A Recital by Eric Lu, February 16th
It has taken me many weeks to formulate my thoughts after Eric Lu’s recital at the Orpheum, part of his winner’s tour since receiving the gold medal at the 19th International Chopin Competition in Warsaw.
In addition to his interpretation of the music of Chopin that has been universally acknowledged, Lu has also established himself as a very fine exponent of the music of Schubert. Hearing his playing of the first two Impromptus from Op. 142, I would say that he is already a very special Schubert interpreter, and belongs to the pantheon of names such as Brendel, Lupu, Kempff, and Schnabel (to name just a few.)
Some have said that Schubert composed like a sleepwalker. If that is the case, what beautiful dreams he must have had! In Lu’s playing of the Impromptu in F minor, Op. 142, No. 1, he perfectly captured the sprawling soundscape laid down by the composer, but did not fall into the trap of making it a meaningless meandering of successive musical ideas, instead, infusing the music with a sense of cohesion and unity. There were wonderful shifts in the sound colours, especially at the many major-minor shifts that is a hallmark of Schubert’s music.
In the Impromptu in A-flat Major, Op. 142, No. 2, the chords in the opening and closing sections float beautifully; the music never became static. Lu moved the music along in a wonderful pace, and the transition into the flowing middle section was beautifully accomplished.
No doubt, many people in the audience came to hear Lu’s Chopin, and the young artist did not disappoint. Eric Lu boldly began this segment of his recital with the Polonaise in F-sharp minor, Op. 44, probably the one with the largest canvas as well as the most technically challenging. Lu gave a sweeping account of this great work, capturing perfectly the defiance and sadness inherent in the music. In the lyrical, mazurka-like, middle section, Lu revealed to us the inner beauty behind the notes.
During the competition and at the recital, Lu gave arguably one of the finest interpretations of the Ballade in F minor, Op. 52. From the tentative, bell-like sound of the opening, to the fiercely dramatic, cataclysmic ending, he was in complete command of every aspect of the score, and highlighted the other-worldly beauty that is so inherent in this masterwork.
In the youthful Polonaise in B-flat Major, Op. 71, No. 2, Lu amply demonstrated that he could be as brilliant and virtuosic as the young firebreathers of the keyboard today. The performance underscores all the brilliance and glitter of this 1828 composition. In the (for me) death-haunted Nocturne in C-sharp minor, Op. 27, No. 1, Lu gave the feeling that the opening theme was floating on air, giving the music a crystalline sound, and captured the tension of the gradual metamorphosis into the highly dramatic middle section, before returning to the faux calmness of the opening theme.
In the third round of the Chopin Competition last October, I thought that Lu’s performance of the Sonata in B minor, Op. 58 alone, should have won him the gold medal. Many of the artists in the competition delivered technically perfect, even brilliant, renditions of this music, but only a few, if even that, so totally understood and captured every aspect of this late Chopin opus.
There was organic unity in Lu’s interpretation of the sonata, not only in the large soundscape of the first movement, but throughout the work. In the first movement, the themes seamlessly fused one into another, rather than – as we so often hear – a mere succession of beautiful melodies. Lu’s performance of the scherzo movement was breathtaking. Indeed, I found myself holding my breath as he performed the music with an incredible agility and lightness, not to mention scintillating. And the tricky transition into the slow movement was impeccably achieved. In the largo movement, Lu brought out the inner glow and beauty of this gorgeous movement. In the final movement, Lu played the music with an almost reckless abandon, with nary a thought for the technical hurdles inherent in every page of the score. It was truly one of the great interpretations I have heard.
Eric Lu’s single encore – no doubt the audience would have happily hear many more – was the Aria from Bach’s Goldberg Variations, performed for the capacity audience in the Orpheum like a hymn of gratitude and a benediction. It was the perfect ending to a beautiful afternoon.
There was and is no doubt in my mind that Eric Lu is a worthy recipient of the gold medal. Even with the incredibly high level of piano playing at the competition, he stood out with his artistry and the maturity of his performances. This recital in Vancouver – not surprisingly - more than confirmed my view.
Jun Märkl with the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra, March 6th
It is always a treat to see Maestro Jun Märkl to Vancouver. Last evening, he led the orchestra in a diverse and varied programme of music by Takemitsu, Prokofiev and Brahms.
In Takemitsu’s Ceremonial – An Autumn Ode, with Naomi Sato playing the Shō, an ancient Japanese instrument, the soloist began and ended the work with extended solos, drawing the very attentive audience in to atmosphere and other-worldly sounds laid down by the composer. Märkl painted a beautiful soundscape that provided a perfect foil to the sounds of the soloist.
Stefan Jackiw gave a technically assured and musically impeccable performance of Prokofiev’s Violin Concerto No. 2 in G minor, Op. 63. In the concerto, it was Märkl’s role as a collaborator that caught my ear. Not only did he “accompany” the soloist impeccably, but he brought out the brilliant orchestration and colours that were such a hallmark of Prokofiev’s music. In the surprisingly Spanish-sounding third movement – it must have been those castanets – he perfectly captured the satirical nature of the music.
I have heard this orchestra in many performances of Brahms Symphony No. 1 in C minor, Op. 68, but last night’s performance would remain in my mind for a long time.
In the opening of the 1st movement, Märkl and the orchestra, especially the strings, gave the music a sense of weight and substance in the sound, but at the same time capturing the composer’s marking of un poco sostenuto, and bringing out the colours of the woodwinds above the music. The conductor masterfully maneuvered the transition into the Allegro, which was played with a palpable sense of urgency.
In the Andante sostenuto movement, I have rarely heard the oboe solo played with such deep feeling and tenderness. Märkl so beautifully maintained the flow of the music that it led naturally to the entry of the violin solo (letter E), gorgeously played by concertmaster Nicholas Wright. I also very much like the conductor’s pacing in the Un poco Allegretto a grazioso movement, as well as the transition into the B Major section at letter D. Throughout the movement, there were some impeccably beautiful playing by and interplay between the woodwinds.
The beginning of the final movement began with a real sense of a tension-filled quietness, especially in the lower strings at the outset as well as in the pizzicato passage at m. 16. The pacing was so impeccable that the entry of the French horn solo at letter B really had a sense of occasion and, to me, a palpable sense of the sun breaking through the dark clouds. The build-up of tension was such that the entry of the famous theme (Allegro non troppo, ma con brio) at m. 61 almost came as a relief. Kudos to the orchestra for its wonderful and exciting playing throughout, but especially in the exciting final pages of the movement.
This was a truly memorable performance of this very familiar work. Throughout the beautiful performance, Märkl seemed to be reminding us that even though the music was steeped in 19th century romanticism, the roots of this score remains firmly in the 18th.
I was very happy to read that Maestro Märkl will be returning in the coming season, this time to conduct Stravinsky’s Petrushka. No doubt he will again bring many new insights and reveal to us the colours and tragic of this great score.
Welcome back to Vancouver, Jun Märkl!
