

———. “Witold Lutosławski - A Polish Life.” Lutoslawski Centenary 2013 (video). Accessed November 26, 2018. https://youtu.be/lJ9EeRvYRTY.

Poblocka, Ewa. “My Lutoslawski.” Ewa Poblocka, October 15, 2013. Accessed January 3, 2019. http://www.poblocka.com/media/js/kcfinder/upload/files/moj_lutoslawski_eng.pdf.

Rabinowitz, Peter J . “Learning in Every Concert: A Conversation with Krystian Zimerman.” Fanfare 23, no. 1 (Sep 1999): 31-32, 34, 36, 38, 40, 42. Accessed November 22, 2018. http://ezproxy.rice.edu/login?url=https://search-proquest- com.ezproxy.rice.edu/docview/1256547?accountid=7064

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Rae, Charles Bodman. “Lutoslawski, Witold.” In Grove Music Online. Oxford University Press. Accessed March 20, 2018. https://doi- org.ezproxy.rice.edu/10.1093/gmo/9781561592630.article.17226.

———. "Pitch Organisation in the Music of Witold Lutoslawski Since 1979.” PhD diss., The University of Leeds Department of Music, 1992. Accessed June 13, 2019. http://etheses.whiterose.ac.uk/467/1/uk_bl_ethos_247672.pdf

———. "The background to Lutosławski's piano concerto." The Listener 122, no. 3124: 36-37. Accessed March 21, 2018, EBSCOhost.

Russavage, Kathy Ann. “Instrumentation in the Works of Witold Lutoslawski.” DMA diss., University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, ProQuest Dissertations Publishing, 1988. 8823236. Accessed June 15, 2019. http://hdl.handle.net/2142/77337.

Rust, Douglas. “Conversation with Witold Lutoslawski.” The Musical Quarterly 79, no. 1 (Spring 1995): 207-223. Accessed March 22, 2018. https://www.jstor.org/stable/742522.

Thomas, Adrian. “Lutoslawski, Witold.” In The Oxford Companion to Music. Oxford University Press. Accessed March 25, 2018. http://www.oxfordreference.com.ezproxy.rice.edu/view/10.1093/acref/9780199579037.001.0001/ acref-9780199579037-e-4105.

The Witold Lutoslawski Society. “A Lutoslawski Resource.” Accessed June 2, 2019. http://www.lutoslawski.org.pl.

Zanussi, Krzysztof, dir. Witold Lutoslawski in Conversation with Krzysztof Zanussi. Production of British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC), Eurofilm/Antelope, Roem, Westdeutscher Rundfunk (WDR) et al., 1990. Accessed December 21, 2018. https://youtu.be/rdDE5owPUMc.

Musical Recordings

Andsnes, Leif Ove. Shadows of Silence: Dalbavie, Kurtag, Lutoslawski, Sørensen. Warner Classics B001W20UT6. Released April 7, 2009, compact disc.

Crossley, Paul, pianist, and Esa-Pekka Salonen, conductor, and Los Angeles Philharmonic. Lutoslawski: Symphony 2 / Piano Concerto. Sony SK 67189. Released March 19, 1996, compact disc.

Lortie, Louis, pianist, and Edward Gardner, and the BBC Symphony Orchestra. Lutoslawski: Orchestral Works II. Chandos 5098. Released January 31, 2012, compact disc.

Ohlsson, Garrick, pianist, and Jacek Kaspszyk, conductor, and the NFM Wrocław Philharmonic Orchestra. Witold Lutoslawski: Opera Omnia, Vol. 6. CD Accord ACD198. Recorded December 2-3, 2013, compact disc.

Paleczny, Piotr, pianist, and Polish National Radio Symphony Orchestra. Lutoslawski: Orchestral Works, Vol. 2. Naxos No. 8.553169. Recorded June 27-28, 1995, compact disc.

Poblocka, Ewa, pianist, Witold Lutoslawski, conductor, and Polish National Radio SymphonyOrchestra. Lutoslawski: Piano Concerto / Symphony No. 3. CD Accord ACD015, 1996, compact disc.

Yvonne Chen: Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto 107

Poblocka, Ewa, pianist, Kazimierz Kord, conductor, and the National Philharmonic Orchestra. Piano Concertos: Panufkin, Lutoslawski, Szymanski. CD Accord ACD046, 2010, compact disc.

Zimerman, Krystian, pianist, Witold Lutoslawski, conductor, and the BBC Symphony Orchestra. Lutoslawski: Piano Concerto / Chain III / Novelette. Deutsche Grammophon 00028943166423. Released October 18, 2000, compact disc.

Zimerman, Krystian, pianist, Sir Simon Rattle, conductor, and the Berlin Philharmonic. Lutoslawski: Piano Concerto / Symphony No. 2. Deutsche Grammophon 00028947945208. Released August 14, 2015, compact disc.

Music Scores

Lutoslawski, Witold. Concerto for Piano and Orchestra. Solo part with piano reduction. London: Chester Music Limited, 1991.

———. Concerto for Piano and Orchestra. Full score. London: Chester Music Limited, 1987.