The Goldberg Variations

At the end of Sir Andras Schiff’s performance of Bach’s Goldberg Variations Thursday evening, I felt that applause would almost have been an intrusion, a rude awakening from the magical reverie of the past hour, almost like King Marke bursting in upon the dazed lovers at the end of Act II of Tristan und Isolde.

 

What an incredible evening of Bach, brought to us by one of today’s great artists and musicians. As with Schiff’s recital on Tuesday, it was a generous evening of music – the Italian Concerto, BWV 971, the Overture in the French Style, BWV 831, and then the Goldberg Variations, BWV 988. Before each piece, Schiff would enlighten us with brief works about the piece in question, in the process also revealing a little of his thoughts of our present human and societal condition.

 

As a prelude to the evening, Schiff played a beautifully shaded performance of Bach’s Sinfonia in F minor, BWV 795, probably one of his most profound keyboard works – certainly one of his most difficult and complex - saying so much, as Schiff said, in so little time. 

 

In the 1^st movement of the Italian Concerto, Schiff brought about the contrast between the ripieno and concertino not so much with different volume, but with different qualities of sound. In the Andante, the right-hand passage of the “solo” was beautifully shaped by the artist, making it truly sounding like a solo instrument in a concerto, like an oboe, for which Bach wrote such incredible music, and the left hand provided a subtle but beautifully shaped accompaniment by the “strings”. Schiff’s tempo choice for the Presto was a shade slower than some other pianists who literally takes on a breathless quality with this music, but the absolute steadiness at which he played made the experience just as stunning. As in the first movement, he effectively brought out the contrast between the ripieno and concertino, in this case almost like a shift between light and darkness.

 

I would have to say that Schiff’s performance of the Overture in the French Style was the epitome of elegance and style. He did not fall prey to ponderousness in the French overture, by giving the music a palpable forward motion. The B section of the overture betrayed a deftness and lightness of fingerwork, and again an almost concerto grosso-like contrast between piano and forte. The artist observed all of Bach’s repeats, allowing him to explore and highlight the well-thought out and beautifully executed ornaments in the repeats. The rhythmically tricky Gigue was, I thought, particularly brilliantly handled, and his playing of the Echo was truly humourous.

 

I had heard Sir Andras Schiff play the miraculous Goldberg Variations many years ago, in Seattle. After a lifetime of performing and thinking about the piece, I think it has now really become a part of him. Last night’s performance was so focused and so intimate, that I had the impression that we were eavesdropping upon him playing for himself. The hour went by very quickly indeed.

 

Schiff managed to bring out the unique character of each variation. Tempi were judiciously chosen. I think he now takes time to let the music breathe, even some of the variations that are usually played in a much quicker tempo. Variation 7 (al tempo di Giga), for instance, has a very nice “swing” to it – as did Variation 24. Variation 13 was played with absolute grace and beautiful shaping of the long phrases. I liked the sense of motion he imparted on Variation 15, a good reminder that Andante is really only a walking tempo. Likewise, in the French Overture of Variation 16, he played the music with a palpable sense of forward motion, as well as an appropriate lightness. In Variation 25 (adagio), the emotional centerpiece of the entire work, he did not “milk” the tragedy of the music, but kept the pace of the movement of the music. In the B section of the variation, he truly highlighted the absolute “weirdness” of the melodic contour, giving the music a sense of utter bleakness and desolation. In Variation 29, from mm. 10 – 14, and again in mm. 27 to 30, he created a kind of “clattering” sound that one usually finds in the harpsichord, a most intriguing sound effect on the Steinway. The Quodlibet(Variation 30) was played with high good humour, Schiff himself obviously relishing every moment of it, a very appropriate interlude before the return of the Aria. 

 

When Schiff reached the return of the Aria, I truly felt that he had taken us on an incredible sonic, musical, emotional and spiritual journey, and that there was a sense of returning home, of resolution, or of a closing benediction.

 

How fortunate it is for Vancouver audience to have experienced this otherworldly musical experience. As Schiff said at the beginning, we do have Leila Getz to thank for bringing a young Andras Schiff to our city some forty years ago. I feel truly thankful to have been a part of this shared musical communion.

 

 

 

 

Sir Andras Schiff's Surprise Recital

Sir Andras Schiff made a welcomed return to Vancouver with two recitals this week, under the auspices of the Vancouver Recital Society.

 

Yesterday evening’s very generous recital at the Vancouver Playhouse was a surprise, of sorts, because the programme was not given in advance, but announced from the stage by the artist. While it wasn’t exactly a lecture-recital, Sir Andras did enlighten the works he performed with much information about the music, delivered with his inimitable wit and charm. 

 

The recital got off to a surprising start when Schiff sat down at the piano and played the Aria of the Goldberg Variations, a work that he is scheduled to play this coming Thursday. At the end of this brief performance, he jokingly said that he was merely using this brief piece “to practice for Thursday”, but also as a “test” piece, as he did not have an opportunity to hear the acoustics of the hall earlier in the day.

 

Schiff then proceeded with a pair of works – J. S. Bach’s Ricercare in 3 voices from The Musical Offering, BWV 1079, and Mozart’s Fantasy in C minor, K. 475 – pointing out the similarity between the “Royal theme” from The Musical Offering and the opening theme of Mozart’s work – indeed there was an uncanny similarity between the contour of the two themes. His playing of Bach is always convincing, highlighting the modernity and the chromaticism of the theme which recurred the work. With the Mozart, I have certainly heard more “romantic” interpretation of the Fantasy in C minor, ones that drew from a larger palette of colours and range of emotions, but Schiff, not surprisingly, kept his beautiful interpretation well within classical proportions, remaining firming in the 18^th century rather than looking forward to the 19^th century.

 

After the dark colours of these opening works – Schiff did point out his belief in associating different keys with different visual colours – he continued with two sunnier compositions. He proceeded to play Bach’s French Suite No. 5 in G major, BWV 816 and Mozart’s Kleine Gigue in G major, K. 574, the latter composition’s tribute to the Baroque master. Schiff demonstrated the similarity between the opening motive of the B section of the Gigue and the subject of the Gigue. His performance of the French Suite was utterly charming, and was like a museum curator highlighting the beauty of a precious jewel. Highlights for me were his playing of the Courante, which was breathtaking and exhilarating, and the Gavotte and Gigue, which were filled with a ticklish humour. The same good humour carried over into his playing of the Kleine Gigue, which Schiff described as Mozart’s funniest composition. 

 

The colour of the recital turned sombre once again with the next two works – Bach’s Prelude and Fugue in B minor from Book One of the Well-Tempered Clavier, BWV 869 and Mozart’s Adagio in B minor, K. 540, his only work in this “pitch black” key (Schiff’s words). From the floating and beautifully paced playing of the Prelude, to the anguish falling motives of the Fugue’s subject (Schiff compared it to the Kyrie of Bach’s Mass in B minor), to the even darker colour of his moving performance of Mozart’s great Adagio, with the concluding shift to the major key a blessed relief, the pianist once again made a convincing connection between the two composers.

 

The first half of the recital concluded with Mozart’s Sonata in D major, K. 576, with the artist pointing out how difficult to play this “simple” music, for “anyone between the ages of 8 and 95”. Schiff added that Mozart is only easy for children and very wise old men. While he obviously had not reached the biblical age of 95, Schiff’s beguiling performance of the sonata betrayed, with every note, not only his identification with Mozart, but a lifetime of dedication, thinking and experience. Everything was beautifully proportioned, shone with an inner glow with every note played, and the operatic qualities of the music were very much in evident. 

 

The second half of the recital began with Haydn’s two-movement Sonata in G minor, Hob XVI:44. His performance of this charming sonata highlighted the composer’s gentle and genteel humour (many of Haydn’s other works often have a more rough, unbuttoned humour, but this was not one of them), with the works many ornaments especially elegantly executed. 

 

Schiff moved on to the final two works of the recital, the first being Beethoven’s Bagatelles, Op. 126, his last composition. He pointed out the genius of these brief works, and how they foreshadow Schubert’s Impromptus and Mendelssohn’s Lieder onhe Worte – many of the works in the set did very much have the flavour of Mendelssohn. In his performance of the fourth Bagatelle in B minor – Beethoven’s only work in this key - he highlighted the “tempest in a teacup” quality and rollicking humour of the piece, and Beethoven’s almost deliberate use of this dark key and turned the tables on us with his unique brand of good humour.

 

The final work presented in last night’s recital was a magnificent performance of Beethoven’s Sonata in E major, Op. 109, the first of his last three sonatas. Schiff’s conception of the work has deepened since the last time I heard him play this, and the experience had the impression of a connection between the first note and the last. I loved the way he handled the tricky opening of the first movement, making it sound not like a “beginning”, but music that emerged from somewhere. His playing of the return of the aria in the last movement, where the music drifted into silence, had the quality of a benediction, a moving conclusion to an incredible evening of great music. 

 

Last night’s recital was utterly and overwhelmingly uplifting, both musically and spiritually. 

 

We can be thankful to Sir Andras Schiff for the generosity of his spirit, and I am grateful to the Leila Getz for making Vancouver a regular stop for his sojourns. I am looking forward to Thursday’s all-Bach recital, which would surely be another experience that elevate us and deliver us from the not-always-beautiful realities of today’s world.

 

 

Sir Andras Schiff and the Seattle Symphony

Sir Andras Schiff spent this last week in Seattle, conducting and playing with the Seattle Symphony Orchestra, as well as giving a solo recital. I missed Sir Andras’ solo recital, but I had the pleasure of attending his appearance with the orchestra. 

The concert opened with J. S. Bach’s Keyboard Concerto No. 3 in D major, BWV 1054, a reworking of the composer’s Violin Concerto in E major, BWV 1042. It is apparent in this concerto how much the period instrument practice has seeped into performances with modern instruments. The strings played with minimal vibrato, and there was a lightness in the string playing that kept the musical line taut and buoyant. Schiff’s playing was, not surprising, a marvel to behold. In the faster passages, every note is beautiful and expressive, like a precious pearl within a perfect string of pearl. The lightness of his playing matched that of his colleagues in the orchestra. In the slow movement (Adagio e sempre piano), I was amazed at the beautiful legato and the sound he was able to achieve without any use of pedal (I sat on Row 1). The third movement (Allegro) was filled with a joyful spirit that this music calls for. Throughout the performance (and even in the performance of the Beethoven concerto), Schiff almost subsumed the sound of the piano within the texture of the orchestra, making it almost like a piano obbligato. This, for me, is concerto playing at its finest, a sort of glorified chamber music.

Equally memorable was Schiff and the orchestra’s presentation of Beethoven’s miraculous Piano Concerto No. 4 in G major, Op. 58 – a Dionysian presentation of one of Beethoven’s most Dionysian works. The piano playing was expressive and expansive. It was not a Toscanini-like metronomic Steeplechase, but more of a Bruno Walter, stopping-along-the-way-to-smell-the-flowers approach to this great work. Schiff took time to let the music speak for itself. The opening phrase of the 1^stmovement had a recitative-like, confiding quality to it. Throughout the movement, I was reminded of the beauty of Beethoven’s writing for the winds, especially the bassoon. At six measures after letter H, the piano playing had an extra depth of feeling, almost an ecstatic quality to it. Schiff is a conductor who reminds us that conducting really involves the power of suggestion. He coaxes rather than demands in his approach to directing the orchestra. As in the performance of the Bach, Schiff did not come off as the “famous soloist” playing against the orchestra, but integrated his playing within the orchestral texture. It was only during the cadenza that he rid himself of the orchestral shackles and allowed his considerable virtuosity to shine through.

In the slow movement, Schiff set a tempo a little faster than most performers, with sharper articulation in the strings. This is actually in line with the composer’s Andante con motomarking, con motobeing the operative word here. That said, there was no lacking in tension or tautness in the music; there was, however, very much a sense of forward motion – it was a perfect balance between the horizontal and vertical aspects of this music. I appreciated the space Schiff allowed between each orchestral outburst and the piano entry. The long passage of trill at the end of the movement was filled with urgency and a pleading quality, an appropriate contrast with the silence that followed.

I had always thought that this particular Beethoven concerto could not do without a full-time conductor. Well, Schiff and the orchestra obviously rehearsed this work very well, because the ensemble between pianist and orchestra, as well as all those tricky entrances, was done to perfection. This was especially apparent in the 3^rdmovement. I liked the way Schiff played all the sforzandonotes in the right hand (the passage at Letter A, for instance), giving it a feeling of surprise, but never forced or hammered. 

At the end of the Beethoven, soloist and orchestra received a deservedly rousing ovation from the audience, whereupon he returned with Menuet I and IIas well as the Giguefrom Bach’s Partita No. 1 in B-flat major, BWV 825. Schiff’s brief performance was musical in every note, as light and breathtaking as one could hope for, and he really highlights the quirkiness of Bach’s melodic writing. 

Schiff returned as a full time conductor in the second half, and led the orchestra in a deeply felt reading of Bartok’s Concerto for Orchestra, Sz. 116, BB 123, yet another miraculous masterpiece, this time from the 20^thcentury. It never fails to amaze me that this beautiful, optimistic and life-affirming work should come during such a dark time not just in human history, but in the composer’s life as well.

He beautifully shaped the melodic idea in the celli and basses at the outset of the work, and really allowed the music to build towards the Allegrovivace(rehearsal number 76) main section. I liked how he shaped the angular melody in the violins, really giving it a great deal of character. There was a real sense of grandeur and excitement in the canonic passage for brasses at rehearsal number 313. Throughout this long first movement, there was an organic unity that led to that final F for the entire orchestra.

In the Giuoco delle coppiemovement, Schiff infused the opening music with real humour, and inspired the bassoonists in some inspired playing. There was heroic and very beautiful trumpet playing in the extended passages for the instrument by the Seattle musicians. The conductor painted a real picture of varying shades of grey (certainly more than fifty) in the Elegia movement. The“outburst” by the strings at rehearsal 34 had a desperate quality to it, almost like a cry for help. Leonard Bernstein once said that a lot of Bartok’s melodic writing is related to the unique sounds of the Hungarian language. This passage, and the way the musicians played it, reminded me of Mr. Bernstein’s statement.

Schiff highlighted the almost Mahler-like sense of irony in some of the music in the Intermezzo interrotto movement. The violas played their beautiful theme at rehearsal 43 with great warmth as well as a depth of feeling. Conductor and orchestra pulled out all the stops in the very exciting final movement. The opening horn solo had a real sense of occasion to it, and conveyed the feeling of the beginning of something momentous. The rapid passage by the first and second violins had a real Hungarian, almost gypsy, flavour, to it. Yesterday afternoon, every musician in the orchestra rose to the occasion responded to Bartok’s technical and musical challenges with aplomb and absolute assurance.

From first note to last, yesterday’s performance by Schiff and the Seattle musicians made for a rich and rewarding musical experience. It was a performance of total commitment on the part of the musicians, as well as one where all the elements came together to make for a very memorable afternoon.

Patrick May

More Late Sonatas

Sir Andras Schiff played the second (and last) of his recitals in Vancouver this year. The evening was an intense emotional experience – two massive works, Beethoven’s Op. 111 sonata and Schubert’s B-flat major sonata, D. 960 – and the experience left me spiritually elated, though physically drained.

The artist opened his concert with Haydn’s Sonata in E-flat major, Hob XVI:52, the first of his three “London” sonatas. Among the three sonatas, and even among Haydn’s other sonatas, this one is perhaps the largest in scope and in size. In his performance, Schiff’s taste and sense of timing, especially comic timing, were impeccable. The many rapid scale runs in the first movement, in mm. 9 to 10, mm. 17 to 19, for example, were like beautiful strings of pearl. Throughout the sonata, Schiff managed to convey the drama of the music while maintaining an incredible sense of lightness, and never pushing the instrument. The closing of the phrase at m. 26, I thought, was played especially beautifully and elegantly. I loved the sound he evoked with the clock-like theme at mm. 27 to 29, with the pairs of 32^nd and 16^th notes. The rapid 32^nd-note runs for the right hand at mm. 30 to 32 had a wonderful breathless quality and, again, a beguiling lightness. The pianist was masterful in his playing of two brief transitional passages, in the two measures (mm. 44 to 45) that introduce the development, and in the octave passage (mm. 109 to 110) that precede the coda/codetta, Schiff changed the mood and the colour of the music like a sorcerer.

I once again marveled at Schiff’s sense of timing in the Adagio, where he illuminated the beauty of the music for all of us to behold. The obsessive repeated notes that open the third movement, and the prevailing feeling of a wild chase, remind me of the finale of Beethoven’s Sonata in F major, Op. 10, No. 2. Here, Schiff really took us on a roller coaster ride (albeit a brief one) and realized to perfection the youthful and unbuttoned humour of an elderly Haydn.

For his final sonata, Beethoven returns to the key C minor, one that has such special meaning for him. I believe that in spite of its relative brevity, the Sonata in C minor, Op. 111, is one of the composer’s most intensely emotional works. In the opening of the 1^st movement, Schiff managed to immediately create a sense of gravity and massiveness. In the rapid 16^th-note runs at mm. 23 to 28, and in the rapid 16^th-note right hand broken chords with left hand octaves at mm. 58 to 61 (and again at mm. 132 to 138), Schiff really held back and played them quite deliberately, with great depth of sound, giving them a real sense of weight.

In the Arietta that followed, I felt that Schiff played the movement as one long breath, as we also held our breath until the last sounds evaporated. It was a cathartic experience to live through. Schiff’s interpretation of the work last night reminded me of incredible performance of this work by Claudio Arrau who, in the last movement, really took us into another realm. In the trills that dominated the final pages of this sonata, Schiff, like Arrau, also took us into the realm of spiritual communion with the composer.

I appreciated the intermission that followed the Beethoven, although I was wishing for a quiet place to prepare myself for the equally emotionally demanding second half. For the second half, Schiff gave us his view of Mozart’s Sonata in D major, K. 576. Beauty of sound was what struck me about this performance. I believe this is significant because Mozart, who is usually sparing with expressive markings in his score, wrote in this movement the word dolce, twice. Schiff’s shaping of the phrases was impeccable, especially at mm. 41 to 45 and at mm. 121 to 125, where there was palpable warmth emanating from the music. The pianist also made me aware of the contrapuntal intricacies of Mozart’s writing in this movement, especially in the beauty of the writing for the left hand. In the second movement, I especially appreciated the attention Schiff gave to the left hand accompaniment figures, where there was a feeling of weightlessness as well as an understated beauty. The artist’s playing of the concluding Allegretto was witty and charming. What particularly stayed with me was the theme in the left hand, with brief interjections by the right hand, at mm. 26 to 29, and again at mm. 117 to 120.

Schiff’s playing of Schubert’s Sonata in B-flat major, D. 960, overwhelmed me. After the opening chorale-like melody, the G-flat major theme was understated (Schubert did write pp, but most pianists play it more prominently), but the otherworldly beauty of this theme really shone through clearly. His pacing throughout the long movement was laudable, and the many pregnant pauses were charged with meaning.

If Schubert was touching death with the slow movement of the A major sonata, Schiff played on Sunday, the slow movement of this sonata must be death itself. The pianist did not play the opening like a dirge, acknowledging Schubert’s indications of andante as well as sostenuto. His voicing of the chords in the opening of the A major section was almost as if choirs of angels were descending from heaven to soothe us.

As if he didn’t want to abruptly dispel the mood of the slow movement, Schiff played the beginning of the scherzo with a true pianissimo. Again the pianist was mindful of Schubert’s indication of con delicatezza. In the fourth movement, I appreciate Schiff’s choice of tempo, which I thought fit the movement properly within the larger scheme of the entire sonata. Under Schiff’s hands, even the very tricky second theme (m. 86), with rapid 16^th-notes in the right hand, and 8^th-note interjections in the off beat by the left hand, sounded graceful.

With the final chords of the movement that end the work with a pyrrhic victory, the audience stood up to cheer, as did I. In his own notes for the recital, Sir Andras Schiff writes that Schubert’s playing of his own lieder, “transported his listeners to higher spheres and brought tears to their eyes.” I could easily say the same for Schiff’s own performances these last few days.

No amount of sophisticated technology can replace the power of live music making, especially when it is under the hands of a master like Andras Schiff.

Under the urging of the audience, Schiff very graciously played for us the Aria from Bach’s Goldberg Variations. It was playing with a luminous quality, of fluidity, and flexibility. Could this have been a tantalizing preview of Sir Andras Schiff’s next appearance in our city?

Late Sonatas

Sir Andras Schiff has been playing his series of three recitals, entitled “The Late Sonatas”, throughout the world. So it is fortuitous for Vancouver to have been included as a “major musical centre” when he gave the first of two recitals here this year (the first recital of the series was given last season). Schiff has gotten to the point in his musical life that anything he does is at least interesting, and worth our attention.

One can tell a lot about the personality of the performer by how he or she walks onto the stage. Schiff exudes utter calmness as he levitates towards the piano, sits down, and meditates for a brief moment before he puts his hands on the keyboard. This would have been inconsequential if the music making wasn’t of the highest order, which it was Sunday afternoon.

Mozart’s Sonata in B-flat major, K. 570 that opened the recital, sounds at first like a conventional (conventional in design, that is) work. It is not until the development section, when Mozart guides us through many startlingly “foreign” keys that things become really interesting, so much so that the return to B-flat major (m. 133) comes as a welcomed relief. In the exposition and recapitulation, my attention was drawn to how Schiff illuminated Mozart’s writing for the left hand, as in the quick passagework at mm. 35 to 39 (and at 162 to 169), as well as the left-hand melody at mm. 57 to 62 (and mm 187 to 192). Moreover, his playing of the development section really highlighted the colouristic changes with the rapid key changes.

In the second movement, Schiff made us aware of the dark colours and chromaticism in the B section of the movement, as well as the absolutely radiant beauty of the sudden shift into the coda from an abridged return to a shortened A section. The final Allegretto movement was played with a gentle playfulness and much zest. I find it fascinating that Mozart wrote no dynamic markings for the movement until the 8 measures before the end of the movement, when he wrote 4 different dynamic markings for those final eight bars. Schiff certainly brought out those forte-piano contrasts in those final measures of the movement.

With Beethoven’s Sonata in A-flat major, Op. 110, Schiff brought us into the inner world of Beethoven’s late period. Schiff’s interpretation of the Op. 110 was a spacious one, and he was unafraid of slight shifts in the pulse of the music - more of a Furtwängler than a Toscanini approach to the work. From mm. 12 to 16, he held on to the first note of each group of 32^nd notes very slightly. Perhaps he was acknowledging the dots Beethoven wrote on top of those notes. I believe the composer meant these dots to indicate articulation, rather than the simplistic interpretation of a mere staccato. Schiff never forced a sound from the piano, but rather coaxed the instrument to create the sound he had in mind. Perhaps this somewhat minimized the dynamic contrast in the Allegro molto movement, but it was an entirely valid approach.

In the third movement, Beethoven wrote seven dynamic indications within the first seven measures – Adagio ma non troppo, piu adagio, andante, adagio, meno adagio, adagio, and a return to adagio ma non troppo. Of course these are all indications of slow tempi, but it really shows us how meticulous Beethoven is in indicating subtle shifts in tempi, in the pulse of the music. Schiff’s playing of the repeated A’s at m. 5 were light tiny daggers that pierced the heart, and the entire movement was played with heartbreaking poignancy.

In the final movement, I was stunned by Schiff’s playing of the return of the fugue, with its inverted subject (m. 137). Those few notes were played with such a hushed quality, that it was almost as if the music was tottering at the brink of infinity. It was for me, an incredible moment in what was an already incredible interpretation.

Schiff’s playing of Haydn’s Sonata in D major, Hob. XVI: 51 was infused with a kind of gentle humour, almost like that of a soft-spoken comedian. This was very different to Alfred Brendel’s more unbuttoned approach to the composer’s humour. Both movements were played with a beguiling lightness, the perfect sorbet to cleanse our palate between major courses.

In a fascinating book, Four Last Songs – Aging and Creativity in Verdi, Strauss, Messiaen, and Britten – authors Linda Hutcheon and Michael Hutcheon were struck by how, as composers aged, how, “their creativity functioned – and how differently it functioned – in helping them adapt to the very individual personal situations of their later years.” Hearing this Haydn sonata, as well as the Mozart that opened the programme, certainly reminded me of that statement. Obviously, the elderly Haydn lost none of the spark and humour that he exhibited in his earlier works.

The artist’s interpretation of Schubert’s Sonata in A major, D. 959 was, to me, a very intimate look at this monumental work. That said, I thought Schiff was very successful in bringing us into the very strange and dark sound world in certain parts of the work. In the Andantino movement, the pianist really made that opening theme float, and gave it a kind of weightless quality. I believe that with this haunting opening, Schubert was already touching death. The pianist really conjured up a real musical storm in the middle section of the movement. In the Scherzo, I was really struck by the vast contrast between the delicate and charming with the dark and the demonic. Schiff’s playing of the opening of the last movement, one of the composer’s most congenial melodies, was as warm, as gemütlich as the music demands. Compared with the second and third movements, Schubert doesn’t give us as much contrast in mood. On Sunday, it was almost as if Schiff was leading us through a beautiful journey in sound. At the end of the movement, the pianist really held on for a long time to the fermata of the sustained A, until the last trace of sound evaporated.

Once again, Andras Schiff’s playing yesterday reminded me of Busoni’s statement that during a performance, an artist must lose and find himself at the same time. During yesterday’s concert, I had the feeling that time stood still. On the other hand, when the performance was over, I felt that 90 minutes never passed so quickly. An artist like Schiff took away any awareness of the mechanics of playing the piano. Schiff has never been a musician that seeks to impress. Rather, he is an artist who allows us a brief look into the spiritual and emotional core of the composer’s works, a glimpse into infinity.

I look forward to the second part of the journey this evening.

Making Magic

Yesterday afternoon, the air within the Chan Centre for the Performing Arts in Vancouver seemed more rarefied during Andras Schiff’s magnificent recital.

There are for me, two kinds of musician, ones that draw our attention to his or her incredible physical ability at the instrument, and a small and select group, to which Sir Andras Schiff belongs, that transcends his or her instrument, so that the audience is aware of only the beauty of the message, and not the medium. The former group of artists gives us excitement, but the latter brings us into communion with the inner, spiritual realm of the music.

Schiff began his programme with the three principal notes of the C Major chord, in Haydn’s Sonata in C Major, Hob XVI:50. Alfred Brendal once said that during a performance, an artist should lose and find oneself at the same time. Schiff was completely absorbed into Haydn’s sound world; yet the performance was one of wholeness, where the first notes led inevitability to the last chord. Every note was like a pearl within a perfect necklace. Every pause and fermata, even the brief time in between movements, held us in breathless suspense until we hear the next sound. In Alfred Brendel’s lecture on humour in music of the Classical period a few years back, the pianist discussed the third movement of this work at length, highlighting the rambunctiousness of the music. Schiff’s playing of the movement did indeed bring out the humour, but in a way that inspires not a belly laugh, but a gentle chuckle.

I had heard the pianist play Beethoven’s Sonata in E Major, Op. 109, before, in Seattle, where he generously gave us the entire sonata as an encore to his performance of the Goldberg Variations! (This brings to mind the story of Rudolf Serkin playing the entire Goldberg Variations as an encore, at the end of which about four people remained in the audience.) For me, yesterday’s performance towered even over that Seattle performance. In the third movement, one rarely hears one variation leads so seamlessly and logically into the next. In the theme and variations, Schiff, I feel, came as close to Beethoven’s markings – Gesangvoll, mit innigster Empfindung – as I have heard. There were a few particularly magical moments in the performance (which is saying a lot) - the final diminuendo at the end of the first movement, the beginning of the B section in the final movement’s fourth variation (m. 106), and the almost unbearably beautiful refrain of the theme at the end, which gave me the feeling of returning from a long and incredible journey. At the end of the sonata, the audience appeared to have been in a trance, not daring to break the magic of the moment by applauding.

Mozart’s Sonata in C Major, K. 545, has been slaughtered by so many piano students, that it really takes a truly great performer to remind us of what a jewel this deceptively simple piece really is. Years ago, I heard a magnificent performance of this sonata by Radu Lupu. Schiff’s performance yesterday was equally beautiful. Schiff observed all the repeats in the sonata, but interjected many tasteful and deliciously beautiful ornaments in the repeats, including a little cadenza at the fermata (m. 52) of the third movement. Schiff really highlighted the beauty of the second movement, and reminding us of its harmonic adventurousness.

In a masterclass, when Murray Perahia was working with a student on the first movement of Schubert’s Sonata in C Minor, D. 958, the pianist commented that this work really belongs to the emotional and sound world of Winterreise. Schiff’s performance of this sonata reminded me of Perahia’s comment. Of all of Schubert’s late sonatas, this work is surely the darkest, angriest, and most demonic. Schiff’s playing of the first movement really highlighted the contrast and constant shifting between the highly dramatic and the extreme lyricism. His voicing of the chords, particularly in the first two movements, was particularly beautiful. In the extended fourth movement, from its gently rollicking opening theme to the determined C Minor perfect cadence that ended the work, Schiff held our attention throughout and made us forget the “heavenly length” of the movement, and the work.

Other than the incredible pianism, musicianship, and a lifetime of musical thinking that went behind the performance, Schiff’s programme was so well thought out that, from the first notes of the Haydn to the end of the Schubert, the entire performance felt like one long breath. As we walked out of the hall after the performance and breathed in the winter air, the world seemed like a better place. Once again, in this age of ready-made music, where we can have classical music, as our local radio station reminds us constantly, “on demand”, performances like yesterday’s remind us of the magic of live music. How fortunate we are that this great artist has chosen to make Vancouver one of his musical homes.

2016 seems like such a long time to wait until Andras Schiff visits us again.  

Patrick May