While many of the challenges of creating a reduction of an orchestral accompaniment can be
undertaken either in preparing the reduction itself, or in performing a given reduction, there are specific
objectives that must be noted, and decisions that must be made. The objective is to provide an
audible representation that is faithful to the musical text, evocative of the instrumentation and orchestral
colours, yet is pianistic enough to be playable in an artistically solid manner. Many reductions which
strive to be pianistic fail by nature of the simple difficulties inherent in the mannerisms and figurations of
orchestral writing, or as a result of the difficulties of transcribing specific instrumentation. Despite the
best attempts of composers (or those musicians generating orchestral reductions), many works simply
require simplification and elimination of musical material for the sake of playability. This is the least
gratifying element of performing any reduction (as musicians of integrity usually suffer some amount of
guilt when dispensing with musical material). To cite an example from the saxophone literature, Ingolf
Dahl makes it a point, in the preface of the piano score to his Saxophone Concerto, to describe the
reduction as a fully “playable” version. It is a somewhat infuriating statement since the textural
complexities of the third movement make the reduction appear to be manageable (given enough time
and effort in preparation), but once the proper tempos are engaged the near physical impossibilities of
much of the material becomes painfully evident. Therefore, it is best to acknowledge that pianists will
rework any reduction as needed to be able to convincingly perform the work (despite the claims or
intentions of the composer who provided the reduction). Otto Singer’s reductions of Richard
Strauss’ operas are very impressive examples of transcriptions that attempt to be playable while
accounting for all the significant material in the score. Even as such, some rethinking is required when
preparing to play them. However, the positive example they provide is that they offer enough of the
musical text to allow the pianist the opportunity to make decisions about what material to play and
what not to play. Unfortunately, these reductions lack the instrumental annotations often found in
“informative” reductions that would be very helpful in the performer’s imitation of instrumental
colours.
The first question one must ask when preparing to reduce an orchestral score is: what purpose will
this reduction serve? Although it is clear that the intention is to provide a realization of an orchestral
accompaniment that can be performed at the piano, there are two kinds of reduction that can be
produced.
The first is a truly “playable” reduction that seeks to reduce the orchestral material into idiomatic
writing for the keyboard, adapting figurations and registers as needed in order to provide a reduction
that is derived from the orchestral material, without necessarily being enslaved to it. By attempting
such a reduction, it is expected that the realization will be played verbatim, note-for-note as it would if
the part were originally composed for piano (such as the accompaniment to a violin sonata of Brahms,
for example). While this may be an admirable intention, it assumes the person playing the prepared
reduction will take no responsibility for providing a faithful portrayal of the orchestral text as they see
it. In other words, any respectable accompanist who finds him/herself playing an orchestral reduction
of any kind will attempt to provide an audible presentation of the work which attempts to imitate the
instrumental coloring, while presenting notes and rhythms as accurately and completely as possible.
Knowing that every reduction provided will be‘re-written’ by any accompanist who takes it up lends
usefulness to the second type of realization: the “informative” reduction.
The informative reduction is one in which as much information as possible (or seemingly relevant) is
presented, condensed onto a grand staff, with the preconceived expectation that the pianist will make
decisions about what and what not to actually play. The advantage of such a reduction is that such
scores are usually clearly annotated with instrumental cues (distinguishing which instruments are playing
specific passages or figures). This is an invaluable device in any type of reduction as it provides the
pianist with a clear view of the orchestral sonorities he is expected to imitate. It is also extremely
valuable for soloists and coaches as a study aid. However, these scores provide complications by
being overly busy (visually) and impractical to play as written. Tremendous effort is expelled on
simply deciphering the musical text, deciding how virtually unplayable passages are to be executed
effectively, and how the musical material is to be distributed. In the end, it is necessary to complete a
reduction of the reduction. Clearly the ideal orchestral reduction is one that incorporates both
elements. Of course, once a reduction is worked out on paper, the ultimate test lies in how the
reduction is to be realized by the pianist in performance. In order to convincingly present an
orchestral score on the piano, a number of challenges must be addressed. A few of the most
prominent issues will be discussed here as they relate to the process of creating and performing a
reduction.
A matter of critical importance when creating a reduction, and even more important when performing
a reduction, is to take note of octave doublings in the bass. It is common in 18th century orchestral
writing to have the string basses doubling the cello; for that reason these parts are usually notated on
the same staff of the orchestral score. However, reductions rarely take into account the fact that the
string bass sounds an octave lower than written. Therefore, these ‘doubled’ parts between celli and
bassi actually sound in octaves. While it is impractical, and often impossible, to perform both octaves
in busy passage work, an attempt should be made to realize this important voicing whenever possible.
In particular, those purely accompanimental passages often found in arias, etc., where the bass may
simply play anchoring notes on strong beats, can usually be sounded in octaves. A perfect example is
the famous mezzo-soprano aria from Gounod’s Faust in which the straight-forward accompaniment
consists of repeated chords in the upper strings, and ( I believe) pizzicato notes on the two impulses of
each (6/8) bar. This bass line is notated in single notes in nearly every anthology as well as every
vocal score of the opera. However, the color of the accompaniment becomes distinguishingly more
‘orchestral’ if the bass is played in octaves. This is one instance in which it is easily manageable and
tremendously complimentary to the aural effect while also being decidedly faithful to the accuracy of
the orchestral reduction. Needless to say, if the reduction from which the pianist is playing does not
already note this doubling, the pianist should be well enough acquainted with the orchestration to
realize the necessity of this octave doubling. Richness of sound is built from the bottom upward. This
is as true on the piano as it is with the orchestra. To that end, an octave doubling does not necessarily
add volume as much as it adds a ‘warmth’ to the orchestral sonority.
Another useful instance in which to ‘double’ at the octave is the instant of attack for prominent
timpani/percussion entrances. Timpani rolls especially sound slightly more authentic on the piano if the
initial attack is dropped by an octave. While this may seem to deviate from the text of the orchestral
score, the sonic effect is more percussive if the lower octave of the piano is utilized in the initial attack.
Likewise, prominent and isolated timpani parts can be more effective if executed entirely in octaves.
A passage, such as the dialogue between the Music Teacher and the Haushofmeister of Strauss’
Ariadne auf Naxos is punctuated by dramatic commentary from the timpani. Each gesture begins with
a quarter-note roll followed by oscillating eighth notes. The darkness and depth of the timpani
sonority is best imitated in octaves on the piano.
Perhaps one of the most difficult instrumental families from which to transcribe is the strings. The
sustaining capacity, combined with the myriad of color and effects with which these instruments are
capable, makes it truly impossible to imitate convincingly on the piano. Few instruments can produce
a tone from a true “niente” the way a bowed stringed instrument can (the possible exceptions being the
clarinet and saxophone). In the course of transcribing string parts for the piano, there is little that one
can notate to accommodate the effects. One must, instead, settle for merely notating the melodic lines
as they appear on the page with the hope that the pianist will find some way to account for the string
sonority. The most problematic, but often encountered problem, is that of sustained notes (or chords)
marked with a quiet dynamic (‘p’, ‘pp’ , etc.) Particularly in accompanied recitative, the strings will
produce an atmospheric chord at a moment of dramatic poignancy. The haunting colour comes from
the fact that no ‘attack’ of the chord is heard. Instead, the beginning of the chord is virtually
inaudible. The sound simply seems to emerge from the silence. This can be a breath taking effect
from a string section, but sounds very uninspiring when simply sounded as a blocked chord on the
piano. Not only does the piano not have the capacity to sustain (much less add any gradation of swell
or crescendo), but the decisive attack of the piano is contradictory to the essence of the sound we
wish to emulate. One option is to ‘soften’ the attack by rolling the chord on the piano. This may
suffice in some circumstances, but can often sound too busy and disruptive in its own way. Another
option is to delay the sounding of the chord ever so slightly. In the process of rehearsal this may need
to be discussed with the conductor; however, playing the chord slightly behind the conductors beat
will actually imitate more accurately the sonic response of a string section. In addition, the fact that the
rhythmic ‘impulse’ is diluted through this technique will more effectively soften the sense of ‘attack’.
In addition to such attacks, there are other idiomatic string features which simply cannot be translated
to the piano. Microtones, for instance, are simply impossible on the piano, as are string glissandi.
Glissandi are particularly troublesome in that a certain speed and distance are required on the piano
for an effective glissando, whereas stringed instruments are capable of lengthy, drawn-out glissandi
which cover relatively small intervallic distances. In my reduction of Schnittke’s Monologue for Viola
and Strings, I encountered a passage in which the entire string orchestra, all beginning on different
pitches, slide slowly upwards over several bars. No glissando technique on the piano could possibly
imitate the wall of sound created in this passage. In response, liberty had to be taken with the musical
text by transcribing this passage as a series of chromatic clusters played indiscriminately with both
hands, slowly working their way up the keyboard. This gradual motion, void of discernable centers
of pitch, is intentionally blurred by holding the ‘tre corde’ pedal down throughout the passage to
provide the sonic ‘wall’ of the strings. In short, some liberties must be taken when transcribing certain
string textures to the piano. If they are not notated in the reduction as such, then those liberties must
be assumed by the performer.
Another instrumental category which defies translation in pianistic terms is the percussion family. As
has already been mentioned, some creativity must be taken when performing prominent timpani parts
on the keyboard. However, the timpani is a pitched instrument which at least offers the pianist
tangible musical material with which to work. However, the majority of percussion instruments are not
precisely pitched and, therefore, pose challenges to the process of reduction. Anyone acquainted with
the ‘classical’ saxophone literature will immediately think of the finale of Karel Husa’s Saxophone
Concerto which begins with an extended passage for a large percussion battery. While it is impossible
to accurately depict the sound of these instruments on the keyboard, the piano reduction that exists of
this work successfully assigns pitches in distinctive registers of the piano for the various instruments
encountered. Snare drum rolls (for example) are notated as semi-tone trills, bass drum “thumps”
notated as low-sounding clusters, etc.. When performed with a decisive rhythmic edge, one can at
least evoke a perception of the percussion sonorities. In some instances, depending on the musical
context, it is best to depict percussion effects with pitches consistent with the harmonies of the other
instruments. However, particular features, such as the gongs in Turandot, are best represented in
dramatic fashion by playing clusters in the lower octave of the piano. Of course, such decisions
depend entirely on the context. Likewise, certain effects (woodblocks, etc.) can sometimes be
effected by tapping on the fall-board or slapping beneath the keyboard. While such brave techniques
can be left to the discretion of the pianist, one should not avoid notating them in the reduction where
the technique seems like the most effective solution to a timbral problem.
These are just a few examples of difficulties encountered by the pianist who undertakes the creating of
an orchestral reduction. The decision making required by these challenges is in the service of ones
attempt to recreate, as much as possible, the sound of the original ensemble for which the work was
scored. While every reduction is, to some degree, doomed to fail in its attempts, the process of
creating and executing a quality reduction is an important element of the accompanist’s art.
| All rights reserved. |
Kevin Class
MasterClass
| On the Creation and Performance of Orchestral Reductions |