A Glorious Finale

I cannot think of a better programme to end the Vancouver Recital Society’s 2014-2015 season than the last three sonatas of Beethoven, especially when the artist is Paul Lewis.

Lewis has, by now, lived with these towering works for a long time, and it showed. From the first, deceptively simple, notes of the Op. 109, to the ethereal ending of the Op. 111, the performances revealed Lewis’ deep love and regard for these works, as well as a command of the overall structure and architecture of these elusive works that comes only with time.

Other than the emotional associations we have toward these works, it is important to remember that by the end of his life, Beethoven was no longer performing as a virtuoso pianist. Indeed, there are many of the early and middle period sonatas that are more technically demanding than these three last sonatas. What he wrote during this last period of his life, be it the last string quartets or the piano sonatas, the Diabelli Variations, or the Op. 119 Bagatelles, he wrote in spite of, and not for, the medium. That said, it of course takes a supreme artist and pianist to overcome the technical hurdles in these works. Lewis’ performance last night succeeded in making me forget that someone was playing the piano, and I can think of no higher compliment.

From the unassuming opening of the Op. 109 sonata, with its rippling broken chords, Paul Lewis was in complete control of all the elements and details of the score, yet without losing sight of the complete picture. In the third movement, with the heavenly theme, travelling through the incredible series of variations, and then back to the main theme, Lewis played as if, from the first chord of the theme, he clearly saw the way back to the main theme without losing his way. When the theme did return, one felt as if one had been traveling on an incredible journey with the artist.

For me, the high point of the first half of the concert was how Lewis built the last movement of the Op. 110 sonata, from its simple, unassuming opening with the few notes of the fugue subject, and slowly, gradually the music soared and soared until it reached the summit, with the triumphant A-flat chord. To my ears, it was the most well thought out interpretation of this difficult movement, yet without sacrificing spontaneity.

Lewis’ playing of the 1^st movement of the Op. 111 sonata was, in a word, sweeping, as if there was not a single moment of self-doubt. I have the feeling that when Beethoven wrote these sonatas, he was already speaking to us from another world. Nowhere is this more evident than in the 2^nd and final movement, where I get the sense that the music is taking us away from physical reality, and that we are travelling to the realm of the purely spiritual. The playing in this movement was simply glorious, especially in the pages of trills in the final pages, and with the theme tottering just on the edge, delicate and fragile. It is, to me, the most incredible closing in all of music. Lewis succeeded in conveying the otherworldly beauty of this music. At the end of the performance, I felt that it would almost have been rude to applaud.

All in all, an auspicious end to what had been a great season of live music. Now that Paul Lewis had shared with us so much of his thoughts on Beethoven, perhaps Leila Getz would see to it that he returns with further thoughts on the music of Franz Schubert, another composer that has been occupying the time and thoughts of Paul Lewis.

First Encounter

First encounters are often sweet. My first encounter this afternoon with Paul Lewis and the Vertavo String Quartet was delicious. I had heard a great deal about pianist Paul Lewis, since he had previously graced our stages on many occasions, but this was my first experience hearing him. Lewis appeared in Vancouver today in a programme of chamber music with the young Vertavo String Quartet, formed in Norway in 1984. There is a special connection between Paul Lewis and the quartet, as he is married to cellist Bjørg Lewis of the ensemble.

The programme began with Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 12 in A Major, K. 414, in the composer’s own arrangement for string quartet and piano. Originally scored for orchestra, with the usual complement of strings, with two oboes and two horns, Mozart probably arranged the work for a smaller performing force to make the score more marketable. Composers, from Mozart to Chopin to Debussy, often rescore their works for smaller ensembles to make performances of their works easier in terms of “manpower” required.

Even with the placement of the piano behind the quartet, the music still points to the piano as a solo instrument, rather than part of the sound picture in a piano quintet. Lewis’s playing of Mozart is dainty or pretty, but rather virile, bold, and colourful, without being heavy-handed. The Vertavo provided a beautiful ensemble support for the soloist, and produced a performance that started the concert in a sunny mood.

The quartet alone then gave us an incredible performance of Bela Bartok’s late masterpiece, the String Quartet no. 6. Written in four movements, each movement begins with a short slow section marked mesto (sad). The pervading sadness that permeates the music is a reflection of the composer’s mood at the time, with the death of his mother, his own failing health, and the outbreak of World War II. In the first movement, Berit Cardas’s magnificent and deeply felt playing of the mournful solo opening particularly moved me. As much as I enjoyed hearing the quartet as a whole, Cardas’s was the sound that remained in my ears long after the performance was over. In the second movement, Bjørg Lewis’s playing of the solo that opens the movement was also memorable. From the first note to last, the performance and ensemble were flawless. The playing of the third movement, the violent, almost savage Burletta, was simply stunning. The music of the fourth movement is beautiful, elegiac and reflective, and the quartet delivered all those qualities in their performance. At the end, the music simply dies away, like the last soft breath of a dying man.

The mood of the concert turned sunny again after the interval, with a delightful performance of Antonin Dvorak’s Piano Quintet in A Major, Op. 81, B. 155.  In the Mozart concerto that opened the concert, the audience’s attention was always directed toward the soloist. In the Dvorak, the piano sound is melted into and became part of the ensemble’s welter of sound. Paul and Bjørg Lewis played the opening of the first movement, one of the composer’s most enchanting melodies, simply exquisitely.  When first violinist Øyvor Volle took up the same melody, her sound matched the beauty of Lewis’s cello solo. I thought that Paul Lewis played the main theme of the second movement a little too aggressively, thus robbing it a little of its melancholic charm. That really is my only minor quibble of the entire performance. The musicians delivered the scherzo movement, marked furiant, with vigour, but also with a Mendelssohnian lightness that was quite infectious. The performance of the final movement was one of unrelenting energy, like a molto perpetuo, but retaining the lightness that the music also calls for.

I was grateful finally to have heard Paul Lewis in Vancouver, and encountering the Vertavo String Quartet. Mr. Lewis will be performing again later on this season, and I am very much looking forward to that. But I also hope that there will be many more opportunities for Vancouver to hear the Vertavo Quartet on our stages.