An Unexpected Debut

It is easy to forget that musicians, like the rest of us, labour under vicissitudes of life such as illness or fatigue. When pianist Nelson Friere cancelled his North American tour on the advice of his physician, the Vancouver Chopin Society scrambled to find a suitable replacement for him. They, and we, the concert audience, were extremely fortunate to have been able to secure the services of Georgijs Osokins, a young Latvian pianist who created quite a stir at the 2015 International Chopin Competition in Warsaw.

In my thirty plus years of concert attendance in the wilds of Vancouver, I could count perhaps a handful of concerts where a young artist created an overwhelming first impression. After last evening’s performance, I am happy to add Mr. Osokins to that list.

Osokins began his performance with the very intimate Sonata in D minor, L. 108, by Domenico Scarlatti. With the first notes, I was immediately captivated by his crystalline sound, the range of colours, and the spaciousness of his playing. This young artist dared to take the time to allow the music to emerge, never was there a sense of anything forced or artificial. While his playing was filled with personality, there was always a feeling of naturalness in his music making. The audience must have felt it too, because there was no applause at the end to break the spell of the music, allowing him to launch immediately into his next piece.

It is perhaps a curious coincidence that Beethoven’s Sonata in A-flat major, Op. 110, had been part of at least half a dozen recitals in the last couple of seasons. Osokins’ interpretation was noteworthy, and could be counted as one of the most memorable. With the quiet opening chords of this great work, he immediately conjured up a reverential atmosphere that set the tone for the entire performance. His playing of that opening, with the sublime melody that emerges at m. 5, was richly detailed and intensely musical. I liked the clarity he achieved with his lightly pedaled and fleet fingered playing of the broken chord passage (m. 12 to 19). His tempo relationship between the first and second movement was, to me, most logical. He voiced the chords beautifully in the beginning of the second movement, and his timing of the left hand off beat notes in the middle section (m. 40 to 95) was impeccable, highlighting the quirky humour of the composer’s late works.

Osokins really got into and brought out the emotional core of the Adagio ma non troppo movement, no small achievement for a young artist. Once again, the reverential atmosphere returned with even greater intensity. Beethoven must have thought a great deal about this movement since, within a mere 26 measures, he lavished the music with more than a dozen tempo and interpretative markings. Osokins really conveyed through his playing the unbearable inner sorrow of the Arioso dolente theme (m. 9). In the concluding fuga, this artist seemed to be able to allow the music to emerge in layers, as if he was peeling off one layer of sound to reveal another. The clarity of lines he was able to achieve within this complex fugue reminded me of the playing of Glenn Gould. In this age when every young deemed himself or herself worthy of playing late Beethoven, it is not easy to find an interpretation that gives new meaning to this music, but he did on Thursday evening. Osokins made me feel that he was guiding us through an incredible journey of sound, and succeeded in letting us hear this familiar music with freshness and incredible musicality.

The intimacy of the recital’s first half continued with Sergei Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in G major, Op. 32, No. 5. In conversation with Mr. Osokins the day after his recital, I discovered that Rachmaninoff is this young man’s pianistic hero. His playing of this prelude certainly showed the extent of his affection for the composer’s music as well. He played the melody with a gorgeous liquid sound, and he somehow made the music float into our ears. The timing of the return to the main theme at m. 28 was impeccable, and he infused this return of the opening theme with even greater beauty and meaning.

Before the interval, Osokins concluded with Alexander Scriabin’s Sonata No. 9, Op. 68, “Black Mass”. Once again, it was a masterful performance of this complex score, and he brought out the kaleidoscopic range of sound colours called for by the composer, as well as the sinister atmosphere that pervades throughout.

From the little bit that I read about Georgijs Osokins, he was deemed too much of a revolutionary to have won the top prizes at the Chopin competition. Yet, throughout the evening, I never once felt that his interpretations were in any way idiosyncratic. Original and full of personality, to be sure, but never did I feel that he was trying to play differently for the sake of being different. His playing of the Chopin’s magnificent Barcarolle, Op. 60, is a case in point. It was a performance that was richly varied in terms of texture and articulation. And the rower of this boat allowed himself to be carried by the waves of the water, and the music ebbed and flowed along with it. In his Chopin playing, Osokins highlighted for me the beauty of his writing for the left hand. I noticed this particularly in the brief passage beginning at m. 78 that leads up to the double trill at m. 84, as well as the left hand chords leading up to the end of the work at m. 113 to 114. Overall, it was an interpretation that was spacious, yet with a keen sense of direction as well as a strong sense of the rhythm.

With Chopin’s music, it is all too easy to be reveling in the beautiful sound world, and losing track of the structural integrity of the work’s design. In Osokins’ Chopin playing last night, I felt that in spite of the beauty of the music, the sense of architecture, of logic, was never lost.

This was especially apparent in Osokins’ masterful interpretation of Chopin’s Sonata No. 3 in B minor, Op. 58. In his playing of the sprawling first movement, there was clarity of texture and a palpable sense of an awareness of the structure of the music. As I said earlier, he never allowed the beauty of the music to overshadow its logic. His playing of the scherzo was truly breathtaking, with a beguiling lightness of touch, and a clear display of his awesome pianistic ability. The largo movement was infused with a quiet dignity and a mesmerizing beauty of sound. I felt that the E major section (m. 29) had a special glow to it, almost as if a bright light was shining upon a beautiful diamond. Osokins’ stunning playing of the final movement had a relentless quality to the music, partly achieved by his sense of rhythm in the left hand. From the opening octaves to the build-up toward the triumphant ending, there was never any doubt in my mind that I was witnessing an amazing musical mind at work here.

Under the enthusiastic urging of the audience, Osokins launched into one of two encores, the work that most people associate with Chopin – the Polonaise in A-flat major, Op. 53. There was a real sense of drive in his interpretation of this justifiably famous work, but balanced by a lightness and a real feeling for the spirit of the dance. In the famous octave B section, Osokins did not, like many other young keyboard demons, get carried away with excessive speed, but managed to convey a real sense of mounting excitement. It is not how I think of the work, but his viewpoint of this iconic work was both valid and interesting.

The artist once again demonstrated his understanding of and affinity for the Rachmaninoff idiom in his second encore, the Prelude in G-sharp minor, Op. 32, No. 12. Right from the shimmering right hand broken chords at the beginning, Osokins revealed to us the subtle beauty of this oft-played work. In the return of the theme, now in open chords, at m. 35, there was an even greater feeling of bleakness in his playing. With the ascending right hand notes, where the music floats away into nothingness, we came to the end of an unforgettable musical journey.

In conversation with Mr. Osokins, I find him to be a young man with definite ideas about music as well as what it is to be a musician, and artist. He has a deep knowledge of the piano literature as well as our heritage of great pianists from the past. He hails from a family of pianists, and told me that he literally grew up “under the piano”, listening to his father’s playing. His brother is also a pianist who has distinguished himself in international competitions, and is currently living in London. We also spoke of his experiences in the 2015 Chopin Competition in Warsaw, and the challenges and intense pressure he faced during those weeks. During that time, he developed a rapport and friendship with Canadian pianist Charles Richard-Hamelin, silver medalist in the competition, who will be playing in Vancouver this coming November.

I asked him if he sometimes feel lonely when he is touring. He said that he loves to travel and to visit new places, and does not mind being alone, since it gives him time to think. The distinguished pianist and teacher Gary Graffman said that he found it strange when someone tells him that he or she wants to become a concert pianist. He said that one can study to become a pianist, or a musician, but to be a concert pianist entails being asked to give concerts. If Thursday night’s concert was any indication, he should be well on his way to becoming a “concert pianist”.

As much as I would have loved to have heard Mr. Freire, we can now claimed that we were at the Canadian debut of Georgijs Osokins. On top of his limitless pianistic ability, Mr. Osokins has a fertile musical mind that lets him make anything he plays at least interesting and worth hearing. I think we have not heard the last of Mr. Osokins, and I will be watching his continuing musical development with intense interest.

Symphonic Masterworks

The Vancouver Symphony Orchestra welcomed back Maestro Kazuyoshi Akiyama, its Conductor Laureate, in a concert celebrating our Central European roots in music.

The evening began with the Overture to Mozart’s Don Giovanni, K. 527. I had the good fortune last summer to attend a performance of Don Giovanni at Prague’s Estates Theatre, where the opera premiered. It was amazing that the orchestra for that performance was made up of only about 50 to 60 musicians, but in that acoustically ideal hall in Prague, Mozart’s music never sounded bigger or more dramatic.

That said, Akiyama’s reading of the famous overture had much to offer, from its dark and somber opening to the brisk and charming ending. Wanting to watch the Maestro working from close up, I had asked for seats on Row 3 of the hall. Under Akiyama’s hands, the music took on a three-dimensional quality, and orchestra played with great subtlety, elan and style.

Violinist Isabelle Faust joined the orchestra in a scintillating performance of Bartok’s Violin Concert No. 2. I had heard Ms. Faust before in a recital of Beethoven violin sonatas, and it was good to have had an opportunity to hear her as a concerto soloist. In this concerto, Bartok really exploited (in the best sense of the word) every facet of the violin’s possibility, from the almost savagely wild, to the most gentle and cantabile playing. Faust is a master violinist, in control of every aspect of her playing, from the rhapsodic opening of the first movement, to the lyrical middle movement, to the fireworks of the final movement. What was equally satisfying was Akiyama’s reading of the score, conjuring a lush orchestral fabric through which the solo violin was able to weave and made the performance complete. It was truly a collaborative effort between soloist, orchestra and conductor.

Although not as immediately accessible as the famous New World Symphony, or as charming and tuneful as the eighth symphony, Antonín Dvořák’s Symphony No. 7 in D minor, Op. 70 is, from a standpoint of musical craftsmanship, a superior work to its better-known siblings. According to Zubin Mehta, it is one of the more difficult works in the orchestral repertoire. Akiyama’s reading of this symphony was astonishing, and had a sense of totality and complete control from first note to last. In the rather Brahmsian 1^st movement, I had rarely heard the VSO strings sound so lush and rich. The orchestral playing was especially beautiful in the solemn and tranquil second movement. The rhythmically tricky third movement was handled with panache by the orchestra, and in the dramatic final movement, with its blazingly triumphant ending, the orchestra truly sounded like the great ensemble that it is.

Attending a concert by Maestro Akiyama is like witnessing a lesson in pure musicianship.

In the last decade or more, every visit by this remarkable musician in has resulted in memorable performances. I was saddened to read that we won’t have him in our midst next season. I hope that the management of the orchestra would get their act together and book him for many appearances in the orchestra’s coming seasons.

Last Evening of the Schubertiade

“The art of music here entombed a rich possession, but even far fairer hopes. Franz Schubert lies here.”

Thus wrote poet Grillparzer, words that are on the composer’s grave. Beautiful, yes, but hardly fair, I think.

Even fairer hopes? What was Grillparzer expecting? A composer who wrote over 600 songs, piano sonatas, dances and other shorter piano works, other instrumental sonatas, 9 symphonies, endless chamber music, and even a few operas, all these within a life that spanned 31 years. What “fairer hopes” was he hoping for?

What a week it had been! We were privileged to have heard some of the incredible music Schubert wrote within about a year, the final year of his life.

The final concert of the Vancouver Recital Society’s Schubertiade ended last evening with pianist Jonathan Biss and baritone Randall Scarlata. The concert began with the composer’s Sonata in A major, D. 959, arguably one of the most difficult of all the sonatas, technically. Biss’ playing of the first movement reminded me of Rudolf Serkin, that high priest of German classicism. It was not so much a performance that lingered on the poetry of the music, but one that had a keen sense of the music’s architecture. Other than opening chords that felt a little ponderous, Biss acquitted himself admirably in this challenging and problematic movement. I liked very much the lightness with which he played the right hand arpeggios at mm. 7 to 12, and even more so at mm. 22 to 27. He was very successful in bringing out the lyricism of the songful G major (briefly) theme at m. 65.

The highlight of the performance of the sonata was Biss’ playing of the Andantino movement. In that hauntingly beautiful opening theme, Biss played with an infinite variety of colours, sounds and textures. In the left hand, with a staccato eighth note followed by a two eighth-note slur, the artist gave the impression of a sleepwalker roaming through the forest. In the dramatic middle section, Biss successfully brought out the hallucinatory mood of the music. When the theme eventually returns, he plays it almost like a benediction, and beautifully executed the repeated C-sharps in the right hand.

After the intensity of the second movement, I felt that the Scherzo could have had a bit more lightness and playfulness. The trio, (Un poco piu lento), however, was very successfully done. I agreed with his tempo choice in the songful fourth movement. When the theme reappears in its many guises, Biss manages to give it a slightly different character. The many passages of triplet “accompaniment” in both hands were also beautifully played and shaped. He was in complete control throughout this very extended movement. In the coda, where, within the duration of 8 bars, the composer brings back many aspects the entire work, Biss was, for lack of a better word, fantastic.

As much as I admired Biss’ playing of the sonata, I liked him as a lieder partner even more, when he and baritone Randall Scarlata performed Schwanengesang, D. 957, the composer’s final collection of songs. In these final songs, the composer’s creativity and genius in capturing the essence of each poem is simply astounding. I really appreciated the fact that the lid of the piano was fully opened, making the pianist an absolute equal partner in this act of chamber music. Scarlata sang each song like a master storyteller, changing the character and timbre of his voice to suit the character of each song. In Kriegers Ahnung, Scarlata sang the words, “Von Sehnsucht mir so heiss” almost like a sigh. At the end of the lied, with the phrase, “Herzliebste – gute Nacht”, he sang it pleadingly, and charged the words with meaning. Biss played the opening chords of this same lied with a range of colours in the low register of the piano, effectively and immediately setting the mood. In In der Ferne, pianist and singer masterfully navigated through the many moods of the poem. Particularly memorable were Scarlata’s held long note at the words “Wegen nach!” and the dramatic crescendo to the end with the word “ziehenden”.

I adored the artists’ utterly charming interpretation of the utterly charming Abschied. Biss was particularly effective in his playing of the prancing hoof-steps of the horse. The decrescendo towards the end of the song was particularly evocative in conveying the image of the poet travelling farther and farther away from his origin. Scarlata’s declamatory tone perfectly suited the character of Atlas. I enjoyed Biss’ simplicity in his playing of the folk-like Das Fischermädchen, the solemnity of the opening chords in Am Meer, and the ghostly arpeggios in Die Stadt.

In Der Doppelgänger, Scarlata’s voice took on a dark hue, which effectively highlighted the frightening intensity and desperation of this, one of the composer’s darkness and scariest lieder. Pianist and singer ended the evening’s music with a congenial performance of Die Taubenpost, done with just the right amount of gemütlichkeit.

Franz Schubert was not of this earth. Like Mozart, Schubert was given to us by God, for a short time, to grace us with and to remind us of the beauty of His creation. Like the lives of Schubert and Mozart, this week’s concerts were over far too quickly. But unlike Grillparzer, let us be grateful for what had been given to us by the composer, and by this group of talented artists that graced us with their gifts these past few days.

With music such as what we had heard this week, the world didn’t seem like such a terrible place after all.

Schubertiade continued...

The Vancouver Recital Society’s Schubertiade continued last evening with more heavenly music by Franz Peter Schubert.

The concert opened with what I feel to be the greatest work written for piano, four hands, the composer’s Fantasie in F minor, D. 940, with pianists Inon Barnatan (primo) and Jonathan Biss (secondo). I have long noticed that the main theme of this work shares many similarities to the theme of Haydn’s Variation in F minor, Hob XVII:6, and Barbarina’s aria from Act IV of Mozart’s Le Nozze de Figaro (“L’ho perduta…me meschina!”) Not only are the pieces all in the identical key, the melodic outline as well as affect of the music are all very similar. Living in Vienna, Schubert would have been very aware of music by Mozart and Haydn. Obviously we will never know if he was, consciously or subconsciously, influenced by the aforementioned works.

The two young artists were completely in sync with each other in every aspect of their performance. At the beginning, Biss played the main theme with a simplicity that is quite appealing, and Barnatan used the pedal sparingly, giving the music a clear texture. The pianists gave us a magical pianissimo when the theme returns at m.91 (with triplet accompaniment in the secondo). I appreciated Barnatan’s sense of direction and his lightness in his playing of the chord sequences in the Largo section. The dance-like Allegro vivace section was played with great energy and relish. The section at m.273, marked con delicatezza, was played with incredible lightness and charm. Biss and Barnatan’s pacing and build-up of that incredible fugue beginning at m. 474 were impeccable.

After that incredibly intense first work, Barnatan returned alone and gave us the Sonata in B-flat major, D. 960. I find much to admire in his interpretation of this iconic work. In especially the first and second movements, Barnatan was a Furtwängler rather than a Toscanini, giving the music slight shifts in tempo according to its ebb and flow. His playing of the opening bass trill (m. 8) was filled with tension and purpose. He did not overplay the G-flat major theme at m. 20, letting it come out with a beguiling simplicity. The Andante sostenuto movement was also wonderfully done. I thought his voicing of the right hand at the beginning was done especially beautifully. In the A major middle section, Barnatan gave the music a choral sound.

The artist played the Scherzo movement at a terrific clip, but with a lightness that prevented the music from feeling breathless. He took the Trio section at a slightly slower tempo. I personally feel that the two sections should be played at the same tempo, but certainly his interpretation is valid. Barnatan’s playing of the fourth movement was pianistically stunning, and his timing impeccable. I really loved the way he played those off-beat “pizzicato” notes in the left hand while the right hand was playing the rapid broken chords. And he successfully built the music from the first notes to a rousing finish.

I would like to hear the artist play this work again in a decade or so. At this point, I can’t help feeling that, at times, he is slightly over-interpreting the music, trying a little too hard to discover the inner beauties of the score. If he were to let the music speak for itself more, I believe his music making would be even more moving.

After the intermission, Barnatan returned with violinist Benjamin Beilman and cellist Gary Hoffman in another Schubertian masterpiece, the Trio in B-flat major, D. 898. It was, overall, a very successful performance. There was unanimity in the interpretation that was noticeable from beginning to end. For me, the most moving was their playing of the Andante un poco mosso movement, as the music came off the most naturally. In the other movements, I again got the feeling that perhaps the performers pushed the music a little too much, which results in an edge in the music making. I think Beilman and Barnatan have brighter, more soloistic sounds, which can be problematic in a chamber music setting. When Beilman played with Lio on Tuesday, there was much more of a sense of ensemble, rather than individuals playing together. Perhaps the fact that the three artists have such radically different sounds did not give the performance a feeling of an organic whole.

To be sure, it was a very exciting performance, and the audience certainly roared its approval at the end. As in the sonata, if the musicians had let the music speak for itself, the music making would have been outstanding.

As I was driving home, I could not help but wonder how it was possible that so much beauty could have been conceived by one mind, especially considering the brevity of time. Any argument that our existence on earth is a mere result of chance, of genetics, has probably not heard the music of Franz Schubert.