"Or, Why I Edit My Recordings"

Dear Mark,

Do you remember a few years ago when you said something to the effect that you don't like to listen to recordings that you know are edited? ...That you'd rather listen to recordings that you know are live because there is something special about the live performance aspect of it that appeals to you?

I've been meaning to make this illustration for a while, now, and I finally got a chance to sit down at the piano tonight to show you what I mean. It is my hope that you listen to this live recording in its entirety, so that you can appreciate why I feel the need to edit my recordings to be free of mistakes.

On a side note, you will notice a unique sound to the piano. It is the Lester spinet, previously (recently) tuned to the Equal Beating Victorian Temperament III (EBVT III), a mild well temperament. However, weather being what it is, with the humidity of full-on snow, the heaviest of the season to date, (measured in feet, not inches) which passed through the area today, the piano is somewhat out of kilter. That said, I think you might hear that the piano has settled into a temperament of the type that Chopin might have played on, especially had he had a Lester spinet at his disposal. You, being a Chopin expert as you are, will undoubtedly pick up on that nuance. In any case, I believe that this is the way he may have played it in the salon. This is recorded with my little "pocket studio" Tascam DP004 digital recorder, placed just right of center on the top of the piano, with the condensor mics pointing toward the keyboard. Please forgive the noisy page turn.

https://www.box.com/s/r42h2gqovi3cm1lx057c

Thanks in advance, Mark, (and others), for listening. Comments welcomed.
--Andy

LOL.

I will listen (how can I not) ....but, first of all, to be clear: I didn't mean I necessarily like live performances and unedited recordings, just that I have almost no interest in edited recordings. I have some interest in live performances and unedited recordings, in varying degrees depending on what they are and whose they are. The fact that your edited recordings might be 'better' than unedited ones has nothing to do with how interested I would be to hear them.


Dunno if that calls for or


Edit: OK, I listened.
And it definitely deserves a couple of

I won't spoil it for everybody by saying why.

BTW, good thing you mentioned about the page-turn because otherwise I would have wondered what was the story with the "quasi-rubato."

I think this is very good -- and that the highlight is the thing you would have liked to blip out.
But really -- it's good!

First, I read Mark's comments before listening to the performance. That said, I am listening through this piece trying to find the "ha-ha's" Mark mentioned, and I'm starting to think to myself, "My God, am I not as musical as I thought?" because I couldn't find a darn thing. But then, I did hear this one part--was that a goat?

Truly, other than the farm animal (and some really minor hesitation), I see no reason to edit the performance. It was well-played.

He meant the goat.

It's an expression I heard my dad say at the piano a lot! And now, I have turned into my parent!

Few things actually get my goat.

Thanks for listening, you guys! And thanks for appreciating the humor!

--Andy

Actually - aside from "billy goat gruff" - this is one of the most sensitive performances I've ever heard of the Raindrop (seriously). The raindrops felt and sounded real. Must be a combination of your understanding of the piece, the sound and tuning of the Lester, the humidity, and overall ambiance of your living room. Just think - if it hadn't rained incessantly in Majorca we probably wouldn't have this wonderful prelude.

You mean the dripping from condensation, right?

Perhaps that's what I was hearing !!

HAHA!

At last here we have Andy's unedited playing. A lovely performance... And a goat! (?!?!)

Well done Andy! (really it was quite nice...)

Thanks for the nice comments, fellas!

We can thank Derelux for the goat. Of course, had I not bleated, the goat would not have come to the door in the first place... But you know what they say... "When the world gives you goats, make goat stew!" Would anyone care for some nice goat stew?

Carey, I don't know quite how to say this, other than just to say it... Actually, I never think of raindrops when I play this prelude. Never ever at all. Just shows to go ya that music of this ilk is something of an auditory Rorschach test. Please, come in out of the rain and put your coat there by the fire. Let me get you some stew. You must be freezing!

That said, I heard once that this prelude was written when Chopin was staying at some castle, on holiday with his love, Amandine Dupin, and on this particular night, he was alone in the castle and she was away in town to get his medicine or something, and a storm raged outside, and as the hour got later and later, Chopin fretted more and more, and got worrieder and worrieder until he could hardly stand it, so he sat down and wrote us this song.

Any truth to that?

I never think of that when I play this prelude, either, though. I have other emotional reserves from which to draw...

Thanks for listening, my friends!

--Andy