“Inside Beethoven’s Hearing Machine”, Immortal Tenderness

This summer has flown by full of memorable experiences. The past week in Gent, Belgium has been particularly emotional. Intense in an uniquely personal, intimate way. I’ll try to retrace my journey to capture some of these touching moments.

The workshop at Orpheus Instituut “Declassifying Beethoven” was full of discoveries and insights. I have not had much experience playing on historical instruments in the past and initially felt a little out of place alongside established researchers and fortepianists. At the same time, I was excited to explore new perspectives to interpreting my beloved Op.110, a piece that has become a dear friend the past year throughout COVID.

I could have never anticipated this experimental week to lead to such a transcendent experience.

The beginning seemed simple, just coachings introducing me to the instruments and context of Beethoven’s creative process during the time of these last Sonatas. The Viennese Streicher piano he had versus the new English Broadwood, with a completely different action and fuller resonance.

We worked on first finding the stylistic articulations and phrasings on the Streicher and then tried to translate them to the Broadwood. But it wasn’t working. Something was blocking me once I moved to the English instrument. I felt tense and could not find the sound I wanted. My body did not understand or connect with the machine.

Then Tom Beghin (lead researcher on this project) had an idea. To not only use the recreated instrument, but also recreate the person. Embodying Beethoven’s circumstances. What did he feel like exploring this instrument for the first time. While being unable to hear? So, we brought out the noise cancelling headphones for a quick experiment. I was less so skeptical than just a little amused and curious to see what would happen. On goes the headphones. I play again, trying to bring the same ideas from the Streicher to the Broadwood by purely trusting my physical muscle memory. I could still hear the tones. But everything was purer. No distractions, no white noise, just a familiar yet brand new improvisation somewhere far in the distance. I continue for a few more phrases until I notice them waving at me to stop. Everyone looked stunned and was silent for a moment. ‘Wow’, Tom says, ‘that’s amazing.’

‘What, what happened?’

Apparently my sound completely changed. It was like I was a different person, playing fully, daringly, freely. Exploring, listening in a new way.
Really? I was still curious, but not necessarily convinced. What others perceive on the outside seems so strange and foreign to what we are possibly feeling inside our own bodies and senses. I wasn’t quite sure how to process everything.

Skip ahead a few days, this initial little test turned into the idea of having me perform the entire Sonata for the concert using Beethoven’s hearing machine as well as wearing earplugs. I was growing more and more fascinated, fueled by the conversations throughout the week on topics around Beethoven’s disability and the questions raised around not just why or what we are playing, but - who is it that we are playing?

My next first experience was with the hearing machine itself. First without earplugs it was overwhelming. The metal cover directing all the amplified sound straight back at me. But when I put on the earplugs, the effect was so strange - similar yet not quite the same as the headphones. Still distant yet now so visceral and connected deeply to the physical vibrations of the instrument. I leaned my head into the dark cave of the hearing machine to explore and hear even closer the increasing resonance as I held the first trill in bar 4 of Op.110. Just listening, enjoying the answer of the instrument, it’s reaction back to me as an explorer, creator. How must it have felt for Beethoven? Receiving this new toy, discovering in it a new friend, life, sound. New possibilities. Hearing through vibrations. The joy, the passion, torment, hope, desire he must have felt. That, that’s how he was writing this Op.110. That’s why it holds such depth of warmth and the deepest tenderest affection.

I’m getting cheesy again and jumping around. But this leads me to such an emotional moment the morning of the concert, after the previous night’s already moving dress rehearsal. I was just walking to the institute, a cloudy damp cold day as it has been all week. And suddenly thinking about these experiences, feelings, questions - it made me tear up and full of that tingly sensation throughout my body. As ridiculous and crazy as it sounds, as if I was finally beginning to understand some part of Beethoven’s spirit. This embodiment of his being. And just how miraculous is that. Across 200 years of time and space, we can find understanding with someone. To share their pains and joys. To still discover and have this conversation. To experience that immortal depth of love he was trying to communicate and send into the universe. And here I am, humbly able to receive some tiny part of it. Moved to tears. Just walking along the Gent streets, feeling silly but not really caring how cheesy this might be. Research, intellect, ideas, experiments, all taken into account, I take sincerity in just being this deeply feeling human being. And how blessed it is I found some part of Beethoven. What a privilege it’s been to be here and take a part of these ideas and technologies to gain this new depth of insight.

The concert was powerfully moving, special. I could already feel it beforehand. The whole day. Walking around the city with earplugs. Finding that sense of distance and desire to connect with the world. And the performing, with the audience behind me, aware of them yet not distracted either. It’s a completely different kind of expression and sharing than what I’m usually trying to accomplish. It was private, almost, inviting strangers into my exploration of this sound world, where I can’t quite hear, but feel brave and empowered and free because of my limitations, because the clarity of sound has been taken away. I was daring to go beyond all the boundaries I have known and created for myself. Trying so hard to just hear, listening through feeling the physical vibrations through my body. The joy of exploring, more, more, improvising, being fully in the moment.

I was reflecting on this idea in my own journaling. With every challenge, obstacle, limitation comes an opportunity. A new perspective. Even disadvantages become privileges. Forced to live in an isolated dimension, so detached, driven inwardly, yet precisely because of that framework - so powerfully expansive and overwhelming in expression.

Our virtues are our traps, and vice versa, our limitations are our blessings in disguise. Who’s to say what’s what?

So there, I found a new freedom in silence. In Beethoven’s story, a very special personal confidant. Being in that mindset, that physical state. The desperation and exhaustion of that aria, the lament, the wailing, the scream, and yet the passion and love for life and beyond. The joy. The triumph. The tenderness.

I love how the way we play are constantly changing. The ways we thought were possible to play. I wish I could give Beethoven a huge hug. Discovering some understanding transcending time and space. 200 some years later, hi, yes I feel you, I hear you, the unbearable love you’re trying to send to us all. This immortal tenderness.

Sincerely yours,

9.02.2021

asiantinkerbell