Interview, Beatrice Rana on Chopin and Beethoven

On Friday I hugely enjoyed listening to Beatrice Rana's new recording of a pair of heavyweight piano sonatas by Chopin and Beethoven - though the Chopin in particular was far from being a heavy performance, if anything a lighter and more airy account than some, with Rana finding a Mozart-like grace in the music and reserving the real big guns for the formidable Hammerklavier. 

Both pieces are complex and demanding, and the juxtaposition of the two invites contemplation of their parallels and differences. I caught up with Beatrice to talk about these works in more depth - including her relationship with each sonata, the personal mindsets they both portray, and of course the ever-present question of the sheer physical challenge of what many see as Beethoven's greatest piano sonata.

Image credit: Simon Fowler

You mentioned in your conversation with Jeremy Nicholas (in the notes to the album) that the isolation brought on by lockdown was what led you to get to grips with the Hammerklavier. Is this something you’d been wanting to do for a while, or was it quite spontaneous?

It's a mixture of the two. It's something that I'd had in mind, but not something that I was constantly thinking about. It was just an idea that I had, but very remote.

And then when the lockdown started, of course, without any concerts to do, I started to think about what I should do, what I should learn - because I had so much time. And I decided I should learn something difficult, because otherwise I'd never have the time to do that! So it was quite spontaneous to start on the Hammerklavier. Actually I started with a few pieces, and this was the one that interested me the most, and that's why I kept going with it.

It’s often said that the Hammerklavier is a real workout for the pianist - a test of strength and physical stamina. Did you find this when you were preparing it?

Oh yes, that's absolutely true. It is a mix of extremes - the physical parts, and the technical challenges, which are very real. Not only in the fourth movement, but also at the very beginning. It's massive. There's a true sense of challenge, from the very first jump in the first bar. So there's a feeling of accomplishing something there.

And it's also very extreme in the slow movement, with its huge dimensions and huge lines. It's a big piece in every sense. 

There’s some debate about metronome markings in the Hammerklavier - whether they were specific to the kinds of instruments and key actions that were in use in Beethoven’s time, and so on. Where do you stand on that - do you think he really did want some of those exact tempi, or are they more something to be aspired to?

I think it's related to that sense of challenge. Even the tempo markings are part of that. We always say that the composer's intention is the most important thing and you have to respect it, and of course that's all true - but I've never experienced in my a life a piece where I felt the composer was so present. Every time I've played the Hammerklavier in concert I've had this sense that Beethoven was challenging me, and was there in some sense. The expectations were very high, every night.

The tempo markings are part of this. Of course, it's almost impossible to play - I would say that the most difficult is the third movement, which sounds crazy. We all think about the Fugue and the fast movements, but the slow movement too. I think that's also an indication of what to look for - when it's a slow tempo, I try to get as deep as possible into it, and this music really is so deep and has so much to tell. But that tempo marking says that there is a line to follow and to sustain, and to present to the audience. So I think it's an indication to the interpreter.

Some time ago I spoke to Antonio Pappano about Vaughan Williams symphonies and he made the point that the opening of No. 4 should go faster than it's normally performed - pushing onward faster than seems comfortable, and feeling driven. It sounds like the same thing applies here?

Yes, there's always a driving force. The Hammerklavier is the story of Beethoven's own struggle with solitude; the third movement is really a declaration of solitude, and of distance from the world - yet it's not pessimistic, not complaining. It's fighting that condition and trying to escape it. So there's always that drive - that's why I feel the composer's presence so strongly. I really feel this enormous will.

While the Hammerklavier was to some extent a lockdown project, you’ve been playing the Chopin for some time; did you find any of that experience useful in preparing the Beethoven sonata, or indeed conversely did getting to know the Hammerklavier illuminate new aspects of the Chopin?

It's difficult to say. On one level, everything is useful. I remember when I was younger, doing my studies in Germany, I would ask my professor whether I should study a Mozart sonata next or one by Beethoven - which would be better for me? And he would simply reply 'do both'! Because you learn more by doing all these things than you do by just focusing on one piece.

The Chopin has been part of my life for a much longer period, and of course to get so close to Beethoven in the last years was very revolutionary, so I think that it definitely helped to understand music in general better. This year I've been doing the Liszt sonata, and I think that the work I've been doing on the Hammerklavier has been incredibly useful for that. With Chopin, it's useful too; among all his works, this is probably the one with the most powerful direction. It's a very one-directional piece - not a cyclical sonata in the sense we tend to think of. And it's also very compact in emotional terms. Of course there are some similarities, even though the two pieces are so different. Both of them have crazy fourth movements, and there is a deep sense of solitude in the Chopin Funeral March - even though the perspective is completely different. Beethoven is doing everything he can to escape that solitude, whereas Chopin is contemplating it and is completely scared by it.

It's very different, but every piece I've played in my life contributes in some way.

Many people over the years (notably Schumann!) have questioned how well Chopin’s sonata hangs together as a whole - suggesting that while the movements themselves work fine, the overall sequence doesn’t. Do you think that’s the case?

Of course I don't agree, even though I love Schumann! And I think he was really one of the most intelligent geniuses in our music history. But he was a human, so he can still be mistaken!

I think maybe the word 'sonata' doesn't quite fit this piece. Usually, the sonata has a very strong architecture. If I think of the Liszt, for example - which was of course revolutionary in structure - there's still a sense of proportions, as with all architecture. And in the Chopin sonata, the proportions are wrong for a sonata. The first two movements are OK, but the third and fourth are so different and so unbalanced. The third movement is so long and so slow and so solid, and then the fourth movement is so short and airy, like wind.

Schumann was German, and he had a very strong and solid sense of architecture. That's why his sonatas are so different to some of his other works - the small pieces have much more fantasy about them than that sonatas. I think he had a very specific idea of the sonata - so when he met Brahms for the first time, and Brahms presented him with his sonatas, which are in a very typical sonata form, he absolutely adored them. It's just a matter of perspective.

A notable early performance of the Hammerklavier took place in Paris just a few years before Chopin wrote his own sonata - performed by Liszt, with whom Chopin was by this time friends. Is it possible that he would have heard that and been influenced by it? Or maybe had his own copy to play privately?

I think he might have heard it. I don't know if he was inspired by it - Beethoven and Chopin are so different, as human beings not just as composers. So for sure, he was very much influenced by Liszt and admired him a lot, and I'm sure he admired what Liszt was doing and playing. But while I can say that Clara Schumann, for instance, adored the Hammerklavier - I think she even performed it - with Chopin I don't think so.

Because of them being so different?

Well... having said that, I think they're much closer than people think. In the collective imagination these two composers are very different, very distant. I think they're not as distant as that in reality - I think of them as like two parallel lines that are close together but are never meant to meet.