The Disputed Tempo

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The Disputed Tempo

Sophia lifted her fingers from the ivory keys and let the reverberation die away into the empty auditorium, listening to the dust settle in the silence. It was past nine in the evening, twelve hours before the festival premiere, and neither pianist was willing to leave the rehearsal hall until the central fugue sounded coherent.

"The tempo drags in the third measure," Julian said, swiveling on his bench to face her across the twin grand pianos. "You are pulling back the phrasing when the rhythm ought to surge forward."

"I am giving the bass line room to breathe," Sophia countered, smoothing down the corner of her dog-eared score. "If I accelerate through the polyphonic entry, the audience loses the inner counterpoint. You might prefer mechanical rigidity, but I certainly do not."

"I don't advocate rigidity," Julian said with a tired smile.