Mozart Lite?

It is difficult to believe that Mozart’s The Magic Flute is the work of a dying man. 

 

This beloved, optimistic, life-affirming opera, one that can be, and is, enjoyed by young and old, by opera neophytes as well as the most sophisticated intellectual. Goethe was apparently so taken by the opera that he began to work on a sequel, one that remained a fragment, partly because no composer wanted to risk comparison with Mozart. I know of no more insightful and multi-faceted discussion of this work of wonder than in Father M. Owen Lee’s essay “The Music of Intuitive Angels”, contained in his book A Season of Opera From Orpheus to Ariadne (University of Toronto Press, 1998), where he discussed the many different ways to view this – in Father Lee’s words – prismatic work, from masonic allegory to a retelling of classical myth, to even Jungian approach where characters in the opera are seen as archetypes. 

 

None of those considerations appear to be in the “concept” of directors Paul Barritt, Suzanne Andrade (of the British theatre group 1927) and Barry Kosky, who sought to transform Seattle Opera’s production of the opera into a live-action, and action-packed, cartoon, and keeping everything on a most superficial level, seeking only to entertain. And entertain it did, because the packed audience last Sunday roared and cheered following the performance. 

 

The “set” consisted only of a large white background, with various revolving doors where characters emerge and disappear. All the visual effects were supplied cleverly, even brilliantly, by computer projections. For me, such projected effects that worked so well for the company’s last production of the relatively static, Tristan und Isolde, took away much of – and perhaps even prevented such attempts to view the piece - the deeper meaning inherent in the Mozart’s score. 

 

The spoken Germany dialogue was removed entirely, thereby removing a major element of the singspielelement of the work. “Dialogue” and background description were projected onto the background. Apparently, the producers wanted to simulate the feeling of watching a silent film, where much of the emotions were mimed. Even as a non-German speaker, eliminating this important dramatic element from the opera made the entire production somewhat two-dimensional – again, perhaps this was also intentional. I was reminded of the fact that when silent films gradually gave way to “talkies”, many former superstars lost their careers overnight, simply because they were not able to “act” with their voices. I do feel that the spoken dialogue is an integral of this drama, and to eliminate it would be like ridding it of one crucial element of the art work.

 

Projecting the dialogue also made it easier to sidestep the more controversial, even seemingly offensive, dialogue. Monostatos’ line (indeed difficult to hear in our age), “Yet is all love’s joy denied me, for my black and ugly face” was changed to “Perhaps because I am ugly”. Perhaps another nod to silent films was the portrayal of Monostatos as a decidedly pale faced, Nosferatu-looking character. Once again, this begs the question of whether we remove, or sanitize, art that offend the sensibility of our age?

 

But what of the music?

 

To my ears, the musical aspect of Mozart’s score was indeed well done. Victor Ryan Robertson’s Tamino seemed to lack projection at the beginning of the afternoon, but it much improved as the performance continued, especially in the second act. Camille Ortiz sang Pamina with a purity and beauty in her voice, as well as an obvious affinity to Mozart’s style. Sharleen Joynt’s Queen of the Night was stunning, and her technically impregnable and dramatic searing singing of Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen took my breath away. Bass In Sung Sim sang Sarastro with great beauty of sound, perhaps a little lacking in richness, which somewhat undermines the character’s authority. Naturally, Pagageno invariably steals the show in any production, and Rodion Pogossov did not disappoint dramatically or musically. The three ladies of Ariana Wehr, Ibidunni Ojikutu, and Laurel Semerdjian, as well as the trio of genies of boys and girls (as opposed to the “three boys” indicated by the composer) of Sanne Christine Smith, Grace Elaine Franck-Smith, and Anthony E. Kim, acquit themselves more than admirably.

 

Conductor Christine Brandes conducted, paced and shaped Mozart’s miraculous score beautifully, and members of the Seattle Symphony Orchestra played with feeling as well as beauty of sound, especially by the woodwinds.

 

No doubt, a great success for Seattle Opera both in terms of box office and audience response. And in the end, it was Mozart’s music that triumphed. Yet, with so many of the elements of the score removed, the dramatic impact of the opera was, for me, somewhat lessened, even in the usually cathartic moment following Pamina and Tamino’s successful passage through the ordeals of fire and water. For me, there was something missing from the overall impact of the drama.

 

How much are we supposed to tamper with the indications on the composer’s score? Considering the radical interpretations or reimaging of operas, it seems our “tolerance” for what used to be considered radical ideas has markedly shifted. 

 

Certainly, Mozart’s music cannot be destroyed, regardless of how much a director departs from the score. 

 

Perhaps this is a concept of the opera for the 21^st century, and we must not forget that the opera was written not for Vienna’s most prestigious opera house, but a people’s theatre beyond city limit, as entertainment. 

 

One question that went through my mind after Sunday’s production was – what would Mozart say?

 

 

 

 

An Auspicious Debut - Lucas Debargue

Pianist Lucas Debargue gave one of the most satisfying and thought-provoking performances I have heard for a long time. In terms of programming and the performance itself, it seems obvious that Mr. Debargue gave very serious thoughts to everything that he approaches.

 

Debargue began his recital with Gabriel Fauré’s Nine Preludes, Op. 103, pieces that hardly ever appear on concert programmes. In these miniatures, Debargue captured the characteristics and mood of each piece, as well as the – typical of this composer – beautiful, and forward-looking harmonies inherent in each Prelude. It was evident, from the silence of the capacity audience, that he had won their undivided attention, a most rewarding gift for any musician, I am sure.

 

The recital continues with another relative rarity – Beethoven’s Sonata in E minor, Op. 90. In the first movement, Debargue certainly paid more than lip service to the composer’s indication – Mit Lebhaftigkeit und durchaus mit Empfindung und Ausdruck (“With liveliness and with feeling and expression throughout”). He kept the forward impetus of the music while always taking care to play with great expression and beauty of sound. Perhaps not everyone would agree with his playing of the second movement, where the composer writes, Nicht zu geschwind und sehr singbar vorgetragen (“Not too swiftly and conveyed in a singing manner”). His tempo is, to my ears, on the swift side, and he seemed to have deliberately played the movement in an almost jaunty manner. The songful quality of the music was still there, and Debargue presented a convincing case of his view of the music. On the whole, a satisfying and beautiful performance of this relatively underplayed sonata.

 

The first half of the recital ended with Chopin’s treacherously difficult Scherzo No. 4 in E Major, Op. 54, perhaps the only one of the set of four that somewhat fits the term “scherzo”. Debargue’s performance is pianistically stunning and musically convincing, and throws in high relief the contrast between the lighthearted, almost giddy opening section, with the reflective middle section. He gave the work wonderful flexibility in rhythm and highlighted the long line, not only of each phrase, but of entire sections. 

 

Debargue continued his recital with Fauré’s Thème et variations, Op. 73, one of the composer’s most substantial and greatest works for piano solo, and perhaps his most difficult technically. The young artist gave a performance of great coherence and organic unity. In some of the variations – variation 6 (molto adagio) or variation 11 (andante molto, moderato espressivo), for instance – the piano, especially the notes of the lower register, took on the sonority of an organ. It was truly a remarkable performance of stunning beauty and depth.

 

The artist’s tempo choice for the opening movement of Beethoven’s Sonata in C-sharp minor, Op. 27, No. 2 seemed to have highlighted the composer’s marking of “adagio” rather than his alla breve meter. What emerged was a performance of great solemnity, weight, and expression. However, at all times I felt that Debargue took pains not to impede the forward motion of the music. The Allegretto movement was played with as much charm and grace that the music calls for, and the Presto agitato was performed with an almost reckless abandon and stunning virtuosity that left the audience breathless.

Lucas Debargue approached Chopin’s Ballade No. 3 in A-flat Major, Op. 47 with a palpable sense of plasticity, souplesse, and a beauty of sound that was arresting. 

 

It was a performance that deservedly earned him the rousing ovation from the audience, after which he graciously expressed his happiness to be in Vancouver, as well as granted us two encores – his own transcription of Fauré’s Après un rêve as well as his own improvisation, one with a distinctly Gallic flavour. 

 

I hope to hear Mr. Debargue again, and often, because I have a feeling that he is the kind of artist who would always find something new and fresh about even the most familiar music. He is a thinking musician that looks deep inside a score, but filtered through his innate musicianship and musicality, and added to it incredible pianism, always giving the music moving and deeply felt interpretations. 

 

 

In Loving Memory of Maestro Akiyama

Sad news over the weekend – Maestro Kazuoshi Akiyama, beloved and long-term music director of the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra (1972 – 1985), died in Japan.

 

Growing up in Vancouver during the tenure of his music directorship of the VSO, Maestro Akiyama was a significant presence in the Vancouver’s music scene. My first encounter with him was an all-Brahms programme – the first piano concerto with Claudio Arrau, and the first symphony. Even with the atrocious acoustics of the Queen Elizabeth Theatre, the music, as well as his brilliant direction of the orchestra, came through loud and clear.

 

It was during those formative years that I experienced many of the great musical masterpieces under his direction – Brahms’ second symphony, Dvorak’s eighth symphony, Mahler’s fourth and fifth symphonies, Bruckner’s zero, many of the Strauss’ tone poems, Elgar’s Enigma Variations, Tchaikovsky's 4th symphony, Mussorgsky/Ravel’s Pictures at an Exhibition, to name just a few, not to mention the great number of distinguished soloists who were guests of the orchestra. In addition to that Brahms performance with the great Claudio Arrau, I clearly remember an incredible performance of Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 27 in B-flat Major with Mitsuko Uchida, a gorgeous Chopin Piano Concerto No. 1 in E minor with Vladimir Ashkenazy, and a beautiful Bruch Violin Concerto No. 1 in G minor with the young Cho Liang-Lin. 

 

There was a specially arranged concert – a fundraising performance (I no longer remember the cause) – where the orchestra played Beethoven’s Egmont Overture, Berlioz’s Les nuits d’été with Delia Wallis, and Brahms’ Symphony No. 1 in C minor. The way the orchestra played that evening – the sound and the sense of style - under Maestro Akiyama’s direction, rivalled any of the world’s great orchestras.

 

I was sorry that the orchestra did not extend his contract beyond 1985, because the last couple of years of his tenure witnessed some of his most outstanding concerts.  

 

During his farewell performance as music director, he conducted Brahms’ Piano Concerto No. 1 in D minor with the then young Jon Kimura Parker, and Mahler’s Symphony No. 4 in G Major, with Delia Wallis. At the end of the Mahler, he did not lower his baton for a long time, as if he was hearing sounds that no one else heard, and that he did not want that moment to end. It was an absolutely magical and stunningly beautiful performance.

 

After a brief stint as music director of the Syracuse Symphony Orchestra, and other than guest conducting orchestras all over the world, Maestro Akiyama later limited his musical activities in his native Japan. He did return to Vancouver on numerous occasions, and all those return appearances were special. The musicians were evidently happy to see him return, and so was the audience. 

 

After the death of Seiji Ozawa last year, the music world has now lost another great "soldier of music" (to use Shostakovich's words). Audience and musicians in Vancouver ought to be grateful to Maestro Akiyama for his many years of dedicated service in our city. 

 

Personally, I will miss this gentleman and gentle man – not to mention his beautiful prematurely silver-grey hair - his graceful way on the podium, and his indelible music making. The best way to honour a person is to remember them. I will cherish all my musical memories with Maestro Akiyama, and I am certain all the people whose lives he touched would have their own memories of him as well.

 

May he Rest in Peace.

2024 - A Year in Review, Musically

Another year has (almost) gone by. Where did the time go? As 2024 draws to a close, it seems like an opportunity to look back on some of the year’s musical events in our little corner of the world.

 

For me, the year got off on a high note when pianist Eric Lu made his debut with the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra at the Chan Centre in Schumann’s Piano Concerto in A minor. A laureate of the 2015 International Chopin Competition and gold medalist of the 2018 Leeds International Piano Competition, Lu is an artist whose musical maturity and insight extend far beyond his young age. His luminous tone and depth of feeling made the performance a memorable one. With the excellent acoustics of the Chan Centre, the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra also shone under conductor Earl Lee in both the concerto and Beethoven’s PastoralSymphony. How I wish the orchestra would give all their concerts there, rather than in the grand but acoustically problem Orpheum Theatre.

 

The most significant news in classical music this year has to be the death of conductor Seiji Ozawa, who had been in frail health since his diagnosis of oesophageal cancer. Music director of orchestras in Toronto, San Francisco, Boston, the Vienna State Opera and the Saito Kinen Orchestra, as well as a regular guest conductor with the Berlin Philharmonic and Vienna Philharmonic, Ozawa left behind a legacy of memorable performances as well as outstanding recordings. A humble man that never thought much about his talent or celebrity, Ozawa had often been overlooked by music critics who perhaps could not get pass his Asian heritage. We should, I think, remember him by how his fellow musicians regarded him. He was beloved by the orchestral musicians who played under him as well as soloists and instrumentalists with whom he regularly collaborated. I regret that I never got to experience his music making in person, but I will always cherish the recordings he left for us in his vast discography. 

 

One statement I read will always remain with me, that Ozawa treated a stagehand with as much courtesy as he did with the most famous musicians. A remarkable man as well as a towering musician indeed. May he Rest in Peace.

 

A Spring visit to New York allowed me to enjoy Turandot and La Forza del Destino (a first time for me!) at the Metropolitan Opera, and Beethoven’s 5^th symphony with the New York Philharmonic. It also afforded me the opportunity to experience the music making of Yannick Nézet-Séguin again, and he did indeed give the Verdian score an exciting and musically insightful reading, in spite of the somewhat dreary and disappointing updating of the staging of this – I have to admit – difficult to stage opera. New York Philharmonic music director Jaap van Zweden also managed to infused freshness and excitement into Beethoven’s all-too-familiar 5^th symphony, a not unremarkable achievement, I feel.

 

Back in Vancouver, it is always a treat when pianist Rafal Blechacz came to town, and his recital this time brought works of Debussy, Mozart, Szymanowski, and of course Chopin. Blechacz’s recital was followed by memorable performances by Yefim Bronfman, Anna Geniushene and Bruce Liu. I first experienced Bronfman’s music making when he was a teenager, and it is gratifying to know that the power and virtuosity of his playing remain as strong as ever. Incidentally, Bronfman and Bruce Liu gave markedly different interpretations of Prokofiev’s Sonata No. 7 in B-flat Major. I would not want to be without either performance, but it was interesting to compare the interpretation of a musician at the height of his maturity and that of one of today’s young lions of the piano. The one thing about Anna Geniushene’s debut recital was her inspired interpretation of Brahms’ monumental Sonata No. 1 in C Major, Op. 1, in her programme of “Opus 1’s” of Clementi, Tchaikovsky, Chopin, Berg, Weinberg, Schumann, and of course Brahms.

 

A sojourn to Seattle was worthwhile indeed, when the Seattle Symphony performed Mahler’s Symphony No. 3under Singaporean conductor Kahchun Wong, who has been making quite a name for himself as a rising star among young conductors. Wong had all the disparate elements of the complex under control, and he inspired the orchestra throughout this incredible journey through the Mahlerian landscape. 

 

The always excellent Vancouver Cantata Singers under Paula Kremer gave the Vancouver premiere of Amy Beach’s Grand Mass in E-flat Major, with soloists drawn from the ranks of the choir. This is a wonderful work in the late romantic idiom that certainly deserved to be performed and experienced. 

 

Federico Colli is one of those artists who always brings fresh insights into whatever he plays. For his return visit to Vancouver, under the auspices of the Vancouver Recital Society, he performed works by Ligeti, Couperin, Prokofiev, and Ravel. His performance of Ravel’s Le Tombeau de Couperin was scintillating!

 

The highlight of the summer had to be the visit by Sergei Babayan. This towering artist used to be known by many as the teacher of superstar Daniil Trifonov, but he is now very finally known as a great artist and musician in his own right. This time around, he played a highly original programme of transcriptions, from Liszt’s remarkable transcriptions of the lieder of Schubert, to Keith Jarrett’s just as remarkable take on Harold Arlen’s Over the Rainbow. It was a performance of astounding beauty and incredible insight into a wide range of music.

 

The kickoff of the Fall concert season was a recital by Canada’s own Kevin Chen, who had won every major piano competition he entered. This young artist did not disappoint, and his maturity and musicality shone through in works by Chopin and Liszt. His performance of Liszt’s Réminiscences de Don Juan towered over interpretations of some of today’s far better-known young titans of the keyboard. We would surely be hearing more from this young man.

 

Spanish pianists Martin Garcia Garcia made his Vancouver debut in October, with a programme of Chopin, Mompou and Albeniz. His interpretation of Chopin’s Polonaise-Fantasie was the most remarkable one I have heard in a long time, not only for the beauty of his sound, but for the logic he infused into this complex work. He also made a strong case for Chopin’s rarely (never) played Sonata No. 1 in C minor. I was also grateful for introducing me to Mompou’s highly interesting Variations on a theme by Chopin, a highly original set of variations on the familiar Prelude in A Major, Op. 28, No. 7. His playing of selections from Albeniz’s Iberia Suitewas, not surprisingly, to the manner born. 

 

Vadym Kholodenko returned with another remarkable performance of works by Byrd, Saariaho, Beethoven and Chopin. 

 

As much as the entire recital was memorable, I will always remember his interpretation of William Byrd’s First Pavan and Galliard and John Come Kiss Me Now, for the stunning beauty and variety of his sound as well as how well he made these pieces worked on the modern piano. Kholodenko’s playing reminded me of Glenn Gould’s recording of works by Byrd and Orlando Gibbons -- I can think of no higher compliment.

 

It would be remiss of me not to mention the Vancouver Cantata Singers’ moving, inspired and inspiring performance at their annual Christmas Reprise at Holy Rosary Cathedral. 

 

Paula Kremer led the singers in Christmas and Christmas-inspired works, familiar and new, and the choir was in excellent voice throughout the performance. From the opening Ave Maria by Bruckner to Franz Biebl’s setting of the same prayer, it was as if the voices of the choir rose to every corner of the cathedral like incense during Mass. The choir’s performance of Sally Beamish’s In the Stillness and Ola Gjeilo’s Serenity (O Magnum Mysterium) moved me greatly with the music’s inherent emotions as well as the richness of the sound of the choir’s voices. 

 

It is a sad fact that audiences for many live performances have diminished since the pandemic. I hope these memories of concerts be a reminder that no online or recorded performance could ever replace the intimacy, immediacy, excitement, and magic of experiencing a performance live.

 

 

Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man

Pianist Kevin Chen made a remarkable debut in Vancouver Saturday evening, with a programme that effectively highlights not only his not inconsiderable virtuosity, but his depth and musicality.

 

Bravely, I thought, Chen began his recital with Chopin’s Ballade No. 1 in G minor (Op. 23), and managed to bring freshness to a piece that is played almost too often. I have rarely heard the Meno mosso section (m. 68) played so beautifully. He was careful to build the piece to its shattering climax towards the end, carefully pacing the progression of the drama, and thoughtfully gauging the sound, that even the big chordal section at m. 106 - where far too many pianists tend to go “all out” - does not make the rest of the work feel anti-climactic. When it came to the cataclysmic coda, with the clashing octaves and ending of complete desolation, Chen played it at a tempo and with an intensity that was breathtaking.

 

It is truly impressive that an artist so young can have such a mature grasp of Chopin’s Polonaise-Fantasie (Op. 61). Personally, I find this to be Chopin’s greatest and perhaps most elusive works. By this time of Chopin’s creative evolution, he was no longer interested in those long bel-canto melodies that he was known for as a younger composer. The fragmentary, rhetorical nature of the melodic threads make it a challenge for any pianist to convey. From beginning to end, Kevin Chen has a complete grasp of the logic and structure of the work, and infused it with a palpable sense of cohesiveness and organic unity. More importantly, he grasps the desperation and heartbreak that is so inherent throughout the work.

 

On the other end of the musical spectrum, the composer’s Variations on “Là ci darem la mano”(Op. 2) is the product of a very young composer trying to showcase his compositional and pianistic skills. Chen’s stunning rendition of the work made me wonder if this was how young Chopin may have played it. This was the composition that led to Robert Schumann’s now famous preamble of his review of the piece in the Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung, “Hats off, gentlemen, a genius!” It was a performance that dazzled Saturday’s audience with a truly unbelievable virtuosity. At the same time, it was not fast fingers that caught our ears, but always a feeling that technique is there to serve musical ends.

 

The second half of the recital consisted of the music of Franz Liszt, another composer Chen identifies with, with good reasons, as we would find out, in spades.

 

According to Vladimir Horowitz, Liszt’s Ballade No. 2 in B minor (S. 171) is one of his greatest works for piano. From first note to last, it was obvious that Chen identifies with the Lisztian idiom, as well as rises to the composer’s superhuman pianistic challenges. As in Chopin’s Polonaise-Fantasie, Chen understands and conveys the fragmentary, rhetorical nature of this music, and he gave a performance that underscored the beauty and drama inherent in the music.

 

Schubert’s Erlkönig is the terror for any pianist, so I could just imagine how intimidating Liszt’s transcription would be. Chen did not seem to bat an eye at the technical hurdles inherent in the music, but played it with a rousing virtuosity that was irresistible. I think Sergei Babayan was more vivid in making the characters in the lied come alive, but this will surely come with age for Chen.

 

The young pianist gave a deeply felt, beautifully shaped performance of the Sonetto 104 del Petrarca (S. 161, No. 5), from volume two of the Années de pèlerinage, giving the audience a dose of lyricism before the fireworks of the final piece.

 

And what fireworks they were! During Chen’s performance of the Réminiscences de Don Juan (S. 418), I marvelled not only at the incredible musical and pianistic display, but how the young artist was able to highlight and bring alive so vividly the absolute genius of Liszt’s design, something that happens rarely with this work. And no matter how fast the fingers were moving, and how cleanly the passages were executed, Chen never made us lose sight of the beauty and logic behind the notes.

 

After a well-deserved ovation, Chen granted an encore – the calm after the storm – Liszt’s masterful transcription of Schumann’s Widmung, in a reading that is ardent and filled with longing. The “Ave Maria” at the end of the song was stunningly beautiful.

 

From Chen’s playing and from my brief interaction with him before and after the concert, it struck me that this is not only a hugely talented young man, but a highly sensitive one, as well as a musician who is still developing his already considerable musical maturity. I can only wish for him a management who would not exploit his talents, but cherish this rare gift, and allow him the time and space to continue to grow as a musician.

 

From his performance in Vancouver, it seems that the sky is the limit for Kevin Chen.

 

 

An Evening of Astounding Beauty

Sergei Babayan’s Vancouver recital last evening was a wondrous experience of beauty and rapturous emotions. 

 

At first glance, it appeared to have been a long series of seemingly unrelated pieces. At the end of the evening, though, I felt as if I had savoured a most thoughtfully planned, imaginatively and lovingly prepared meal, with one “dish” complementing another in every way imaginable.

 

It is a testament of a great artist that he could capture the listener’s attention – without demanding it – with a single note, or one chord. Babayan did just that with the first of a series of Liszt transcriptions of lieder by Franz Schubert. 

 

Right at the outset of Der Müller und der Bach, he drew the audience into the Schubertian sound world with the depth of sound and depth of feeling of his playing. In the major section that follows, he evoked an unearthly beauty from the Steinway piano. I was captivated by the richness of his playing of the piano’s lower registers in his performance of Aufenthalt. In the well-known Auf dem Wasser zu singen, he played with the kind of liquid sound, with one note melting into the next, that one so rarely hears except in the greatest artists, a true cantabile. 

 

Babayan wisely planned the programme so that the moods of the different lieder balance one  another. The frightening intensity of Die Stadt was contrasted with the eerie and obsessive evenness of the spinning wheel in Gretchen am Spinnrade. At times, it appears that there were three hands playing the different textures of the music. The sombre atmosphere of the foregoing works was again tempered by the joy of Ständchen “Horch! Horch! Here, Babayan fully exploited the sonorities of the instrument to produce an infinite palette of colours. In the most frightening and desperate Erlkönig I have ever heard, Babayan produced a sonority of a different kind, changing the timbre and colours of his playing to bring out the various characters of this brief but devastating drama. Throughout this first group of pieces, there was the artist palpable awareness of the vocal line of each lied. 

 

The artist continued to treat us to various aspects of the Lisztian sound world, from his ardent playing of Liszt’s transcription of Schumann’s Widmung, to the delicate, even fragile beauty of the Hymne de la nuit, and to the song-like “Romance” in E minor “O pourquoi donc”.

 

Manuel Ponce’s Intermezzo No. 1 provided the perfect sorbet to cleanse our palate before the second group of works by Rachmaninoff. In the Ponce, Babayan highlighted the almost popular music quality of the work, by playing with much flexibility of both sound and rhythm.

 

It is well known that Mr. Babayan has a special affinity with the music of Sergei Rachmaninoff, and his playing of four transcriptions of and by pieces Rachmaninoff amply demonstrated that. 

 

In Volodos’ transcriptions of Where beauty dwells and Melody, Earl Wild’s transcription of Dream, and Rachmaninoff’s transcription of Kreisler’s justly famous Libesleid, Babayan masterfully demonstrated his complete identification with and an understanding of both the Rachmaninoff idiom and sound, highlighting the transcendent beauty of the composer’s music by playing with a richness and an infinite variety of sound colours. In the Libesleid, he played the music with a fantasy-like flexibility, as well as a breathtaking lightness that was quite stunning.

 

The magic continued after the interval, with a range of pieces by many different composers, beginning with four Canción by Federico Mompou, playing these lovely miniatures with a beguiling simplicity and disarming directness that is both refreshing and charming. 

 

Babayan introduced me to work unfamiliar to me - Chinar es by Armenian composer Komitas, transcribed by Villy Sargsyan. He obviously felt strongly with this music, and played it with a meditative, almost hypnotic quality that draws one right inside the music. He followed this with a beautiful performance of Sibelius’ The Spruce, reminding me what an effective composer Sibelius is for the piano.

 

The second half continued with Keith Jarrett’s famous transcription of Arlen’s Over the Rainbow, underscoring the beauty and inventiveness of Jarrett’s harmonic colours, without ever losing sight of the melody. This introspective work was followed by a colourful reading of Jesús Guridi’s La carrasquilla, from his Danzas viejas, and a ravishing performance of Grieg’s Ein Traum. He then gave an exciting and rhythmically impregnable performance of Albeniz’s Malagueña, followed by a return to the music of Komitas, playing his Berceuse with the utmost delicacy and sensitivity. 

 

As if to prevent jolt us from our reverie, Babayan then played Paul Hindemith’s Einletung und Lied, highlighting the more angular and harshness of the composer’s music. 

 

This was followed by a performance of Stephen Reynolds’ Chanson d’automne, with playing of delicacy, even fragility. Poulenc’s Hommage à Edith Piaf followed, with playing of fantastic freedom and an almost improvisatory quality. Babayan then gave us his own transcription of Fauré’s Au bord de l’eau, with again the most beautiful cantabile that successfully evoked this music of sublime drift – the nonchalant flowing of water. He returned to Poulenc, and plunged into Les chemins de l’amour, highlighting the quality of Parisian popular music by playing with charm, freedom, and freshness. Babayan remained in Paris with Alexis Weissenberg’s transcription of Charles Trenet’s En avil à Paris, bringing out all the Gallic charm of this music. The concert concluded with a delightful romp through Maurice Whitney’s transcription of Gershwin’s Oh lady, be good! Here the artist ingeniously highlighted the melodic inventiveness of Gershwin as well as the composer’s unique and unmistakable rhythmic qualities. 

 

Throughout the evening, there was not a single moment that I doubted that we were in the presence in the greatest of artists. Babayan played this panoply of contrasting, and played every single one of them masterfully. Hearing the different works presented, I had the feeling that I was beholding different leaves of the rose window of Paris’ Notre Dame Cathedral, each of the leaves with its unique beauty, making up a whole that is greater than the sum of its parts.

 

 

Sergei Babayan is an artist whose playing transcends the instrument. 

 

Throughout the evening, I often felt that I was not hearing notes, but colours and emotions. It was truly an evening to savour and remember for a long time to come.

 

Bruce Liu's Return to Vancouver

Even with the proliferation of music competition all over the world, the International Chopin Competition in Warsaw remains at the pinnacle in terms of the extremely high level of playing and its track record of being a career launchpad for some of today’s most legendary artists. That said, any artist is only as good as his or her last performance, and any artist would, every time he or she steps on stage, continues to have to prove him or herself. The greater the fame, the more the pressure for an artist to continue to develop and to play “well”.

 

Judging from Bruce Liu’s performance in Vancouver’s Orpheum Theatre yesterday, he has developed into a more mature and insightful artist since his sensational win in Warsaw two years ago, and the performance was, by every standard, very well played indeed. 

 

In Haydn’s Sonata in B minor, Hob XVI:32, Liu successfully highlighted the elegance as well as the mock pathos that is so unique to the composer. His fleet, stunningly accurate fingerwork and rhythmic acuity infused the performance with a breathtaking lightness. In the central Tempo di Menuetto movement, he very successfully contrasted the courtly elegance of the outer sections with the gentle sturm und drang of the minore section. Liu took a daring tempo in the presto third movement, with its canonic opening, giving it the feeling, fun and excitement of a cops and robbers chase, and highlighting the composer’s added layer of humour by setting it in the “serious” key of B minor. 

 

Liu played Chopin’s Sonata in B-flat minor, Op. 35, in his Vancouver debut recitals, and I was very curious to hear if and how his conception has changed in the intervening years. It was a stunning performance of great depth and feeling. I believe Liu feels the music even more than he did in his previous performance, both in Vancouver and in Warsaw during the competition. The sound is now deeper, and the drama and contrast more acute. I think, in time, he could bring out even more the violence and volcanic passion so inherent in the music. One hallmark in his playing – and this was true throughout the recital – is the utter clarity he brought to the playing no matter how thick or complex the texture. One thing that struck me two years ago, was the utter stillness he infused into the funeral march. This feeling of frightening stillness was even more apparent in yesterday’s performance. I was stunned by his sweeping and breathtaking playing of the “weird” (in the very best sense of the word) final movement, evoking so much Anton Rubinstein’s description of the “effect of wind over the graves” – a great achievement indeed for so young an artist.

 

As if to dispel the doom and gloom of the Chopin, Liu finished his first half with Kapustin’s Variations, Op. 41, with its influence of both jazz and popular music and, as Ruth Enns’ excellent programme notes indicate, “exploring styles ranging from swing to blues to bebop.” Liu did not pretend that the music was greater (or lesser) than what it was. Under his hand, it was a performance that was, for lack of a more sophisticated word, simply fun, and it was difficult to tell if the artist or the audience enjoyed the playing more. 

 

The young artist’s playing of the works from Rameau’s Pieces de clavessin showcased the pianist with all his Gallic charm and elegance. Liu made no apologies for playing these works on the piano, and infused the music with a generous range of colours. It may not have been “authentic” or “historically aware”, but it was certainly beguiling and gorgeous playing. In Le poule, Liu so successfully evoked the clattering quality of the harpsichord, as well as the lively pecking character of the work. 

 

It is the hallmark of a great work that every artist would bring something different to it. I am sure the presenters of the concert did not plan for two consecutive recitals to include Prokofiev’s Sonata No. 7 in B-flat Major, Op. 83, arguably the composer’s towering masterpiece. Let me say that I would not want to be without the experience of either Yefim Bronfman or Bruce Liu’s performance. Yesterday, Liu brought to the work a lightness in touch and a panther-like spring, a quickness in the changes of mood, without lessening the impact of the weight of the music. In the first movement, he did not fall into the trap of playing the opening too fast, thereby maintaining the rhythmic integrity of the work. He engaged a great deal of una corda pedal throughout, giving the music a wider range of colours than Bronfman did. Liu’s playing of the third movement was exciting indeed, played with absolutely rhythmic acuity, and he had to his advantage a young man’s energy and enthusiasm for the work not yet “seasoned” by experience. From beginning to its cataclysmic final chords, it was a performance that took one’s breath away, and got the audience to stand and cheer. 

 

And cheered they did, prompting Liu to grant three very different encores – a calm and reverential Bach/Siloti’s Prelude, a spirited Waltz in D-flat Major, Op. 64, No. 1 (the so-called “Minute Waltz”), and a performance of Erik Satie’s Gnossienne No. 1, with the artist’s hallmark beauty of tone and with some truly beautiful turn of phrases.

 

Looking at the hour-long lineup for autographs and photographs with the artist, Bruce Liu’s popularity has not lessened with time. While it is true that success at the Chopin Competition would almost guarantee many first opportunities for any young artist, but as conductor Zubin Mehta said, and I paraphrase, it is easy to get a first invitation, but to be invited back after that first performance is the real test. If Bruce Liu continues to develop as an artist and musician, there is every indication that he would be invited again and again in any of the musical capital of the world.