Notable New Recordings

In spite of the great proliferation of music competitions in the last several decades, the International Chopin Competition in Warsaw continues to occupy a special place in the music world, not only for its high standards, but also for how it has launched the careers of some of today’s major artists.

This season, Vancouver audiences have the unique opportunity to enjoy the artistry of two laureates from that very competition - Rafał Blechacz, gold medalist of the 2005 competition, and Cho Seong-Jin, freshly minted gold medalist of the 2015 edition.

Coincidentally, both artists have released new album on the prestigious Deutsche Grammaphon label this year, with vastly different repertoire, which makes for very interesting listening experiences.

Since winning the sought-after prize in Warsaw, Blechacz has maintained a relatively low profile, playing concerts but constantly exploring repertoire other than works of Chopin. Blechacz seems to have developed a reputation for being a thinking man’s pianist, always giving his audience thoughtful interpretations without falling into the trap of pedantry. The present album was recorded after a lengthy sabbatical where he completed his doctorate in philosophy with emphasis in aesthetics and the philosophy of music.

It is still too early to tell how the musical life of Cho Seong-Jin will turn out. So far, the signs are promising. In an interview, Cho said that he is “not interested in fame”, but rather to become an artist and to explore music. In spite of his near rock star status in his native South Korea, he seems to have remained quite grounded, focusing only on his music making. He has not endorsed any high-end wristwatches, Swedish stereo systems, or high fashion. And in spite of his young age, he is already in possession of a large repertoire as well as an acute musical sensibility.

Each of the two artists’ albums focuses on a single composer. Blechacz focuses on the music of J. S. Bach, and Cho, not surprisingly, gives us an entire album of Chopin. In his first studio album, Cho plays the composer’s Piano Concerto No. 1 in E minor, Op. 11 as well as the four Ballades. In the concerto, Cho appears not to try to “milk” the beauty of the many beautiful melodies, but allows the music to speak for itself. In the concerto, he seems to understate many of the dramatic possibilities, especially in the outer movements. Which is not to say that there aren’t exciting moments. The cross hand passages leading up to the end of the first movement is positively exhilarating. And in the third movement, Cho really captures the character of the Krakowiak, and the music really dances and sparks under his fingers. In the gorgeous slow movement, Cho seems to be looking for the inner beauties within the score, and he brings out all the incredibly ravishing character of the music, directly and simply.

Conductor Gianandrea Noseda and the London Symphony Orchestra do more than yeoman’s work in the concerto. Noseda lavishes much attention to the details within the orchestral tuttis, and very sensitively supports Cho in the many solo passages. Conductors like Noseda, and Carlo Maria Giulini in his recordings of the Chopin concerti with Krystian Zimerman, show us the genius and beauty behind Chopin’s orchestral writing.

There are probably no more formidable pianistic and musical challenges than the four Ballades of Chopin. To my ears, Cho is even more impressive with these monumental solo works. In each Ballade, he manages to create the impression of a huge arch from beginning to end, connecting each episode with a logic and sense of direction that makes each Ballade sound like an organic whole - remarkable achievement for so young an artist. He has an uncanny sense of pacing and timing, and manages to avoid the trap (one that stumps many great pianists) of making the music sound episodic. Even the much-played Ballade No. 1 in G minor sounds fresh and exciting under his hands. I especially loved the opening of the Ballade No. 2 in F major, where he voices the chords of the chorale just magnificently, and subtly brining out the many inner voices. The Ballade No. 3 in A-flat major comes off with a beguiling and quicksilver lightness. And in the monumental and masterful Ballade No. 4 in F minor, Cho brings a sweeping quality to the music, and his pianism and interpretation are simply impregnable.

No less enjoyable is Rafał Blechacz’s beautifully recorded and engineered Bach recording. I simply love his interpretation of the composer’s justly popular Italian Concerto, BWV 971, where he really highlights the concerto grosso characteristics of the work, effectively contrasting the different levels of sound between the ripieno and the concertino. Moreover, there is a palpable sense of forward propulsion in the outer movements. In the slow movement, Blechacz deftly balances the horizontal and the vertical, not sacrificing one for the other.

In his interpretation of the Partita No. 1 in B-flat major (BWV825) and Partita No. 3 in A minor (BWV 827), Blechacz beautifully brings out the character of each of the dance movement. In the Praeludium, he infuses the music with a luminosity of sound that reminds me of the legendary recording by Dinu Lipatti. In the Four Duets, BWV 802-805, the artist brings out the quirkiness of each of these little contrapunctal works. In the Fantasia and Fugue in A minor, BWV 944, he really brings out the “fantastic” elements of the opening Fantasia, and takes us on a rollercoaster of a ride in the tremendously exciting and breathtaking Fugue.

I would not want to be without Dinu Lipatti’s recording of the Myra Hess transcription of Jesus belibet meine Freude, but Blechacz’s interpretation makes a worthy addition to the recorded catalogue. He infuses the work with a serenity and repose, and successfully makes the music float as it moves forward.

Hearing these two new recordings by two very different artists, I cannot wait to hear them on stage. Blechacz has been a fairly regular visitor to the Vancouver stage, and his performances are always eagerly welcomed. Cho’s Vancouver recital debut has been much anticipated by the musical community as well as the large Korean community in Vancouver. No doubt, both artists will give us very different, but equally memorable performances.

Cho Seong-Jin makes his Vancouver recital debut on Sunday, November 12^th at 3:00 p.m., at the Chan Centre for the Performing Arts, and Blechacz plays his recital on Sunday, April 22^nd, 2018 at 3:00 p.m., at the Vancouver Playhouse.

An Evening of Bach

Richard Goode is one of today’s most thoughtful and sincere musicians, always seeking musical truth rather than personal fame or fortune. I have had the good fortune to witness his many wonderful performances. Mr. Goode had been absent from the Vancouver stage for a good many years, and so it was with great anticipation that I attended his solo recital last evening, dedicated entirely to the music of J. S. Bach.

Goode opened both the first and second half of his recital with a Prelude and Fugue from the second book of the Well-Tempered Clavier. He began his recital with the Prelude and Fugue in C Major, BWV 870. He does not shy away from exploiting (in the best sense of the word) the colouristic potential of the modern piano in Bach, and he employed a very judicious use of pedal. The results were of course music making with a great deal of colour, a very “pianistic” sort of playing. He played the fugue with a keen sense of motion.

The French Suite No. 5 in G Major, BWV 816 is a work that is technically within the reach of many piano students. It does, however, take a great musician like Goode to bring out the true beauty and craftsmanship of the piece. After beautifully playing the Allemande, Goode achieved an incredible sense of lightness and buoyancy in the bubbly Courante. I appreciated his choice of tempo in the Sarabande, where every note was like a pearl within a precious necklace. Goode brought out a wonderful feeling of lilt in the famous Gavotte (another work often butchered by many young students), always emphasizing the horizontal line of the music. There was gentleness in Goode’s playing of the Loure, and a great feeling of bounce in the Gigue.

It is quite rare for pianists to include the Sinfonias in a recital programme, as Good did last evening. I personally think that the fifteen Sinfonias are, in terms of compositional craftsmanship and musicality, just as staggering as the Well-Tempered Clavier. That the pieces were played with incredible pianism is probably something that can be assumed, but Goode also successfully brought out the distinct and contrasting characteristic of each individual work. I found particularly memorable the beauty of his sound in the E-flat major and G minor Sinfonias. The final Sinfonia in B minor was given a performance light and fleet fingered performance that took our breath away.

After the interval, the artist began his performance with the Prelude and Fugue in F Major, BWV 880, where he especially brought out the humour of the fugue with its quirky subject.

Bach’s Partita No. 2 in C minor, BWV 826 is an unusual work, since it does not end with a Gigue, but a boisterous Capriccio. I did miss the sense of space and feeling of high drama in the opening Grave adagio, with its dotted rhythmic figures, as well as a sense of surprise and wonder at the beginning of the Andante section (m. 8). I did think that the transition to the ¾ section was beautifully done. From where I sat, there was some blurring of lines in the Courante, but that could have been a result of the acoustic of the hall rather than a case of over-pedaling. In the deceptively simple Sarabande, Goode beautifully sustained the long melodic lines, as well as the feeling of the walking rhythm. I thought that he had a real sense of the pulse of the music in the Rondeau, something that is so difficult to achieve. The closing Capriccio was played with great energy, and a sense of propulsion, of forward motion. 

I don’t know if I admired Goode’s playing more, or that he managed to play the Italian Concerto, BWV 971 without the aid of the page-turner, an amazing feat in itself! The opening movement had great energy. There could perhaps be greater contrast between the ripieno and the concertino. In the Andante, Goode had a real feeling for the long line of the right hand, and a sense of buoyancy in the left hand. The Presto closing movement was breathtaking, with the most incredible feeling of lightness and energy in the left hand I have heard in a long time.

It was a truly enjoyable evening of great music played by a great pianist. When I hear wonderful Bach playing by pianists like Goode or Andras Schiff, I find it even more difficult to understand the great fame achieved by that other Canadian pianist for her Bach playing, which seems to me very ordinary, even pedestrian. That said, it may seem excessively harsh (and picky) to say that last night’s concert was merely very beautiful, but what I felt was that the artist did not touch on the spiritual dimension of Bach’s music, a sense of reaching into the hereafter. At risk of being accused of asking for the impossible, I do believe that Bach’s music possesses these qualities. I thought Schiff was more successful in reaching beyond the notes when he performed Book One of the Well-Tempered Clavier here a few years back. I would love to hear Goode play the same programme many times to really get a sense of what he is trying to achieve with these works.

The Art of Programming

If nothing else, Jeremy Denk’s solo recital last Sunday at the Chan Centre for the Performing Arts should be credited for originality in programming. I would wager that a couple of the composers whose works he played had never before appeared on a recital programme in Vancouver. From Bach’s dance suite to Schumann’s Carnaval that ends the programme, it appears that the entire programme was infused with the spirit of the dance.

Denk begins his concert with J. S. Bach’s English Suite No. 3 in G Minor, BWV 808.  The sound he makes on the piano was beautiful, and he played the music with a wonderful sense of rhythm and forward motion, especially in the extended concerto grosso–like Prelude. I did feel that there was a little over-pedaling, thus sacrificing a bit of textual clarity. The pianist also observes all the repeats in the dances. I didn’t, however, feel that there was enough variation in the way the repeats were played to justify their observance.

The rest of the concert’s first half was, in Denk’s words, a sort of “i-Pod shuffle” of different works. The next item on the programme, Scott Hayden and Scott Joplin’s Sunflower Slow Drag, was played with a great deal of charm, and just the right amount of rubato. It did, to me, sounded a little rushed, slightly breathless, reminding me of Joplin’s complaint that most people played his music too quickly. I would personally have liked him to take a little more time with the music, giving it slightly more breathing room.

The pianist then turned back the clock a few centuries, playing William Byrd’s The Passing Measures: the Nynth Pavian from My Ladye Nevelles Booke. Other than Glenn Gould and perhaps Peter Serkin, I cannot really think of any other pianists who would even attempt these virginal pieces on the modern concert grand. This music is notoriously difficult to bring off, as it is up to the artist to capture the audience’s attention with a variety of sounds and colours. I think Denk is successful in moving the music forward as well as holding our attention in this incredibly beautiful and moving music. As in the Bach, I did feel that the music suffered from a lack of clarity.

Igor Stravinsky’s Piano Rag Music is written for and dedicated to Arthur Rubinstein, as a thank you to the pianist for his financial assistance during a difficult period in the composer’s life.  In the pianist’s entertaining but highly subjective memoirs My Many Years, he gives an account of his reaction to the work.

It took me four or five readings to understand the meaning of this music. 

It bore out Stravinsky’s indication that it was going to be “the first real piano 

piece.” In his sense, it was just that; but to me it sounded like an exercise for percussion and had nothing to do with any rag music, or with any other 

music in my sense.

Rubinstein, although one of the first of the “modern” pianists and a great champion of contemporary composers, probably finds the “percussiveness” of Stravinsky’s score offensive to his sense of aesthetics of what is, or should be, beautiful, in music.

I believe that Stravinsky would have been highly pleased with Denk’s interpretation of the Piano Rag Music. It is certainly as “wild” and colourful as the composer intended it to be. The pianist’s reading of this music reminds me that Stravinsky is, after all, the composer of Le Sacre du printemps, the work that changed music in the 20^th century.

Denk follows Stravinsky’s work with Paul Hindemith’s own “take” on ragtime, in his Ragtime, from the 1922 Suite. Prior to the Suite, the composer had previously experimented with the jazz idiom in his Kammermusik No. 1, where he introduced a foxtrot. In his preface to this Ragtime movement of the score, Hindemith admonishes the pianist with instructions like, “Pay no attention to what you have learned in your piano lessons”, “Play this piece very ferociously, but keep strictly in rhythm like a machine” and, “Regard the piano here as an interesting kind of percussion instrument and treat it accordingly.” Stravinsky would have approved of this work! The pianist certainly takes the composer’s advice to the letter, bringing out (even more than in the Stravinsky) the music’s wildness and savage drive.

Unlike the Joplin that he played earlier, I feel that Denk’s playing of William Bolcom’s Graceful Ghost Rag is utterly charming, with a perfect feel for the rhythm and pacing of the music, as well as impeccable taste.

The programme continues in its adventurous vein with Conlon Nancarrow’s Canons for Ursula No. 1, written for legendary American pianist Ursula Oppens. The composer wrote a large number of works for the player piano, thinking that the instrument would be able to bring off even the most complex rhythmic and polyphonic textures. Listening to Denk’s masterful playing of the score, one could easily think that the pianist is (in the best sense of the word) a sort of playing machine. I was stunned at how he manages the incredibly difficult timing and rhythmic shifts in the music. I am very grateful to the artist for introducing us to this score, and to actually playing a work by this elusive composer.

The final work of the first half, Donald Lambert’s arrangement of Wagner’s Pilgrims’ Chorus from Tannhäuser, is a stride piano “look” at this very familiar music. Those who haven’t heard this music (myself including) would probably find it difficult to imagine how effective and wonderfully irreverent it is. Denk’s playing of this music brings the first half of the recital to a spirited finish.

After the adventurous first half, the two works presented after intermission seem positively traditional. Haydn’s Fantasia in C Major, Hob XVII:4 is a delightful romp through many different keys and surprisingly textual changes. Denk’s playing of this work is certainly breathtaking. Perhaps a marginally slower tempo would have given the music a slight bit more clarity, without really sacrificing the humour within the score. At risk of being accused of splitting hair, I feel that the (left hand) octaves at mm. 193-194 and at mm. 303-304 could have been held longer. In both instances, the subsequent entries appear to come too soon.

Robert Schumann’s perennially beautiful and fresh Carnaval, Op. 9, is Denk’s final offering for the afternoon. The spirit of the dance can certainly be found throughout this early masterpiece.

I find that with musicians who are attracted to highly complex music, there is an emotional ambivalence when they approach more “simple” music. This is the impression I get on Sunday with Denk’s playing of Carnaval. Somehow the sum didn’t add up to be greater than its parts, even with the artist’s incredible pianism.

I was surprised when, at mm. 112 to 113 of the Préamble, he sped up the music rather than observing the composer’s ritenuto. I also feel that stringendo marking at the end of the movement could have been done to greater effect, so that there is more of a build up. The rather quick tempo that Denk takes in the Valse noble robs the music of its, well, nobility and dignity, as well as its tension. In Chiarina, again the rather quick tempo, for me, takes away much of the passionato quality of the music. I do feel that the very fast tempo the pianist adopts for the Valse allemande suits the character of the music. He plays it quicker than many pianists I have heard, which is, for me, faithful to the composer’s molto vivace marking.

Denk’s playing of Eusebius and Chopin is, for me, the highlights of his interpretation of the work. In Eusebius, the pianist coaxes a luminous sound from the instrument, and the music comes off as dreamily as the composer would have wanted. In Chopin, Schumann’s deliciously wicked portrayal of the composer, there is an ardent quality that is somehow missing in much of the other sections of the work; in the repeat, there could have been more tonal variance to give more variety in the sound.

Denk’s pianistic abilities are brought to the fore in Pantalon et Colombine as well as in Paganini. His playing of the Marche des “Davidsbündler” contre les Philistins is impeccable. I did not think there is enough build up in tension or in sound towards an orgiastic finish to the music. Perhaps it is a lack of a sense of totality that makes this a less than completely satisfactory realization of the score.

In response to the urgings of the audience, Denk graced us with a limpid and beautiful account of the 13^th variation of Bach’s Goldberg Variations. As in the English Suite that opened the concert, I have the same reservation about over-pedaling, and the repeats just do not have enough variety in interpretation or sound to justify them.

We should all be thankful for Jeremy Denk’s highly varied and original programme. He is obviously a pianist with great pianistic ability, as well as something to say about the music he plays. I hope, in future, to hear him in different repertoire so as to get a more complete picture of his artistry.

Schiff in Seattle

In an age where the arts celebrate the personality of the performer and the idea of performer-as-hero, rather than the music, it is reassuring to have someone like Andras Schiff who, in spite of his enormous talent, remains true to his art, and refuses to be seduced by the currents of commercialism so rampant in music today.

Last evening, Mr. Schiff graced the stage of Seattle’s Benaroya Hall at the invitation of the Seattle Symphony Orchestra, and performed J. S. Bach’s monumental Goldberg Variations for a packed house and a very attentive audience (including one incredibly attentive seeing-eye dog in front of us.)

Like many others, I first encountered the Goldberg’s through Glenn Gould’s stunning debut recording on Columbia Records. For me, the impression that record made was so staggering that for a couple of decades, I find myself unable to listen to anyone else play the piece. But after hearing Mr. Schiff performing Book One of Bach’s Well Tempered Clavier in Vancouver last year, I decided that I had to make the trek to Seattle to attend this performance.

Schiff plays the Goldberg Variations observing all the repeats. On top of the technical and musical challenges of which there are many, any artist playing the Goldberg must capture the attention of the audience for an unbroken 75 minute. From the first note of the Aria to the final notes of the reprise of the same Aria at the end, his playing certain captivated my attention. Mr. Schiff creates a beautiful sound at the piano, and he certainly employs all the resources of the modern instrument, while being faithful to Baroque performance practices, to create a colourful performance of this incredible work. As I remarked in my piece on Schiff’s performance of the Well Tempered Clavier last year, his playing is certainly markedly different from Gould’s more (deliberately) monochromatic interpretation – I cannot help associate the way Gould played with his fondness for black and white movies. Both approaches are equally valid, of course, and the contrast between the two artists – much like two equally great painters painting the same subject – is what makes Bach’s great work continually valid and moving centuries after they were written. Most importantly, Schiff, like Gould, was and is able to touch upon the spiritual dimension of these variations that is, of course, the core of the music.

At the end of Schiff’s performance, the audience (bless their hearts) remained silent until the very last sound died away and then, as one, stood up, cheering Bach, and the wonderful man who brought this great work alive for us.

After repeated curtain calls, Schiff returned and rewarded us generously, playing (“With the pedal,” he added) the entire Sonata in E Major, Op. 109 by Ludwig van Beethoven. He indicated that it is difficult to really play anything after the Goldberg’s, but thought this would be an appropriate work to play. I think I understood his thinking, that he wanted to play a work that is just as exalted and spiritually uplifting as the Goldberg Variations.

Schiff has, in recent years, been devoting his efforts to performing and recording the Beethoven sonatas. I have not heard his Beethoven interpretation before, but if last night’s performance of the Op. 109 was any indication, I believe his other Beethoven performance would be well worth our attention. It is perhaps no mere coincidence that Op. 109 ends with a set of theme and variations, with the theme returning at the end.

During the long drive home to Vancouver, I was filled with a sense of gratitude, for Bach, and for this humble and soft-spoken artist for bringing us Bach’s work that, in Glenn Gould’s words, “observes neither end nor beginning, music with neither real climax nor real resolution, music which, like Baudelaire’s lovers, ‘rests lightly on the wings of the unchecked wind.’ It has, then unity through intuitive perception, unity born of craft and scrutiny, mellowed by mastery achieved, and revealed to us here, as so rarely in art, in the vision of subconscious design exulting upon a pinnacle of potency.”

After a performance such as last evening’s, the world, with all its problems, does not seem like such a gloomy place after all.