The Sonata in E Minor for Piano Four Hands, Opus 7

Peculiarities in the Recording Studio with George Onslow : The Sonata in E Minor for Piano Four Hands, Opus 7 (1815)

Marianne W. Lenti

Of the four compact discs of music set down by the piano duo comprised of my husband and myself, this sonata is at once one of the most emotionally charged and most confounding to present in that medium. The entire work is charged with mature and unbridled romanticism, issuing from the pen of a composer residing in relative seclusion in the mountainous Auverne region, far from the cultural urban centers of his day. Full-blown pianistic romanticism was still in its infancy at the time. Chopin and Mendelssohn were young children, yet the driving triplets of the opening movement immediately call to this performer’s mind the extensive triplet driven passagework of both those composers, most notably the latter.

The Sonata in E Minor is pianistic, lying well under all four hands. With a limited output for four hands, the two sonatas Opp. 7 and 22, it would come as no surprise if there were choreographic challenges. The composer’s ease of distribution is all the more impressive given the contrapuntal sophistication of the work. The four hands are treated like the four members of a quartet. No “bullets” or “wild boars” whiz past, no “delirium” to speak of. However, one might note that furrow in the performers’ brows as the tapes revolve inexorably in the silence of the recording booth.

Like the best contrapuntists, Onslow avoids rhythmic cadences. Harmonically, both feet are planted firmly in the romantic period. Rhythmically, especially in the lengthy (nearly eight minutes) opening movement, the triplets are breathless. They are also distributed between the two players, so a double jeopardy situation arises, not always apparent in performance. Perfection is the norm in recording, and the well-placed triplets, many doubled at the octave, become a series of small recurring targets. This confronts on several levels: melodic, harmonic, rhythmic, and sonoric.

The melody is peppered by trills, sforzandi, and a give-and-take technique, moving the tune freely. This theme includes dotted halves, halves, quarters, dotted rhythms and a few eighths thrown in for good measure. All of this is presented against, and eventually dissolves into the omnipresent triplets. Unlike Mendelssohn’s ubiquitous triplets which generally conclude his larger works (both of the big duo works, the Allegro Brilliant and the Variations, as well as the solo Variations Sérieuses), these are not gratuitous. They are no elaboration of an already existing contour, they are a defining color of the theme itself. I expect many to disagree with me, but Onslow’s triplets are far more powerful, more visceral than Mendelssohn’s. I am ready to admit to the breadth and excellence of Mendelssohn’s corpus of works, but the concluding triplet section of the two sets of variations mentioned above weaken the structure for this performer. Ergo, the need to “nail” Onslow’s triplets in the best way becomes a primary hurdle to the recording team.

Like Franz Schubert, Onslow has the capacity to propel musical movement through time. Before the quasi-cadence that ends the exposition at M. 140, hundreds of triplets chase each other across the keyboard, from the primo to secondo, bass to treble, not necessarily in that order. I did say that choreography was not a problem. Don’t get me wrong. There are no collisions, and the many triplet-transfers, rehearsed to the split second of course, are imminently do-able. These badminton-cock triplets shuttle from player to player, but not necessarily always on the correct side of the badminton net. One flies through one’s accompanimental filigree, leaning far left to take the primo’s “southern” passagework, as the secondo takes pains to reach over your hands to enter on the second triplet group in the treble, just as if the viola just handed off to the first violin. Of course the violin and viola do not share an instrument, so my comparison suffers.

Mention must be made of the ineffable clarity of Onslow’s handling of the four hands in a richly romantic texture. It is damned difficult to distribute pedaled passagework evenly between four hands and still allow for clear presentation of the theme. In his four-hands sonatas, Mozart, the master of clarity, presents with nearly impossible Alberti passages in what seems a too-low position for today’s pianos. Onslow’s pianos were of the lighter Erard variety — totally unlike the Yamaha 9 foot we recorded it on. Yet, with relatively little effort, the piece sings. I attribute this to a genius’ sense of balance, effected in part by the constant handing off of material between treble and bass coupled with an uncanny knack of just what part to double.

True, there is an inherent nakedness which comes with doubling at the octave. Technically, it demands perfect ensemble, simultaneity, and absolute rhythmic precision. That there are so many of these long passages of non-stop triplet motion affords the editor precious few opportunities to suggest “take two.” As I said, in true imitative style, there is a dearth of stopping places. Add to that equation the number of perfect notes which must be struck before coming up for air, by both performers in equal measure. One clearly has the makings for a tense situation at best, a trip to a marriage counselor at worst. I inject a bit of levity here, but believe me, it is necessary. I have never worked so hard to stay perfect for so long, and prayed that my partner did likewise.

There is something Mozartean about the score texturally, sonorically, if you will. There is no place to hide! The pedal is used strictly for touches of color, or to let one color subtlety blend with the next. One needs all the control of a master watercolorist, working with the speed of an Indianapolis 500 motor car. As in Mozart, the pedal can become a liability. Of course, any artist worth his salt will tread lightly upon the damper of a piece of this era. Given the chromaticism and clean doubling of the propulsive accompanimental passages, I was faced with my own personal double-jeopardy.

We recorded the work without ever having heard it, in 1993, in Volume Two of our “Forgotten Piano Duets” series. I am glad we were able to approach it against a purely historic background. I mentioned that the harmonic elements of the work demanded their own set of special conditions for successful recorded performance, and I expected that the harmonic rhythm would increase at the cadences. That said, I found myself astride a galloping horse (no reference to Elfkings implied at this point), in a ¾ sensed in “one”, with a “tonic 6-4, dominant, tonic” resolution occurring within three quarter notes. Oh, did I mention they were in triplets? Thus, when the agitation finally heads to the closing cadence, rounding the fifth furlong, and heading toward the first pole, there are no breaks, and no brakes. It won’t do for the performer to pile headlong into the new tonic without bidding the dominant some form of “adieu”. On the other hand, a ritardando is neither indicated nor implied. (This was an age when the composer was likely to indicate his desire for a slackening of tempo quite clearly.) Looking briefly at M. 141, the first measure of the development section, one should not be surprised to see the triplet motif continued. This is another argument for taking Onslow at his word and cadencing without losing energy.

Again, in the recording studio, this makes for an interesting editing dilemma. No pause, no ritard, no real stop, no settling tonic chord, no nice set of rests marks the major structural division of exposition to development. While this is not surprising, what is surprising is how long we have endured and how effectively the composer has kept the listener engaged in his taut handling of the triplet movement. By now, many composers would have lapsed into quasi-tarantella frame of reference. No such carefree-triplet softness of expression occurs here. There is absolutely no weakening of thrust, through all three expository themes in tight construction.

Generally, the development section throws the most challenges at the ensemble player. If the thematic material can be thought of as the shuttlecock, pieces of it are broken off, tossed in various directions at unexpected times. The badminton net is removed, and the side lines are erased. Nothing is really out-of-bounds. This presents “hand-off” problems to even the finest chamber ensembles in the world. Tightness of ensemble becomes the criterion for negotiating the increased tension of the development, as chromaticism runs rampant, fragmentation is the order of the day, and imitation comes fast and close. Now Onslow surprises by isolating the secondo’s right hand triplets and left hand octaves in the bowels of the bass, creating a sound reminiscent of Liszt, not Mendelssohn. At the same time, the treble hovers at the extreme right of the keyboard, seeming to run out of high register, despite 8va signs and ladders of ledger lines. The tension generated by this straining at the confines of the keyboard, coupled with terraced dynamics demands an exactitude of tempo and intention. Once more, there is very little space to edit anything, even a chair squeak. As you lean far right or left, depending, you pray a silent prayer for silent seat springs. Do not, repeat, do not move your foot for balance. If the notes are going well, just pray. It’s quieter.
The slow movement, a Romanza in the tonic major key, is quite like an aria in shape and content. The lyric opening belies its initial gentleness with double-dotted rhythms. Clearly, rhythm is a uniting force in this work. Those who write that Onslow’s works are “uneven” between the movements give me pause. I do believe they have failed to note the rhythmic exceptionality of his treatment of the three-movement sonata. Perhaps the theme engages your ear, perhaps not. Either way, it is an effective foil to the first movement The change from triplet eighths to the undulating sixteenths of the secondo accompaniment affords a calming yet interesting support to the quiet lyricism of the primo. So much for the lyric A section. The bass moves us along into a B section, with ominous rumblings, contorted and extended double dotted arpeggios. Gone is the calm. It seems impossible to have drawn upon one more point of contrast than the composer has already flung our way. Using the “contrast-within-contrast” concept, abrupt and repeated shifts from pp to ff continue to wrench our attention from treble to bass, from ascending contours to descending arpeggios, all united by the inexorable dotting.

From the microphone, one is again challenged by the required ensemble of dotted and double-dotted passages. These are repeated over and over, but at least the tempo is such that an occasional edit point is possible. When Onslow brings back the A section, as you know he will, he construes an elegant tapestry of thirty-seconds not present in the first A. Of course he places the filigree in the treble and bass simultaneously, enriching the texture, adding romantic depth to the four hands, much richer than any of his contemporaries.

Like the first two movements, the shuttlecock comes out for the Finale. The dry, brash, ff tonic chord is swatted between secondo and primo every quarter note in an agitato 2/4. Once again, Onslow is exploiting the extremes of the piano’s range, pushing both ends out against the middle. A fermata surprises, as does a series of calls from the “Onslow umpire” who sits on the base line calling for sudden changes of dynamics, keys, rhythms.

Taken altogether, this movement does not present as many ensemble problems as it does interpretive ones. Again, there is no problem with staying out of one’s partner’s way. No redistribution is necessary. What is necessary is a careful working out of the stop/start/shift nature of the movement to insure that both performers feel it the same way. The movement allows the ear to settle into the tonic straight off. The frenetic nature of rhythmic propulsion is no longer the focus. There is no need. We have arrived at the finale; psychologically, this composer has brought us full circle. He intends no additional excursions, and resists the option to continue either the galloping triplet or the nervous double dottings. He is comfortable in his home key, the themes are tuneful and in keeping with what has come before. Instead, he maintains a sense of drama through whiplash dynamic changes, key changes, and devices that occur from section to section, rather than within each section. Thus he presents his drama in larger units, which for this performer gives sufficient weight to the finale to supply an effective conclusion.

Each time a recording is made, I begin to think of how I would do it differently in the next performance or recording. I expect my husband thinks the same things, as we have seldom disagreed on a new approach. I said earlier I approached this from an historic viewpoint, noting the date of composition, researching Onslow’s teachers, training, and listening to other works. Then we started rehearsals, discussed, performed a lot, and refined our thoughts. If we were to record it again, I know I would be far more liberal in the use of rubato. I would lay aside my performance-practice mores and take greater chances on tempo changes with my partner. This would only add to the difficulty of the recording itself. In the final analysis, I contend that an essentially straightforward interpretation of this early romantic sonata, though workable, does not do this exceptional dramaturgist/musician justice.

© Marianne Wydra LENTI
(October 2005)

Marianne Lenti holds Bachelors with Distinction, Masters, and Doctoral Degrees in Piano Performance from the Eastman School of Music of the University of Rochester. She has taught at the Interlochen Center for the Arts (MI), the South Carolina Governor’s School for the Arts, and at Lander University (SC). She has performed since 1970 with her husband as the Lenti Piano Duo, and presented papers for AMS, the Liszt Society, and Music Teachers National Conventions. Recent performances by the Lentis include the Chopin Academy, Wigmore Hall, Centro Asteria (Milan), Whim Plantation (St. Croix), NPR, BBC-TV, and the National Gallery of Art (DC). They have four recordings on ACA Digital, including The Forgotten Piano Duets, Volumes 1 and 2, featuring the Sonata in E Minor of Onslow :

Forgotten piano duets : vol. 2 / Tony & Marianne Lenti, one piano, four hands. – Enr. 1990 (P 1993 – CD ACA CM20017-17). – (With : Sonata in E flat Maj., Sykora 26 / F.-X. Dusek ; Grande Valse de bravura op. 6 / F. Liszt ; Symphonic Pieces op. 14 / E. Grieg ; Introduction and Fugue op. 16 / A. Bird). – Liner notes by Marianne Lenti (English).