Kindest Cuts

In big conservatories, there are competitions to select student soloists for particular piano concertos each concert season. The music is chosen far in advance by the piano faculty. Our normal procedure at New England Conservatory — and we did the same at Juilliard — is to hold a first round in which a jury hears each of the competitors play a 15-minute-long selection of designated excerpts from the chosen concerto. A day or two in advance of the competition, these cuts are announced.

In the first round, the selected material is played by each student without interruption. Usually three pianists are chosen who play again a few days later. In the final round, each pianist performs the entire concerto. All this is done with a second pianist playing a “reduction” of the orchestral parts as accompaniment on a second piano. Any long orchestral “tuttis” (material for the orchestra alone) are eliminated or truncated.

Because we had a lot of competitors for the concertos by Chopin that we programmed this year, each student played only about ten minutes of music in the first round. Much was omitted, but each competitor played the same designated excerpts… That must have been fair?

A piano concerto might have a few passages that are significantly more technically difficult to play than the rest of the piece. Maybe it would be sensible to hear such passages in a first round? Not infrequently, a player who makes a good first impression may turn out (in the second round) not to have carefully learned the entire work — especially technically brilliant difficult licks that tend to appear near the end of the last movement of many concertos. If those things are included in the first round, such competitors can be eliminated early.

Of course, we might be hoping to find a performer who brings real distinction to the playing of the basic materials of the piece. Someone who might stir us with a poignant theme, or capture the ebullience of a rondo.

The jury (and audiences) may prefer a musically compelling performance that’s not entirely commanding technically. Often, if a conductor is a member of the jury (and I like to include one), there will be some conversation about whether a less-than-technically-commanding player can deliver a performance with the orchestra, in a large hall, with a big audience, and the nervousness that will bring. And especially if the problems seem to have to do with rhythm…

In these competitions, can it be that excellent playing from the second-pianist, performing the orchestral parts, may distract from, or enhance the impression made by a competitor? The jury members are experts. But such niceties of accompaniment playing as balancing textures toward lower bass pitches (to interfere less with the soloist’s melody playing), or orchestral-style rhythm from second pianist (with scant rubato), or rather dry pedalling of the accompaniments — will cast a better light on the solo player, making the solo piano’s sound seem more luxurious, the playing seem more emotional, spontaneous, and communicatively expressive.

After really beautiful second-piano playing — perhaps too beautiful to help the cause of the soloist being accompanied — it’s surprising how frequently a competition juror will say: “That second-pianist should be our soloist!”

One contestant in the Naumburg Competition in New York offered a ramshackle account of a concerto by Beethoven. The second-piano accompaniment was shaky. I think the jury felt empathy for the suffering soloist. In the end, after hearing a lot more music, we selected this pianist as the winner of the entire competition.

Can it be that the cuts I make for the first round have a strong impact on who wins our competitions? If a high-functioning virtuoso demonstrates powerful command of all the difficulties, a more musically compelling player may not make it through to the final round.