Ending on a High Note

It is always sad every year to realize that the concert season is winding down. The Vancouver Recital Society’s season ended a couple of weeks ago, and the Vancouver Chopin Society presented its final concert of the 2016-2017 season this past Sunday with a recital by the Armenian-born, Russian-trained, American pianist (and famed pedagogue) Sergei Babayan. I had never before heard him in concert, and so it was certainly a treat to have experienced the artistry, musicianship and pianism of this wonderful pianist.

Babayan began his performance with, I am guessing, the Vancouver premiere of Russian composer Vladimir Ryabov’s Fantasia in C minor, in memory of Maria Yudina, Op. 21. This is an incredibly intense and challenging work inspired by the repertoire and life of the great Soviet pianist Maria Yudina. I doubt that many people in North America had heard of Maria Yudina, since she didn’t – or couldn’t – play outside of her native Russia. But she was a pianist in the same order of a Richter or a Gilels. In the piece, there were allusions, or quotes, of themes from pieces that Yudina frequently played, as well as references to Orthodox Chants, because of the pianist’s Christian faith. Babayan’s performance of this demanding work was stunning, capturing the rapidly shifting moods and colours of the work. The work ended, as indicated in the programme notes, with “a dream-like perpetual motion punctuated by bell tones that seems to disintegrate into shattered silence.” The silence and attentiveness of the audience indicated to me that Babayan was successful in conveying the essence of this music.

The pianist continued with the rest of the first half with music by Chopin and Rachmaninoff, playing the pieces without a break. Indeed, Babayan created such a mood of intimacy, especially in the Chopin works, that I felt that he was playing for himself, and that the audience was almost eavesdropping upon this incredible performance. In the Polonaise in C-sharp minor, Op. 26, No. 1, Babayan captured the contrast between the drama and heroism of the outer sections with the lyricism and longing in the middle section. In the great Waltz in C-sharp minor, Op. 64, No. 2, I thought his playing of especially the descending scale at mm. 13 to 16 to be meltingly beautiful. The challenging B section of this waltz sounded as effortless and light as it could possibly be.

The pianist’s playing of the Barcarolle in F-sharp major, Op. 60, was very different from the performance given by Georgijs Osokins last season. Osokins brought out all the colours of this great masterpiece, while Babayan’s interpretation was more inward looking, more intimate. He did not try to make the Waltz in B minor, Op. 69, No. 2, bigger than it is, but played it with just the right degree of melancholy and an intense musicality. The Impromptu No. 1 in A-flat major, Op. 29 was stunning in its gossamer lightness and breathlessness.

Instead of the Ballade No. 3 that was originally programmed, the artist decided on a last minute programme change, playing instead three short works by Sergei Rachmaninoff – the Etude Tableaux in E-flat minor, Op. 39, No. 5, the Moment Musicaux in E-flat minor, Op. 16, No. 2, and the Moment Musicaux in C major, Op. 16, No. 3. The programme change showcased Babayan’s affinity for the music of the Russian composer. His performance of these works highlighted not only his awesome pianistic abilities, but also the beautiful sound – especially in the lower register of the piano – that he evoked from the instrument (this was also evident in his performance of the Ryabov), a sound that is so well suited to Rachmaninoff’s music.

Ever since hearing Glenn Gould’s stunning first recording of Bach’s monumental work, I have always had a personal bias that the Goldberg Variations as something that Canada owns. An artist like Babayan would obviously have its own interpretation of the work, one that really can lend itself to so many different views. Rather than, to paraphrase Gould’s words, looking for some kind of mathematical correspondence between the theme and the 30 variations, I believe Babayan was trying to convey the character of each individual variation. That said, I thought that his playing of the variations had a logical and natural flow from one to the next, as well as a palpable sense of totality that eludes many artists. In the 25^th variation, he did not fall into the trap of wearing the tragedy of the music on his sleeve, but infused it with just the right degree of pathos. Babayan told me afterwards that he was inspired by the attentiveness of the afternoon’s audience.

After hearing Sergei Babayan, I understood why artists like Martha Argerich, Danil Trifonov, and Valery Gergiev regularly sought him out as collaborator. I am already looking forward to his next appearance in Vancouver.

A Debut with Bach and Beethoven

One of the hallmarks of a successful musical performance is when, on top of the visceral excitement the music generates, an artist draws the audience into the emotional and spiritual world of the composers. Andras Schiff did this masterfully in his recent recital here, and I knew that Nelson Goerner, making his Vancouver debut last night, would have a, shall we say, a tough act to follow.

J. S. Bach’s Partita No. 6 in E Minor, BWV 830, has the largest canvas of the six, large in scope as well as in emotional range, and the most technically difficult. Goerner’s performance of this great work was certainly a pianistic tour de force, but unfortunately not more than that. In the opening Toccata, the pianist failed, to my ears, to fathom the profundity and the gravity of the music. It also lacked a certain feeling of spaciousness, and of musical tension. I believe that the artist could have made greater use of the brief moments of silence in between musical ideas, especially right before the arrival of the fugue (m. 26). In the great fugue, I do commend Goerner in the clarity of the voices and textures, but again, it was not a spiritual journey, such that with the return of the opening musical idea (m. 89), it did not evoke a sense of great emotional release.

I do not believe that the repeats in the dances should be observed just for the sake of observing them. Goerner observed every repeat in the dances, but played them exactly the same way as he did the first time.  I feel that repeats should be played only if the artist has something different to say about the music.

Goerner displayed an incredible deftness and lightness of touch in the Corrente as well as the rhythmically tricky Tempo de Gavotta, but it sounded more like, forgive me, Scarlatti rather than Bach. Even in the great Sarabande, it became like a series of beautiful notes, rather than a sense of time standing still. The artist very successfully navigated the incredible complexities of the fugue-like Gigue, and it was truly stunning piano playing. Mr. Goerner is a young man; he has all the time in the world to plunge the depths of Bach. To me, he is at the beginning of this incredible journey.

Of all the “great” composers, Felix Mendelssohn is a figure that sometimes puzzles me. The composer of the great Violin Concerto in E Minor, the Overture to A Midsummer Night’s Dream, the Piano Trio in D Minor, and the joyous Octet in E-flat Major, music that are, to me, divinely inspired, also wrote a lot of music that are merely effective. The Fantasy in F-sharp Minor, Op. 28, the so-called Scottish Sonata, is one such piece. To my ears, it is a piece, written by a great pianist, reveling in the act (and joy) of playing the piano. To that end, Goerner succeeded admirably, and the playing was one of great sweep and panache. Musically and pianistically, it was a more successful performance than one given by Murray Perahia years ago.

It is difficult to believe that we would be hearing Beethoven Hammerklavier twice in one season (Steven Osborne gave a wonderful performance of this work a few weeks ago). Goerner was a different pianist in the Beethoven, and it was a performance of total commitment, and of great beauty and depth. He understood and realized the construction and architecture of the 1^st movement, resulting in a performance of grandeur and excitement.

In the Scherzo, the pianist understood the unique humour in late Beethoven, the pregnant pauses, the Prestissimo scale-run at m. 112 and brief tremolo that follows (m. 113-114) were particularly effective as well as truly humourous. I was particularly moved by Goerner’s playing of the tremendous Adagio sostenuto, which was certain, as Beethoven instructed, Appassionato e con molto sentimento. Here, the artist succeeded in drawing us into the emotional core of the music. The final three-voice fugue was played with absolute confidence and conviction, and stunning trills! To me, the performance of this great work was masterful, and completely satisfactory.

After a well-deserved ovation, the Goerner gave us two items for “dessert”, a Ignacy Jan Paderewski’s rhythmically intriguing Nocturne, and Felix Blumenfeld’s (Vladimir Horowitz’s teacher) Etude for the Left Hand. The performance of the Blumenfeld was truly breathtaking. One would almost be tempted to say that Mr. Goerner has the greatest left-hand in the music world. It was an incredible feat of pianism.

We are truly fortunate to have the Vancouver Chopin Society as well as the Vancouver Recital Society to keep the solo recital alive in our community. We await the joys of further musical discoveries in the next few months and coming concert seasons.

Murray Perahia Visits Vancouver

Pianist Murray Perahia is no stranger to Vancouver audiences, having appeared many times in recitals under the auspices of the Vancouver Recital Society. On a snowy Sunday afternoon, Mr. Perahia played a wonderfully varied programme of works by Bach, Beethoven, Schumann and Chopin.

Perahia opened the recital with J. S. Bach’s French Suite No. 4 in E-flat Major, BWV 815. Unlike Andras Schiff, who played Book One of Bach’s Well Tempered Clavier in his last appearance here, Perahia did not hesitate to use the pedal when playing Bach. Strangely enough, Schiff achieved a greater variety of colours and sounds without the pedal than Perahia did with pedal. Although Perahia did bring out the characteristics of each of the dance movements, the playing seemed rather two-dimensional, and a touch heavy at times.

I had similar reservations about the pianist’s rendition of Beethoven’s justly famous Sonata No. 23, Op. 57, more often referred to as the Appassionata. Perahia’s performance was extremely polished, with quite daring tempo in the final movement. I did miss the great contrast in sound that the music calls for. Perhaps Perahia was trying to present a different view of a sometimes much maligned work, where pianist with more fingers than brains would bang their way through the work with maximum speed and volume. Certainly it was a more intimate view of this very familiar work. Perhaps one day his view of this work will change again. For now, this is an approach that, as much as one respects Perahia’s perspective, does not always work.

After the intermission, Perahia opened the second half of his programme with Robert Schumann’s Papillons, Op. 2. This was a work that Perahia recorded very early on in his career, and his interpretation has now obviously matured. Perahia successfully managed the lighting fast change of mood between one piece to the next, and brought out the beauty and colours in each of the dance-like pieces. Here, the pianist seemed to have been enjoying himself more in these gems of Schumann’s. I enjoyed his performance of this early Schumann work unreservedly.

Rather than referring to Perahia as a Chopin player, I have often thought of him as a pianist that happens also to play Chopin. That said, he has always had interesting things to say about Chopin. The composer’s late Nocturne, Op. 62, No. 1, was the first piece in his Chopin group, and Perahia played this work beautifully. He certainly brought out the ethereal beauty of Chopin’s melodic writing, while drawing our attention to the intricacies and complexities of the inner voices. I really loved his pacing of this complex work, as well as how he makes the music float under his finger.

Unlike many of today’s young pianists, who would present one or both sets of Chopin’s Etudes in recital, Perahia, wisely, I think, presented only a small group of Etudes from both sets – Nos. 1 and 5 from the Op. 25 set, and No. 4 from the Op. 10 set. His performance of Op. 25, No. 1, the so-called “Aeolian Harp”, was extremely beautiful, and smooth as silk, as was his playing of the middle section of Op. 25, No. 5, with the stunningly gorgeous melody in the left hand. I thought that his playing of the opening of the same Etude was a little over-pedaled, thus missing the quirkiness of the piano writing.

For the last two works in his programme, Perahia finally threw caution to the wind and gave a take-no-prisoner approach to Chopin’s Etude in C-sharp Minor, Op. 10, No. 4, as well as the Scherzo in B-flat Minor, Op. 31. I do not always agree with Perahia’s tempo transition between sections of this work. It somehow creates an impression of disjointedness, rather than presenting a performance of organic unity so important for Chopin’s music.

After being recalled to the stage by a very enthusiastic audience, Perahia rewarded us with a performance of Schubert’s Impromptu in E-flat Major, Op. 90, No. 2. I felt that the rapid-fingered opening section worked better under Perahia’s hands than the dramatic second section. As with some of the works presented in this recital, I could not help wishing for more colours and a variety of sounds.

Murray Perahia is a sincere artist that always has a viewpoint, a perspective on whatever he plays. Perhaps his analytical approach to the music sometimes gets in the way of spontaneity. I am happy that after the finger injury that forced him to take several sabbaticals from performing, that he seems to be back in full force. I wish him continuing artistic growth, and greater insights into the music he presents to his audience.

A Young Old Soul

In the very crowded field of outstanding young pianists today (and getting more crowded every year), there have been many recent performances that succeed in impressing us with his or her pianistic prowess. Far more rare is a young artist who moves us, not with technical wizardry (which he has plenty of), but with depth, with artistry and musicality.

Such an event took place in Vancouver yesterday, with the Canadian debut of Kuok-Wai Lio, under the auspices of the Vancouver Recital Society. Mr. Lio played an artistically and technically demanding programme of Janáček, Schubert, and Schumann. I do not recall being so moved by a young pianist’s playing since the first time I heard Ingrid Fliter many years back.

Mr. Lio began his recital daringly, with a performance of Leoš Janáček’s four-movement piano cycle, In the Mists. Not being intimately acquainted with the piece, I can only guess that the composer named his work a “piano cycle” instead of “sonata” so that he didn’t feel bound by any constraints of musical structure. Indeed the piece sounded very free-flowing in its ideas, very colourful and beautiful, and highly imaginative. I did detect the influence of other composers, most notably in his use of harmony, which somehow reminded me of the harmonies Chopin used in some of his later Mazurkas.

Kuok-Wai Lio appears to be a quiet and unassuming young man, but from the first notes, Lio mesmerized me with his playing. There is a luminous quality to the sound he makes on the piano. Within minutes, I realized that I was in the presence of a young master. The playing commanded our complete attention without clamoring for it. Lio, I believe, is very much “his own man” in his musical ideas.

Franz Schubert’s Four Impromptus, D. 935, made up the final work of the first half. Unlike many of today’s young keyboard titans, Lio took the time for the music to develop. At the same time, the music never dragged, but flowed beautifully and logically. The many transitions, in mood and in tempo, within each of the four pieces were masterfully handled. Lio’s interpretation of these very familiar pieces did not remind me of anyone else’s playing. His ideas were completely original, but never idiosyncratic, and they made complete musical sense.  I believe Lio is one of those rare artists who draw our attention to the music, and not to him or his personality.

Lio’s playing of Robert Schumann’s elusive Davidsbündlertänze, Op. 6, once again reinforced my impression that we were in the presence of an extremely rare talent. One of Schumann’s lesser played works, the piece has an inner beauty that makes it very difficult to bring across. I believe it was Busoni who said that a musician must, during a performance, lose and find himself at the same time. From beginning to end, Lio was completely absorbed in the shifting moods of Schumann’s sound world, a man completely lost within the music, but at the same time seeing clearly the way before him. His playing of the work’s two final sections (Wie aus der Ferne; Nicht schnell) was meltingly and heartbreakingly beautiful. 

After repeated curtain calls from an enthusiastic audience, Lio rewarded us with the Aria from Bach’s Goldberg Variations, giving us a tantalizing taste of what a performance of the complete work would be like.

No amount of designer clothing or brand name runners can give young artists depth and maturity. This young pianist already possesses such qualities in abundance. In one article I read about Lio, conductor Donato Cabera, who worked with him, called him “an old soul”.

Hearing his performance yesterday, that is exactly how I would describe Kuok-Wai Lio.