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.

The Infinite Variety of Beethoven

Well, this appears to be the year for late Beethoven.

Steven Osborne, in his wonderful recital at the Chan Centre for the Performing Arts in Vancouver, gave us the composer’s Op. 90, Op. 101, and Op. 106 sonatas. Next Sunday, Sir Andras Schiff will perform Op. 109, then Nelson Goerner will essay the Op. 106 again, and Paul Lewis will return in May to play Op. 109, Op. 110, and Op. 111.

Beethoven’s Sonata in E Minor, Op. 90 is truly an unjustly neglected work. It is a work of great contrast and beauty and, strangely enough, much of it reminds me of the sonatas of Schubert, in how the materials unfold and in its melodic invention, especially in the slow movement. Osborne certainly made a strong case for this, probably really the first of the “late” piano sonatas. There were some magical moments in his playing, namely, in the final ritardando before the end of the first movement (m. 233), and at the end of the second movement, the ritardando (m. 281) followed by the accelerando that ends the work. In the slow movement, Osborne managed to make each return of the theme beautiful and convincing. Anton Rubinstein reportedly moved audiences to tears with his playing of this movement. I thought Osborne’s performance of this work was just as moving.

Between the two sonatas of Beethoven, the pianist performed Schubert’s little Klavierstück in A Major, D. 604. Like a sorbet between two main courses, this miniature, exquisitely played, was just what the audience (and maybe the pianist as well) needed to “clear the palate”.

I feel that the Sonata in A Major, Op. 101 is, pianistically speaking, the most difficult of the sonatas after the Hammerklavier. Other than technically challenging, it is terribly difficult to capture the constantly shifting moods of the music. Other than more than rising to the technical challenges Beethoven set for the pianist, Osborne successfully gave us a coherent account of the work, giving us a sense of the organic unity of the music. His playing of the march in the 2^nd movement, to me reminiscent of the march from Schumann’s Fantasy, Op. 17, was blistering. More than the excitement the dramatic moments of this work can generate, what stayed in my mind with Osborne’s performance of this work, indeed for the entire concert, were the intimate moments, like the slow movement of this sonata (Langsam und sehnsuchtvoll), especially with the return of the 1^st movement theme at m. 24.

Any performance of Beethoven’s Sonata in B-flat Major (Hammerklavier) is an event. Lasting 40 to 45 minutes, the challenge, other than the superhuman technical hurdles, is for the artist to hold all the disparate elements. I felt that Osborne more than rose to the challenges in every aspect of this great work, not neglecting any details in the score, but also clearly seeing the way ahead of him, and aware of the larger structure of the work. Osborne’s playing of the Adagio sostenuto movement, the emotional core of the entire work, was rapturous. In the final fugue, where Beethoven emancipated the trill as a mere ornament, Osborne succeeded in making the texture of this rather wild and dense movement clear and tremendously exciting.

I would have thought it impossible to follow such a work with any encore, but upon the urging of the enthusiastic audience, Steven Osborne granted us a little morsel, Brahms’ Intermezzo in E-flat Major, Op. 117, No. 1, a work as intimate as the Hammerklavier was dramatic, and played it as a benediction and thanksgiving for the afternoon of great music.