"Letting Music Breathe: The Balance Between Notation and Organic Growth in Concert Preparation"

Preparing for a concert requires different stages of mastery: from getting familiar with the notes, to understanding the structure, to finally feeling at ease with a piece. Music, like a well-prepared meal, often "settles" and feels more organic after you step away from it for a while.

The Importance of Notation

Composers often provide detailed notation for a reason—articulations, dynamics, and tempo are all crafted to ensure that the piece communicates something specific. Following the notation exactly is key to respecting the composer's intent. This adherence gives the performer a strong foundation, ensuring technical precision and capturing the work’s structure.

The Organic Growth of Music

The more you let a piece "sit" and return to it, the more naturally it seems to flow. Over time, your personal connection to the music deepens, and your interpretation becomes more intuitive. For example, I recently revisited Beethoven’s Op. 109, a piece I had put aside twice over the span of more than half a year. When I picked it up again to prepare for my upcoming concert, I realized I no longer needed the score. The once subtle details, like dynamic marks, which I had previously obsessed over, now seemed obvious—almost like second nature.

Interestingly, Beethoven’s notation for this piece isn't always fully translatable to modern pianos, since his instrument was the fortepiano. The marks in the score, while useful, sometimes feel limiting because they don’t fully capture the dynamic possibilities of modern instruments. This realization made me wonder whether strict adherence to these markings holds as much weight as finding the feel of the piece.

It reminded me of Pletnev’s 2022 concert in Düsseldorf, where his interpretation seemed to transcend the written score. His performance was far from just tidy and clean; it was almost like hearing a cloud of "feel" rather than a detailed play-by-play of Beethoven’s notation. In contrast, I’ve heard performances in competitions that, while technically impeccable, feel almost sterile in their precision—perhaps easier for the audience to follow, but missing that deeper, organic flow that Pletnev captured.

Is Organic Better?

Is it better for music to grow organically, or should we prioritize meticulous attention to detail? Organic interpretations allow for expressiveness, spontaneity, and emotional depth, but not everyone agrees that this approach is superior. Many argue that true mastery comes from immersing yourself deeply in the score, dissecting every nuance and following the composer’s instructions with precision. But does this path always lead to the most profound connection with the music?

Take, for example, Brendel’s performances, often regarded as "perfect" especially when it comes to Beethoven's sonatas. He follows the score with such exactitude that some critics argue his interpretations can sound "square"—perhaps too aligned with the written score, lacking a certain spontaneity. And yet, I personally find his performances great, showcasing the incredible discipline and clarity that only such detailed work can produce.

On the other hand, Maria João Pires offers a more fluid, less "square" approach. Her playing is freer, with a sense of emotional depth that feels more spontaneous, especially in live performances. However, her recordings sometimes seem to lose some of that magic. To me, she’s unmatched in concert, where her playing has an immediacy that’s harder to capture in a studio setting—though that’s another topic I’d like to explore separately.

Both approaches are remarkable in their own ways.

But as a pianist, I’m constantly faced with the decision: What do I do? Do I focus on playing like Brendel, with complete dedication to the score and perfection, or do I allow myself the freedom of Pires’ more 'organic' approach? The truth is, I really don’t know, and this uncertainty is one of the most difficult aspects of being a musician.

Complicating matters is the fact that recordings can be deceptive. A performance captured in a controlled environment doesn’t always convey the energy and emotion of a live concert. So how can I, or any performer, make a decision about the kind of interpretation to pursue under these circumstances? Can I trust my own instincts, or do I need the perspective of an audience, critics, or fellow musicians to help guide me? And if I can’t fully rely on recordings or feedback, how can I make these crucial artistic choices when, in the end, I’m alone with the music?

Finding the Balance

Neither extreme—complete rigidity nor full spontaneity—works on its own. The challenge in concert preparation is finding the delicate balance between being faithful to the written score and allowing personal interpretation to breathe. On one side, there’s the approach of striving for perfection, where a detailed adherence to the score can bring clarity and precision, though it may sometimes feel too structured or "square." On the other, a more fluid, organic interpretation can lead to deeply expressive performances, especially in live settings, though it risks losing some of its immediacy or depth when constrained by a recording environment.

Both approaches offer something unique, and both can be great in their own way. But as a pianist, I find myself caught between these two ideals—unsure of the degree of freedom to have. Should I focus on mastery and authenticity, trusting that emotional depth will emerge through my understanding of the score? Or should I embrace a more intuitive, spontaneous approach, even if it means deviating slightly from the exact notation in search of a deeper connection with the music?

This uncertainty is at the heart of the artistic journey. While recordings and feedback can provide some guidance, they are never the full picture. A live performance, with all its energy, imperfection, and immediacy, often transcends what can be captured in a recording. Ultimately, the decisions we make as performers come down to a blend of instinct, experience, and how we connect with the music in that particular moment.

In light of this exploration, I realize that there won't be a definitive answer. The music exists in the delicate interplay between the composer’s intentions and the performer’s expression. Knowing this, I must find my own way of practicing- for the spontaneaty. It’s essential to prepare for that unique moment when I step onto the stage, yet being spontaneous is the opposite of being prepared.

How do I reconcile this?

This paradox leaves me pondering: How do I prepare to be more capable of capturing unprepared unique inspirations on the spot?

Perhaps this is the core question we should all ask ourselves as we decide how to approach our practice.