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SATURDAY came ridiculously fast. This was the day of the semifinals where the fifteen semifinalists were going to be narrowed down even further. The song selection was Bach’s “Sinfonia No. 9 in F minor”. To the listener, this song might sound simple and uncomplicated depending on the performer, but Bach’s counterpoint was the most pronounced in this piece. The sigh motif began with a rest, giving it a breathless urgency. The dissonance born of the descending chromatic figure that came from combining the other two motifs played to the listeners’ angst and grieving. The last three chords were a symbol of hope. This Sinfonia, masterfully composed as a complex, tightly knit two-minute piece, was a song pianists must learn to play if they were to tackle Bach in any way.
The competition rules stated that participants must pick a different composer from the quarterfinals for their free song selection. Many of the participants were likely to select Chopin for their free piece with the high technical demands his music placed on a performer while still allowing them to put a unique spin on the music. Chopin was no longer an option for me.
“As far as I can tell from looking at the free song list, your song choice doesn’t clash with any other participant.” Miss Ayumi looked with satisfaction at the song list handed out before the semifinal.
“What a relief. Is it mostly Chopin?”
“For the most part. Rachmaninoff and Liszt make up the rest.”
That’s exactly how I thought it’d turn out.
My selected song, “Pavane for a Dead Princess”, wasn’t a technically difficult piece. Some people might think that the nostalgic lyricism would come back to bite me, with its unsuitability for competitions.
But I chose this piece exactly because I would be performing before the same judging committee. Performing a song that gave a totally different impression from the quarterfinals was a strategic way to stand out from the crowd.
For the semifinals, I abandoned my school uniform for a pale-blue short-sleeved dress.
Miss Sakurako and Miss Chisako actually went out of their way to bring this dress to my house. They were both disgruntled that Kon had prevented them from going crazy with it, which was why it ended up being a simple knee-length dress.
“We’ll have an even more gorgeous concert dress prepared for the finals!” they effused with flowery smiles and disappeared from our house, leaving Mom and I feeling grateful and sorry at the same time.
They were actually coming to see my performance today too. I sincerely wanted to put on the best performance I could to show them my gratitude for doting on me as if I was another daughter.
Eyes closed, I ran my hands down the silky satin sleeves. My concentration was at an all-time high. I want to get on stage soon. I was registered to play last in the morning.
A tall boy was performing Liszt’s “Mephisto Waltz” when the competition staff led me over to the stage wing. The percussive violence of the bass arpeggios and the tempo speed left nothing for want as might be expected from a boy with lots of physical strength. He brilliantly pulled off hammering out the tetrachord in fortissimo arpeggiated figures.
His performance came to an end while I was marveling over how the people left in the semifinals were truly skilled. He departed the stage with a satisfied expression over the roaring applause. Only five participants would be left in the finals. Thinking about that fact made the fear well up inside me, so I slammed my eyes shut and drove the wicked thoughts from my mind.
“Number 8, Mashiro Shimao. Performing Ravel’s ‘Pavane for a Dead Princess’ as her free song.”
The audience clamored over the announcement. My song choice was probably a real shock after the long, difficult pieces from composers like Brahms, Chopin, and Liszt. Worry surged within me for a moment, but there was nothing I could do after coming this far already. Eyes locked on the piano, I walked on stage. I took a bow and raised the bench’s height. Placing my hands on the keyboard, I took a deep breath.
Bach – Sinfonia No.9
The tempo played slowly, while keeping the momentum standing against the steady plodding of the lament motif. I let this song, where a crescendo and decrescendo coexisted in one measure, ring out with hope. It painted the picture of mass at a cathedral; like a sliver of light shining in through the stained-glass windows. Imagining those people who struggled in the pursuit of happiness, my hands raced across the keys. Music spread through the concert hall sounding exactly how I imagined it.
Without stepping on the pedal, I accentuated a series of notes in the legato. Legato phrases required all of the notes to be smoothly connected with the same tonal quality, with no intervening silence. Otherwise, the two notes wouldn’t flow together. Connecting two notes without a moment of silence was far easier said than done. Going the extra mile to practice that part paid off—I played it pretty well.
I took a breath and centered myself.
The concert hall had fallen silent.
The free song was to be played next.
Ravel – Pavane for a Dead Princess
Ravel wanted to create his own music free from the classical harmonic progression, but it’s said that he didn’t achieve the sound he was aiming for with this song. How ironic it must have been for the composer that he had instead succeeded in capturing a nostalgic primary melody capable of strongly moving the listener. The secondary melody played as if placed on the other side of a mirror. The excellent balance and refined composition of this song was part of what made it appealing.
I kept the volume to a bare minimum according to the Tres lointain (very distant) notation. Rather than just play the pianissimo as is, I stroked the keys with the intention of changing the notes into the dazzling light hidden far beyond the cracks in the clouds. And then, towards the middle, I emphasized each note at a volume close to forte.
This same melody existed in two different worlds at the same time. The people I could never reach again were reflected beyond the mirror. Lending my ear to the faint whispers I heard, I screamed with the piano on this side of the glass. Only this music could freely transverse between the two worlds that could never converge.
Please, reach them. I pleaded with the piano. Please reach the dear people I can never touch again. I’m right here, beyond the mirror.
To the father, mother, and friends and family I will never see again: the time I spent with those of you I left behind makes up who I am today. But I still can’t stop thinking of you. I long to see you again.
Focusing every fiber of my being into my fingers, I wrote my feelings into this song.
Letting the final note ring out, I lifted my arms and returned my hands to my lap.