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.

Young Orchestra

Whenever I feel gloomy about the state of the world, a sure antidote is to hear young musicians play great music. Such was the case last Saturday evening, when this year’s University of British Columbia Symphony Orchestra made its debut concert under music director Jonathan Girard.  It was an exciting evening of great music played with great enthusiasm and polish.

The concert, featuring the music of Maurice Ravel and Igor Stravinsky, opened with Ravel’s beautiful Pavane pour une Infante Défunte. Ravel claimed to have chosen the title purely for its alliterative appeal – that there was no dead princess.

Although beautifully played (especially the haunting theme played by the French horn), I felt that the performance laced a sense of forward motion, perhaps as a result of the tempo chosen by the conductor. We should probably remember Ravel’s comment to Charles Oulmont, who played the Pavane for the composer too slowly: “Watch out, little one, it’s not a Pavane défunte pour une infant”, said the amused composer – it is not the Pavane that is dead!

Also on the programme was the same composer’s Ma mère l’oye, or Mother Goose. Both the Pavane and Ma mère l’oye exist in versions for orchestra and piano, but Ravel’s mastery as a composer was such that both works sound equally idiomatic and beautiful in both guises. Mr. Girard led the young musicians in a performance of great panache, combining the delicacy and sparkle the work demands.

Of greatest interest in the evening concert was perhaps the sole work after intermission – Igor Stravinsky’s revolutionary Le Sacre du primtemps (The Rite of Spring). The work is celebrating its 100^th birthday this year, and orchestras all over the world are performing the piece to mark the occasion. To our 21^st century ear, accustomed to far greater dissonances and disorder in the music of the last century, Stravinsky’s watershed work sound positively tame today. This does not, however, take away any of the work’s originality and greatness. It is a piece that poses superhuman challenge to both individual players as well as the orchestra as an ensemble. It was indeed brave of Mr. Girard to have programmed the work in the first concert of year, with a new ensemble of relatively inexperienced young musicians.

As soon as the performance began with its now-famous bassoon solo, all my worries faded away. Mr. Girard, who clearly has a rapport with the young musicians, led them through this music with great confidence, at times almost reveling in the sound made by his players. There was never a moment that one worries about whether the players would “make it” through the many minefields scattered throughout the complex score.

During the well-deserved ovation following the performance, Mr. Girard raised the score in front of the audience, drawing our attention to this miraculous work and the genius that created it.

It was very touching to watch the young musicians as they played this music, with total dedication and commitment. For me, the concert certainly marks the beginning of a very good year for the UBC Symphony Orchestra.

I thank the young musicians for the hard work and their dedication, and eagerly await future performances by this talented ensemble.

Samson François

In recent years, record companies have been delving into their catalogues and issuing comprehensive editions of their artists’ recordings. Most extravagant among some of these releases has been Sony Music’s 144 CD’s Arthur Rubinstein Complete Album Collection (one day I will break my piggy bank to buy this). On a smaller scale, EMI have been releasing boxed sets of CD’s from their wonderful catalogue of great instrumentalists – Alfred Cortot, Yehudi Menuhin, Jacqueline du Pre, to name just a few. Recently a friend gave me a set of 8 CD’s, also from EMI, titled Les introuvables de Samson François. Listening to these CD’s - a real treasure trove of great performances - the last few weeks has given me immense pleasure, and I have been completely bowed over by Mr. François’ pianism and artistry.

Although much loved in his native France, Samson François (1924 – 1970) never really became a household word among music lovers in Germany, England, or North America. Before listening to this set of recordings, I had only known his legendary recording of the two Ravel concerti as well as the composer’s Gaspard de la nuit. I don’t know why I never bothered to look into his playing of works by other composers.

This present set of recordings presents a generous helping from the pianist’s discography, and gives music lovers a real taste of the playing of Samson François – concerti of Chopin, Schumann, Liszt, and Prokofiev, and solo works of Prokofiev, Hindemith, Schumann, Bach, Frank, Mozart, Mendelssohn, Bartok, and Fauré, as well as chamber works of Fauré and Frank. A pleasant surprise is part of a CD devoted to François’ own compositions. I believe that EMI has issued another set of recordings of the pianist’s playing of Chopin.

I have heard it said that today’s piano playing is either anonymous or idiosyncratic. Samson François’ playing, original as they were, fits into neither of these descriptions. I would have to say that the playing really is in a class of its own. In the concerto recordings, for example, I was particularly moved by his playing of the two Chopin concerti. I was surprised to learn that the pianist had recorded Prokofiev’s 3^rd as well as 5^th concerti. In his performance of Prokofiev’s 3^rd piano concerto, François brought out the lyricism of the music, without sacrificing any of its excitement. In the first movement, he took the initial scale runs at a tempo slower than many of today’s young keyboard titans, but allowed the music to gradually build to a climax. I would not want to live without Sviatoslav Richter’s scintillating account of the composer’s 5^th piano concerto, but François’ playing of this relatively neglected work is certainly on the same level, and just as exciting, as that of the great Soviet pianist. And I can think of no greater compliment than to say that François’ performances of the composer’s 7^th piano sonata, as well as the steely Toccata, Op. 11, could stand alongside performances by Vladimir Horowitz or Glenn Gould.

Perhaps Mr. François’ affinity for Prokofiev also rubbed off in his efforts as a composer. For me, it was interesting to hear in François’ own compositions, including a piano concerto, showing more than a passing influence from the Soviet composer.

This wonderful set of CD’s also contains a generous helping of the works of Robert Schumann, including an impregnable account of the rarely played, finger-breaking Toccata, Op. 7. The pianist’s performance of Papillons, Étude symphoniques, Carnaval, and Kinderszenen, shows him to have been a great Schumann player. I was particularly taken with conveying the spirit of the dance in Papillons as well as in parts of Carnaval. The word “ardent” keeps coming to mind when hearing François’ playing of Schumann.

Not surprisingly, Samson François’ playing of the chamber and solo works of Frank and Fauré were impeccably done, “to the manor born”, so to speak. His playing of Fauré had all the flexibility and subtlety that the works call for, qualities that elude many great musicians. His playing of Mendelssohn’s Andante and rondo capriccioso, as well as three of the Songs Without Words, had all of the elfin lightness that the works require. In two of Mozart’s solo piano works - Variations on “Ah! Vous dirai-je Maman” and the Sonata in E-flat Major, K. 282 - the playing was both stylish and beautiful. Unlike many pianists of his generation, François’ was not afraid to employ a large palate of colours in his playing of the composer’s music.

For me, the highlight of the entire set, the real find, had to be François’ performance of Scriabin’s Sonata No. 3 in F-sharp minor. The playing here was, for lack of a better description, simply stunning; extremely virtuosic, but without sacrificing the beauty of the sound. The pianist simply squeezed every ounce of expressiveness out of this hyper-emotional music, but remaining within the realm of good taste. In fact, what struck me listening in to all these recordings was how inspired and expressive the playing was. I find in these studio recordings the same excitement and spontaneity one usually only hears in live performances.

EMI has done a real service here in issuing these incredible recordings. Samson François was certainly not an “objective” pianist, pianists (mostly from the 20^th century) who would give no more and no less of what the composer had written. No, like his fellow countryman, Alfred Cortot, Samson François was an artist who was not afraid to read between and beyond the printed notes to discover and rediscover new meanings in the music.

In an age when the image (and often the wardrobe) of the musician looms larger than the message he or she has to deliver, the playing of Samson François reminds us of an age when being an artist, a musician, was not a “career” (a word that seems incongruous with art and music) but a calling.

                                                                                                             

Is Youtube Destroying Music?

Pianist Krystian Zimmerman stopped in the middle of a performance in Essen, Germany, when he spotted a member of the audience filming him using a mobile phone. When he later returned to the stage, he told the audience that the posting of performances on Youtube is destroying music, that it is robbing musicians of recording projects and contracts, because something “has already been on Youtube.”

Ever since the advent of tape recorders, video cameras, and now mobile phones with high quality recording ability, musicians have had to contend with their performances being recorded without their permission and knowledge. In concert programmes, there is inevitably the statement telling members of the audience that recording and photography of the performance is strictly forbidden. Today, smart phones are so small that anybody can easily record a live performance without anyone being any the wiser.

But to record a live performance without permission is simply intellectual theft.

With the advent of the Internet, we have indeed opened a Pandora’s box when it comes to the invasion of privacy as well as the violation of intellectual property. Today, Youtube and Facebook have made the computer a part of everyday life, rather than a tool for research. On Youtube, we find anything from movie trailers to full-length movies, from cooking demonstrations to instructions on how to fix a leaking sink, from parents of little children taping them playing their first pieces on the piano (the rationale of anyone posting anything of one’s own children in such a public forum is beyond my understanding) to concerts, interviews with and documentaries on great artists.

I have been as guilty as anyone in watching musical performances on Youtube, performances that I would otherwise not have had an opportunity to enjoy. To be able to, with the click of a mouse, access great performances by Karajan, Bernstein, Rubinstein, Horowitz, Gould, Klemperer, Walter, just to name a few, is indeed difficult to resist.

As a musician, I am very much aware of respecting intellectual property. On principle, I buy original CD’s and DVD’s, and I buy scores of pieces I want to play, instead of photocopying them from a borrowed copy. However, Mr. Zimmerman’s recent outburst has reminded me that watching posted videos on Youtube can be, in a way, robbing artists and musicians of their livelihood. A lot of materials posted on Youtube are meant for free public consumption, but a lot of it is not.

To post a musician’s newest CD on Youtube is, essentially, robbing what the artist should rightfully be earning.

We have lived with the Internet being part of our lives for more than a couple of decades now. However, I am sure that laws governing what can or cannot be posted on the web still leave a lot of grey areas. Musicians should not have to be in a position to have to police the audience for inappropriate behavior.

Artists, computer experts, and lawmakers need to have a serious dialogue in coming up with ways to regulate the availability of materials on the Internet. With the sophistication of computers and the large number of people who are computer-savvy, this might seem like an insurmountable task.

But we should and must begin the process of trying to protect those who bring beauty and enjoyment to us, and not to exploit the fruits of their labour.

Orchestra of Exiles

There are times when, living in Vancouver, I feel that we, in spite of the natural beauty, are culturally the backwater of North America. The film Orchestra of Exiles, the story of the formation of the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra, has been making the rounds of theatres in the United States, but never came to Vancouver. I was therefore happy that this wonderful film had just been released on DVD. Watching the film, I was moved by this incredible story of compassion, bravery, vision, and perseverance, the effort of one man, who founded this now world class orchestra.

Bronislaw Huberman was a master violinist, beloved by audiences in major musical centres in Europe and the United States. In 1929, he visited and concertized for the first time in Palestine, and was moved by the frontier spirit of the people living there at the time. When Adolf Hitler came to power in Germany in the 1930’s, and began firing Jewish musicians from major orchestras, Huberman took a public stand and refused an offer – artistically rewarding and financially lucrative, to be sure - from conductor Wilhelm Furtwängler to appear with the Berlin Philharmonic, the premiere German orchestra then as it is now. Seeing the days that Jewish people could safely live in German were numbered, Huberman had a dream of forming a world class symphony orchestra in Palestine, to give a musical and physical home to the many accomplished musicians displaced by the Nazi regime

Putting his career on hold, and going against incredible political and financial odds, Huberman travelled throughout Europe and auditioned players for “his” orchestra. He foresaw that Hitler’s ambitions would not be restricted to Germany, and therefore did not limit his activities just within Germany. Because of all the travelling and pressure, there were times when he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, not to mention financial ruin. For musicians who were not good enough to become a part of his orchestra, he knew that they would have to remain in Europe, where their lives would be very much in peril. He even tried to extend assistance not only to the musicians who had been chosen, but to their immediate and, sometimes, extended families, eventually saving about 1000 Jews from certain death.

Finally, in 1936, the Palestine Symphony Orchestra was formed, with its first series of concerts conducted by Arturo Toscanini, probably the most famous conductor of the time, and a firm anti-fascist who, like Huberman, had refused to perform in Germany and Austria. Huberman himself refused to appear as soloist with the orchestra, insisting that the stage being devoted entirely to showcasing his orchestra. Because of his efforts, the Israel Philharmonic - the name of the orchestra since the foundation of the State of Israel in 1948 - is now one of the world’s great orchestras.

Part documentary and part dramatisation, Orchestra of Exiles tells the story of the birth of this great orchestra. The orchestra has been referred to as an “orchestra of concertmasters”, since many orchestra members were concertmasters and section leaders in orchestras in Germany, Austria, and throughout Europe. Director Josh Aronson effectively combined re-enactments of Huberman’s life, episodes from Huberman’s search for musicians, and the orchestra’s initial rehearsals with Toscanini, with actual archival film footages from the orchestra’s history. There are interviews with past and present members of the orchestra, family members who were helped by Huberman, violinists Joshua Bell (who now owns and plays Huberman’s violin), Ivry Gitlis, Itzhak Perlman, and Pinchas Zukerman, and Zubin Mehta, the Israel Philharmonic current Music Director.

I was completely engrossed, captivated, and moved by this inspiring story, of how one man faced incredible odds, sacrificed his own comfort and well-being, to create something lasting, something that now benefits the entire world. Hurberman insisted that musicians of the Palestine Symphony Orchestra also taught, with the result now that many musicians of the Israel Philharmonic are students - in many cases children and grandchildren - of the original musicians. And he saved an important part of the European musical tradition.

Orchestra of Exiles is not - in the words of a review I read - “just another Holocaust story”. It is not just another story about a famous musician. It is a story of the human spirit, of how one man can take a public stand against overwhelming odds, and against great evil. It is a story that should be known not just by violinists or musicians, but by anyone with an interest in history – not just history of the Jewish people, but of all humanity.

Symphonic Masterpieces

With the ready availability of music today, it is easy to forget what a joy and privilege it is to attend a live musical performance, with great musicians playing great music, when all the elements came together for an exhilarating and uplifting artistic experience.

It was indeed such an evening in Vancouver this past Saturday, with the return of conductor Kazuyoshi Akiyama and pianist Ingrid Fliter, in a rich and varied programme of Berlioz’s Le corsaire overture, Mendelssohn’s Piano Concerto No. 1, Bartok’s Divertimento for Strings, and Richard Strauss’ great tone poem, Till Eulenspiegel’s Merry Pranks.

Le corsaire was one of Berlioz’s many “concert overtures”, in reality a precursor to the tone poems that Franz Liszt and Richard Strauss were to compose later. Less popular than the composer’s Le carnival romain and Béatrice et Bénédict (this one a “real” overture to an opera), but no less brilliant, the work amply demonstrates Berlioz’s mastery as an orchestrator. Akiyama handled the tricky opening with great aplomb, from the rapid exchange between the very exposed runs in the strings and rhythmically intricate woodwind figures, to the beautiful slow middle section, and to the energetic finale. As if to welcome back this beloved former music director, the orchestra responded with a performance filled with nuance and musicality.

Of Felix Mendelssohn’s two piano concerti, the first one is probably the more extroverted one. Of the last generation of pianists, it was probably most famously and often played by Rudolf Serkin, although many of the current generation of pianists have taken its youthful exuberance to heart. Ingrid Fliter is no stranger to Vancouver audiences, having appeared many times as a recitalist and once before (I think) with the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra. In the outer movements, Ms. Fliter once again demonstrated her considerable ability at the keyboard, and played the solo part with all the brilliance and glitter, but also lightness, that it demands. She played the slow movement, the emotional core of the work, with a kind of hushed eloquence as well as an incredible musicality. Once again, I am reminded of why she remains, for me, one of the most interesting of the very crowded field of young artists playing today.

Without the efforts of conductor Paul Sacher, who originally commissioned Bartok’s Divertimento for Strings, the musical world would have been deprived of some of the greatest orchestral works written by 20^th century composers. Unlike Bartok’s seminal work, the Music for Strings, Percussion and Celesta (also a Sacher commission), his Divertimento for Strings, which opens the second half of the concert, sounds almost light-hearted and uplifting. The strings of the Vancouver Symphony did themselves proud in this very difficult work, from the constantly shifting rhythms in the first and third movement, to the dark colours and restless mood of the middle movement. There was some wonderful solo playing by the section leaders of the string section.

When Akiyama was music director of the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra, Strauss’ Till Eulenspiegel was a work that he conducted often. Like Berlioz, Strauss’ evocation of the misadventures and eventual demise of this legendary figure, really shows his understanding and mastery of the art of orchestration. Like a master storyteller, Akiyama expertly guided the orchestra through Strauss’ thematic transformation of both the introductory theme and Till’s leitmotif, represented by the French horn – the technical difficulty of this French horn motif reminds us that Strauss’s father was one of the premier orchestral horn players in Europe. Unlike some conductors, Akiyama does not “milk” the music for all its worth, exaggerating the wittiness or the elements of gemülichkeit in the score, but letting the music breathe and unfold naturally. The message obviously got through, since I could hear members of the audience chuckling at Till’s many antics during the performance. At the end of the performance, the smiles on the faces of the orchestral players almost matched the evident delight of the audience.

Among the many congratulatory telegrams and messages read at the end of Maestro Akiyama’s farewell concert as music director of the Vancouver Symphony, the one I remember was written by pianist Claudio Arrau, who called Akiyama “one of the elect”, no small compliment coming from an artist who had played with some of the great conductors of the 20^th century.

Throughout the evening, I found myself being mesmerized by Mr. Akiyama’s expressive hands, with his every gesture guiding the musicians along, and shaping the musical phrases with great subtlety and souplesse. I imagine that no orchestral musician will have trouble understanding the intention and message of his baton.

I agree with Nietzsche’s dictum that “Without music, life would be a mistake.” Indeed, we must always be reminded that great music is a privilege, especially in our age when music can be had with the push of a button. I am grateful that Mr. Akiyama has maintained his association with Vancouver, and I hope that both he and Ms. Fliter will continue to grace our stages with their presence and talents. With musicians like them, we can be sure that the art of music will always be in good hands.

Simon Trpčeski

After their presentation of the Doric String Quartet last Sunday, the Vancouver Recital Society brought to the stage of the Chan Centre for the Performing Arts the young Macedonian pianist Simon Trpčeski.

I had first heard Mr. Trpčeski years ago, when he played Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No. 1 with the Hong Kong Philharmonic Orchestra. It was a hot and humid July evening, as I remember it, and the hall’s air conditioning broke down the day of the performance. But that did not prevent the pianist from giving a sizzling – pun quite intended – performance of the old warhorse. Since that time, Trpčeski has been going from strength to strength, playing with the most prestigious orchestras and in major music centres the world over.
Last night, in an unseasonably cold and wet evening in Vancouver, he opened his recital with Franz Schubert charming 16 German Dances, D. 783. The relative lack of major technical hurdles in these miniatures belies the depth behind the music, and the difficulty in bringing them across with conviction. As with the waltzes and mazurkas of Chopin, these Schubert dances are really dances for the soul. Trpčeski brought out the character and lilt in each dance in his utterly musical playing, mustering all the gemütlichkeit inherent in every note of this music.
In complete contrast, Trpčeski rounded out the first half of his programme with the same composer’s Fantasie in C Major, D. 760, more popularly known as the Wanderer Fantasy. If the German Dances represent the intimate face of Schubert’s music, the Wanderer Fantasy surely reveals the virtuosic, the Lisztian, even the demonic side. Technically probably the most difficult of Schubert’s solo pianistic output, the work calls for both strength and delicacy, both brains and brawn. Trpčeski possesses both qualities in abundance.

I was surprised that he almost underplayed the dramatic opening chords, but then I realized that he was pacing the work, and saving the “fireworks” for later on. The transition from the opening of the work to the sombre and dark slow Adagio was impeccably handled, as was the transition between the Presto and the final Allegro. I find his playing of the beginning of the final fugue particularly arresting. The opening chords of the great Adagio was played magnificently – he voiced the chords to give them the darkest possible tone colours - as was the rest of the movement, and again reminded me of Arthur Rubinstein’s statement, that Schubert was the only composer that could stare directly at death.The second half of Trpčeski’s recital was devoted to the music of Franz Liszt, beginning with the composer’s transcription of J. S. Bach’s Prelude and Fugue in A Minor, BWV 543, originally written for the organ. Last season, we had the incredible recital by Andras Schiff where he played Book One of Bach’s Well Tempered Clavier, so it was particularly fascinating to hear Bach through the 19^th century eyes of Franz Liszt. This was thoroughly romantic Bach, exploiting, in the best sense of the word, all the resources of the piano. A master transcriber, Liszt was able to evoke the sound of the organ on the piano, and what a sound it was under the hands of Trpčeski!
Trpčeski followed with three of Liszt’s Soirées de Vienne, Valses-Caprices d’aprés Schubert, S. 427. Taking off from the various dances for piano that Schubert wrote, including three from the set of dances we heard at the beginning of the evening, Liszt wrote miniature tone poems for the piano using these dance themes. Trpčeski can create a beguiling sound on the piano, and this sound suited these pieces perfectly. At the end of the last piece of the set (No. 6 in A Minor, the same piece played by Vladimir Horowitz in his now legendary Moscow recital), the audience chuckled with delight before rewarding the pianist with warm applause. It is quite telling to realize that Schubert’s relative modest little dances for keyboard should serve as raw material for Liszt, as well as for Maurice Ravel in the 20^th century in his masterpiece, the Valses nobles et sentimentales.
The final piece on the programme – the Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 in C-sharp Minor – is so famous that it has been played by pianists from Liberace and Victor Borge on one end to Horowitz on the other end of the pianistic spectrum, and almost everyone in between. Trpčeski certainly played the famous work with all the glitter and excitement it calls for, but never losing sight of bringing across the character inherent in each unique section. Never was beauty and depth of sound sacrificed for surface excitement, and never had the gypsy influence on this music been made clearer than in last night’s performance.

After thunderous applause and a well-deserved ovation, Trpčeski rewarded the audience with three encores – Schubert Moment Musical in F Minor, Chopin’s Prelude in D Minor, the last of his set of twenty-four, and Schubert’s beautiful Ständchen, as transcribed by Liszt. Once again, every one of these works was played as it should be. I was particularly moved by the quiet eloquence that Trpčeski afforded the Schubert / Liszt Ständchen. For me, that final piece captured the mood of the entire evening, and sent the audience home elevated by the beauty of the music played.
I have now heard Simon Trpčeski with orchestra and as a recitalist. Next season, he will once again grace the Vancouver stage with his presence, in a chamber music recital with cellist Daniel Müller-Schott. Doubtless this will give us another opportunity to enjoy another facet of the talents of this young artist.