Rubato is one of the more fascinating mysteries of music. It's intrinsically subjective, but when to do it and how much are hotly debated. No two musicians "take" rubato exactly alike; some are more convincing than others…
The Italian word means literally "stolen" or "robbed", but in music it denotes taking liberty with tempo. No doubt, it's been in practice since the beginning of time. For instance, with a stretch of the imagination, I can envision a stone-age mother singing a ritual lullaby to her child, soothingly molding a final verse to induce sleep. Or drinking songs of a previous era - as the 99 bottles dwindled their way down to 1 you can bet that the music got looser, proportionately…
Rubato has always been a part of classical music. As Leopold Mozart (Wolfgang's father) observed, "when a true virtuoso who is worthy of the title is to be accompanied, then one must not allow oneself to be beguiled by the postponing or anticipation of the notes which he knows how to shape so adroitly and touchingly". (New College Encyclopedia of Music)
Chopin wrote out ornamentation to the nth degree and rubato appears frequently in his music, as in the slow movement of his Piano Concerto No. 2. I can attest to the challenges of accompanying the piano in this work, as the NSO recently performed it with Evgeny Kissin. There's an extended section where the basses have to land pizzicatos perfectly in sync with the very spun-out piano part. It's the kind of thing where the conductor is pretty useless (so what else is new?!). We fretted over it in the rehearsals a bit, but I am happy to report that we were perfectly together in the performance.
In 19th century opera, where the dexterity and expression of the singers was (is) on display night after night, rubato was important as a means of showcasing their skill and enchanting listeners. It also helped vary each performance and keep it fresh for the singer. In Rossini's Barber of Seville, the Act I aria se il mio nome saper vo is a simple melody which is sung very tenderly and freely, in some cases almost as if there is no established tempo. In Verdi's Il Trovatore, the Act II aria il balen del suo sorriso contains several high notes which are elongated to feature the voice's upper register and display expressiveness of tone, vibrato, and phrasing. (The famous double bass virtuoso Bottesini conjured solo bass works on these two arias.)
In our own American culture, jazz is very much about messing with time. The beat is established in the presentation of the theme, but real creativity lies in the improvisation that follows. Richard Ashley aptly explained in Do[n't] Change a Hair for Me: The Art of Jazz Rubato that "expressive timing is seen to be a kind of tempo rubato involving a flexibility of melodic rhythm over a steady underlying beat. A typical strategy used is to begin the melody late relative to the accompaniment, and speed up over the course of a phrase. This delay-accelerate strategy is modulated in a number of ways." Or to put it simply as The Duke said, "It don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing"…
I find that the use of rubato is very revealing as to musical taste, and it's one of the hardest things for students to master. Part of my job in teaching is to encourage and inspire it, but also, to help them know whether and how to do it.
For instance, when is it appropriate? Well, probably not when you are auditioning for a symphony orchestra. One thing you want to show is that you have discipline for the written music. In other words, if you can't respect and perform what the composer wrote, then you probably shouldn't be in a symphony orchestra. The orchestra contains one hundred musicians who have to have certain commonalities in order to be a good ensemble, and one of them is a sense of time. There are fine lines to be drawn in that regard, but, it basically boils down to this: if you find your own concept of time is more important than that of the composer or your fellow musicians, then the orchestra is not for you.
I'll give one example from a recent NSO audition…In the semi -finals, there was a player who sounded quite good overall. However, when the player came to an excerpt from the fourth movement of Brahms' Symphony no. 2 (letter L, to be exact), he/she took liberties with the time - rubato, if you will. The passage contains running legato notes which lock in very tightly with similar passagework in the rest of the orchestra. The rubato was totally out of place and a "red light" to me, implying that the player wasn't grounded in orchestral fundamentals, or maybe a bit musically arrogant and lacking musical taste. I didn't vote for the person.
Some composers aren't keen on leaving rubato up to the performer. For example, Mahler wrote out very specific instructions for time fluctuations in his symphonies. It obviously makes sense when one is endeavoring to make the entire orchestra ebb and flow together. On the other hand, Beethoven didn't write many instructions, but that hasn't kept many conductors from indulging themselves.
The subject of rubato comes up very often with my students. One common tendency is for them to take rubato when they are having technical difficulties with a passage. It can become ingrained and very difficult to shed later, like when they finally play it with accompaniment. It's important that rubato doesn't become a crutch to cover up technical inadequacies; musical taste must always be the guide. Having said that, there are instances where a passage poses technical challenges and where rubato IS conveniently appropriate. (Like the ornamental turns in Bottesini's Elegy and Reverie.)
Speaking of Bottesini, the cadenza of his Concerto no. 2 for bass is a great place to explore rubato in the 19th century operatic style. Bottesini was immersed in opera life, having played in opera orchestras in Italy, composed many solo bass fantasies on arias, and been an opera conductor. In the totally free zone of the cadenza, one must make many decisions regarding the stretching of time, and with each one musical taste is on display. Even a cadenza needs to have a kind of "spine" of time that runs through it that holds the whole thing together, yet is able to bend this way and that. For example, should the opening phrase of this cadenza be mostly straight and the second more free in contrast? Over the following four measures how free should the triplets be, and should they be treated similarly or should some be "tighter" than others, or even accelerated? Rubato is often employed with repeated material. The B flat arpeggios are a prime example of a basic axiom pertaining to music: don't do the same thing twice. If something is played twice, it probably should be played fairly straight the first time and interpreted more flexibly the second time as a kind of reflection.
Some of the best pieces for bass players to learn the "ins and outs" of rubato are Dragonetti's Waltzes for Solo Double Bass. They are written in simple form with practically every section repeated, all within a dominating time structure - the waltz. The onus is on the performer to be creative - otherwise, it's just plain boring. The general idea is to present the material straight and with vigor the first time, then on the repeat toy with it a bit. The trick is to create enough contrast but not over do it and get tacky. Rubato must be done in good taste, after all, and it takes musical intuition to know what that is. It's like putting too much Tabasco in your chili - do you want it to be an assault on the senses or just right? (Well, if you watch all of the Food Network TV shows, there's more glory in the assault of the senses…)
Not to "toot my own horn", but, I've recorded six of the Dragonetti waltzes on CD. I think it's worth listening to for analyzing my use of rubato. I thought a lot about how to ensure freshness, when to "take" and when to "give back" (and how much hot sauce?!). Recordings of solo Bach (whether for violin or cello) offer a very good study of prevailing rubato concepts. It's surprising that some of the more modern interpretations are actually conservative with freedoms relative to the supposed original-ists. Last but not least, the human voice is the most flexible of all instruments. Go to the opera or listen to art songs by Schubert. And don't forget about good ol' Ella Fitzgerald!...
