Sonata

Listening to Lowell Liebermann's Flute Sonata for the first time Sunday afternoon, the music went on and on. I seemed to handle each phrase individually as it came to my ears. Since I didn't know what was coming, but it kept on coming, this encounter was dynamic, immediate, and interminable.

Listening since to various renditions on Youtube, I'm surprised at how short the piece is: two movements amounting to only 12+ minutes. The difference is, I'm sure, the context. The dimness of the under-balcony of Jordan Hall vs the brightness the stage where the flautist and accompanist incarnated the piece, the absence of distractions and competing intentions forced me to attend.

So here's an experiment: Ill listen again intently and see if the time stretches out as it did. To assist my concentration, I'll take notes. Here goes:

Lento: Repetitive piano, flute playing slow Debussy like theme over the top; bass note in the piano, repeated flute theme, the sound seems richer with the bass, the flute hits some discordant notes, piano in the high registers, flute silent, now the flute enters and the tempo picks up, suddenly, some high reaching notes from the flute and heavy thumping on the piano, now quiet, the piano plays with repetition and small melody on top, the flute goes up and down with its own melody, suddenly a walking bass on the piano and the flute plays a syncopated up and down, now both instruments lock in a confusion of sound, now high ethereal piano triplets and the flute in a winsome minor key plays a simple melody, full of repetitious progressions, now the initial theme returns, the piano repeating its initial repetitive sequences and the flute slowly, deliberately singing its song, now the flute on its own in arpeggio.

Presto: Next movement: fast rolling piano, the flute line up and down with quick upward flings, the tempo so much faster, a sense of desperation, or at least urgency, the piano bass in a repetitive sequence, the flute goading the piano along, breathing sounds, almost as if two flutes, reaching up to touch high notes, then dropping off. Trying. Repetitions of initial sequence.The whole line moves up. Quick upward trills, over and over. Stop.

Clearly I don't know how to express what I'm hearing, but still I can say that the sonata sounded fuller, more structured, progressive in ways I hadn't noticed before. The piano is much more interesting than I'd thought.

Second version, second listening: dripping water piano, haunting flute line, flute and piano meet at certain chords, then part, piano solo passage, water flowing, falling. Faster interlude. Quiet again, piano melody with flute commentary. Now flute melody line, piano solo passage, marching ominous piano, with flute like a bird continually forced to fly to escape the creeping cat, plaintive flute as piano repeats it patterns. Flute in minor key sounds clock like, slowing down to a stop, back to beginning as if nothing has happened. An idle bird singing, the piano bass lending ballast to the ensemble, progressive chords, the flute reaching high to hold on to top note, as piano steps lightly away.

Fast, the energy is with the flute teasing the piano, the flute won't let it alone, try as it might to catch up, the piano is too low, too slow. The flute flies around the head of the piano and it tries to climb but falls away. Last valiant effort, the bird takes off and circles up into the empyrean, the piano leaping, the flute mocking and laughing. Finis.

The time rushed by, especially as I began to anticipate what was coming, still it seemed full, articulate. If not my ears, my mind was handling each passage, trying to hear and name and write. I feel closer to appreciating the intention of the composer. But what engrossed me was the interplay of the two instruments, and how that changed from first to second movement. They never separated, but never merged.  None of this was clear when I heard it the first time. With close attention, on second and additional listenings, you, sweet confection, were fresh over and over.