As a child I had this nightly ritual of listening to music to help me fall asleep. I’m not sure how it began, but it quickly evolved into a form of study and internalization of music. Around the time I had discovered the playing of Marcus Roberts I had his albums in regular rotation with Joy of Joplin of course being my favorite. I’ve spoken before on my love of “The Entertainer” and “Maple Leaf Rag” but tucked away in the middle of the album is a song that would usually come on right as I was dozing off, “Bethena’s Waltz”. This is one of those songs for me that is inextricably linked with the night and the realm of dreams. I think for this reason I feel this sort of magical quality about the song when I listen to it.
“Bethena’” is unlike any other Scott Joplin song in that it’s a waltz. It was a piece written in memory of his wife Freddie, who tragically passed away from pneumonia just a few weeks after their wedding. For this reason, it possessed a personal and emotional quality that is uncharacteristic of his normal rags. A kind of restless and unsettled melancholy that one might associate more with the brooding of slow pieces by Beethoven.
“Bethena” also showcases Joplin’s composition ability featuring some of his most rich and explorative harmonies and a good helping of counterpoint to go along with it, all while still retaining the syncopations characteristic of ragtime. It’s in this song that one realizes how well studied a composer Joplin really was.
After my early obsession with faster, more up-tempo works had cooled—by then I already had a Chopin nocturne and a few mazurkas under my belt, around age ten—I finally decided to take on the challenge of learning this piece that had always mystified me. Under the guidance of my piano teacher, Ms. Emine, I studied it with the same rigor and detail she brought to any classical work. Through those lessons, I began to uncover the true emotional depth of the music, a depth that only deepened as I grew older.
The main melody of the piece in G major has this sentimental yet melancholic quality that grows deeper upon each subsequent iteration. There are spirited highs in the key of B flat, triumphs in the key of F major, devastating lows in B minor, and hope of a new day in D major before returning home one last time. All of these are interspersed by these breathtaking transitions whose harmony somehow sounded like classical music with the soul of gospel music.
Pretty soon, “Bethena’s” was one of the pieces I found most fulfilling to perform, and the interpretation I was most proud of. Though I didn’t stray much from the actual sheet music like I did in other pieces of his (Joplin really didn’t like people messing around and improvising over his music!) I found room for interpretation with dynamics, rubato, articulation, and pedaling.
A few years later, I would perform this piece this during an annual recording session I would do with the great producer Todd Barkan in order to document my growth as a pianist. “Bethena” was a joy to perform, and working with Todd really taught me a lot about studio recording. At the end of these sessions when listening back to my performance of this piece, it was the first time that I believe I interpreted something with a character unique to myself. Todd and my father seemed to think so too.
My dad and I promptly paid a visit to the office of the great Phil Schaap, Jazz at Lincoln Center’s Curator to show him this recording. Without telling him who it was, we simply asked his opinion of the performance. Immediately, his mind went to work picking apart the influences and characteristics of the playing, which immediately brought a smile to my face. In the end he concluded that though it sounded a lot like Thelonious Monk, the more modern recording quality suggested otherwise. It was his great surprise when we informed him that I was the one performing it. He immediately re-listened to the song again with amazement as it settled in that the kid sitting in front of him was growing as a musician.