To hear Janusz Olejniczak play Chopin is
like hearing the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra play Johann Strauss. There is a
beguiling naturalness in the music making that makes it sound so “right” – in every
inflection, every accent, every rubato
taken. While it is true that great Chopin interpretation has extended far
beyond the Polish border, it was obvious from Olejniczak’s playing this weekend
that this music is in his blood, his body and soul.
The two concerts this weekend has been a
first collaboration between Early Music Vancouver and the Vancouver Chopin
Society. Part of Early Music Vancouver’s interest in this presentation lies in
the fact that part of the recital was played on a beautiful 1852 Broadwood
piano, lovingly restored by local piano restorer Marinus van Prattenburg. The
idea behind the concert was for the audience to experience two very different
sound worlds – the sound of a period instrument (Chopin died in 1849) as well
as that of a modern Steinway grand. Other than the pleasure I derived from
listening to this much loved music, hearing these two very different
instruments had been in itself a fascinating experience.
Olejniczak began both recitals with Chopin’s Nocturne in C-sharp minor, Op. posth.,
first on the Broadwood, then on the Steinway, just to show the acoustical
difference between these two instruments. The Broadwood has a narrower dynamic
range but, under the hands of an artist who knew what he was doing with the
instrument, not a narrower range of colours than the Steinway. The Steinway
naturally had a much more commanding sound as well as a larger projection. With
the Broadwood, I had the impression that I was eavesdropping on someone’s
playing. Olejniczak created that intimate sound, or rather, created that
palpable mood of intimacy, throughout the evening, and on both instruments, just
a little more so on the Broadwood.
Between the two recitals, Olejniczak performed
a good cross section of his more than fifty Mazurkas
– Op. 17, No. 4, Op. 24, Nos. 1 and 2, Op. 30, No. 4, Op. 41, No. 2, and Op.
68, No. 2. There is a Polish word – zal
– a word that represents the soul of a Pole. The basic meaning of the word is a
bittersweet melancholy. But it also encompasses the feeling of suffering,
sadness, of losing everything – a feeling that one sometimes feel when there is
no sun and one is alone in a cold house. According to Liszt, the word can also
mean “rage”, which is not only interesting but also paradoxical. Chopin’s
music, even the most intimate ones, can have a lot of anger. Chopin himself
admitted that most of his music is permeated with zal, and Liszt added that the word colours the whole of Chopin’s
compositions.
It is also the music of exile, perhaps
the most powerful source of inspiration for any artist.
Olejniczak’s performances of the Mazurkas contained all the
aforementioned qualities. He employed much rubato
in his playing of the Mazurkas, but always with impeccable taste, as well as a
sense of - for lack of a better word - rightness.
In the two Mazurkas in A minor, Op. 17, No. 4, as well as Op. 68, No. 2, two
works that contain some of the most desolate music the composer ever wrote,
there was a feeling of deep sadness recollected from afar. In the Mazurka in C major, Op. 24, No. 2,
Olejniczak conveyed the exoticism of both the opening Aeolian mode melody, which could be a rustic dance, or the singsong
of a Polish street peddler, and the more lyrical, Lydian mode melody at mm. 21 to 36. Throughout both recitals, but
especially during the Mazurkas, I had the feeling that Olejniczak was
improvising, almost re-composing these works as he played.
This feeling of melancholy was carried
through in Olejniczak’s choice of Waltzes
he played, both on the Broadwood – the Waltz
in A-flat major, Op. 69, No. 1 and Waltz
in C-sharp minor, Op. 64, No. 2., the latter work being, for me, one of
Chopin’s greatest works. In the difficult opening phrases of the Waltz in C-sharp minor, he had just the
right amount of lilt as well as a beautiful inflection of those brief phrases.
In the B section of the work, there was a gossamer lightness that was quite
breathtaking. In Saturday’s performance, Olejniczak’s playing of the bass notes
from m. 177 to the end, almost as a secondary voice, was particularly affecting.
In the Polonaise in A major, again played on the Broadwood on both
evenings, there was a real feeling of dance in the opening measures, so often
missing in performances bent on conveying the “bigness” of sound. In fact,
Chopin expressly wrote only forte in the opening. I loved the way he played the
opening trill at m. 41, with a palpable tension that immediately conveyed the
drama of the entire section. In the tricky final measure of the Polonaise, Olejniczak added an extra
bass octave before the A major chord to have more of a feeling of finality,
something the composer may himself have done?
For
the second recital, the artist played two of the Preludes, Op. 28 – the one in A major (No. 7) and the one in C
minor (No. 20). In the C minor Prelude,
Olejniczak beautifully but subtly brought out the middle register in the third
iteration of the theme (m. 9).
O lejniczak’s
playing of the Nocturne in C minor,
Op. 48, No. 1, again perfectly embodied the seemingly contradictory emotions in
the word zal. From the somber opening
chords to the frightening outburst of the B section, and back to the restless
return of the opening theme, the pianist played as if taking us through the
composer’s stream of consciousness. As well, his performance of the Nocturne in E minor, Op. posth., gave us
a glimpse of the gorgeous sound he elicited from the Steinway, and brought out
the otherworldly beauty of this early work.
On both evenings, the balance of the
second half comprised of three large-scale works. I had not been so moved by
the Scherzo in B-flat minor, Op. 31,
for a long time, as I was this weekend. In his last Vancouver recital, Murray
Perahia played a note-perfect but, for me, emotionally ambivalent performance.
It was nothing like the range of emotions and colours Olejniczak took us through
in his playing. Every note in the opening triplets could be clearly heard, yet
he managed to bring forth Chopin’s sotto voce marking, as well as conveying a
sense of urgency with these few opening notes. And there was an ardent quality
in his playing of the beautiful con anima
section at m. 65.
The artist brought an uncanny freshness I
did not think possible with the oft-played Ballade
in G minor, Op. 23. As with all great Chopinists, there was a sense of
totality, of organic unity, in Olejniczak’s approach towards the Ballade. The
danger with a powerful modern piano is the possibility of an ugly or percussive
sound, when someone “pushes” the instrument hard. Olejniczak can be a powerful
player when he chose to be, but even at the most dramatic moment of this
already dramatic work, the pianist’s tone was never forced – colossal, yes, but
always round and musical. In the treacherous coda, his playing was utterly
confident, and never betrayed even for a moment the possibility of failure.
There was also an incredible lightness in the playing that intensified the
excitement and tension of the music.
The Polonaise
in A-flat major, Op. 53,
perhaps the unofficial national anthem of Poland, his playing was simply
thrilling. The dignity, pride, power, beauty, and rhythmic acuity of his
playing reminded me only of Arthur Rubinstein, and I can think of no higher
compliment. In the beginning of the E major section, there was a roar in the
sound of the sforzando chord – a most
interesting aural sensation. In the coda, Olejniczak built the music to such a
pitch of excitement that the final chords at m. 179 became a catharsis.
Incredibly, this was the first appearance in
Vancouver of this great artist, a charming and soft-spoken man who gave the
impression, when he played, that he was merely playing for a few friends.
Earlier this season, the Vancouver Chopin Society presented Seong-Jin Cho, a
supremely talented young artist at the outset of his career. Now, we have a
very different kind of artist, at the full maturity of his musical development.
With Marc-Andre Hamelin, Rafal Blechacz, Andras Schiff, and Alexander Gavrylyuk
still to play in the coming months, Vancouver audiences will have much
wonderful music-making to look forward to.
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