“Deciphering Denisov: A Guide to Successful

Collaboration in the Sonata for Alto Saxophone and Piano”

By Benjamin Corbin

A Non­Treatise Document

Presented to the Faculty of the Graduate School

of The University of Texas at Austin

In Partial Fulfillment for the

Degree of Doctor of Musical Arts

The University of Texas at Austin

May, 2016
 Deciphering Denisov: A Guide to Successful Collaboration in

the Sonata for Alto Saxophone and Piano

Among the many infamously challenging works in the canon of saxophone and piano

duo, Edison Denisov’s ​Sonata for Alto Saxophone and Piano ​remains one of the most standard

and difficult pieces in the repertoire. The sonata was composed in 1970 for the French

saxophonist Jean­Marie Londeix. At the sonata’s premiere on December 14, 1970 by Jean­Marie

Londeix and pianist Milton Grainger at the second World Saxophone Congress in Chicago,

Londeix commented on the importance of this new work. “The ​Sonata for Alto Saxophone and

Piano​ by Edison Denisov opened the saxophone to avant­garde contemporary music in a way

that no other piece had ever done.”1 The sonata has since entered into the standard repertory and

presents significant challenges to both performers. While much has been written about the jazz

and serial elements in the sonata, there has not yet been a practical guide to the work from the

perspective of a collaborative pianist that deals directly with these challenges for a performance

setting. This document will present practical and useful suggestions and solutions for

collaborative pianists to learn and perform this sonata efficiently, securely, and effectively. It

will also briefly address why this particular sonata is so challenging.

Edison Denisov (1929­1996) entered the Physics and Mathematics Department of Tomsk

University in 1946 while concurrently attending special piano classes at the university’s music

school. He excelled in his mathematical studies but found himself drawn to music. He decided

1
​James Umble. ​Jean­Marie Londeix: Master of the Modern Saxophone.​ (Glenmoore: Roncorp Publications, 2000),
222.
1
that he needed to choose between music and mathematics. Upon his graduation from Tomsk

University in 1950, Denisov decisively wrote to Dmitry Shostakovich for feedback on a few of

his compositions. Shostakovich’s response was encouraging and settled the young composer’s

mind on his future career:

Dear Edik, your compositions have astonished me. If you don’t have the
elementary musical education, it is just a wonder how you could be so proficient
in your composition which looks fairly professional to me...Many things in your
compositions I liked very much. I believe that you are endowed with a great gift
for composition. And it would be a great sin to bury your talent….2

A regular correspondence began between Denisov and Shostakovich, and after a failed first

attempt at entry into the Moscow Conservatory, Denisov was successfully admitted into the

composition department in 1951.

The most comprehensive part of Denisov’s output is chamber music which came to

prominence in the 1960s. For Denisov this was a time of intensive development and a yearning

for an individual style.A sample of his chamber music output for this time includes Sonata for

Flute and Piano (1960), Sonata for Violin and Piano (1963), Three Pieces for Piano Four Hands

(1967), Three Pieces for Cello and Piano (1967), Trio for Violin, Viola, and Cello (1969), Wind

Quintet (1969), and the Sonata for Saxophone and Piano (1970).

While he certainly had support and encouragement from his now long­time pen pal,

Dmitry Shostakovich, it was during this time that Denisov found new inspiration. By the end of

the 1960s Denisov had evolved a means of expression based on fractured rhythms and angular

lines, both trademarks of the international avant­garde style. In the early 1970s, a more

2
Yuri Kholopov and Valeria Tsenova, ​Edison Denisov​, trans. Romela Kohanovskaya (Chur, Switzerland: Harwood
Academic Publishers, 1996), 4.
2
characteristic type of canonic writing based on small intervals also became a feature of his

compositions, as in the ​Sonata​. In addition to these features in the sonata, Denisov also explored

a flexible use of the serial language. Denisov was in full command of the serial technique, but

rigorous adherence to this compositional idea fell away for his works written in the 1970­1980s.

The ​Sonata ​is essentially a dodecaphonic, or twelve­tone, composition but is not

completely serially constructed.A twelve­note row began to more often represent a thematic

impulse or gestural idea. Denisov allows for harmonic, melodic, contrapuntal, and rhythmic

considerations in his use of serialism. The serial quality of the sonata more greatly affects the

learning and performance of the work than serve as an example of a pioneering or important

twelve­tone composition.

In addition to serial and dodecaphonic techniques, the sonata exhibits several elements of

jazz including rhythmic syncopation and improvisatory­sounding (albeit tightly controlled)

passages. The inclusion of these elements seems natural given the saxophone and piano are both

important instruments in the history and development of jazz music. Denisov himself provides

evidence that he was aware of and sought to use avant­garde jazz techniques in a quasi­serial

composition. Concerning the several moments of canonic ostinato writing, he writes “But jazz

provides us with new forms of ostinato, not all of which (especially those in the finest works of

avant­garde jazz) have yet been investigated by composers”3 Denisov took two of the most

identifiable “jazz instruments”, piano and saxophone, to explore the jazz elements in the sonata.

In doing so, he also created an extremely challenging piece of music to learn and perform.

3
Edison Denisov. ​New Music and Jazz​, 32.
3
 Encountering this sonata for the first time, the musicians may be confronted with specific

challenges that have not yet been explored in other repertoire. In addition to rhythmic and

physical challenges, the performers must acknowledge special difficulties in the learning process

of the sonata. These challenges derive from the role that expectation plays in approaching a new

piece of music. Western classical tradition derives from scalar, intervallic, and harmonic

evolution. Serial and atonal works such as this sonata pose a challenge in the learning process

because of their departure from the rest of the Western classical canon. As complex and

challenging as this sonata is, if it is learned well the first time, it does not require a “start from

scratch” method every time it is programmed. The approach taken in this document is to

decipher Denisov’s challenges and layer the learning process from the beginning stages to

performance as efficiently and securely as can be done.

This is a visceral and cerebral piece of music that is rewarding for performers and

audiences and whose success is ultimately dependent upon deciphering the sonata. In the words

of the composer, “My music is not easy to approach; it has a great inner tension and

concentration. There's some music that is very easy to come to and appreciate on a first hearing.

Mine doesn't really fall into that category.”4 The goal of this document is, from a collaborative

pianist perspective, to assist in learning, rehearsing, and performing this sonata for both the

collaborative pianist AND the saxophonist.

4
Edison Denisov, interview by Bruce Duffie, Chicago 1991.
4
 Movement One ­ Allegro

The first movement of Denisov’s ​Sonata ​is essentially a number of “musical events” of

varying lengths, in lieu of classical phrases. These musical events are passages or rhythms

preceding or leading to silence. A musical event may have any number of measures but is almost

always considered complete upon the arrival at an empty measure or a significant rest. Therefore,

learning, rehearsing, and performing the first movement involves the goal of moving organically

from one musical event to the next.

In order to do this, the performers must find a common thread between the many time

signature changes, decipher mathematical ratios, make sense of irregular meters, and overcome

the challenges of an atonal serial work. By isolating these challenges this movement can be

securely and efficiently learned.

Time Signature Changes and the Unified Pulse

Over the course of the one hundred and seventeen measures that comprise the first

movement of the ​Sonata ​are eighty­seven time signature changes. Denisov rhythmically unifies

the movement with a sixteenth­note pulse that is organized either in even duples and/or triplets.

Either subdivision can be used to decipher the frequent and irregular time changes throughout the

movement. Feeling a common and consistent pulse early in learning this sonata lays the

groundwork for overcoming other difficulties in this movement and is an important first step.

The first measure dictates the duple/triplet subdivision for the ensemble, so a great

responsibility lies with the saxophone to accurately set up the rhythm. This first 5/16 measure

(Figure 1) is divided between a duple subdivision (two sixteenth beats) and a triple subdivision

5
that will be referred to as a “triplet lift” (third, fourth, and fifth sixteenth beats). Dividing time

signatures this way is common for irregular meters such as 5/8 or 7/8. Denisov pays an homage

to Dmitry Shostakovich in the first measure by including the often used “DSCH” motive derived

from Shostakovich’s name, “D, E­flat, C, B­natural”, but transposed for the alto saxophone.

Figure 1. Measure 1.

In this movement, the irregular meters are a way for Denisov to compose intricate and

improvisatory rhythms with a tightly controlled compositional technique. Throughout the

movement, both performers are challenged to orient themselves to both the duple or triplet

rhythm. There are several deviations that will be discussed, but the rhythmic difficulty for both

partners demands a foundational understanding of the unity in the movement, e.g., agreeing on a

sixteenth note subdivision.

By orienting to either the duple or triplet rhythm, the eighty­seven time signature changes

can be woven together organically. Feeling a common sixteenth note pulse throughout the

movement in the various time signatures is no different than a shared pulse in any chamber work

regardless of meter, tempo, or complexity. In this particular sonata the shared pulse is no more or

less vital than in any other chamber work, but because of the complexity of the rhythms, there

6
are more opportunities for the connection between the two performers to unravel. The empty

measures and half measures can act as “safe points” to recover should such occur.

The use of the metronome is of vital importance throughout the process of learning this

sonata but should be done mindfully. A digital metronome can help set the subdivided

microrhythms of the movement, which at times need to be observed and incorporated into the

performance, at other times need to be enlarged to a duple and “triplet lift”, and at times need to

be disregarded for a larger pulse or gesture. In the first measure for example, a digital metronome

can aurally represent the correct and accurate placement of every single sixteenth beat in the 5/16

measure and ensure a correct duple and triplet that is not compressed in any way so as not to give

an incorrect indication of the tempo and rhythm to the pianist.

For as rhythmically and texturally dense as this movement can be at times, empty

measures must be accurately accounted for. It might be tempting to not consider these empty

measures as important, but as Denisov is aiming for a tightly controlled improvisational effect,

these measures help with the atmosphere and ​esprit​ of the movement. They can also act as places

to regroup and to regain the collaborative connection.

Communicating, feeling, and adhering to a common sixteenth note pulse is the first step

in the process of learning and rehearsing the first movement. The next difficulty in learning the

first movement is deciphering the tightly controlled mathematical ratios and polyrhythms.

Mathematical Ratios

The process of learning and understanding the rhythmic complexity and the rhythmic

gestures of this movement involves simplifying the difficulties to identifiable pulses and

7
subdivisions. Throughout the sonata, Denisov composes atypical rhythmic groupings, or ratios,

as a means of composing improvisatory­sounding “jazz­like” interjections in a very controlled

way. These rhythmic groupings are considered atypical when compared to the rest of the

Western classical music canon because they involve dividing beats into uneven distributions.

The mathematical ratios are written and bracketed as an “x:y” proportion where ​x​ represents the

number of notes under that specific bracket and ​y​ represents the number of beats for the “​x

event”. A simpler way of saying this is “​x​ notes in the space of ​y​ notes”.

For example, the 6/16 time signature of measure 22 (Figure 2) is split into two ratios. The

first half of the measure, for the piano, is bracketed 5:6, or five 32nd notes in the space of six

32nd notes. The second ratio, the second half of the measure, is bracketed 7:6, or seven 32nd

notes in the space of six 32nd notes. However, the saxophone has separate ratios meaning that

the mathematical ratios do not themselves dictate the pulse. In the saxophone part, the first half

of measure 22 consists of simple 32nd notes, but the second half of the measure is broken up into

a 3:2 (indicated as a triplet over beat 4) and a 5:4 ratio (beats 5 and 6). When such ratios occur,

there may not be exactly “​x​” notes present.

The first step in accurately learning these ratios is to identify the “​y​” component. This

indicates how the measure is organized and how each beat in the measure is accounted for. Each

“​y​” consists of either a duple or triplet which means that the sixteenth note pulse and “triplet lift”

can be superimposed upon every ratio in the sonata. In this way, the most complicated

polyrhythms can be understood using more familiar rhythms. ​Y​s are only 4, 6, 8, or 12, divisible

by 2 or 3, duple or triplet. Once the “​y​” is understood, fitting the “​x​” depends on whether the “​x​”

is a larger or smaller number than “​y​”. If x is greater than y, then the notes are compressed, or

8
faster, in the ​y​ beat. If x is less than y, then the notes are expanded, or slower, in the ​y​ beat.

Ultimately the mathematical ratios will be felt as a large physical gesture and played as such, but

only once they are correctly deciphered and micro­managed.

As shown in Figure 2, the piano part in the first half of measure 22 has five 32nd beats

distributed into six 32nd notes, and in the second half of the measure, the piano part has seven

32nd beats distributed into six 32nd notes. Therefore, the rhythm of the first half of the measure

is slightly expanded, and the rhythm of the second half of the measure is slightly compressed.

One approach to transfer the theoretical understanding of these ratios to learning them on each

instrument is to consecutively say aloud the ​x​ number while setting the metronome or tapping the

foot/hand to the large ​y​ pulse. For measure 22, that would mean saying “ 1 2 3 4 5 “ evenly over

beat 1 (saying “hippopotamus” will help evenly space out the subdivision) and “1234567”

evenly over beat 2 (alternatively, saying “unconventionality). This practice isolates the rhythm

while also physically creating the rhythm in the body. Including every beat in the ​x​ part of the

ratio when doing this exercise, rather than only counting the notes that are played, creates an

understanding of the larger pulse, as the ultimate goal in performing these mathematical ratios is

to play them as a single gesture.

Figure 2. Measure 21­23.

9
 Another way to help understand the mathematical ratios is to replace the “y” value with

the corresponding note value. As both a rhythmic and visual aid, replacing the rhythmic

realization of a number with a note value better relates the atypical grouping to a typical rhythm.

In measure 22 (Figure 2), for example, each “5:6” would become “5:​♩​•​”.

The difficulty and complexity of the mathematical ratios increase during the course of the

movement. For example, the second mathematical ratio, measure 24 (Figure 3) is more

complicated for both partners than the first. While the first mathematical ratio is preceded by an

ostinato measure that reinforces the subdivision for measure 22, the 7/16 measure 24 does not

have a downbeat and is preceded by an empty 3/16 measure. It is paramount that there be some

element of communication in measure 23 so that there is a shared impetus for measure 24. The

saxophonist can conduct the 2nd and 3rd beat of measure 23 with his/her instrument setting up a

shared empty downbeat in measure 24. The saxophonist or the pianist can also execute a

rhythmic breath for the sixteenth note pickup to measure 24. Measure 24 can be divided into a

3/16 and a 4/16 measure so there can be a macro­rhythm of one triplet and two duples.

Identifying any grounding rhythms will also help the understanding of these measures. The

grounding rhythms in this movement are the duple or triplet continual 16th or 32nd notes from

which a stable pulse can be derived. For pianists, there may be one hand that favors these

rhythms. In Figure 3, the left hand of the piano has syncopated 32nd notes for the first three beats

which can serve as the grounding rhythms in measure 24.

10
Figure 3. Measures 24­25.

As the ratios become more complex, there is less unity between the piano and the

saxophone. The spirit of the movement is in the larger gesture, so each line must be accurately

understood and played. The difficulty lies in putting the piano together with the saxophone.

When each line in the piano part is understood and can be played separately and accurately,

reuniting the hands is a matter of how the notes move in succession. There will be a feeling of

compression or expansion in the measure, e.g. in measure 24 (Figure 3) how quickly the right

hand’s C and D­flat 9th in the 5:6 ratio follows the left hand’s A­natural vs how quickly the right

hand’s G and A­flat 9th follows the left hand’s B­natural.

Often a mathematical ratio occurs in one subdivision of a measure such as in measure 29

(Figure 4). Such a ratio represents a foundational duple or triplet pulse. This particular ratio is

easier than the others because the pianist can glean the pulse from the saxophonist, who has a

measure of foundational rhythms that reinforce the regularity of the measure. The foundational

rhythms in this movement are the 16th and 32nd notes which are evenly subdivided. In measure

29, the pianist has a quintuplet, without the first note of the five, over the space of two 16th

notes. This rhythmic division is the opposite of the first measure of the movement which consists

11
of a triplet followed by a duple rather than a duple followed by a triplet.

Figure 4. Measure 29.

The next mathematical ratio is in measure 40 (Figure 5), and it is the most complicated in

the entire movement; however, deciphering it is no different. In the same way measure 24 was

broken up into 3/16 and 4/16 to be able to more accurately place the ratios, measure 40 can be

understood by converting the 10/16 measure into a ⅝ measure. The first step is to identify which

line has the most easily identifiable and “simple” rhythms. The left hand of the piano part, using

the 1/8th note as the common denominator, has an empty 1st beat, a triplet 2nd beat, a quintuplet

ratio 3rd beat, and a nonuplet ratio for the 4th and 5th beats. Once the simplest line has been

identified, its rhythmic construct can serve as the foundation for the pulse in the measure. It is

easier to superimpose the right hand, for example, over the left rather than the opposite because

the simpler pulse is the one being isolated. It should then be possible to play the right and left

hands in succession for the 4th and 5th 1/8th note beats.

This particular example works well for learning the piano part by itself, but collaborating

with the saxophonist is another consideration. Each partner needs to be able to understand how

the other part is written and how it relates to their own. Then everything can be put together very

slowly with a metronome until the choreography of the measure has been incorporated into the

12
body. To play these ratios, there needs to be a reconciliation between the micro­rhythms, ratios,

and subdivisions, and the macro­rhythms and larger pulse.

Figure 5. Measure 40.

The remaining mathematical ratios in the first movement do not comprise single

measures in the same way as Figures 2, 3, and 5. Rather, they are distributed evenly over a

specific beat with a simpler subdivision.

After understanding the subdivisions, mathematical ratios, and macro­beats in the

measures comprising mathematical ratios, the mindful use of a metronome is very helpful. The

danger of learning the ratios incorrectly with an inconsistent beat will mean inevitable

“re­learning” once the partners begin rehearsing together. By outsourcing that task to an

unwavering machine, accountability is honest. Using the metronome in these measures relates

these seemingly abstract rhythmical gestures to an actual pulse as it must be in performance.

The key to understanding and performing the mathematical ratios is to superimpose them

upon a single beat, pulse, or impulse. Learning the ratios is made easier by representing a beat or

pulse with a physical gesture such as tapping or speaking. While seemingly arbitrary, the ratios

are related to regular subdivisions. This is why the first step in the learning process is identifying

the unified sixteenth note pulse, duple and triplet subdivisions, and the relationship of the

13
mathematical ratios to those fundamental subdivisions. By first identifying and physically

incorporating the simpler subdivisions, a foundation is laid to then better understand the

mathematical ratios in the first movement.

Performers’ Expectation

In addition to the many rhythmic difficulties of the first movement of the Denisov

Sonata​, there is an inherent challenge in the piano part because of the serial, or twelve­tone,

nature of the work. Most “traditional” Western classical music is based on common intervals and

triads derived from major and minor scales. The challenge in serial compositions is they are not

primarily derived from familiar intervals or harmonies. These challenges involve a physical and

aural unfamiliarity with unpredictable intervals, harmonies, and patterns. Despite these

challenges, neither performer needs to be aware of Denisov’s treatment of various twelve­tone

rows nor do they need to know any particular row to deliver a successful performance of the

work. Overcoming these challenges in the first movement does not depend on post­tonal

theoretical knowledge but an awareness of expectations for the music, infrequently occurring

intervals and chords, and procedural memory.

This particular sonata, and other serial works like it, can seem frustrating and slow­going

to learn at first glance. Presumably, the pianist and saxophonist learning this sonata for the first

time have had several years of musical training and education that has been mostly based on

tonal music with tertian harmonies. Not only have the minds and ears adapted to this familiar

language, but much of the physical realization on the instrument has been automated in the brain.

What separates Denisov’s ​Sonata ​from, for example, Paul Creston’s ​Sonata for Alto Saxophone

14
and Piano​ or even Robert Muczynski’s ​Sonata for Alto Saxophone and Piano​, is the use of

unconventional harmonies, intervals, scales, and tonality. Both the Creston and the Muczynski

sonatas, while even in their most harmonically advanced moments, have regular and

recognizable intervals and harmonies. Edison Denisov’s sonata is far less regular. Classical

musicians and performers have come to expect certain patterns and intervals in the music that

they prepare and it can be somewhat jarring to encounter a piece of music that so strongly

deviates from the norm. The idea of expectation in music was first written about by musicologist

Leonard Meyer in the 1950s. His book, ​Emotion and Meaning in Music​, brought to attention the

notion that emotional content in music can be drawn from a composer’s “choreographing of

expectation”.5 While this idea brings to mind deceptive cadences in Beethoven or internal

expansions in classical phrase structure, musical expectation can have a strong effect when

learning a new piece of music in an unfamiliar language.

It is not only in pitches or tonality where our expectations based in the Western classical

tradition can be a challenge. There is also a rhythmic expectation that classical musicians have

come to expect in music. The musician psychologist David Huron surveyed some 8,356 musical

themes from Harold Barlow and Sam Morgenstern’s ​Dictionary of Musical Themes​ in order to

figure out the percent occurrence of specific meters. By classifying the meters into simple

duple/triple/quadruple (2/2, 3/4, 4/4, etc.), compound duple/triple/quadruple (6/8, 9/16, 12/8,

etc.), and irregular (5/4, 7/8, etc.), Huron was able to see that irregular meters occur in less than

1% of Western classical music.6 In the first movement of this sonata, irregular meters occur in a

5
David Huron. ​Sweet Anticipation: Music and the Psychology of Expectation​. (Massachusetts: The MIT Press,
2006), 2.
6
David Huron. ​Sweet Anticipation: Music and the Psychology of Expectation​. (Massachusetts: The MIT Press,
2006), 195.

15
vast majority of the measures. Performers seem to not only expect certain pitches, but also

certain meters which inherently contain certain rhythms. The first movement of Denisov’s sonata

dispels any sort of expectation of metric or rhythmic regularity. This sonata must be approached

without any preconception of rhythm or interval. Acknowledging the particular challenge of

expectation in the learning process of this sonata can itself be a beneficial tool.

Infrequently Occurring Intervals and Chords

In the first movement, the most frequently used intervals for the piano part are

diminished and augmented octaves, i.e., major sevenths and minor ninths. These intervals occur

both consecutively and harmonically throughout the first movement. For example, measures

24­25 are almost entirely comprised of one of these two intervals. This frequently occurring

interval creates a new physical and aural challenge because of its rarity in the classical canon

before the 20th century.

In order to learn this sonata efficiently and securely, one needs to first acknowledge that

this compositional language will not be as immediately understood as immediately as a tonal

work. Therefore, there cannot be an expectation of where the fingers and hands will fall

anywhere in the piece. New intervals and patterns need to be learned because of the atonality.

Learning the physicality of the movement must be done slowly and carefully with the intention

of teaching oneself to physically rather than mentally memorize the work. This movement

demands a slow and careful practice to focus on procedural memory that allows the hands to

know exactly where they are headed with each interval, leap, and harmony. Too often does the

term “muscle memory” get used in place of procedural memory as denoting the primary

16
mechanism of movement. However, it is important to remember that the brain controls of all

these movements.

Throughout the movement are large and rapid leaps for the piano as single notes and

sometimes chords. ​Several passages in the first movement involve quick leaps from one chord to

another in unconventional configurations. One example is measure 72 (Figure 6) and pianists can

use advice from t​he 19th century pedagogue Theodor ​Leschetizky in this and other similar

passages. Leschetizky advises “Where a leap from one chord to another is to be executed, press

the first one down short, and carry the hand over to the second with a swift swing. Where

different chords follow in succession, the hand must already catch the shape of each new chord

in the air.”7 While this is not necessarily a new technique for piano, it becomes especially

relevant in this sonata where the “shape of each new chord” does not conform to the tonality or

physicality that pianists are used to. In other words, the lack of any sort of frame of reference for

this particular sonata requires conventional piano technique to be reexamined in an unfamiliar

compositional language.

Figure 6. Measure 72.

7
​Malwine Brée. ​The groundwork of the Leschetizky method: issued with his approval​. (New York, G. Schirmer,
Inc., 1903), 35.
17
Procedural Memory

Procedural memory, or motor learning (referred often as “muscle memory”), is one type

of process that involves learning a physical pattern through repetition. Learning the rhythmic

difficulties in this sonata acknowledges the lack of a rhythmic frame of reference from previous

repertoire. Just as the rhythmic difficulties can be understood by a starting point of unification

and simplicity, the same can be true for the physical playing of the sonata. However, since there

is no idea of a “physical constant” as there was a “rhythmic constant” in the 16th notes, the

closest thing to a “physical constant” is the most commonly used intervals. Theodor Leschetizky

offers specific advice to pianists that can be extrapolated for use throughout the sonata, but

especially in the first movement.

Several passages of pointillistic material, where the piano part leaps with large intervals,

are difficult because of the arbitrary pitches. Leschetizky advises “Now read your

practice­measure or measures through carefully and repeatedly with the eye, until the notes stand

out clearly before your mental vision, and name the notes a few times either aloud or mentally;

and then ­ not before ­ play the measure or phrase from memory, but no faster than memory can

dictate the notes.”8 There are two examples that illustrate how useful this approach can be in the

first movement. One example is measure 61 (Figure 7) where Leschetizky might recommend

saying “E” outloud in practicing getting to the last note of the 5:4 ratio.

8
Ibid., 76.
18
Figure 7. Measure 61.

Another example where the practice of saying specific pitches aloud is useful is at the end of the

first movement, specifically measures 107­115 (Figure 8). In a sentence that is suited perfectly to

this particular sonata, Leschetizky writes “Thought is most essential in the study of pieces; for

the way by which they are learned, or rather memorized, goes from brain to fingers, and never in

the other direction, from fingers to brain.”9 Finding accuracy in measures 107­115 requires

training the hands to find their way to each successive note quickly, calmly, and relaxed. One

useful tool is Leschtizky’s idea to say the note name aloud before leaping to it. Another is to

arrive at the note before it is to be played, leave the finger on the key, and then depress it. This

helps train accuracy and ease in this particular passage.

9
​Malwine Brée. ​The groundwork of the Leschetizky method: issued with his approval​. (New York, G. Schirmer,
Inc., 1903), 76.
19
Figure 8. Measures 72­115.

The infrequently occurring intervals, wide­ranging leaps, pointillism, and serial language

are all challenges in this sonata that do not have to do primarily with deciphering rhythm and

collaborating with another musician. Instead, these challenges require a careful and mindful

learning method in order to accommodate for the physicality of the movement. In the words of

violinist Itzhak Perlman, “If you practice something slowly, you forget it slowly. If you practice

20
something fast, you forget it fast.”10 In this sonata, the idea of practicing slowly becomes more of

a necessity than just good advice.

Considerations for Collaboration

Many times in the first movement, a shared pulse may be lost preceding a musical event

of any length. In these cases, some sort of cue must be communicated to or between the two

partners. This is most useful in the first movement since many musical events initiate from an

empty downbeat or are preceded by a measure of rest. Because the saxophonist is in sight of the

pianist, based on a standard duo placement, the saxophonist may deliver a visual cue similar to a

conductor’s downbeat. In the empty measures that precede musical events, the shared pulse may

be lost or simply counted differently between each partner. A rhythmic visual cue from the

saxophonist using his or her instrument can account for an empty downbeat. For example,

measure 24 is preceded by an empty measure and has an empty downbeat off of which a musical

event is placed against. A simple “up ­ down” motion, similar to an “upbeat ­ downbeat” from a

conductor, in the saxophone can provide a rhythmic upbeat and downbeat to measure 24 and

other examples like it. This non­auditory cue works well with any duo work that has moments

that lack an aural downbeat and do not have a strong rhythmic context.

Auditory breathing cues such as a sniff from the pianist or saxophonist also go a long

way towards communication. This is again most important when there is no strong rhythmic

precedence. For example, in measures 4 and 6, 32nd notes set up by the saxophone dictate the

rhythm. However, in measure 17 (Figure 9), there is only a 64th rest before canonic quintuplet

10
Itzhak Perlman. “​Itzhak on Practicing​”. Filmed June 28, 2010. YouTube video, 2’49”. Posted June 28,
2010. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h3xEHigWShM.
21
sets of 32nd notes. The preceding 5/16 measure has a downbeat chord from the piano and

accented duple 32nd notes on beats 2 and 3. In this case, it is a matter of the sixteenth note pulse

that continues through the rests being felt by both partners. A rhythmic sniff on the upbeat to

measure 17 may set up the empty downbeat of measure 17 so the musical event in measures

17­18 can unfold.

Figure 9. Measures 16­17.

A collaborative pianist is not only responsible for his or her own music, but his or her

partner’s music as well. As the pianist is usually the only one reading from a full score, there is

an added responsibility for ensemble and collaboration. For a collaborative pianist, there is

perhaps no greater substitute for imprinting the saxophone part, or any other part, than by

playing it on the piano with some portion of the original piano part. This attempts to recreate a

partner’s music both physically and aurally so that collaboration is not left out of the learning

process. As often as it is possible to do so, the pianist is strongly advised to use this practice

method. It is not only specific to the Denisov sonata, but to all duo and chamber works. There is

additionally a specific tool that can be used to assist with collaboration in the first movement:

rebarring.

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Rebarring

The particular challenges with the rhythmic difficulties in the first movement involve

finding a common pulse and then using the pulse to decipher the mathematical ratios. Another

tool to facilitate the process of learning, rehearsing, and performing this movement of the sonata

is rebarring measures for more successful collaboration. To rebar in music means to move one or

more barlines in order to change the metric structure. This rebarring does not alter tempo,

rhythm, or subdivisions but rather helps the performers by simplifying certain measures. In

measure 24 (Figure 3) the 7/16 bar can be divided into a 3/16 and 4/16; however, to shorten this

measure would mean losing the larger gesture of the 7/16 bar. Rebarring, on the other hand, is a

division made to help understand the measure, not necessarily to perform it as such. The first part

that can be rebarred based on the criteria of preserving the musical idea, while making it visually

and metrically simpler, are measures 34­35.

Measures 34­35 (Figure 10) are comprised of an 11/32 measure followed by a 17/32

measure.

Figure 10. Measures 33­35.

The musical idea, a common one in this movement, is a canonic series of repeated notes between

the saxophone and the piano. The exact placement within the measures are of little concern once

23
the figure begins. Rebarring these two measures as one measure of 14/16 does not change or

alter the gesture, but removes the unnecessary complication of figuring out how to count each

irregular measure. In the same way that speaking the ​x​ portion of the mathematical ratios aloud ,

described in the previous section, created the rhythm in the body, speaking the rhythm aloud in

ostinato passages when practicing can help keep focus and rhythm for the pianist. In this

example, the mental or aural speech would be “12345and”. “1” represents the right hand’s first

entrance and “and” represents the left hand’s final note in the pattern. The full version would be

“12345and 1234and 123456and 123and 123and”. The rhythmically accurate entrance of the

saxophone in this measure depends on the foundational rhythm in measure 32 (Figure 11) a

14/32 bar better counted as a 7/16 that precedes the empty 3/16 measure 33. The constant stream

of even 32nd notes in measure 32 keeps a unified pulse for the ensemble in measure 33.

Figure 11. Measure 32.

The next example of rebarring is measures 56­57 (Figure 12). The 7/32 and 9/32 measure

can be reduced to a 4/8 measure, making it visually and musically easier to count.

24
Figure 12. Measures 56­57.

Denisov sometimes writes mathematical ratios that cross bar lines. In measures 33­35

(Figure 10) rebarring does not change the ensemble considerations or the visual aspect of the

score. Rebarring measure 56­57 for ensemble reasons simplifies the metric structure. Rebarring

measures 61­62 (Figure 7) means finding the common ​y​ pulse and organizing the measures

around it. The success of rebarring any of these measures depends on whether or not the

saxophone and pianist can agree on its usefulness and practicality. Several examples of rebarring

have to do with creating a smaller and more manageable challenge to replace a far more difficult

one. Rebarring measures 61­62 (Figure 13) creates a hemiola from two measures of 5/16 to one

measure of 5/8. The piano part is made up of duple ​y​ components when there are ratios written

and each ratio can therefore be one 1/8th note, or one beat, in the large 5/8 measure. This

rebarring is possible because of the even doubling of the 1/16th note to create the hemiola. It will

not interfere with the unified pulse of the movement.

25
Figure 13. Measures 59­64.

In the same way that measures 61­62 were rebarred based on a common ​y​ portion of the

ratio, measures 77­78 (Figure 10) can be rebarred. Each beat, with the exception of a hanging

1/16th rest at the end of measure 78, is a ratio of either 5:4 or 6:4. The challenge with this

rebarring is the irregularity between the saxophone implied rhythm and the piano implied

rhythm. Combining the 7/16 and 6/16 bar mathematically result in 13 beats, but by using ​y

values as four 32nd notes, the pulse is distributed among two 1/16th beats leaving one­half of

one beat remaining to be consolidated into a triplet. This is graphically represented in Figure 14

as “(1 2 3)”. Since each performer is now familiar with the triplet lift, the lift can round out and

26
complete the rebar. Figure 14 shows the suggested change as five main beats followed by a

triplet lift.

Figure 14. Measures 76­79.

The rebarring of measures 82­84 (Figure 15) has a dual purpose for the piano and should

not pose a problem for the ensemble. The first reason for rebarring measures 82­84 for the piano

is that it evens out the 17/32 measure 82 and allocates the extra beats to measure 83. The 17/32

needs a triplet lift since it cannot be divided into duples. The second reason for rebarring these

measures is that the rising line in the left hand is evenly spaced and accented in the 17/32

measure, but because of the asymmetry of the meter, the following 5/16 measure finds the line

awkwardly syncopated and accented against the main beat. By rebarring the three measures, the

left hand line can continue as a strong beat accentuation. The triplet lift needed to correct the

rebar can happen in several places: either at the end of measure 83, ending the consistent 16th

note beats from measure 82 at the last three 32nd notes, or over the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th 32nd note

27
beats in measure 84. The second approach is preferable so that the 16th note left hand line can

finish. In either case, the second 16th beat of measure 84 becomes the foundational rhythm.

Figure 15 illustrates the consecutive beats. The numbers in red that indicate the beats in Figure

15 are arbitrary and indicate the consistent left hand line. The triplet lift is shown as “( 1 2 3)”

and the red arrow indicates the beat where the rebar effectively ends.

Figure 15. Measures 82­85.

In the passages of rapid canonic material, the organization of the measures is a distant

second to feeling a common and shared pulse to ensure an even succession of 32nd notes. In

measures 86­91 (Figure 16) it is helpful to ignore the barlines and time signatures completely

rather than attempt to reorganize the six measures. The consistent and even 32nd notes are the

rhythmic organization via a common denominator pulse. Figure 16 shows one of many possible

ways to recount the larger beats, and when it is possible to switch to the canonic material and

mentally or aurally speak the rhythm “1234&”, “12345&”, etc.

28
Figure 16. Measures 86­94.

One other opportunity for rebarring in the first movement is in measures 110­115 (Figure

17) which normalizes the syncopated sixteenth notes in the piano part. It works well for the

piano but displaces the syncopated main beat in the same way that Figure 15 illustrated. When

considering rebarring measures 110­115, a choice must be made to decide if the collaboration is

improved with the piece as originally written with careful slow rehearsal of the piano syncopated

beat or if the rebar is more consistently accurate with one small correction. Consistency,

rhythmic accuracy, and collaboration are the deciding factors. Figure 17 illustrates this example

29
using measures 110­113. Measure 111 is an 11/32 bar that has the same consideration as measure

82 and the same consequence for the following two measures. A consistent 16th note pulse can

be maintained for the piano and still have the desired effect of displacement against the

saxophone. However, the syncopation is short­lived and not difficult to coordinate. The

correcting triplet lift is shown as “( 1 2 3)”.

Figure 17. Measures 110­115.

The benefit of exploring the idea of rebarring in the first movement, independent of

whether or not it will be used in performance, is that it is another tool for understanding,

rehearsing, and performing Denisov’s complex rhythms and patterns.

The solutions to the rhythmic challenges of this sonata depend on successfully layering of

a number of simpler components. In understanding and learning the rhythmic challenges, it is

important to find the sixteenth note pulse that unifies the movement. As it is often divisible into

simpler duple and triplet rhythms, this unified pulse can become the foundation for complex

30
mathematical ratios. These rhythmic mathematical ratios have at their core simple rhythmic

fragments that act as their “blueprint”. Whether it is an 11:12 in the right hand and a 9:8 in the

left hand, the meter, rhythm, and/or gesture can be simplified for a better understanding. The

almost motivic quality of the duple and triplet subdivisions rhythmically unite the first

movement. The serial and atonal quality of the work also presents challenges in learning and

performing this movement. Infrequently occurring and unpredictable intervals and pitches

require mindful and careful slow practice. The challenges in this movement involve reducing

complexity to simpler building blocks for both the composition and learning process. The

movement must be reduced to its rudimentary elements in order to securely and efficiently learn

it. The ultimate goal, however, is to recombine the individual components into larger musical

events and gestures that follow seamlessly.

Movement Two ­ Lento

Compared to the first movement of the Denisov ​Sonata​, the second movement is

practically sight­readable. The second movement is an extended solo for the saxophone, so the

main challenge for the pianist is to sit quietly. The piano enters at the end of the movement and

its punctuated ​dolcissimo​ chords fit logically into the slow rhythms of the saxophone. The one

challenge for the ensemble is an accelerated figure in the piano (Figure 18) that leads to the

saxophone, who enters ​near​ to but not exactly ​with​ the final 32nd note in the figure. The easiest

way to accomplish this is to treat the gesture as a pickup to the note that the saxophone plays.

The saxophonist can communicate the entrance with a breath or a visual cue and the pianist can

insert the gesture into the space, taking care to land on the “downbeat” with the saxophone. Since

31
this movement is unmetered and this particular gesture is unregulated by any sort of pulse, the

approximate placement of the end of the gesture with the saxophone is sufficient.

Figure 18. Movement two.

Movement Three ­ Allegro moderato

The ethereal second movement leads ​attaca​ to the third movement of the sonata. Unlike

the unmetered second movement, the third movement is entirely set in 6/4 with the pulse dictated

very clearly by the quarter note. The consistent 6/4 meter simplifies the rhythmic challenges of

the first movement. However, the challenges of rhythmic complexity, mathematical ratios are

still present in the third movement. The consistent meter and regular pulse mean the challenges

are not as complex and naturally have a rhythmic and metric foundation.

The third movement is texturally well balanced throughout and is divided into three main

sections. Imitating a jazz trio, a strong foundational bass line in the piano supports soloistic

material in the saxophone and top line of the piano. The first three of the four main sections

begin with a new bass line, often marked “quasi pizzicato” imitating the pluck of a double bass.

The fourth section is improvisatory and riddled with complex rhythms. The main sections begin

32
at measure 1, 21, 53, and 69. The main challenges of syncopation, mathematical ratios, and

virtuosic difficulty rely on and are facilitated by the inclusion of a consistent quarter note pulse.

A prominent feature of jazz music is rhythmic syncopation, or a ​displacement of strong

beat by stressing weak beats. ​This feature permeates the third movement from the beginning

(Figure 19) and the ostinato rhythm continues in the left hand of the piano until measure thirteen,

only to be replaced by more syncopation. To ensure proper placement of the sixteenth note

pickup to the third beat, the pianist can play the C­2 from beat 1 (or any pitch) on beat three. This

creates a rhythmic event out of an empty beat and can help ensure rhythmic accuracy when

playing the measure as written. Beats four, five, and six, in their regularity, will communicate the

desired tempo to the saxophone more effectively than the first three beats.

Figure 19. Measures 1­2.

Adding a rhythmic foundational note in place of an empty or syncopated beat works well

in this movement in practice to ensure that no sixteenth note or rest is unaccounted for. As the

texture increases density, there is often only eighth or sixteenth rests separating passage­work.

The way that Denisov has chosen to group smaller passages under one slur, no matter their

placement in the measure, can be visually and rhythmically confusing. Accurate subdivisions are

crucial in these measures and neither partner would be remiss in including visual cues in their

33
music, since frequent syncopated accents can undermine the foundational pulse of the

movement. Measures 13­14 (Figure 20) illustrates Denisov’s atypical stemming and how the

actual beats are placed against the notes.

Figure 20. Measures 13­14.

In several sections in the third movement, the visual rhythmic values do not accurately

represent their placement in the measure as musicians have been accustomed to seeing in the

traditional repertoire. In measures 16­17 (Figure 21), syncopated eighth note chords are stemmed

in such a way that they look regularly placed in the measure. In learning passages like this, a

metronome or tapping the foot can demonstrate the correct placement of the syncopated chords,

played in unison with the saxophone. Successful and consistent collaboration during this and

other syncopated moments do not necessarily require a relationship to the quarter note pulse. As

long as the eighth notes themselves are rhythmically even and placed together, micromanaging

their placement against the quarter note pulse is not required. However, this movement can be

34
very effective as a “toe­tapping” piece where the beat is successfully communicated to the

audience who can tap along. Learning syncopated passages like measures 16­17 accurately

against the main beat enables the performers to play the larger gesture while still being

rhythmically correct. Similar to the first movement, these syncopations are all under the realm of

tightly controlled improvisatory jazz. Approaching the movement as only a classical performer

or jazz performer will miss an opportunity to discover the true spirit of the sonata: rhythmic

accuracy to create the desired effect of improvisation.

Figure 21. Measures 16­17.

The composed jazz solo for the piano in measures 45­50 (Figure 22) is marked ​poco

rubato​ which allows for some freedom. However, using ​rubato​, during certain “identifying

rhythms” that communicate the pulse is not advisable. One such “identifying rhythm” would be

the third beat of measure 46 where the triplet and duple polyrhythm encompass an entire beat

35
rather than a portion of one. The use of freedom or ​rubato ​in this section must not affect the

unison interjections with the saxophone.

36
Figure 22. Measures 45­50.

These examples illustrate other possibilities and solutions for syncopation throughout the

movement. The consistent quarter note pulse in the 6/4 meter act as the foundation for the

syncopation. In the first movement, the performers needed to find and sometimes create a

foundational rhythmic understanding and pulse from complex and irregular time signatures. In

the third movement, that unifying pulse is already there and does not change.

Mathematical Ratios

In the first movement, the mathematical ratios depended on finding common subdivisions

and organizing them into irregular meters. In the third movement, the consistent quarter note

pulse acts as the organizing beat, making the ratios easier to understand and play. The

37
mathematical ratios in the third movement function and are deciphered in exactly the same way

as the ratios in the first movement. The main difference is that while many of the ratios in the

first movement were part of independent gestures that encapsulated entire measures, often

preceding or leading to rests, the ratios in the third movement follow a more linear construction

with the consistent 6/4 meter. It becomes a challenge to keep the musical flow moving forward

in the third movement despite the mathematical ratios.

In measure 33 (Figure 23), the first ratios in the piano part appear under swirling

sixteenth notes that have been the predominant rhythmic figure up to that point. The challenge in

this passage is to feel the same quarter note pulse. The saxophone’s sixteenth notes define the

quarter note pulse based on its subdivisions, and the piano’s 5:4 ratio, five eighth notes in the

space of four eighth notes (or two beats), will feel a larger and less defined pulse. This is an

example where the piano can initiate the passage on beat three because of the metric placement

of the chords beginning on beat three. If the partners are feeling the same pulse and both can

always find the relationship of the music to the main beats, they will be able to superimpose any

irregular rhythm with some degree of success.

Figure 23. Measure 33.

38
 Another example of a rhythmically looser mathematical ratio, one that is spaced over two

or more quarter notes, is measure 80 (Figure 24) towards the end of the third movement. This

passage is metrically the largest ratio in the entire sonata. The 15:16 ratio involves 15 sixteenth

notes in the space of 16 sixteenth notes, or four beats. Reducing this measure to the regular

subdivisions is a helpful way to rehearse this measure. As the mathematical ratios in this

movement depend on an understanding of the main beats, finding foundational rhythms can help

the irregular ratios become coherent. In measure 80, the piano has quarter note chords for beats 1

and 2, and the saxophone has a similar simple rhythm for beats 3, 4, 5, and 6. By having the

piano play beats 1 and 2 but not the rest of the measure, and the saxophone play beats 3, 4, 5, and

6 but not the first two beats of the measure, then the fundamental rhythm of the measure is

shared and understood by both partners. As long as the notes in the mathematical ratios are

proportionate, i.e. the quarter note in the 15:16 ratio being equally as long as the eighth notes, the

approximate placement with the saxophone and in the meter is acceptable.

Figure 24. Measure 80.

39
 In measures 52­53 (Figure 25), verbalizing is very helpful because the two instruments

are in unison. Recalling the idea from the first movement that if x>y the figure is slightly

compressed and if x<y then the figure is slightly expanded, the ratios in measures 52­53 are a

challenge to perform exactly in unison. This particular ratio can be presented successfully by

ensuring that both partners understand the ratio in the same way and can play it as such. A

metronome dictating the quarter note pulse helps to understand these two ratios, providing a rare

opportunity in the movement to disregard the main pulse in order to ensure unity between the

two parts. Since these two ratios are the end of a main section of the movement, and Denisov

took the care to write “a Tempo” in the middle of measure 53, these particular mathematical

ratios can function somewhat independently of the quarter note pulse as long as they are played

in unison. Representing this rhythm verbally, as long as it is done accurately, is a very quick way

for this ratio to be understood immediately by both performers.

Figure 25. Measures 52­53.

40
 The most complex section containing mathematical ratios is the ​poco rubato​ at measures

69­75 (Figure 26). The use of ​poco rubato​ indicates that this section can ultimately have some

flexibility but only from an accurate understanding of the mathematical ratios. While measures

69­75 are very complex in both parts, the specific solution is finding more foundational or

simpler rhythms to check the ratios or measures against as done in the first movement. Finding

notes on main beats and simpler eighth or triplet rhythms helps in learning these measures. In

measures 69­75, finding simpler and more identifiable rhythms also extends to the other person’s

part. For example, the saxophone downbeat in measure 70, the piano eighth note in beat 1, and

the piano accented beat 3 all help define the pulse. The pianist must be careful not to misinterpret

the accented C in the left hand under the 5:4 ratio on beats 3 and 4 as occurring directly on beat

4. In measure 71, however, a similar 5:4 ratio ​does​ contain a left hand quarter note that occurs

directly on beat 2. The clue to the differences between the two 5:4 ratios is that the one in

measure 70 has a dotted quarter note that, when combined with the quarter rest in the ratio, adds

up to 5 eighth notes. It is also visually placed exactly with the G, the third eighth beat and second

eighth note in the 5:4 ratio. In measure 71, there is clearly a quarter rest, quarter note F on beat 2

that is tied to beat 3, quarter note B­natural on beat 4, and two ratios in the left hand making of

beats 5 and 6. Finding the foundational notes or rhythms can be applied for the rest of the

example, until measure 75. After finding the foundational notes or rhythms, using the metronome

to aurally create them where they do not exist, ensures the correct spacing of the ratios. Despite

these seven measures being challenging to understand, play, and put together, the consistent

meter and quarter note pulse act as a guide. The remainder of the ratios involves the same

41
understanding that was set out in the first movement such as speaking aloud each rhythm to first

understand it or determining which hand has the simple foundational rhythms.

42
Figure 26. Measures 69­75.

43
 The challenges in the third movement of the sonata involve the same fundamental

understanding of rhythm and pulse as in the first movement. The challenges also include the

same idea of battling the performers’ expectation of the music. What makes this particular

movement easier to learn, rehearse, and perform, is the use of a consistent 6/4 meter. By using an

inherent common pulse, the challenges in this movement of syncopation, mathematical ratios,

and bravura passagework are easily related to the beat and meter. Even the challenges of

intervals and harmonies are made easier with the consistent meter because it is simply one

element that takes the unfamiliarity out of the third movement. That does not mean that this

movement is at all without its difficulties. Denisov’s irregular stemming and jazz­like

syncopations require a firm foundation of rhythm and subdivision. Identifying the feel of the

polyrhythms and mathematical ratios also depend on their relationship to the main beats. The use

of a consistent meter and pulse removes many of the challenges that were overcome in the first

movement, but moments where the ensemble could dissipate become much more noticeable in

this movement. In the first and third movements of the sonata, the challenges and solutions for

collaboration depend on a steadfast understanding and adherence to the intricate and complicated

rhythms Denisov has written.

Conclusion

With an average performance time of 12 minutes, Denisov’s ​Sonata ​may involve the

most work for collaboration per minute of any piece of music in the saxophone and piano

repertoire. The rhythmic and physical challenges are complex and sophisticated, but those

performers willing to work to overcome them are rewarded in performance. The process of

44
preparing this sonata involves understanding the individual components of the many challenges

and then uniting all aspects into the rehearsals and performance. In the first movement, for

example, the key challenges are finding foundational rhythms and pulses and using them to

decipher the mathematical ratios. This process of preparation is not a concept unique to the

Denisov ​Sonata​. Most performers isolate difficult passages in order to solve specific challenges.

This sonata ​requires​ this isolation. It also requires that there be a “​Gradus ad Parnassum​”

approach to gradually bring the process of learning the sonata from its infancy to its maturation.

To do so often demands inventive ways to solve its challenges such as the use of rebarring in the

first movement, mindful use of a metronome with the consistent meter in the third movement,

specific moments where auditory or visual cues are to be included in the rehearsal process.

The overarching challenge of this sonata does not have to do with the external playing or

rehearsing of the work but with the psychology of expectation and how greatly compositions like

this deviate from what our ears and fingers expect. Infrequently occurring intervals, harmonies,

and rhythms are stacked against traditional Western classical pieces of music that form the

foundations of musical education. Unconsciously, much of what performers create on their

instruments has been automated to the point that they can be caught off guard by something

unusual for which there is no frame of reference. This is an inherent challenge in the Denisov

sonata but one that must be overcome nonetheless. Making mindful use of procedural memory

and repetition ​not​ just for the sake of repetition is one such way to overcome this challenge.

The rhythmic, collaborative, physical, and learning difficulties of the sonata must

eventually become internalized for the learning process to be complete. Ultimately, the spirit of

45
the sonata does not reside in the complex challenges of the composition, but in overcoming and

transcending them.

46
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