Grand Hotel [1985 – 1988]

The Broken Ear, part IV

Grand Hotel is a composition for solo piano, written for pianist Gerard Bouwhuis. It is the fourth piece in a project consisting of five compositions, namely: Het Gebroken Oor [1984] for the Schönberg Ensemble, De Deuren Gesloten [1985] for the project Kaalslag, La Fine d’una Lunga Giornata [1987] for Orkest De Volharding, Grand Hotel [1985-1988], and Singing the Faint Farewell for Orkest De Volharding & Slagwerkgroep Den Haag. This project, titled Het Gebroken Oor, uses “tonality” (the way harmony in Western art music was organized in the 18th and 19th centuries) as its starting point.

The main characteristic of tonality is that musical form components like melody, harmony, and rhythm form a cohesive unity. The independence of these components from the late 19th century led to the disintegration of tonality. In the 20th century, melody, harmony, and rhythm went their own ways. Despite their complex interrelations (like seriality), these connections remain external. Without intrinsic unity, there is no space, stripping the music of its potential for drama. Drama in post-tonal music is borrowed, and space is a mere suggestion or memory. Despite its undoubted quality, post-tonal music is as flat as a dime.

I wanted to explore these concepts in this project, not as a theorist but as a composer, because composers practice alchemy, aiming to create gold, not dimes. What interests me about a Grand Hotel is primarily the building itself and its 19th-century atmosphere, without any nostalgia. Modern motor hotels with all functional technical gadgets are far preferable to aging Grand Hotels. A bit of Grand Hotel has peeling plaster and paint, holes and scorch marks in the plush and curtains, and faded red carpets. Thus, more of its interior is revealed over time. This interior is the second element that interests me, meaning the inside of the outside. In Grand Hotel, I try to reveal something of the inside of the outside of the piano virtuoso culture.

By composing Grand Hotel for pianist Gerard Bouwhuis, I not only chose a specific way of making music and a certain musical attitude but also took an artistic stance against another. Against superficiality, the supermarket culture of incoherent, gratuitous program choices, and against the culture of polished performances where wrong notes are taboo.

It is impossible to perform this work “exactly” due to its complexity and sheer number of notes. This forces the pianist to make choices about musical lines and interpretation. This complexity has nothing to do with the so-called “new complexity,” where unplayability is almost a prerequisite. I read an argument for this unplayability: Beethoven’s music is never played exactly, sixteenth notes are never really sixteenth notes. However, when Gustav Leonhardt plays a Bach partita, he can play sixteenth notes exactly if he chooses to deviate, it’s intentional. In “new complexity” music, deviations result from inability, an aesthetic ideal I’m not seeking. While “new complexity” uses the most complicated rhythmic values and varied playing techniques, I use a minimum of techniques and limit myself to the simplest irrational ratio, 2:3, from the 14th century.

The complexity of Grand Hotel arises from multilayered harmonic and rhythmic structures that force the pianist to make choices. Which chord or harmonic shift takes precedence, and which rhythmic movement is primary: tempus perfectum or tempus imperfectum? This rhythmic choice determines whether a chord is played as arsis (light beat) or thesis (heavy beat). Unlike “new complexity” pieces, these choices are verifiable. Avoiding all arsis/thesis relationships (linked to both rhythm and harmony) eliminates ambiguity and a significant condition for meaningful musical complexity.

A technocratic approach using rhythm, harmony, and playing techniques as combinations of numbers, sequences, and matrices results in merely additive complexity, without space or depth. A Bach partita is infinitely more complex to me than all “new complexity” pieces combined.

I’m interested in complexity arising from the ambiguous use of musical meanings. This is possible only if rhythm and harmony are seen not just as countable quantities but as musical phenomena forming a historical context. This compositional attitude means the performer has an equal, autonomous role. For both composer and pianist, a notation carries historical value. A sixteenth note is more than a quarter of a quarter note. The score is more than a sum of note durations, pitches, sforzandi, and legato marks.

The pianist’s choices are influenced by their affinity with certain musical styles or periods, giving their performance a unique, autonomous dimension. There is no single interpretation. The performer is not a slave to playing “exactly” what’s written, as “exactness” means nothing. Nor should they try to closely approximate the composer’s intent, as what composers think they mean doesn’t count. The notes a composer creates are partly a product of the past, as is the way they are played. A partita played by Gustav Leonhardt differs entirely from one played by Glenn Gould, yet both are highly authentic. Creating this space means achieving meaningful, authentic complexity. My aim for Grand Hotel is that the pianist grows into the piece over multiple performances, allowing the listener to witness not just the performance of a score but also the pianist’s process of mastering the piece. This process is part of the composition, bringing the listener into the heart of the music-making.

Cornelis de Bondt, The Hague, August 15, 1990 / February 16, 2000.