Charles Richard-Hamelin, Canadian Pianist

When Van Cliburn returned to the United States after winning the first Tchaikovsky Piano Competition, he was given a ticker tape parade in New York, as well as an avalanche of publicity. Well, the world has become a very different place since 1958, and we Canadians do things a little more quietly, except when it comes to hockey. When pianist Andre Laplanté came home with the silver medal in the 1978 Tchaikovsky competition, or when Jon Kimura Parker won the Leeds Piano Competition in 1984, the responses had been relatively mute, except within the small circle of classical music lovers. (To be fair, Parker’s win in Leeds was greeted with some jubilation in Vancouver, the artist’s hometown.)

Last year, my Canadian heart again sang with pride when pianist Charles Richard-Hamelin returned to Canada with the silver medal at the 2015 International Chopin Competition in Warsaw. Even with the hundreds of piano competition taking place all over the world, a win at the Chopin – probably one of the most prestigious competitions today - remains the Holy Grail for pianists.

Yesterday, I put down my impressions of the debut CD of Georgijs Osokins. This morning I had a chance to listen to Charles Richard-Hamelin’s CD, also of music by Chopin, made before his triumph in Poland last year (Analekta AN 2 9127). Like Osokins, Hamelin included in his recording Chopin’s Sonata No. 3 in B minor as well as the Polonaise-Fantasie, but Hamelin rounds out his CD with the composer’s Nocturnes, Op. 62.

I started listening first with the two Nocturnes, which is placed at the end of the CD. Right at the outset of the Nocturne, Op. 62, No. 1, I noticed Hamelin’s very emotive sound, one that catches your attention immediately. He plays the opening theme beautifully, but simply, directly, and does not overindulge in rubato. It is not until m. 53 that he allows a little flexibility to the unfolding melody. There is a beautifully intimate pianissimo at the brief passage from m. 62 to the key change at m. 68. Hamelin effectively observes Chopin’s poco piu lento with the descending trills at m. 68. In the coda he evokes a gorgeous sound from his instrument and achieves a magical mood of the sound coming from afar.

As in the previous work, Hamelin plays the opening of the Nocturne, Op. 62, No. 2 simply, allowing the music to build up gradually and naturally. Beginning at m. 36, there is a very effective buildup of tension towards the agitato section at m. 40. He is very cognizant of the fact that Chopin is far from being a “right handed composer”; he makes us aware of the role the left hand plays in the harmonic as well as contrapuntal design of the music. At the return of the theme at m. 58, there is brief but dramatic moment of bleakness in the sound.

I very much like Hamelin’s atmospheric opening of the Polonaise-Fantasie, Op. 61. He allows for a lot of space in this opening, and does not rush the ascending broken chord notes (mm. 1, 2, 7 and 8) after the solemn chords. Unlike Osokins, Hamelin thinks of this work, I sense, more as a Polonaise than a Fantasie. He effectively highlights the dance-like aspect of the work in the left hand Polonaise rhythm at m. 22, and uses it as a rhythmic underpinning as the music unfolds. His timing with the two fermatas at mm. 62 and 63 is impeccable. At m. 66, there was a shift in mood, a surge of energy, achieved by the surging left hand ascending scales. The interplay between the two hands is extremely well done, and again highlights the intricacies of Chopin’s contrapuntal design. Hamelin achieves with his pedaling a beautiful blending of sounds in the return of the opening Polonaise melody with broken chord accompaniment in the left hand (m. 94), and there is an absolutely gorgeous turn of phrase in the right hand at mm. 123 to 124. I agree with his choice of tempo at the poco piu lento at m. 148, and I thought that his voicing of the chords is lovely. At mm. 168 to 179, Hamelin once again draws my attention to the beauty Chopin’s writing for the left hand. He achieves a beautiful blending of sound in the long passage of trills at mm. 200 to 204. With the brief return of the introduction at mm. 214 and 215, he manages to highlight the contrast between the two statements. Overall, I feel that Hamelin’s view of the score is one of epic grandeur rather than one that is more dreamy, or fantastic. Therein lies how Chopin’s works can and will always accommodate an infinite number of approaches.

Hamelin’s approach to the Sonata in B minor, Op. 58 highlights the drama of this large work and clearly demonstrates his awareness of the work’s overall architecture. In the first movement, the arrival of the second theme at m. 41 sounds so logical and natural that we then realize how the pianist must have been allowing the music to build and to develop up to that point. Hamelin’s playing of the brief octave melody at mm. 61 and 62 has a quietly ardent quality to it, and he beautifully plays the two descending statements in the left hand at mm. 131 and 132. During the statement of the 2^nd theme in the recapitulation, there is a sudden moment of intimacy at mm. 158 to 160 that is beguiling.

In the Scherzo, the artist is aiming for more clarity rather than a dizzying blur of sonorities. The notes in the right hand are more clearly etched, but the music never sounds heavy-handed. Hamelin’s awareness of the work’s architecture is being made aware again in how he effectively transitions into the Trio. His buildup towards the end of the Scherzo is simply breathtaking.

The opening of the third movement is played with great dignity, almost in a Beethovenian manner. Hamelin’s playing of the theme is rhythmically tight. I believe that he is trying to let the beauty of the music speak for itself. He achieves the transition from B major to E major (mm. 28 to 29) beautifully. In the return of the main theme at m. 99, Hamelin achieves a rocking motion in the left hand, almost like a Barcarolle rhythm, which gives the melody a different feel to it.

Hamelin manages another incredible buildup of tension in the brief opening of the fourth movement, a portent for things to come. Hamelin highlights the perpetual mobile aspect of the theme, and gives the entire movement a sense of unflagging and unrelenting energy. The playing of this difficult movement is truly epic. In spite of this, Hamelin wisely leaves the fireworks until the end of the work, and really unleashes the powers of his virtuosity only at m. 262. From beginning to end, this is a truly masterful reading of this great late work of Chopin.

Listening to the two CD’s by Georgijs Osokins and Charles Richard-Hamelin, we should be glad to know that in this age of image over musicianship, we still have in our midst young artists who are in search of the truth in music, and seeking the meaning of what lies behind the written notes. To listen to these very different interpretations of Chopin’s late works has been a most rewarding experience, and I find myself being fascinated by these two different viewpoints, as much as I am by Chopin’s design.

Charles Richard-Hamelin makes his Vancouver recital debut on the evening of Sunday, November 6^th at the Vancouver Playhouse, under the auspices of the Vancouver Chopin Society (http://chopinsociety.org/charles-richard-hamelin.html).

Perhaps Mr. Hamelin does not need a ticker tape parade down West Georgia Street, but I hope there will be a large and enthusiastic audience at the concert for this young artist who has made history and brought glory to Canadian culture.

Dénes Várjon

The parade of great pianists performing in Vancouver continues last Friday evening with a recital by the young Hungarian pianist Dénes Várjon, this time under the auspices of the Vancouver Chopin Society.

In Haydn’s Sonata in E minor, Hob XVI:34, the artist showed off his considerable pianistic chops. The finger work in the first and third movement was brilliant. Perhaps because of Várjon’s facility, there was almost a feeling of pushing the music a little too much, and therefore in need of a greater sense of repose.  I also felt that the repeats he observed, especially in the third movement, did not display enough of a variety in sound.

I was very moved by his interpretation of Schumann’s great Fantasie in C Major, Op. 17. In the first movement, the pianist very successfully conveyed the passion, the tension, and the sense of yearning that pervades throughout. The brilliant march in the second movement also came off very successfully, and Várjon managed the frighteningly difficult ending with great panache. In the third movement, there was that sense of repose that I thought eluded him in the Haydn. Most interestingly, he played an earlier version of the Fantasie, where Schumann brings back the quote from Beethoven’s An die ferne geliebte, thus highlighting the cyclical nature of his design for the work. I was grateful to Várjon for introducing us to this version of the great work, although I would personally prefer Schumann’s published ending.

We should also be grateful to our young artist for playing six selections from Janáček’s On an Overgrown Path, a cycle of 15 short pieces. These are wonderfully evocative and effective pieces that pianists would do well to include in their repertoire. Várjon played these pieces with great feeling and managed to bring out the individual character of each work. I was particularly touched by his heartfelt rendition of two of the works - Good Night! and In Tears.

Várjon’s final offering of the evening was, appropriately, a group of Chopin works. I appreciated his pacing in the Ballade No. 2 in F Major, Op. 38. He played the opening section beautifully, and managed to make the chords in the opening section float. I also liked his sense of direction in the opening, and how he kept the forward motion of the music. The dramatic B section as well as the even more dramatic coda - a stumbling block for many pianists - took our breath away. The two Mazurkas (Op. 67, No. 4 and Op. 24, No. 2) were, for me, less successful. I cannot put it any more specifically than to say that the timing, accents and rubato didn’t feel right. Once again, I was reminded that the music of Chopin, especially the more “Polish” side of the composer, can elude even the greatest artist. The pianist’s playing of the Nocturne in B-flat minor, Op. 9, No. 1 was lovely. Várjon merely let the music speak for itself, and became more like an observer rather than an active participant. His playing of the justifiably popular Scherzo No. 2 in B-flat minor, Op. 31, was stunning, even more successful than Murray Perahia’s interpretation when he last played in Vancouver – From the restless opening triplets to the cataclysmic ending, the artist kept us enthralled with his pianism and musicality. There was also a sense of meaning in the many dramatic pauses that occur throughout this music.

Under the urging of an enthusiastic and appreciative audience, the artist rewarded us with an incredibly fleet and light-fingered Andante and Rondo Capriccioso, Op. 14, by Mendelssohn, with beautifully ardent playing of the opening andante.

The incredible lineup of great pianists continues in two weeks with the incomparable Richard Goode in a recital of the music of Bach. How blessed we are in Vancouver, and what an embarrassment of riches, to have performances within a few weeks by Andras Schiff, Dénes Várjon, and Richard Goode – every one a unique artist and musician with something different to say to us about the infinite variety of our musical canon.

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.