A road deepening in the north,
strung with steel,
resonant in the winter evening,
as though the earth were a harp soon to be struck
…
He stands on the road
at evening, making a sound
like a stone harp
strummed
by a hand full of leaves…
— John Haines, “The Stone Harp”
Despite being a pianist myself, I have always disliked writing for the instrument. My ambivalence toward the piano stems from a sort of anxiety of influence. Given the instrument’s incredibly vast repertoire, I always felt that I had nothing new to add to that body of work that hadn’t already been said better by the likes of Chopin, Rachmaninoff, or Beethoven. This concerto is my way of coming to terms with the instrument as a composer.
The influence of these composers will undoubtedly be self-evident in this piece, and I embrace them. I affectionately refer to certain moments in this concerto as my “Rachmaninoff section” or the “Debussy texture.” There are also influences that I hadn’t noticed until my collaborator pointed them out to me, references like Franz Liszt or Aaron Copland. My mom is fond of pointing out how much of my music sounds cinematic in general, and sci-fi-esque in particular. As listeners we all bring our own experience and understanding to new music. I welcome any and all readings of this piece. I’d be interested to learn what you hear.
In this spirit, there is one reading of this concerto — my own — that it is worth disclosing up front:
My initial extra-musical inspiration for this piece was religious. Or perhaps spiritual. At the time, I was fascinated by the Hindu concepts of moksha and samsara and for many years had been interested in the Buddhist concept of Dharma. These spiritual concepts are so vast that I found myself wondering what a musical expression of these ideas might sound like.
However, I quickly abandoned the concept for an absolute approach — that is, music that isn’t “about” anything. Nevertheless, all these years later I discovered that the music does retain that quality of seeking and yearning that had led me to those Hindu ideas and had originally inspired this concerto back in 2018.
What follows is one reading of this piece through my own lens years after the music was written. Take it with a grain of salt or feel free to disregard entirely. The music is yours to experience in your own way.
***
The opening theme hints at the notion of a great unanswered question; that which is beyond us, out of reach. The notes are yearning. The melody in the piano is simple enough but the notes are obscured by the strings’ ethereal drones. This left hand melody in the piano will return again and again throughout the course of the piece, always in different guises, but always yearning, as these questions of faith and belonging are repeatedly asked.
The opening section becomes increasingly tense and eventually deteriorates altogether. It is replaced by a more energetic theme that is punctuated by bouts of aggression. What follows is a series of episodes that volley between moments of slow meditation and angst, confusion, and self-consciousness. The last of these episodes is a simple chorale tune that pays homage to the protestant traditions that played a role in my own upringing and whose musical tradition mixed and mingled with my growing love of classical music. As this section progresses, the listener feels that this might be the one theme that finally wins out, but it too eventually falls apart, giving way to the aggressive material from before.
As the piece draws to a close, many of the previous themes return in abbreviated form, flowing seamlessly into one another. All this ends abruptly when the piano and orchestra seemingly disconnect from each other in a fit of chaos and violence. Silence. Here, where a cadenza should be, the piano plays a defeated, plaintive chorale. The orchestra answers. First meekly, then with growing confidence. The piano roars back to life in thundering chords. At last, the chorale theme returns, this time in triumph. The orchestra bellows like a pipe organ and the piano shimmers above as if in answer to all the turmoil that has unfolded before. This time the chorale theme is not cut short but is instead transfigured. The opening melody has returned atop pulsing tremolos and chords. This melody no longer yearns. It is not a question, but a response. It seems to say, “you may ask the question, but the answer is not for you to know.”
***
This concerto has two dedicatees. The first, Hsing-ay Hsu, a wonderful pianist and friend, was the original impetus behind this piece. Her support and collaboration gave me the confidence to write this music. She was scheduled to give the premiere of this concerto in April 2020 but the concert was cancelled due to the Covid-19 pandemic. The second dedicatee is Er-Hsuan Li, who you will soon hear. Er-Hsuan’s enthusiasm caused me to take this nearly forgotten work off the shelf and begin dreaming up ways in which to get this music out into the world. I am incredibly grateful to him for his partnership and artistry in bringing this music to life.